I came home from a day at the office to find Angela sulking, which was extremely unusual.
“What’s wrong, babe?” I asked, sitting down on the couch next to the frowning dark-haired beauty.
“Nothing,” she said, not even really looking up from where she was busily scrolling through her social media feed on her phone.
“Glad to hear it!” I said cheerily, pulling her into me and giving her a kiss on the side of her head. “Hey, it’s a really nice afternoon. Want to join me in the pool?”
Angela finally gave up on trying to ignore me and said, “I’m not in the mood.”
“We could skip the whole swimming thing and go straight to the sex,” I suggested, nuzzling her neck and fondling her boob.
“Lee!” Angela protested, but made no move to get away.
“Come on, Ange, baby,” I said, gently turning her head to face me. “What’s wrong?”
“Emmy is going on tour next week,” Angela said, crossing her arms.
“Well, yeah, that’s true,” I said.
“I don’t want her to go,” Angela said, pouting. “I want her here with us.”
“Babe,” I said, my voice soft. “Her music? It’s what she does. She needs to go on this tour. They’ve been planning this for six months. There’s no backing out now.”
“I know,” Angela said, her voice small. “I’m just going to miss her so much.”
“You can go with ‘em if you want,” I said, holding her tight.
“But I’m pregnant?”
“So what?” I asked. “You know they really don’t party, right? And the riders require fresh food and sparkling water backstage, not vodka and cocaine, right?”
“It’s just- Em and me, we should be home, letting our babies grow healthy and strong…” she said.
“You’ve been working out same as ever, right? You’re a month and a half in, but you’re just as capable as ever, right? We don’t even know if Emmy’s latest transferral has even taken yet, but if it has, she’s only going to be a couple of months pregnant by the end of the tour. She won’t even show, and you will, but only just barely. There’s no reason you can’t both take care of your pregnancies and go on tour.” Giving her another kiss, I said, “You know, I’d feel better about it if you did go with Emmy. You and I both know how she can forget to take care of herself when she gets really involved in her music. If you’re there, you can make sure she’s eating well and getting good sleep.”
“I’d miss you,” Angela said mournfully.
“It’s only a few months, and there are a couple of breaks in the schedule. I can come for a few of the dates, and you guys will be home for a week after the European leg, before going to Asia, right? So it wouldn’t be that bad, really,” I assured her.
“Can’t you come with us?” Angela asked, signaling that she would, in fact, go on tour with Emmy after all.
“I really can’t take all that time off work, and with class…” I replied. “But I’ll join you guys when I can.”
“Stephanie is going, isn’t she?” Angela asked.
“She is,” I said. “She’s going to be working harder than anybody to make sure everything goes smoothly. Babe, I want you to do me a favor. Be nice to Stephanie. She’s a good person. She has the toughest job of anybody on the tour, so if you can make her life easier I’d really appreciate it.”
“I don’t hate her,” Angela protested.
“No, I didn’t think you did,” I said. “But for some reason, it seems like you two don’t, I dunno, get along as well as I wish you did.”
“I’m sorry,” Angela said, downcast. “I’ll try to be nicer to her.”
I got up off of the couch and knelt down between Angela’s knees, cupping her face so she had to look at me.
“Ange, baby, Stephanie was my girlfriend. Was. Years ago, for about six months. You, you’re my wife. You’ve been my wife for over a year now. That’s twice as long. And wife, that’s twice as good as girlfriend, too, so you’re four times as important to me as she ever was.”
“I like your math,” Angela said, trying not to smile but failing. She leaned forward for a kiss, and I happily obliged.
“And you’re carrying my baby, too. She never did that,” I added.
“I am,” Angela said, her voice turning dreamy again. She looked down at her middle, which was still very much closer to ‘washboard’ than ‘basketball’ in shape. “Our baby.”
“So- up for some swimming with me?” I asked. “Or should we skip that and go straight to the sex?”
“You are such a beast,” Angela laughed.
Emmy’s good news came the day before she and Angela were to fly to Moscow for the start of the tour. Technically it would be the second show of the tour since they’d done a shakedown performance in Anaheim at the Angels’ ballpark, but that show wasn’t listed on the merch T shirts, so it didn’t count.
“It happened!” she said in the car ride home, her eyes wide and her face filled with joy. At the clinic she’d held her emotions in check, but once we got in the car she couldn’t stop laughing, she was so ecstatic. “I am going to be a mother!”
“We still haven’t gotten the genetic testing on Angela’s baby yet,” I cautioned.
“I know,” Emmy agreed. “There still could be problems. But to even get this far is a miracle!”
“Em,” Angela said, just as elated. “We’ll be mamas together! It’s our dream come true!”
We cuddled on the couch again that night, full of love for each other and hope for our family’s future. By fall we would have two little girls, keeping us up at night. Two little ones that will need to have their diapers changed. Two little bundles of joy that will be the most adorable things the world has ever seen.
But that was still many months away. In the nearer term we had morning sickness, which Angela hadn’t started feeling yet but probably would soon, and then of course childbirth, which was always risky, even with the best medical care in the world.
But it was too soon to think of those things. For now it was a private celebration, just the three of us and our two little secrets.
Angela was scheduled to get her genetic testing done in the middle of the European leg of the tour, so I spent a bit of time the next morning finding an extremely high-end fertility clinic in London to draw the sample and to check on Emmy’s condition, just to make sure everything was going well. The sample would get sent to the lab here in the US for the actual analysis, so all they would know in London is whether the babies were doing well or not.
I hated to be the wet blanket, but it was clearly up to me to be the prudent one in the family, since Emmy and Angela were both suffering from baby fever. They both understood my concerns and agreed with them rationally, but emotionally they were already very, very invested. All I could do was cross my fingers and hope that the lab in Korea had done their job well. The testing would let us know, but until then I was doing my best to remain optimistic, but cautious.
When it came time to say goodbye to the two (maybe four? Two point two?) of them, I gave them both big hugs and kisses, wishing them the best time ever. It was only going to be a few weeks until I caught up with them in Paris, but it already felt too long.
I stayed to watch the chartered jet taxi to the runway, then take off into the Burbank sky. With a last little wave, I turned back and went to the X6 for the drive to the empty house.
I’d kinda wanted to go with them since I’d never been to Moscow, but timing didn’t allow it. I was going to fly in for a few days centered around the Paris show, and then travel with the tour to London. That was it for Europe for me. I was going to miss Berlin, Prague, Rome and Barcelona before Paris, and Glasgow and Stockholm afterwards. All cities I would have loved to have spent time in, but really, it wasn’t as if Emmy and Angela would be able to play tourist, either. I’d get to these places eventually, but not this time around.
Grant had picked one of our ‘paramilitaries’ to go along with him as bodyguard, a guy who went, predictably, by the name “Tiny.” Tiny was the largest Night Child I’d ever seen, several inches taller than me and at least a hundred pounds heavier. When he put on his game face he was impressively intimidating, but was otherwise actually a fairly mellow guy. Grant had admitted to me that Tiny wasn’t maybe the best fighter or the sharpest at detecting danger, but just by being a huge and scary bodyguard he would naturally be the center of attention of any potential threat, allowing Grant to operate behind the scenes, and he was the best fighter and best at detecting danger.
Grant intended to blend inconspicuously into the entourage, staying near the principals (Emmy and Angela) without appearing as a bodyguard. He had contacts all over, and in every city he’d arranged for local talent to bolster the security detail.
I was mostly worried about the Prague stop since that was perilously close to the edge of the Lascaux domain and near the Marfan territory, but Emmy had assured me that it would be safe.
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
“My father will flood the city with his men before we get there,” she said. “It will be safe.”
Still, I couldn’t help but worry, and I’d communicated to Grant as much.
“I’ll have a team there,” he said. “Hard guys. Emmy will be safe, I can promise you that.”
“Don’t ignore Angela’s safety,” I reminded him.
“No, I won’t,” Grant said. “But realistically, any threat will be aimed towards Emmy, and the two are going to be together pretty much all the time, right?”
“I’d imagine so,” I agreed.
Trying to put my worries behind me, I called Stein to see if he could get away for some spirited driving that afternoon.
“When you say ‘spirited’, what exactly do you mean?” he asked.
“Um, hauling ass?” I said.
“M6 hauling ass or 918 hauling ass?” he asked for clarification.
“918.”
“Well, fucking alright, then,” Stein said. “The Shell station in an hour?”
“Be there or be somewhere else,” I said.
“How long are you going to keep that wrap on there?” Stein asked as we bullshitted in the parking lot before hitting the road.
“Until I get tired of it. I’m kinda enjoying the Malibu Barbie thing. It gets a lot of the guys in the Porsche club spun up,” I said, sipping the first Coke I’d had in quite a while.
“Malibu Barbie? I guess that explains the bedazzled license plate frame,” he said with that lopsided smirk of his.
“Absolutely,” I agreed. “Hideous, isn’t it?"
“So what’s the occasion? You don’t usually get out midweek like this,” Stein asked, leaning against his burgundy red McLaren.
“I’m a bachelor for the next few weeks while Emmy is on tour,” I explained.
“Angela went with?”
“Yep. Somebody has to make sure Emmy takes care of herself while on the road. She gets so wrapped up in her music she forgets to eat, gets terrible sleep, the whole thing,” I said with a shrug.
“Why didn’t you go?”
“Work, school, you know. I’m going to fly in to meet ‘em in Paris and spend a week there and in London in a few weeks, so that’ll be cool,” I said.
“This must be the rock and roll lifestyle I’ve heard mentioned,” Stein said.
“Yeah, but for me it’s the same old grindstone lifestyle,” I said.
“But with fast cars.”
“Very fast cars,” I said. Of course, while we’d been talking quite a few guys (it was all guys) snapped pictures of my car or got out of their own cars to take a look.
Once he saw that Stein and I were done talking for a moment, one young guy walked over and asked me if the Porsche was mine.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is,” I said. He looked clean-cut and well-dressed and had been polite, so I asked him, “Would you like to see the interior?”
“Seriously?” he asked, surprised. He was obviously a car enthusiast, but his Civic Type R just wasn’t anywhere near the league of Stein’s McLaren, and even less of my Spyder.
I opened the driver’s side door and the guy peered in, eyes wide.
“Take a seat,” I suggested.
“Are you kidding me?” he asked, stunned.
“Sure, why not?” I replied.
The guy carefully slid into the driver's seat and put his hands on the wheel, letting out a soft, “Wow…” After a minute or two he slid out again.
“Thanks! That was awesome!” he said, a giant grin on his face.
“You stay safe out there,” I told him.
“Heh,” I heard Stein say.
Out on the road, just the two of us, we really let it fly. Angeles Forest was empty and we took advantage of it, railing the turns hard.
Eventually we wound up in Acton at dusk, so we found a local diner for a quick bite.
“You know, I really do like driving with all the guys,” Stein said, taking a bite of his Reuben sandwich. “But it’s nice to stretch the legs a bit and let the ponies run sometimes.”
“Here’s to the boys,” I said, raising my iced tea in a toast.
“To the boys,” Stein agreed, clinking my glass with his.
“Doesn’t that get old?” Stein asked as we stepped outside, only to find several guys posing for pictures by my car.
“You know everybody in the world asks for selfies with Emmy, right? This is small beans in comparison,” I said.
“Holy shit!” One of the guys exclaimed, elbowing his pal in the ribs as I walked up. “You were right! It is a chick’s car!”
“Did the color give it away?” I asked.
“Um, yeah, kinda,” the friend said sheepishly.
I glanced over at Stein, who was smirking with amusement. I shrugged in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture.
“Excuse me, guys,” I said, and they parted to let me by. I heard some quiet comments about my height, but again, old hat.
Sitting in the driver’s seat, I texted Stein. “Yeah, it does get old”.
I went in to the office the next morning, even though it was a Thursday. Since there was nothing to keep me home, I figured I’d get in a solid push at work while my two wives were out of town. I went straight from the office to class that night, only stopping to grab a bottle of iced tea and an energy bar at a gas station mini mart on my way.
“You know, it’s easy to forget that you’re already a CEO,” Myles said as we got snacks from the coffee cart during our class break. “But dressed like that? It’s a quick reminder.”
“That suit must have cost more than I make in a month,” Li said in agreement.
“It is a nice suit,” I admitted.
“A very nice suit,” Li agreed. “I bet you have a very nice car, and a very nice house to go with it.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” I said. “A big house in the Hollywood Hills, and a garage filled with expensive German cars. Oh, and two pools. Because just one would be too pedestrian.”
Li laughed at that so hard she snorted her Pepsi out through her nose, then gasped in pain and embarrassment.
Handing her some napkins, I apologized.
“Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t mean to make you laugh.”
“Yes, you did,” Li countered, wiping the tears from her eyes, still stinging from the soda in the sinuses.
“Well, yeah, I did,” I admitted. “You shooting your soda out your nose was just a bonus.”
“I should’ve gotten it all over your suit,” she grumbled, but I could tell she wasn’t actually upset.
“You know that part about two pools? My house really does, in fact, have two pools,” I said.
“Ow! Stop!” Li protested, trying not to laugh again.
After class, walking to the parking lot, I asked Myles if he’d considered my offer to come work for me.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” he said. “The thing is, I’ve been with Angel City for a long time, and I’ve built up a certain amount of seniority there…”
“Give it some more thought,” I said. “I’d be happy to have you on the team. And did I mention tuition reimbursement?”
That Saturday morning a whole bunch of my friends came over to watch the livestream of The Downfall’s Moscow concert. The boys had all skipped a day of driving for this, too. When I’d invited them over Jimmy had made the predictably amusing noises about watching a rock concert from the comfort of said rock star’s own home, while his sister just rolled her eyes in disdain.
Jenna and Andy had gotten to the house early to help me set everything up, for which I was very grateful. It was Andy who figured out how to get the giant TV wall in the home theater to stream from the web feed. I’d tried and had to give up and ask for help, which he was happy (and able) to provide.
“That is the biggest non-projection TV I have ever seen in my life,” he said, admiring the image.
“It cost an unbelievable amount of money,” I grumbled. “But Emmy wanted it, so we bought it.”
“I don’t even want to ask,” Andy said with a laugh.
The opening act was a Russian band that I’d never heard of. They sounded like the Black Keys might if they had an angry girl vocalist. I wasn’t super into them, and it wasn’t because I didn’t understand their songs. At least half were in English, which seemed odd, for a Russian band playing in Russia, but whatever.
Emmy had mentioned that local bands were going to open every show, but I don’t know how they were selected. My impression was that it was a big break and huge exposure for all of these acts, both because they’d be playing for a much larger crowd than they were used to, and the livestream was being watched all over the world.
The audience seemed to like this band and I have to admit that they put on a good show, especially considering it was just the singer, a guitarist and the drummer.
I settled into the seat next to Andy after the first band finished and their gear was cleared. Once that was done, the house lights dimmed and a laser show started as Jackson walked onstage to loud applause.
He just stood there with a smile on his face, waiting for things to quiet down. When they did, he said some stuff in Russian and the crowd went berserk again. He waved for quiet, then spoke some more, again in Russian. It sure sounded as if he actually knew the language and wasn’t just parroting some lines, but who knows?
Not waiting for quiet, he started in on a slow, supple bass line, slowly picking up speed and complexity. Suddenly he switched to a slap style and belted out a really funky rhythm just in time for Lee to walk onstage and take his seat behind the enormous drum kit.
Lee started in, but his beat was opposite Jackson’s as a sort of echo, creating an odd, unusual counterpoint. As they played, the rhythms evolved into something more complex, the two playing off each other.
“Emmy once told me that every show they do, the intro is always, um, improvised, right?” Andy asked.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “They Rochambeau backstage to see who gets to go on first and start. That person gets to decide how it, um, plays out, I guess,” I said. “Today Jackson won.”
“Wild,” Andy said, shaking his head. “And they do this every single show?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” I said. “I mean, they’ve done a few shows here and there where they didn’t, but it’s become one of their signatures.”
“I wish we could have seen them last month at Angels Stadium,” Jenna said, taking a handful of Andy’s popcorn. “But this guy had playoffs,” she said, poking Andy in the ribs. “Danged inconsiderate, if you ask me.”
“Hey, quiet in front!” Teddy Bear said from the seat right behind me.
“Sorry,” I said, but everybody knew neither of us meant it.
Emmy strolled onstage, her blue Gibson Firebird low on her hip. She was nodding along with the extraordinarily complex pattern that Jackson and Lee were weaving. The crowd let out a roar, but Emmy just smiled.
There was a giant screen above the stage in that arena, and the cameraman zoomed in and caught Emmy’s knowing look. Zooming back out a bit, he captured her hands as she dropped them to the neck and body of that classic guitar. She plucked a note, crisp and clear, the sustain keeping it high above the rhythm of the bass and drum. She kept it there for what seemed like forever, but was probably only twenty seconds or so. Just as the note started to fade away, her hands flew across the strings as she dove into the music that the boys were making.
The crowd went wild again, because they knew what I’d just explained to Andy. That audience knew that they were seeing something being created right in front of their eyes, something that had never been played before and never would be again. This was for them, and them alone. And, well, the million people watching the livestream too, I guess, but still…
Eventually something recognizable emerged from the instrumental as The Downfall settled into their first song, ‘Money Can’ from Dark Times.
“Bring your moneymaker over here, babe, and give me some love,” the crowd sang along with Emmy when she got to the chorus. “Give me what I pay you for,” they sang while Emmy just smiled broadly.
It went like that for pretty much the whole show. Despite almost all the songs being in English, the audience seemed to know every word, and sang along with enthusiasm.
Emmy and Jackson spoke between songs, with Jackson speaking in Russian most of the time, while Emmy stuck to English with a little French thrown in.
Of course The Downfall was augmented by a handful of additional musicians and backing vocalists, as well as a few dancers for the stage show. The lights, lasers and images projected on the giant screen were all synchronized to the music, too, making for one hell of a rock extravaganza.
The last song they played was ‘Baby, I Was Born To Die’, and when the guitar died away to silence and the heartbeat rhythm of the drums faltered and stopped, all the lights went out. The arena was black for a few long seconds while the crowd went absolutely berserk with applause.
Finally the house lights came on, with Emmy holding Jackson and Lee’s hands in the front of the stage. They bowed, accepting the cheering, the whistles and the stomping of feet. They bowed again, then Jackson took the microphone and spoke some more in Russian. It was clear he was thanking the people for coming out to see The Downfall. Emmy waved to the touring musicians and Jackson introduced them all, then waved the opening act onto the stage, too. Jackson introduced them by name also, handing the mic over to their singer, who spoke a bit, then handed the mic back.
With one last bow from everyone, the bands left the stage.
“What, no encore or anything?” Jimmy asked.
“They never do encores,” Teddy Bear explained. “They’re famous for it. I read it in an interview in Rolling Stone a while back. They said they thought the whole thing with encores was just ridiculous, and weren’t gonna do that.”
“So, like, all those people pay expecting to see an encore and the band doesn’t give it to ‘em?” Jimmy asked.
“Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy,” Teddy Bear said. “Did you notice that Every. Single. Person. in that audience knew every single Downfall tune they did, and most of the covers they played? Everybody there knew about the improvised intro, and everybody there knew that when the set was over, it was over. They got exactly what they paid for- and honestly, more. When I saw The Downfall at Coachella a few years ago it was maybe the best show I’d ever seen, and you know what? They weren’t even really on my radar back then. I went because I wanted to see the White Stripes and The Weeknd, and just happened to see The Downfall. And it was amazing.”
“Well, when they come back to California, We’re gonna go see ‘em,” Jenna announced, daring Andy to say otherwise.