Emmy And Me

Jackson and Jen left with Lee in his car after a while, and Emmy and I were alone in our soon-to-be house.

“I love it so much, Leah,” Emmy said, looking through the sketches some more. “This is so perfect, I cannot even express it. This house will be everything I wanted, but even better than I thought it ever could be.”

“I’m glad you like it so much, Em,” I said. “I want you to take these sketches home and look over them, just to see if you can think of anything you’d want to change. I made a few requirements, so my wants are taken into account already.”

“I will do that,” Emmy agreed. “But I have a hard time envisioning anything that could improve on these now.”

“Well, seriously, look at how the studio is set up, see if the work space is set up right. Maybe talk it over with Lee and Jackson? I mean, this is going to be where you guys are going to do all your work, so we want it perfect.”

“That is a good idea,” Emmy agreed. “I will find a studio construction expert to consult with, and to build out the equipment. He will have ideas, too.”

“That’s perfect,” I said. “In the meantime, let me show you some of the stuff that I thought was really cool about the plans,” indicating that Emmy should follow me.

“So, it turns out this place is over fifty thousand square feet, but the sound stage itself is nearly twenty thousand square feet. That’s actually right in the range for a major studio sound stage size, which means you could film real, full-scale productions here. If you decide that’s how you guys are going to use the space, we’ll need to get some film industry experts in here to help set it up- the lighting, the camera equipment, all of that- that’s gonna take somebody who knows what they’re doing,” I explained as we walked through the cavernous space. “There’s an open workshop area down below, where they must have actually build the sets and things like that. Right now it’s more or less abandoned, but it could be restored to usefulness if that’s what you guys want to do.”

“What do you want to do with the sound stage?” Emmy asked me.

“Me? I want whatever you want, babe. This is for you. Well, you and Lee and Jackson. This is just so you guys can do your music. How you want to use it is entirely up to you,” I said.

“What if I decide I want to become an avant-garde film director and make movies that nobody will want to watch?” Emmy asked with a smile.

“Then I’d say we bought the perfect house for you,” I said in reply, which got a laugh from Emmy.

That night, over dinner back at the apartment, Emmy asked me how much the new house-to-be cost.

“Significantly less than the townhouse in New York, even with the remodel,” I answered.

“Can we afford both houses?” Emmy asked, concerned. “Must we sell the townhouse?”

“No, don’t worry about it,” I said. “We could buy another house like those two and still be just fine. I know that you’ve really not paid much attention to the investments I’ve been making for us, or how much I’ve been earning with our company and its various divisions, but we’re doing really well. I mean, really well. We have a lot of money, Em. A seriously huge amount of money these days.”

“You do not talk very much about these things,” Emmy said.

“No, I don’t, because when I do bring them up your eyes just glaze over and you don’t seem interested. I’m O.K. with that,” I said, holding up my hand to forestall any rebuttal. “I’ve accepted that is my role in our relationship, and I’ve been enjoying it. Even more than that, it’s been important to me to give you the room for you to concentrate on your music and not have to worry about finances. So if you want to know, I can show you what’s going on. If you would rather not think about it, that’s fine, too. Just know that we have way more than enough money for just about anybody.”

“Do…” Emmy said, thinking about how to phrase it. “Do we have enough left over, to support ourselves and still afford the things we have and our two new houses, do we have enough for all that and to pay my parents back the money they gave me when I turned eighteen?”

“It’d take me a couple of days to arrange it, but yeah, we could even give them interest on that hundred million Euros,” I said. “Is that something you want to do?”

“Not exactly,” Emmy said. “What I would like to do with that money, if it is available, is to use it to help the Night Children of my nation. That wealth is at least partially from their hard work over the many generations, and it seems to me that giving it back would be fair.”

“Makes sense,” I said, nodding. “But simply handing every Night Child a check for five grand or whatever won’t really be that helpful in the long term.”

“No, it really would not, would it?” Emmy said, thinking about it.

“Look at the things we’ve done for the Night Children in our shadow,” I suggested. “What’s helped them the most? What’s made the most difference in their lives? Is that something we could do over there, in Europe?”

“That is an interesting way to think about it…” Emmy said, pondering the issue.

“But yeah, if you want, we can allocate that money,” I said.

“It will not harm our finances?” Emmy asked for confirmation.

“Not appreciably,” I confirmed.

A few days later at the regular Saturday morning meetup Stephen asked me how things were going, and I told him I’d just bought a fixer-upper in the Hollywood Hills.

“That’s cool,” he said. “How many square feet?”

“Well, a little over fifty thousand square feet, but-” I started to say.

“Did you just buy a fifty thousand square foot house?” Teddy Bear demanded, interrupting me.

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Are you kidding me?” Jimmy demanded.

“What’s going on?” Asked Stein as he and Geoff wandered over to see what the hubbub was about.

“Leah just bought a house in the Hollywood Hills that’s fifty thousand square feet!” Teddy Bear announced.

“There aren’t any places that big there. Maybe in Holmby Hills, but not Hollywood,” proclaimed Geoff, who always had to be right.

“Yeah, here’s what I’ve been trying to tell you idiots. The place is a bit over fifty thousand square feet, but it was built as a movie studio, so over half of that is the sound stage and the recording studios and so on. I’m gonna have the place remodeled so it’ll have a ten thousand square foot residence and the rest will be used as a film and audio recording work space. So no, it’s not a fifty thousand square foot house. But I guess it could be, if I wanted it to be.”

“A movie studio?” Jimmy asked. “You bought a movie studio? Dude, you gotta get my sister in some film or something. She’ll do full frontal, no problem.”

“Not that kind of film,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Teddy Bear, looking really interested, asked, “What do you plan on filming there?”

“Maybe music videos, maybe nothing. It might just get used as a rehearsal space, I don't know. That’s up to my wife and her band.”

“Your wife?” asked Geoff, his voice disapproving.

“Yeah, my wife,” I said in a tone that just dared him to say more.

“Your wife’s in a band?” Stephen asked. “Is it anything I might have heard of?”

“Yeah, probably,” I replied. “Ever hear of ‘The Downfall’?”

“Aw, shit!” exclaimed Jimmy. “You're kidding! Emmy is your wife?”

“For three years now,” I confirmed.

“How come you never invite us to any of your rock star parties, huh? We’re not good enough or something?” Jimmy asked, but he couldn't keep a straight face.

“Well, we don't have rock star parties, for one, and you guys aren't rock stars, for two,” I said, ticking off the points on my fingers. “And for three, rock star parties are boring, anyway. Nothing but loud music, booze, drugs and naked groupies, anyhow.”

“You're right- that does sound pretty boring,” said Stephen, and the rest of the guys nodded in agreement, except for Jimmy.

“Hey, I like loud music, drugs and booze- and even naked groupies, too. I know, it may seem like I'm old fashioned and out of step with the times, but I've always been a lover of the classics, you know?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Stein said. “Maybe rock star parties aren't so bad.”

“I'll tell you what,” I said. “Next rock star party we have I'll make sure to invite you guys. How’s that?”

“My schedule is pretty busy, but I'll try to make it,” said Stephen, and the rest of the guys nodded in agreement.

“I can't believe you been hiding the fact you're married to Emmy Lascaux,” Jimmy said, shaking his head in disappointment. “I thought we shared everything.”

“If you think you're gonna guilt me into letting you drive my GT-R, Jimmy, it's not gonna work.”

“You know the deal, Liz- I get a day at the track in your GT-R, and you can have my sister. No strings attached.”

“Jimmy, I've met your sister. I am not taking that deal.”

“Aw, come on! She’s really flexible. She does all that yoga shit, you know? The one where they turn up the heat to, like, a hundred degrees?”

“No deal, Jimmy. Besides, your mom would probably have me killed.”

“Well, you and me both,” Jimmy said, his shoulders drooping. “She’s the original tiger momma.”

It turned out to be Stein’s turn to lead out that morning, which was good because he was fast in his McLaren, but bad in that his choice was almost always Angeles Crest Highway, and therefore traffic. That particular morning we got the headlight flash warning after about four turns in, and Stein was the only one to miss the signal. The rest of us dropped anchor while he hauled ass away, only to get lit up by a CHP officer around the next blind left sweeper.

Of course, by the time the rest of us saw the cop he’d already jumped back in his car and was off in pursuit, and Stein showed no inclination at all to slow down. If anything, he wicked it up to drop the officer. As soon as the cop was out of sight ahead of the rest of us Geoff, who had been second in line, reached his hand out his window and signaled for a U turn, which we all did at the next turnout.

Back at the Shell station at the bottom of the hill, we regrouped to discuss what to do next.

Just as we’d all gathered outside our cars another CHP officer pulled into the little cul de sac where we were parked.

“Were you with that car that ran up on ACH?” Demanded the officer as he stepped out of his vehicle with his hand on the butt of his pistol.

“What car was that, officer?” Asked Stephen, in his best attorney voice.

“A group fitting your description was seen speeding, and one of the cars ran from the officer on the scene,” said the cop.

“Well, we were out driving, and we did go up and down ACH, officer, but I don’t know anything about excess speed, and certainly none of us would have tried to evade.” Stephen said, while the rest of us, even Jimmy, stayed quiet.

“So you don’t know the guy in the blue McLaren?”

Stephen shrugged. “I wish I could help you, officer, but this,” he said, indicating all of us there at the moment, “is the sum total of our Saturday morning group.”

“Hmm,” grumped the officer, who got back into his Explorer and left.

“Why did Stein run?” I asked. "He must have seen the drivers flashing their headlights at us,” I asked.

“He does that,” Geoff said, shrugging. “He likes the thrill or something. He’ll get away, and next time you see his car it’ll be wrapped in a different color. He’ll tell you he does it so none of the rest of us get pulled over, but I think that’s bullshit. He just likes the chase, and he knows he can be in the next county by the time the CHP gets a chopper anywhere near.”

“He lives dangerously,” agreed Jimmy.

“Huh. Well, I’ll buy him a round next time, then,” I said.

By some sort of mutual agreement we all decided that was it for the day. As we were getting back into our cars, Stephen said, “Hey, Leah, want to get coffee?”

“You did hear me when I said I was married, and to another woman at that, right?” I asked, teasing him.

“Hey, if a guy doesn't try, he can’t score, right? No, seriously, I want to talk to you about some things you mentioned earlier.”

“Sure,” I said. “The morning’s drive is shot, so might as well get some coffee to make up for it. I’ll follow you.”

Thankfully, he knew a cool independent coffee shop nearby and didn’t drag me to a Starbucks.

Once we’d ordered and sat down, Stephen said, “Leah, I know it’s rude to ask, but how old are you, anyway?”

“I’m going to turn twenty-two in a month. Why?”

“O.K., I’m gonna say something here- maybe put my foot in my mouth, but don’t take offense. You don’t seem like your typical trust fund kid. Am I right?” Stephen asked.

“Yeah, no, I didn’t grow up with money, if that’s what you mean,” I confirmed.

“You’ve hinted that you work- that you go into an office. What is it you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t mind at all,” I said, sipping my latte. “I own a company that has divisions in real estate investment and development, entertainment, and hospitality. I also do some VC investments. In fact, I just cashed out a few months ago on that video sharing app that had its IPO back in February.”

“You own the company?” Stephen asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m the big cheese.”

“And you’re twenty-one years old.”

“Almost twenty-two.”

Stephen just looked at me for a while, thinking about what to say next. Finally, he said, “Don’t take this wrong, but that’s just about impossible to believe. There’s just no way you could have had time. I mean, most people your age are still in college and hoping to get a good enough job to pay off their student loans.”

“Athletic scholarship,” I said with a shrug and took another sip. “If the story sounds too crazy to be true, feel free to Google me. Right now. Take out your phone and Google ‘Leah Farmer’ and see what comes up. There’re gonna be a lot of hits.”

Looking doubtful, Stephen took out his phone and did exactly what I’d suggested. Scrolling through the results, he said, “You really are married to Emmy Lascaux.” And then, a few moments later, “National volleyball championship game MVP?” Continuing, he clicked on a link, and frowning, read the web site. “This says you’re suspected of several murders?”

I rolled my eyes so hard the barista could hear the sound over the foamer she was using. “If you’ll notice, those stories are all speculation, innuendo and complete bullshit. I don’t know who started those rumors, but they’ve been saying that shit about me since I was a senior in high school.”

“So it’s not true?”

“Stephen, seriously. Do I look like a stone cold serial killer?” I asked.

“Um, maybe? I mean, you do come across as really intense- no offense, but it’s true. I wouldn’t say that makes you a serial killer, but you are pretty intimidating.”

“It didn’t help those stories that in the collegiate volleyball world everybody called me ‘Killer Leah’.”

“That’s actually pretty awesome,” laughed Stephen. “But you’d better hope that Jimmy never finds out about those stories or next thing you know he’ll be calling you Lizzie Borden.”

“Oh, shit,” I said. “I’d bet he’d already read that and that’s why he calls me Liz. I know he googled to find out about my track car.”

Stephen laughed, thinking about it. “Hey, at least you’ve figured out why he calls you that. I’ve known him for over a year now and I still have no clue why he calls me Zeke.”

“So, now you know my life story, or at least know to Google it to find out the details, tell me a bit about yourself? What is it you do?” I asked.

“I’m an intellectual property lawyer, I work for a firm that mainly represents film studios. I’m thirty-six years old, have a girlfriend I’m planning to marry. I graduated from USC in 2003, then went to NYU for law school. I did grow up with a fair amount of money, but basically all that meant for me was private schools, then my folks paid for my college. The rest was on me,” Stephen said.

“Having rich parents is nice,” I said. “My mom teaches at a community college in San Diego County.”

“How about your dad?”

“He was a Marine- killed in Fallujah when I was a little kid.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry to hear it,” Stephen said, and he sounded as if he actually meant it.

“Thanks.”

“So, besides buying an old movie studio, what brought you to LA?” Stephen asked, changing the subject.

“Emmy’s music. Once I graduated back in June from Stanford, there was no reason to stay up there, not when the music industry is all here. We talked about New York and even bought a townhouse in Manhattan, but ultimately decided that Los Angeles made more sense, especially since one of her bandmates was from here.”

“What did you do with the Manhattan townhouse?” Stephen asked, sipping his Americano.

“We’re spending a ton of money having it restored and remodeled,” I replied, rolling my eyes again.

“Why’d you even buy it if you were just going to move to LA anyway?”

“Emmy found the place on some realty web site, and fell in love with it when we saw it, so I bought it for her as a sort of pied-à-terre or something. An eleven million dollar vacation home. Can you believe that?” I asked.

“And you just bought the studio here for her and her band?”

I nodded in a ‘what can you do?’ sort of way and said, “It’s only money.”

Stephen looked at me for a moment, then said, “Yeah- a lot of money.”

“It’s nickels and dimes compared to what she wants to spend money on next,” I said. “She wants to endow a foundation with a hundred million Euros to start.”

“Really?” Stephen asked. “What did you say when she suggested that?”

“I told her it would take a couple of days for me to move the money around. I told her she could have it by Wednesday at the latest.”

“OK, now I know you’re yanking my chain,” Stephen said, leaning back and laughing.

“No, that’s pretty much how the conversation went, but she said she wasn’t ready to get it started just yet and might not be ready for a few more months, so no rush.”

“Jesus,” Stephen said. “I’m barely worth a couple of million all in, and here you are, talking about giving a hundred and thirty million dollars away because your wife wants to start a charity.”

“Nah, not a charity. A refugee aid foundation. It’s a different animal entirely.”

“Still…”