It was tough, seeing Emmy and Angela off on their flight to Korea. Sure, I’d be joining them in two days, but still… Emmy was just starting to look as if she’d recovered from the road, and sending her back out for another month and a half seemed like cruelty. She insisted that she was able to do the work and I believed that she would manage, but hopefully not at too great a cost. Angela and I would both be there to support her, but I doubted I’d be able to do any better than Angela had by herself.
At UCLA Anderson that Thursday night I wondered why I'd cared so much about staying just for these lectures that did nothing but cover material in the textbooks anyway, but resigned myself to the fact I'd made an agreement with my professors and had to honor it by attending the full week's worth of classes.
Flying in KAL’s first class ‘suite’ didn’t suck as bad as commercial usually does, and the meals were good, too. Solid Wi-Fi allowed me to spend most of the thirteen and a half hours working, which helped the time go by quickly.
After passing through the Korean customs checkpoint I spotted a driver holding up a sign with my name.
“Grant Henry sent me, Ms Farmer,” he said in perfect, unaccented English. “I’ll be your driver while you’re here in Seoul. My name is Mike Kim.”
“Perfect,” I said. “Thanks, Mike. Call me Leah. I’d like to stop somewhere on the way to the stadium to pick up some flowers,” I said as we walked to the parking area. I followed Mike to a brand new sedan, one of Hyundai’s new premium line.
The back seat was nice and roomy and the ride was smooth, so I had no complaints. I was glad to not be behind the wheel, though. Sure, the street signs all had English as well as Korean, but none of the place names were familiar and the traffic was quite dense, leaving little room for clueless drivers.
Mike stopped at a florist shop and accompanied me inside to translate while I ordered a dozen pink roses. I’m sure I could have managed without him, but it did make life easier to have a speaker fluent in both languages help me out.
At several points on the way to the Olympic park Mike had to argue with traffic cops, but we were eventually let past and to the side door of the arena with no real difficulties. Once again he argued with the security guys, who called in on their walkie-talkies to confirm that I was on the VIP list. After a few minutes a guy with a pass on a lanyard came to the door, compared my ID to the name on the pass, and handed it to me. Mike left to wait until I texted him, and I went down into the bowels of the gymnastics arena, hot on the heels of one of the security guys.
The dressing area was swarmed with people, but Emmy and Angela had their own little private room, to my relief. They were snuggled together on a couch, not saying or doing anything but just keeping each other company. Neither of them saw me until I thrust the bouquet of roses forward and got their attention.
“Beautiful flowers for beautiful ladies,” I said.
“Lee! You’re here! We didn’t expect you for another hour at least!” Angela said, her smile lighting up her face.
“I am very happy to see you,” Emmy said, patting the seat next to her. “Come sit down. Have you eaten? Crafty is very good here.”
“Listen to you!” I said with a laugh as I sat down. “You’ve been in Hollywood too long. Crafty,” I said with a chuckle. “What happened to ‘hospitality’?”
“Blame Lee for that,” Emmy said with a smile. “He is the one that started us all using that term.”
When the 15 minute call came, Angela and I found our way to our seats. We were surrounded by a sea of teenagers and young twenty-somethings, almost all of whom were wearing Downfall merch. The most popular was the black shirt with nothing but a pair of vivid green eyes with white eyelashes- no text at all on the front, and the tour stops listed on the back.
Emmy had objected to the design at first, but eventually accepted it as one of the choices and at least there in Korea it seemed to be the top seller. I made a mental note to ask Stephanie about the merch sales in general at some point.
The opening act was a pop-rock group consisting of four pretty boys, but they actually played their instruments well, to their credit. I found it odd that everybody in the band but the drummer sang lead on at least one tune, and often they would trade off leads in the middle of their songs. A few of their songs were in English, but most in Korean, so I couldn’t really understand them much. They were alright, and the crowd seemed to love them, but I can’t say they really did it for me.
We had a little while to talk after the opening act finished and before The Downfall took the stage, so I asked Angela how Emmy had been the last couple of days.
“O.K.,” she said. “Yesterday and today have been really stressful- the stage wasn’t ready when they promised it would be and that pushed back the sound check today, but I think in the end everything got ready in time. Emmy has been eating good, too, and she got good sleep last night, so I’m happy about that.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I said. “So you guys didn’t have a chance to do any sightseeing?”
“No, and we won’t. We leave for Singapore first thing Sunday morning,” Angela said. “We won’t have time to see anything here at all.”
“That’s a shame,” I said, “But I guess that gives us plenty of time in Singapore, right? I’ve always wanted to see that park with the giant metal tree things.”
“Giant metal tree things?” Angela asked, her brow furrowed adorably.
“Yeah, giant metal tree things,” I said. “You’ll see.”
The house lights dimmed at that point and the audience made too much noise to continue our conversation.
Jackson took the stage and bowed, his arms wide. He strode over to his bass guitar, and slowly, deliberately took his time taking it from its stand and looping the strap over his shoulder. Grinning like a man who just heard the best joke ever, he looked out over the audience, which was still making plenty of noise.
I’d seen Jackson do it before, but somehow it surprised me every time when he played the bass in a funk slap style and this time was just as unexpected. He played a melody that seemed familiar, but I simply couldn’t place it. Just as I thought I almost had it, Jackson took a pick from his pocket and switched up his style to power chords, playing the bass like a normal guitar.
Emmy joined him on stage with her clear blue acrylic guitar and riffed off Jackson’s melody, to the delight of the capacity crowd. I looked around and finally realized what the lights were that I’d been seeing at least half of the audience wave- they were some sort of flashlight thing with a dark ball covering the beam, only letting light out through a pair of vivd green eyes molded into the plastic. Amused, I turned back when the crowd erupted with even more cheering as Lee joined Jackson and Emmy on stage.
The long, improvised intro started to form into something familiar and then I recognized it- Take It Away from The Downfall’s second album. It seemed to me an odd choice, but basically every single person in that arena sang along with every word, so I guessed it had maybe gotten a lot of exposure there in Korea.
When the song finished Lee stepped out from behind his kit and took the microphone from Emmy’s stand to address the audience. He spoke Korean, after all, so it was only to be expected. Still, the audience ate it up, loving every minute.
This was the third city (fourth, counting the Anaheim warm-up show), and so far every show had been remarkably different. The set lists were different every night, sure, but there didn’t seem to be any standard patter, either. Every show was unique, even if some of the songs were the same.
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When the show finished and the house lights came on Angela and I made our way backstage. The afterparty was going to be at some famous bar in town, so nobody was really settling down there in the dressing room.
“You two will come with me to the party?” Emmy asked when we found her. “If you’re going, we’re going,” I told her, checking to make sure Angela was O.K. with it. Angela nodded, and Emmy took that as a positive sign.
“We need to go to the hotel to change our clothes, and then to the nightclub,” Emmy said, sounding remarkably enthusiastic.
“Why the rush?” I asked.
“Tonight is a special night for our biggest fans here in Korea. Lee and I will DJ and only fan club members will be allowed in. No industry insiders or anything like that.”
“That’s unusual,” I said.
“We are going to do it in Tokyo, too,” Emmy said as I texted Mike Kim to come get us from the arena’s side door.
“I’ll head straight to the club,” Grant said in a quiet voice as the two of us followed Tiny and the girls. "I’ll make sure it’s secure by the time you get there.”
“Sounds good,” I said, and he nodded to a Korean guy that had been tagging along.
The club was in the basement of a hotel in what Mike told us was the Gangnam District. “You know, like that song by Psy?” he said.
“I love that song!” Emmy said from the back seat.
“Oh, sexy lady!” Angela sang. “Oppa Gangnam style!”
I turned and saw a smile on Mike’s face, and I had to agree- it was adorable.
There was a large crowd outside the door to the club, but the bouncers were doing a great job of keeping it orderly. When Emmy stepped from the car the waiting fans went mad with cheering and waving, but to my amazement, none took it too far. The worst of it that I saw was a little bit of pushing against the bouncers, but it didn’t seem serious at all.
As Emmy walked up and down the velvet rope, touching peoples’ hands and giving them smiles and saying hello, it was almost too much for some of them- quite a few of the waiting crowd were actually crying, overcome with emotion.
Eventually we entered the club, ushered down into the surprisingly cavernous space by a hostess wearing a black velvet Mandarin sheath mini dress and thigh-high black boots, which really emphasized how slender and tall she was, and how pale. She led us to a VIP area on a balcony overlooking the main floor, but opposite the upper floor’s dance area. It was private, but at the same time gave us a view of the whole club and allowed most of the club’s patrons to see us up there, which I’m sure was the point. See and be seen, right?
Lee, Jen and Jackson were already there, reclining on the plush black leather couches around the low table.
“What happened to, um Sherry?” I whispered in Emmy’s ear as we approached the table.
“She did not come on this part of the tour,” Emmy whispered back. “I have not asked for any more details than that.”
“Well, my guess is that he’s gonna get laid if he puts even the slightest effort into it tonight,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“So are you,” Emmy replied, the promise was unmistakeable.
Apparently nobody was allowed in before the guests of honor, but it didn’t take long for the once-empty club to fill up. The house DJ was excellent, blending in the occasional Downfall tune with a wide variety of other styles of music, but all of it good for dancing.
I stuck to Cokes, since it had been an exceptionally long day for me and any alcohol would have sent me straight to snooze land. Emmy and Angela only drank bottled sparkling water, but Lee, Jen and Jackson made full use of the bartender’s skills.
I begged off dancing, since I was quite tired. Emmy only pouted a little before she and Angela (accompanied by Tiny) made their way to the dance floor. It was funny seeing the bubble of space around Emmy and Angela, Tiny’s intimidatingly massive size keeping everyone honest.
“Been a while,” Jen said, taking the seat next to me so we could talk.
“Yeah it has,” I said, bumping her shoulder with mine in greeting. “Things going good?”
“Yeah, great,” Jen said. “Met a whole bunch of the in-laws in the last few days. A ton of uncles, aunts and cousins.”
“How did that go?”
“You know what? Surprisingly awesome. It seems like Lee’s mom is the only mean one of the bunch. Everybody here has been really friendly and nice.”
Glancing down at the dance floor, I spotted Grant and that same Korean guy making rounds. Jen followed my eyes and spotted Grant.
“That guy? Grant?” Jen said. “He’s one spooky dude. Everywhere we’ve gone, he’s known locals- real tough-looking guys. Like that guy with him? I’ve seen people here turn white and nearly piss themselves when they recognize him. And don’t get me started on those scary fuckers he had with him in Moscow and Prague. I mean, wow. So, like, I don’t know where you found this guy to do tour security, but he’s got some real connections. Sketchy connections.”
“He works for me,” I said. “For a couple of years now. He’s my head of security. Those dudes he knows? Probably all ex-special forces or something from their various countries- he told me he had local contacts.”
“He works for you? Like, he’s not some sort of tour security specialist?” Jen asked, surprised.
“You see Tiny, there? Emmy’s bodyguard? He’s a decoy for the most part. Everybody that might intend any sort of harm to Emmy, or Angela for that matter, is going to see him and think that they’ve got to deal with getting around that huge, scary guy, right? Well, meanwhile, Grant spots anybody looking too long or hard and sneaks up behind ‘em.”
“Wow,” Jen breathed. “So he’s the real deal? He’s the real bodyguard, and Jeremy is just a distraction?”
“Well, anybody would have to take Jeremy seriously, too. You remember what happened in London, right?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah! I thought he was gonna break that guy’s arm for grabbing Emmy’s ass!” Jen said, remembering.
“He probably would have,” I agreed.
“And what Emmy said about throwing the guy in the river in a cement overcoat… Grant would have been the guy to do that?” Jen asked.
I just nodded, and Jen gave me a disbelieving look. “I can’t believe you have a guy working for you like that.”
“Jen, you know I’ve killed people,” I said, keeping my voice low so only she could hear. “I don’t always do it alone.”
“Holy fuck, Leah. Holy fuck,” Jen said, her eyes wide. “I’m really fucking glad you’re on our side.”
“You remember my dagger, right?” I asked, enjoying Jen’s reaction.
“How could I freaking forget?”
“Tiny- Jeremy- has it tattooed on his shoulder, right here,” I said, tapping the outside of Jen’s left shoulder. “Everybody in my hit squad does.”
“Your fucking hit squad?” Jen asked, her eyes bugging out of her head. “How many people do you have in your hit squad?”
“A fair number,” I said, leaving it vague. Truth is, I had no real clue how many actual combat-ready paramilitares I actually did have.
“Dude, this is next-level scary shit,” Jen said. “Seriously. Why do you even have a hit squad? Wait- never mind that. I don’t really want to know.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you,” I said. “But to return to the original topic, Grant is here for Emmy and Angela’s security first, then the tour’s. If you have any, and I mean any, possible security issues, let him know. He’ll straighten it out.”
“I guess,” Jen said, still watching Grant and his Korean friend, who were talking to one of the bouncers.
Angela and Emmy returned to the table about then, sweaty and invigorated from dancing.
While Angela plopped down next to me, Emmy grabbed Lee’s hand to pull him out of his seat.
“It is time for us to take our turn in the booth,” she told him.
Groaning, Lee said, “Can’t you do it by yourself?”
Turning to Tiny, Emmy said, “Jeremy, please pick Lee up and carry him downstairs.”
Tiny stepped forward, but Lee jumped up off the couch. “O.K.! O.K.!” he said, not wanting to be hauled around like a sack of potatoes.
“You promised me and there is no avoiding it,” Emmy said, her voice stern but her expression playful.
“Alright, I’m up. See? I’m walking to the DJ booth now,” Lee said.
“I might need that guy around the house when this tour is over,” Jen said with a smirk.
Soon enough Lee was speaking into the microphone as Emmy stood behind the turntable setup. He announced something in Korean, and everybody in the club cheered. The music started immediately, and Emmy and Lee quickly settled into a groove, pumping out tune after tune. The mix leaned more towards danceable rock and less EDM than the club’s DJ had done, but the crowd danced just as much, if not more.
“How are you doing?” Angela asked, leaning up against me and wrapping my arm around herself.
“I’m tired, but having a good time,” I told her, giving her a kiss. “How about you?”
“My feet are sore. They’ve been sore a lot recently, and I don’t know why,” she replied.
“My mom always used to say that sore feet were the worst part of pregnancy,” Jen said. “And she had three kids.”
“Maybe that’s it,” Angela said. “In four more months my feet won’t hurt anymore.”
“I can’t believe you’re five months in and still not showing,” Jen said.
“Not five months, not quite yet, and I am showing. My tummy is getting big, and my breasts…” Angela replied with a groan.
After a while, I went downstairs and told Emmy that Angela and I were going back to the hotel. We were tired and it was late-especially for me. Emmy, though, seemed invigorated by the energy of the club, so I was happy that she wanted to stay and keep playing.
“We’ll save you a spot in bed,” I said, giving her a quick kiss.
The hotel was a big chain business-oriented place, a Sheraton or Radisson or something like that, and pretty much completely soulless. It was a change from the places that I’d seen Stephanie book for the tour in Paris and London, but I guessed there were reasons for it.
“Would you like a hot bath?” I asked Angela when we finally found ourselves alone.
“I would but I can’t,” Angela moaned. “We aren’t supposed to soak in really hot water past the first trimester,” Angela complained.
“Then how about we take a warm shower and cuddle in bed?” I suggested.
“That sounds really good,” Angela said, sitting on the bed.
She looked too tired to stand up, so I said, “Or we can skip the shower and go straight to the cuddling.”
Angela gave me a grateful smile, so I eased her out of her boots and socks, then gently undressed her and helped her slide between the sheets. I didn’t bother folding or putting away our clothes, just left them on the floor when I slipped into the king-sized bed with my dark-haired love.
It took no time at all before we had fallen asleep in each others’ arms.