Emmy And Me

Dinner at the French Laundry was always something I looked forward to, and even though it meant I was paying, the day on the track had been worth it. James was one of the few friends I’d made in Silicon Valley (outside of those I’d met at Stanford) who didn’t see relationships as inherently transactional. He wasn’t looking for a way to make money off me, or use me for connections. I’d never brought up the idea of him investing in my REIT, never tried to sell him on anything, never tried to get him to introduce me to anybody for business purposes, and I was happy to keep it like that.

Most of the high-dollar types in the Valley were always, one hundred per cent of time, looking to get ahead, looking to find the angle, and looking to keep score. Fair enough, I guess, but that isn’t friendship. That’s a mutual benefit arrangement that only lasts as long as the benefit actually is mutual.

With James, it was about cars, driving fast, enjoying life. We’d met one day when I was out for a nice, spirited drive. He was, too, and we just started chatting at a gas station. He asked me about a road nearby, and I asked him about his car- an Audi R8. Soon enough we were railing the local roads at high speed, and a friendship was born. He didn’t care I wasn’t from the tech sector, female, whatever. All he cared about was that we both enjoyed driving too fast, and that was perfect.

Sand-bagging at Sonoma Raceway was small price to pay to see him happy about the car he’d just dumped a ton of money on, and in all honesty, it really was an incredible machine. Emmy and Imogen got along well, too, and the four of us had double-dated a few times over the last year and a half that we’d known each other, so it was all good as far as I was concerned.

A few minutes after we were seated, David, the chef, came out to say hello.

“Emmy! Leah! It is great to see you two again!” he said. “And who did you bring with you tonight?”

Emmy introduced Imogen and James to David, who then went on to explain the night’s dishes. After running through the day’s tasting menu, he asked, “So, be honest. Was your dinner at Per Se as good as what you get here?”

“It was different enough that a direct comparison is impossible,” Emmy said, diplomatically. “The local ingredients there are not the same as here in California, and therefore the dishes were not the same as here. The service was excellent, but it is always stellar here as well. I am afraid that I have to tell you the same that I told Charles there in New York- we must have further evaluation to make a fair judgement.”

This seemed to satisfy David, so he left us alone, saying that he’ll have to visit New York and see for himself.

“You guys are on first name basis with the chefs of the Laundry and Per Se in New York?” Imogen asked, astounded.

Emmy just shrugged and said “Yes?”

“That’s amazing,” Imogen said, still in awe. “How does that even happen?”

“Celebrity,” I said. “And an unbelievable ability to make friends anywhere she goes.”

“Yeah, I guess both of those count,” Imogen agreed.

Of course, dinner itself was fantastic, as the wine pairings were perfect, as usual. James and I both kept our consumption minimal, since we both had long drives back to the South Bay ahead of us, but still… A little sip here and there loosened us both up a bit.

James and I were talking about the track day, and he commented on driving my Godzilla.

“That car of yours, Leah, it really, um, illuminated some things for me. I really had a serious insight about five, six laps in.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” I asked.

“I figured out two things. First, you could have driven off into the distance any time you wanted, and you were holding back, to, I don’t know, play around, I guess.”

I nodded, not surprised he’d figured it out.

“It’s not that the GT-R is that much faster, it’s that it’s a freaking honey badger, and honey badger don’t care,” James said. “That car was on the edge of getting out of shape at every single moment, but it didn’t matter if it did or not. It was gonna haul the damned mail regardless.”

I laughed, and said “Yeah, it has a certain will of its own,” I agreed.

“That leads into what the second thing I realized about you. You go so goddamned fast because you have a flagrant disregard for human life. Yours, mine, everybody on the track. You don’t care that that Nissan monster could get you killed, because if you did, you’d never drive it again. But I’ve seen you. I’ve seen the look in your eyes when you drive it. You freaking love that, that… I dunno, rush of speed, thrill of victory, I don’t know what it is, but you have that.”

“A friend of mine once told me that I was a killer and that everyone we knew was terrified of me,” I said with a laugh.

“Yeah, well, your friend wasn’t wrong,” James said, laughing along. “No, I mean, really, I’ve talked to a few people about you. People we know in common, and at least half of them are convinced you have some sort of secret life going on- that you’re some kind of ‘International woman of mystery’,” he said, making air quotes with his fingers.

Laughing, I said “Yeah, baby!”

“But no, seriously, a lot of people swear they’ve heard stories of you having people bumped off, crazy stuff like that.”

“Really?” I asked. “That’s crazy talk. I would never have anybody killed. Not when I could do it myself.”

“Right?” James said with a laugh.

“If you want it done right, do it yourself, that’s what I say,” I added, laughing.

“And see? That’s what I’ve told these people. I said that you seemed like a hands-on sort of serial killer, not some sort of delegator afraid to get her hands dirty,” James said.

“Yeah,” I said, then sighed. “But you know what? All the screaming and the blood and all- it gets old after a while.”

“I can see that,” agreed James. “Plus the dry cleaning!”

“It’s a real problem,” I agreed.

“What are you guys talking about?” Imogen asked, leaning in to bump shoulders with her husband.

“How Leah is thinking of retiring from her work as a secret agent assassin,” James told her, giving her an affectionate peck on the cheek.

“I keep telling Leah that she cannot retire until the 401(k) is vested,” Emmy said, sipping her wine. “And that takes five years.”

“Sensible,” said James, nodding his head. “I’ve heard the retirement bennies are significant.”

“Yeah, but getting to retirement is murder,” I said with a groan, which got a laugh from everybody.

“So, no, seriously, what were you guys talking about?” Imogen asked.

“That really was what we were talking about,” James protested.

I just shrugged when she gave me a questioning look. “It’s true,” I said. “That is what we were talking about.”

“Well, we,” Imogen said, pointing to Emmy and herself, “Were talking about New York.” Turning to James, she asked, “Did Leah tell you they just bought a townhouse on the upper East Side?”

“No, it hadn’t come up,” James said, “What with all the discussion of murder and mayhem and vested stock options.”

Imogen rolled her eyes, then said, “Emmy invited us to visit with them next time they’re in New York. It’s been a while since we’ve visited my parents, and this would give us an excuse to not stay out there in Connecticut.”

“You know I love your mom and dad, honey, but it would be nice to not have to stay there at their house,” agreed James.

“Hey- any time you need a place to stay in Manhattan,” I said, “Just let me know and the place is yours.”

“It’s a real shame you guys are moving to Los Angeles,” Imogen sighed. “The Bay Area is going to be a lot more boring without you two.”

“It is going to be difficult, leaving friends here,” agreed Emmy. “But we must relocate for my music, and Leah is done at Stanford, so it is time.”

“Stanford?” asked James.

“Yeah, I just graduated,” I confirmed.

“Wait- how old are you?” James asked.

“I’m gonna turn twenty-two in September,” I said. “Why?”

“All this time, I thought you were a lot older. I mean, no offense, but you don’t seem like you’re that young.”

“That is a spectacular foot you just shoved in your mouth, hon.” Imogen said drily.

“You know what I meant,” James said, waving it away. “I always figured Leah was just a really young-looking early thirties. She carries herself with too much, I don’t know, maturity, to be only twenty-two.”

“Twenty-one for a few more months,” I said, taking a sip of wine.

“So the secret life you’ve been leading is a college student?” James asked, still trying to process.

“Google me,” I said. “You’ll be surprised what comes up.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna do that.” he agreed.

“You know what you’ll find, besides my Stanford volleyball stuff?” I asked, smirking.

“What?” James responded.

“A lot of rumors about me killing people,” I said with a laugh. “Seriously, you’ll see.”

“O.K., I can believe that,” he said, “Judging by the conversations I’ve had.”

On our way back down to Palo Alto, Emmy rested her hand on my leg. “I enjoy seeing you with your friends,” she said, softly. “I am sorry to be taking you away from them.”

“You won’t be,” I reassured her, resting my hand on hers. “We’ll still see James and Imogen, when we come up from SoCal. Maybe in New York, too.”

“I guess so,” Emmy said, doubt in her voice.

“It’s going to be a change, baby, I’m not saying it won’t,” I said. “But it’s not going to be the end of any friendships, nothing tragic like that. It’ll be good,” I said, to reassure myself as much as to reassure Emmy. “I’m sure we’ll make plenty of new friends in Los Angeles.”

The actual move was completely anticlimactic. Sana and Donny had already left for the great Northwet, so really the only people there in Palo Alto for tearful goodbyes were Michael and Jassie, and they were going to help us move down to Los Angeles. I was going to drive the truck with Michael, while Emmy and Jassie were going to drive down in the Aston.

We’d sold the BMW already, and my track car would be shipped down once I figured out where it would be kept. There really were no loose ends, so when the morning came to hit the road, we all had breakfast together, then climbed into our respective rides for the drive south.

I don’t know what Emmy and Jassie talked about, but eight hours in the truck gave Michael and I plenty of time to discuss Night Children matters, parenting issues, the upcoming election, and so on. The part of the discussion that really stood out to me, though, is when Michael ruminated on how life had been for him for the last three years.

“That first day, showing my true face to the world,” he said, “was truly terrifying.”

“Yeah, you and Hakan looked ready to bolt out the door if anybody even glanced at you cross-eyed, there at that restaurant,” I said, remembering that day three years before.

“Yes, it was completely nerve-wracking,” Michael agreed. “I simply couldn’t understand how Emmy lived that way from the time she was born. Now, though, since I’ve been out of hiding for a few years, I’ve become accustomed to the stares, the puzzled looks, and even the indifference. I still see the sidelong glances, but I’m not paranoid about it anymore. Now I understand it’s just about how I look different than most people, and not that people secretly know I’m a Night Child and hate and fear me for it,” he explained.

“And that’s better?” I asked.

“Infinitely,” agreed Michael. “Now, I stand tall. I wear nice clothes, drive a nice car, have a beautiful place to live. When I see someone look at me a little bit longer than is comfortable, I tell myself they see a successful man, and are envious. Or appreciative.”

“That's… a good way to look at it,” I said, thinking about it.

“Emmy told me, perhaps two or three months after we first met, that that was her method. Whenever anyone stares at her, she tells herself that they admire her beauty, her style, her poise. This is her secret weapon against the fear and the anxiety. It has taken me a while to internalize it, but now I find myself standing up a bit straighter, throwing my shoulders back a little, every time I notice anybody staring at me,” Michael said.

“That’s- you know, Emmy never said anything about that to me, but now that you’ve said it, that makes a ton of sense,” I agreed. “I can totally see it, now,” I said, pondering what he’d just said. “I guess I’ve kinda done something like that with my height… but I’d never really given it as much thought. Just sort of, I don’t know, embraced it, you know?”

“Exactly. I have seen it in you,” Michael agreed. “You stand up straight, and use your height to look down on the rest of us. You use the fact you’re taller than most people to establish an attitude of, superiority, might be a good way to say it. Unconsciously, perhaps, the rest of us are metaphorically forced into looking up to you, as we do so physically.”

Laughing, I said, “You make it sound as if I use my height to push people around.”

Looking away from the road long enough to make eye contact for a moment, Michael said, “You do. You may not recognize that’s what’s happening, but it’s part of your… your aura, maybe. You are a very commanding presence, Leah. A very commanding presence. People do what you tell them to do. They can’t help it. A major part of it is your physically imposing presence, and part of that is your height. How tall are you, anyway?”

“I’m listed on the team roster at six foot three, but that’s rounding up a little bit,” I said.

“Which is taller than most men, and taller than maybe all but one tenth of a percent of women,” Michael said. “When you wear heels, you’re the tallest person in the room wherever you go.”

“Which is why I hardly ever actually wear heels,” I said. “Well, that, and the fact that I don’t wear them enough to ever feel comfortable in ‘em.”

Laughing, Michael said, “I don’t understand how any woman can wear those things. They’re death traps!”

“You should see this one pair that Emmy has. The heels are so tall on them that all her weight is on her tippy toes. They’re unreal- I’ve seen her walk in ‘em and I have no idea how she even does it,” I said with a laugh.

Despite the conversation getting sidetracked by the part about high heels, Michael had given me something to think about- something about what Emmy had told him, and what he’d said about me.

I certainly didn’t think he was wrong. In fact, it was immediately obvious that he was completely correct, but I didn’t really know what to do with the revelation as far as my behavior was concerned. So I mentally filed the information away for later, knowing well that that later would probably never happen.

Navigating to the new place in Century City was easy enough, and thankfully there was a loading dock that would accept the smallish U-Haul truck we were driving. The tower also had big cargo mover trolleys, so it only took a few trips to unload, even though we were all tired from the drive. Michael and I did most of the physical work while Emmy dealt with the reception staff and Jassie helped unload and distribute the boxes and so on in the rental apartment.

It was definitely time for food once the truck had been emptied and re-parked. Emmy had asked at the lobby for a good place to eat nearby and was pleased to hear there was a fairly high-end restaurant on-site that served Japanese/American fusion, so that’s where we went. Dinner was good enough for me to expect to eat there regularly, and so we all went back to the apartment with our bellies full and ready to sleep.

The furnishings in the apartment were all quality, even though the style wasn’t to my taste at all- but that didn’t matter, since we were only going to be living there until we found a home to buy. Good thing, too, since it was twenty-five grand a month rent.

The view, though, that was amazing. Our unit was on the seventeenth floor, facing downtown in the distance. Off to the north we could see the Hollywood hills, but unfortunately not the actual Hollywood sign. The balcony area was large enough to qualify as an outdoor living room, and since we were on the east side the breeze was muted.

Not a bad place to live for the next few months, but I couldn’t see us exercising our option to buy.

I got up early, as usual, and made use of the building’s gym. It was at least as nice as most chain gyms, and to my surprise there were quite a few people working out at five in the morning. I introduced myself to the training staff and got the introductory ‘Do you know how to use the equipment properly?’ stuff out of the way quickly, then got to warming up on a treadmill.

Running in place, as I glanced around I couldn’t help but notice that there were a lot of really good-looking people in the gym. I mean, really good-looking. This only reinforced the West LA stereotype I had in my mind. Once I realized that I was mentally putting all these pretty women and men into a category in my mind, I admonished myself for being shallow.

Sure, that stunningly hot girl over there doing leg lifts while looking in the full-wall mirror might have been admiring herself, but more likely she was looking to make sure her form was good. Well, I could tell her that her form was damned near perfect, but I was sure she already was well aware of that fact.

That guy over there in the skin-tight tank top? He was probably as concerned with his health as he was with his perfect pecs and washboard abs, right? Well, to be fair, he probably was some sort of actor or model or something and needed to look that way for work, anyhow…

I was minding my own business, trying not to pay any attention to the others there in that gym at five-thirty in the morning, when one of the trainers came over to talk to me.

“I’ve been watching your workout,” he said. “We always keep an eye on new members here, just to make sure they’re O.K. on the equipment, you know how it is,” he said.

“My name’s Josh. I’m the morning manager here,” he added.

“Leah,” I replied, taking a moment to shake his offered hand.

“So, Leah, it’s obvious to anyone who isn't visually impaired that you know what you’re doing,” he said with a smile, his teeth amazingly white in his perfectly tanned face.

“Thanks,” I replied. “Yeah, I’ve been in a gym or two.”

“Well, not to be, um, don’t think I mean this in any sort of unprofessional way, but you’re really, well, built,” Josh said, tripping over himself to not offend.

“Thanks,” I said as I returned to my barbell rows.

“I mean, look at what you’re doing now,” he said, indicating the barbell I was lifting. “There aren’t three guys in here who could do a set like that, and none of us could do it with the stability you’re displaying.”

“It took me a while to work up to it,” I said as I finished my set and stood up to let my back recover.

“Yeah, I’d imagine so. So I guess what I’m getting at is that you obviously know really well what you’re doing, and we don’t need to babysit you in any way, but if you do need any help, or a spotter, anything at all, just give a shout and somebody will be happy to give a hand.”

“I appreciate it, Josh,” I said. “I have to admit that wasn’t the way I saw the conversation going when you first came over.”

“What do you mean?” Asked Josh. "Did you think maybe I came over to hit on you, or something?” he said, with a grin.

“It’s happened before,” I said with a shrug.

“Well, I can certainly imagine it has,” he said. “But I have never, and I mean never, hit on a woman in my entire life, and I’m not about to start now.”

That got a laugh out of me, so I held out my fist for him to bump. “Family member, myself,” I said, and the light of recognition lit up in his eyes.

“Stay proud,” he replied with a smile as he bumped my fist.