The drive down the Pacific Coast Highway was everything I’d hoped it would be. The weather was phenomenally clear, giving us incredible views as we drove through the Big Sur area. Emmy even spotted some condors making use of the onshore wind’s updrafts as it hit the giant sea cliffs.
I somehow failed to mention to Emmy that I was with Ashley the last time I’d made that drive, and we’d spotted condors then, too. Saying anything about that didn’t seem like a good way to improve the specialness of the moment.
Of course we had to stop for the obligatory photos of the world-famous Bixby Bridge, and when the other tourists enjoying the view spotted Emmy a few wanted selfies with her, which she was ready to oblige.
We managed to make it in time for a private tour of the Hearst castle at San Simeon, too. Yeah, it was expensive, but worth it for the way it made Emmy’s already good mood for the day shine even brighter.
Tired and hungry from a long day on the road, we were both pleased to find that our bed and breakfast’s afternoon Happy Hour included a nice fruit and cheese selection to go along with the local wine they served. It wasn’t intended to be dinner, but certainly made up for the early lunch we’d had before our castle tour.
After a couple of glasses of wine and fresh-baked bread and regional cheeses and fruit, I was happy to flop down on the queen-sized bed in our room next to Emmy just to relax for a bit.
“Must we go out for dinner?” Emmy asked, taking my hand as I laid next to her. “I am tired and would like to simply relax here tonight.”
“We can do- or not do- whatever you want, babe,” I said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
“I do not want you to go hungry,” Emmy protested.
“I ate a ton of the stuff they set out,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Leah?” Emmy said after a few minutes of silence, her voice uncertain.
“Emmy?” I asked in response.
“Are you… Am I enough for you? I worry that I am not fulfilling your needs,” she said. I started to protest, but she continued. “I do not mean sexually, but that is a factor. I mean emotionally. You had Angela, who adored you completely- as I do, too. You did things with her that we do not do together, you and I. I worry that there is a hole, a void that I cannot fill for you.”
“I miss Angela,” I said. “I really do. I loved her way more than I ever thought I would, but Em, I loved you before I loved her, and I still love you just as much as I ever did. I was happy with just you before she came into our lives, and now that she’s gone, I still have you.”
“I am not certain that answers my question,” Emmy said doubtfully.
“I’m not sure how I can answer your question. If you’re asking me whether I need an Angela replacement, the answer is absolutely no. I don’t need, or even want, somebody else to fill her role in our marriage. I want us, Em. You and me. After the tour is over and we can go back to our normal, quiet lives, we can find our way back to where we were. That’s what I want.”
“I want that, too,” Emmy said, her voice almost a whisper.
Our room’s en suite bath had a decent-sized clawfoot tub. It was going to be snug for the two of us, but we’d fit if we were nice and friendly. As it turned out, we were very, very friendly that night, and then even more friendly after we dried off and made our way to the bed. Emmy still wasn’t up for any really vigorous sex, but soft, gentle lovemaking was good enough for me. In some ways I had no real idea how Emmy was doing physically, since her scars were on the inside. My only real guide was by her actions, so she had to be the one to take the lead and let me know what she was ready for.
I was very conscious of keeping my weight off her, too. I was well aware that I was treating her like a fragile porcelain doll, but the very last thing I wanted to do was hurt her in any way.
All that said, I was very, very happy to be having any sexy times at all. Tender, slow and soft was plenty good as far as I was concerned.
“Leah,” Emmy said as we relaxed in our post-coital glow. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”
“Emmy,” I said. “Thank you for being my wife and lover. Take as long as you need. I’ll be here for you.”
Emmy didn’t say anything in response, but the way she snuggled deeper into my big spoon made it clear I’d said the right thing.
The next morning we drove through the Santa Ynez wine country, stopping for lunch in the too-cute touristy little town of Solvang. Emmy really seemed to be enjoying the relaxed cruising of the drive, and I made a mental note to have the windows of the Z8 tinted so she’d be even more comfortable on future drives like this one. This was far from the kind of driving I usually enjoyed, but it was nice sight-seeing and spending time with Emmy, just the two of us, so it was all good in my opinion. The BMW was just the right car, too. It was sexy but understated, comfortable but still small and sporty. Of course it had precious little room for our luggage, but even that was part of the fun.
Being home again in the Hollywood Hills was bittersweet. Sweet, since it was good to not be on the road, but bitter because of all of the reminders of Angela’s life with the two of us. Emmy and I had agreed to do nothing with all Angela’s stuff until after we discussed it with Mamá and Rafael, but I felt pangs of heartache any time I saw all her clothes in our closet, or the broken and repaired Japanese bowls she loved so much in the kitchen cabinets, or her Z4 in the garage next to our new Z8. Of course I was going to feel the heartbreak of losing her even without these reminders, but they sure didn’t help.
Andy and Jenna came over for dinner that Wednesday night, all of us trying to resume some sort of normalcy in our mutual relationship. We talked mostly about Andy’s new season and how the team had a much better attitude and were already thinking they might have a shot at the playoffs.
All in all, a nice, normal evening, with good friends. Of course, the elephant in the room was that Angela wasn’t with us, but we did our best to ignore it.
“I’m really looking forward to the show tonight,” Teddy Bear said as we waiting for Geoff and Stein to show up for the morning’s drive.
“It’s gonna be amazing!” Jimmy agreed. “VIP seats! When I told my homies that I was invited by Emmy herself, they just about shit. They didn’t even believe I actually knew her until Kimmy stood up for me and told ‘em we’d been to Emmy’s house for a rock star party, you know?”
“Did she tell your friends that she was naked in my hot tub with that actor… what was his name?” I asked.
“Mitch Wagner,” Teddy Bear volunteered.
“If word of that ever got out and somehow got back to my mom I’d be soooo dead,” Jimmy lamented. Then, as if it suddenly occurred to him, he asked, “so, Um, Liz… You said Kimmy was naked in the hot tub, right?”
“Naked as the day she was born,” I confirmed.
“Sooo… Like, how do you know? I mean…” he hemmed and hawed.
“Yes, Jimmy, I have seen your sister in the nude,” I told him. “I told Kimmy and the other underaged girl to get out of the hot tub, and she made sure I got an eyeful before she put her clothes back on.”
“How did she look? I’m not asking because I’m perving on the thought of my naked sister,” he added waving his hand back and forth to dispel the idea. “I’m asking because my original offer still stands. A quick five Gs and she’s all yours. Now you’ve seen the goods, maybe the deal sounds better?”
“You’re such a pig!” Teddy Bear laughed.
“Jimmy, you’d have to pay me,” I said, trying not to laugh.
“You mean you didn’t like what you saw?” Jimmy demanded.
“She’s pretty enough,” I admitted. “And she has cute little boobs. But it’s all spoiled the moment she opens her mouth.”
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“I’ll throw in a roll of duct tape,” Jimmy offered, making Teddy Bear burst into laughter again. Try as I might, I wasn’t able to keep my cool and soon followed suit.
The show at the Coliseum was the last stop on what had been eight months of touring for The Downfall, and the single largest crowd they’d ever performed for. Over seventy-seven thousand fans in attendance for the final show, and Emmy and the boys wanted to make sure they left everyone satisfied.
The Prodigal Sons opened for The Downfall, and of course Emmy Joined them for a couple of songs. She did that same vocal guitar riff during ‘Bitch Hit Me Back’ that she’d done when she played with them in New York, but that was really the only time she played lead until the encore when she played lead and sang The Doors’ ‘Twentieth Century Fox’ which of course got updated a bit.
“‘Cause she’s a twenty-first century fox!” Emmy belted out, finishing the song.
“Emmy De Lascaux, ladies and gentlemen!” Brent announced, waving his hand in her direction. “A true generational talent, and, I’m proud to say, a very good friend of ours!”
When the Sons took their final bow they got enough applause to make a headliner proud. Brent had said that they were stoked to play a stadium show, and to their credit, they did an excellent job of it. I had to imagine that exposure like that would level up their career trajectory.
“I kinda liked those guys,” Stein’s significantly younger companion objected when Stein had dismissed the Sons as a bunch of retro-rockers who were barely above tribute band status. Stein had introduced Brian by his name, never saying that he was a boyfriend of anything like that. He was a very good-looking guy in his early twenties, and to be honest, seemed to be more than just a bit of an airhead.
Interestingly, I saw no particular spark between the two of them. No sly glances, no surreptitious touches, nothing. There was no indication they were any more than just a couple of friends, leaving me to speculate on what was actually going on there. Not my business, I finally decided, shelving any more thoughts on the subject.
After the opening act left the stage to decent applause, Linda leaned over across Geoff to talk to me.
“These seats are amazing,” she said, having to shout a bit to be heard. “When Geoff said that you’d gotten us tickets for the show, I had no idea!” she said, waving the all-access pass in its plastic sleeve on a lanyard around her neck. “The girls- when we told them we had tickets to see Emmy play, they were so excited, but to get to go backstage after the show? That is so far beyond!”
“You guys have been to our house plenty,” I said. “Heck, Emmy played just for Eileen and Ginnie last time you were over. How is this more special?”
“Look around!” Linda said, gesturing at the stadium at large. “There’s a hundred thousand people here to see Emmy play! Do you even understand how much of an impression that makes? It’s one thing to hear that Emmy’s a big rock star, but this? There’s no denying this!”
Just then the house lights dimmed and an expectant hush filled the hundred-year-old stadium.
The crowd erupted in applause as Lee walked out to the front of the stage, his drumsticks in his hands. He bowed to the crowd, then sat at his seat behind the drum kit. He took one last look out over the giant crowd, the two video screens showing a close-up of his pleased expression.
His drumming started soft, evolving into a complicated polyrhythmic beat as it grew louder. I don’t know that much about drumming, but I’d come to recognize syncopated off-beats and time changes and all that was on full display as Lee’s extended solo changed into something more intense, almost thunderous.
Emmy walked out and picked up her classic aqua Thunderbird to deafening cheering, but she didn’t acknowledge it or even glance at the crowd. She was clearly concentrating on the complex patterns of Lee’s drumming, the video screens showing her furrowed brow as she listened carefully.
Finally, she played a long, single piercing note which seemed to go on forever, before Emmy’s hand ran over the frets as she played a complicated riff, timed just a tiny bit off from the main beat, leading it by a fraction. It was as if Emmy was hearing a different time measurement than I could, but somehow she kept on that same offset as her fingers played a melody that seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place.
Jackson joined the two of them soon after, and as he hit a crunchy, fuzz-laden rhythm I realized that he was on the same beat as Emmy, again just a touch ahead of Lee’s kick drums. Somehow it worked, but still seemed a bit off and maybe a tiny bit jarring.
It took me a while, but I eventually realized that all three of them were nodding their heads to the beat that Emmy and Jackson were following- even Lee’s head was bopping at a different beat than his drums. I will be the first to admit that I didn’t understand music well enough to grasp what Lee was doing, but Emmy and Jackson certainly did.
Most of the time the improvised intros eventually morphed into the set’s first real song, but not that night. Emmy stopped playing first, letting her wailing guitar fade away into nothingness. Not long after, Lee’s drumming got softer and softer, leaving only Jackson still playing his fat-sounding distorted bass line, which slowed down to zero after a bit.
The crowd’s reaction was loud and long, making me grateful for the earplugs I always wore to these things.
“Thank you all very much,” Emmy said, looking out over the packed stadium. “It is very good to be back home, and to play for our hometown fans. Thank you for coming here on this wonderful night when you could be doing any number of other things- things other than sitting for hours on small, uncomfortable chairs just to watch us play some music for you. We appreciate that you have given up your Saturday night for this, and we promise we will do our best to make you happy that you did.”
“In other words,” Jackson chimed in, “We’re gonna play one Hell of a set tonight to celebrate the fact that we’re here with seventy-seven thousand of our very best friends!”
This fired up the crowd, the cheering filling that old stadium with noise.
“Hit it, Em!” Jackson said when the noise died down to a more reasonable level.
Emmy tore into the opening guitar riff of the song ‘Speed Kills’ from their most recent album, again causing massive applause.
“Is this song about you?” Geoff asked, leaning in to speak into my ear.
“Dunno,” I said with a shrug. “Emmy didn’t write this one- This is one of Jackson’s songs.”
“Emmy doesn’t write all their songs?” Geoff asked, surprised.
“No, she and Jackson both write lyrics and the three of them work on the music together,” I explained.
“I always had the impression it was pretty much just Emmy’s band,” Geoff admitted.
“Ask her about it sometime,” I suggested. “They’re more ‘Three Musketeers’ than you might think.”
“Interesting,” he said in reply.
To my surprise, the final song of the night was ‘Born To Die’. Everyone in the stadium recognized it the moment Lee beat out that double kick drum heartbeat, and the entire crowd roared its approval of the previous summer’s hottest hit. Emmy’s distorted guitar riff did that ‘baby crying’ thing, then Emmy began to sing. I glanced over and saw both little Ginnie and her older sister Eileen singing along with Emmy. I couldn’t hear their voices, but I could clearly make out the two of them mouthing, “I was born to make you smile, I was born to sing this song, I was born to make you cry.”
As for me, I’d have been perfectly happy to never hear that song again. Looking for a silver lining, it occurred to me that Emmy singing that song might well be a sign of her emotional healing- at least, I hoped that’s what it meant. If so, I could suffer the emotional damage that song did to me every single time.
After the band took their bows, I led our entourage backstage. It was quite crowded back there, with a fair number of industry insider types in addition to all of those who’d been on the band’s invite list, but Emmy, Lee and Jackson were happy to take time to pose for pictures with the half-dozen kids who’d been there for the show.
“This isn’t what I expected backstage at a rock concert to be like at all,” Madison’s mother Lainey admitted as we watched her daughter pose for photos with the band.
“The Downfall aren’t hotel-trashing, hard partiers,” I assured her. “In fact, that kind of thing is absolutely not tolerated.”
“I don’t know Lee and Jackson all that well,” my mom admitted. “But from what I’ve seen, they’re serious musicians who happen to play rock, not guys who got into it for the sex and drugs lifestyle. And of course, Emmy…”
“I was worried about bringing Mads backstage, you know? I mean, a sixteen year old girl, rock stars… I mean…” Lainey admitted.
“No, I get it,” I said. “But I hope you know that I never would have suggested it if I thought there was any possibility of danger for Maddie.”
“No, I know, but a mom’s got to worry, you know?”
There was no official afterparty that night, but the milling crowd there backstage eventually evolved into a sort of party, even though there was no alcohol to be had.
Emmy bowed out well before the rest, and we took a fair bit of the crowd with us. Somehow it had been arranged that Lainey, Maddie, Mom and Tiffany would spend the night at our place rather than driving all the way back to Murrieta and Fallbrook.
I was pleased to see that Lainey had clearly moved past her misgivings about my lifestyle. I guess spending all that time with my sister and mother had assured her that I was alright after all, despite that fact I was married to another woman.
When we got to the house Tiffany wanted to show the racing sim rig to Maddie, but I put a stop to that.
“In the morning,” I said. “It’s past midnight now. You two need to get your sleep. The rig will be there when you wake up.”
After the girls had brushed their teeth and gone to bed, Emmy called it a night, too. Mom and Lainey wanted to talk, so I poured us a nice white wine from up near Paso Robles and we settled down in the living room.
“Now that the tour is over, what are you and Emmy going to do?” Mom asked, tucking her feet up under herself on the couch.
“We’re going to go down to Cartagena to spend some time with the Castros,” I said. “Emmy needs time to simply relax and heal, you know? I do, too,” I added. “Emotionally, anyway. But Emmy is still in some physical pain, and doing nothing but relaxing, surrounded by family… That’s what she needs.”
“Not to Paris?” Mom asked, surprised.
“Emmy’s parents love her in their way, don’t get me wrong, but they just aren’t particularly nurturing, if you know what I mean,” I said. “Mamá… She’s who Emmy needs right now.”
“That’s Angela’s mother, right?” Lainey asked. “Um, I don’t want to sound insensitive, but she’s O.K. with the two of you?”
“They don’t resent us at all, if that’s what you’re asking,” I said. “They know we loved Angela as much as we possibly could, and as far as they’re concerned we’re family forever.”
“I’m glad,” Mom said. “Marisa is a wonderful lady, and Rafael seems like a really decent man.”
“They had to be, to produce a daughter like Angela,” I agreed.
“So, you guys are going to go down there for how long?” Mom asked.
“To be determined,” I said. “As long as it takes for Emmy to feel as if she has her feet back under her.”
“I still can’t believe that she continued with the tour after what happened,” Lainey said.
“It was a tough decision,” I lied. “But ultimately, Emmy decided that it was important.”
“I can’t even imagine. Angela was such a sweet girl- and to lose both pregnancies? That’s the most terrible tragedy I can imagine,” Lainey said.
“Yeah,” I agreed, having nothing more to say on the subject.