Emmy And Me

Rafael and I spent a couple of hours just drinking rum and talking about nothing much besides how wonderful family is, and how the love of a good woman is worth more than any amount of gold. It wasn’t a conversation that had any deeper purpose than us simply getting to know each other better, but that was perfectly fine. This was a man who was going to be in my life for decades to come, after all, and it was important that the two of us knew and respected each other as family members.

We talked about the family coming to Los Angeles as Angela’s due date approached, and Rafael said that he and Cecilia might not be able to stay as long as Marisa would, since he had work obligations and she had school to attend. That led to talk of Cecy maybe, potentially, coming to the US for a school year, and I agreed that that might be something that could happen, provided, of course, that she wanted to do it. We pondered the mysteries of a teenager’s mind, eventually conceding that there was no knowing.

Eventually we made our way back to our rooms, satisfied that we had a bond of friendship, on top of the shared bond of Angela’s love.

As it turned out, La Candelaria was not one specific thing or building to see, but the whole colonial Spanish part of town. Angela led me on a walking tour through the area, and although she pointed out a museum that had a lot of gold artifacts from before the arrival of the Spanish, we didn’t go inside. This was just a way to get a little feel for the vibe of the old parts of town, and perfect in that regard.

The buildings were an interesting mix of architecture spanning five hundred years, with no real rhyme or reason that I could see. Modern buildings would butt up against others that might be from the 1800s, or the 1600s. It had all happened organically, and except for a handful of monumental buildings, with no rhyme or reason why some should be preserved and others not.

Angela and I just wandered around for a few hours with no real itinerary but to see the heart of Bogotá. As Angela pointed out, we didn’t have enough time to do much before we needed to be at the stadium for the night’s show.

As we walked, Angela kept reassuring me that it wasn’t actually going to rain, despite the low clouds hanging over the city, obscuring the view of the Andes mountains I’d hoped for.

“It’s just this time of year. Sure, it does rain a lot, but not when it’s this warm,” Angela explained. Turning to the little old lady manning the food cart where we were buying cheesy buns, she asked, “No va a llover, no?”

“No,” the little old lady said dismissively, looking up at the clouds. “Hoy no.”

“There, see?” Angela said to me, and I had to admit that somebody who makes their living standing around outside probably has a good instinct for these things.

“My least favorite thing about Bogotá is how cold it is here all the time,” Angela said at one point, contradicting the thing about it being too warm for rain. Of course, I didn’t mind that the cool weather meant that she held me a bit more closely as we walked. By cold she meant in the mid sixties, but I could understand her point. The heavy humidity made the coolish air temperature seem all that much colder than just the number would lead you to believe. Sure, we were practically parked on the Equator, but at almost nine thousand feet of elevation it was at least sweater weather and most of the locals wore jackets.

“How will it be for the show tonight?” I asked.

“It will be fine. Everybody here knows to dress warmly in the evenings,” Angela said with a shrug.

“We’re south of the Equator, right? So we’re heading into winter here, right?” I asked.

“The only difference is the rain,” Angela said. “It’s always this cold, but in the summer it’s drier so it doesn’t feel so bad.”

Remembering Angela’s description of New York in the winter as the coldest she’d ever been in her life, I just held her close and tried to hide my smile.

Back at the hotel, the Castros were excited to see the evening’s concert. Cecilia was practically buzzing with nerves as we all loaded into the taxi cabs to take us to the soccer stadium.

“Will they play Killer In The Dark?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” I admitted. “Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t.”

“It’s their best song!” she protested.

This started a long conversation in Spanish between the two Castro sisters which was too fast for me to understand, but seemed to be about The Downfall’s varied playlists.

Angela and I led the way through the security, which was noticeably tighter than any of the other shows in the tour that I’d been to. Passing the merch tables, Angela bought both versions of the tour T for Cecilia, the one that said, “Big-Ass Rock Spectacular” and the other that was just a black shirt with a pair of vivid green eyes on it, with the dates on the back. Cecilia immediately put the black shirt on over what she was already wearing, proud to show her support for her sister-in-law.

As usual, our seats were on the field, about a third of the way back. When Rafael asked why we weren’t seated in the front row, Angela explained to him that the sound was better back where we were seated and the whole stage show was designed to be viewed from that far back. Angela pointed at the sound board right behind us and said that the acoustics were the very best right there. Too close and it all becomes a bit of a mess, and besides, we have no need to be close to the stage to see Emmy, right? We get to see her much closer than that all the time, after all.

This made sense to Rafael and Mamá, but I’m pretty sure I heard a little grumbling from Cecilia.

“Cecy,” I said. “We may not have front row seats, but we have backstage passes, which are even better. Anybody can buy tickets up front, but nobody can buy all-access passes.”

This cheered her up, and as she held up her pass on its lanyard I said, “You get to keep that, to show to your friends.”

“En serio? I really can?” she asked.

“En serio,” I confirmed.

The stadium’s lights blinked to warn everybody to get to their seats, and a few minutes later dimmed when the opening act took the stage. Only about half the seats were occupied by that point, but that just seemed to be the way it went for the show openers at the concerts I’d attended.

This time it was a quintet- the usual rock combo of guitarist, drummer and bassist, but with the addition of two saxophone players. Their music was a sort of rock and jazz mix, heavy on the jazz. Different, and at times annoying, but that was O.K. At least they provided some variety, right? Most of their stuff was instrumental, but the bassist rapped during a few of their songs. The crowd seemed more receptive to their music than I was, but again, that seemed to be case at most Downfall concerts.

Emmy and the boys put on their usual amazing show, and the high humidity made the laser light show all that much more spectacular. It was like the show in Australia, but without the whole getting wet thing.

Both Jackson and Emmy spoke in Spanish to the fans between songs, to my surprise. Emmy’s Spanish was smoother and more natural than Jackson’s, but his sounded as if he really did speak the language, too, just not as fluently as she did.

The fans ate it up, and 45,000 enthusiastic Colombians can make quite a noise when they want to. The Castro parents looked as if they really enjoyed the performance, but Cecilia was the one who was singing along with every song, completely swept up in the music.

Cecilia and Angela didn’t look all that much alike, but in some ways the sibling relationship was obvious. Cecilia, just like her older sister, wore her heart on her sleeve- both of them had very expressive faces that showed their every emotion as plain as day. It was easy to picture what Angela must have been like at sixteen years old, judging by how similar the two were in those ways.

Mamá, Papá and Cecilia all just about jumped out of their skin when Emmy tore into the primal scream that started Killer In The Dark, but only Cecy’s expression turned to a broad grin immediately afterward. She was overjoyed that they played her favorite song of theirs after all.

“This song- it is very…” Rafael said, leaning over behind Cecilia, to talk to me.

“It is,” I agreed, nodding.

Unsurprisingly, that was the last song of the set and when it finished, Jackson called everybody to the front of the stage to take their bows. In now traditional fashion, he also called the opening act up and introduced them too, encouraging the audience to give them their fair share of applause.

When we made our way backstage, both of the older Castros were extremely complimentary to everybody in the band, but they couldn’t hold a candle to how effusive Cecilia was with her praise. She practically leg-humped Lee and Jackson, but it was Emmy that received the bulk of her attention. She hugged Emmy, struggling to even form words to express how much she loved the show, how amazing it was, and how that had to be the best concert anybody ever did, ever, anywhere.

Angela stood to the side with her parents, amused by her little sister’s meltdown.

Jen wandered over to watch the spectacle, a smile on her face. She bumped shoulders with Angela and said, “If you’re not careful, your kid sister is gonna steal your wife away,” earning her a laugh from Angela.

“Hey, you guys gonna go to the afterparty tonight?” Lee asked. “It’s gonna be at a nightclub they say is totally off the hook.”

“What nightclub?” Angela asked.

“Um, I think somebody said it was The Cock,” Lee told her.

“Is it a gay bar?” I asked, surprised.

“No, that’s The Theatre,” Angela said. “They claim it is the biggest gay bar in the world, but I’ve never been there.”

“Well, that might be cool,” Jen said. “Is it just for gay guys?”

“No, lesbians go there, too, but it is mostly men, from what people have told me,” Angela said.

“Well, that sounds cool and all, but the party is gonna be at this Cock place,” Lee said.

“I don’t know it,” Angela admitted. “It must be new since I finished school here.”

“I’m O.K. with going, if you want to,” I told Angela. “But I’m sure your parents won’t want to go.”

“They probably would, but Cecy is too young,” Angela said. “Mamí and Papí like to dance.”

“That’s cool,” I said, amused by the thought of Marisa and Rafael getting down at an EDM nightclub. “How about you? You wanna go shake it?”

“I would like to, but you have to promise you’ll dance, too," Angela said, taking my hand.

“I’ll dance, but you and Em both make me look like a chicken with a bad leg out on the dance floor,” I said.

“That is nonsense. You dance just fine when you let yourself have fun.”

“Then let’s go,” I said. “We can drink some drinks, dance some dances, and let ourselves have fun.”

Parting ways with the parents and Cecilia, we went straight to the nightclub from the stadium. When the taxi dropped us off, I thought we must have been at the wrong place, except for the handful of partiers waiting to be allowed in by the intimidating-looking bouncers.

The place itself had no signage and looked nothing like a nightclub, but I could hear the music from inside, confirming that it was the right place. It looked like an old, abandoned house in the style of many of the 19th century houses I’d seen there in Bogotá. And like many others, the older house was wedged between two much newer buildings adjoining on either side- a parking garage and a small office building.

The bouncers recognized us and immediately ushered us through the ancient wooden doors and into the strangest nightclub I’d ever been to. The abandoned house theme carried to the inside, too- the place was decorated as if the little old lady that that lived there passed away, leaving the family pictures on the walls. The furnishings were a mishmash of antique shop finds, too, but the lighting was completely dance club contemporary, and the sound system pumped the electronic beats throughout the whole house.

The literal centerpiece of the nightclub was the old house’ atrium, which was dominated by a big, mature tree hung with lights. The bar was in what would probably have been the old house’s dining room and the DJ table was set up on the the opposite side, in what must have been a sitting room of some kind, both facing the courtyard.

Like I said, bizarre, but cool, too. After getting drinks and finding some couches to sit on, I noticed another really bizarre thing. The house was two stories tall, but all the upper floors- the actual floors- had been almost entirely removed, making most of the rooms double height. Amusingly, the upper level walls were left as they had been in the old house, with doors, windows, photos on the walls, even bookshelves and the like way up out of reach.

“I like this place,” Emmy said. “It is a very creative use of the space.”

“It is,” I agreed. “Strange as anything, but really well done. The drinks are good, too.”

Angela and Emmy danced a ton, having a great time, and I did my best even though I had only a tiny fraction of the rhythm they had. Still, even though my skills on the dance floor couldn’t hold a candle to theirs, I was enjoying myself.

Every now and then some hopeful would try to cut in, and Emmy or Angela might give them a dance if they felt like it, but mostly my two beauties kept it all in the family.

Things were going great and the night was just about perfect until one guy in particular grabbed Angela’s arm to get her attention.

The moment she turned to face him, she yanked her arm away. I couldn’t hear what she said to him, but her attitude went from happy and having a great time to angry and upset in a flash. Her whole posture changed, her body language making it clear she wanted nothing to do with him.

Tiny was quick to recognize the situation, interposing his intimidating self between the two. Facing the guy, Tiny pushed him back, away from Angela.

The guy started yelling and all I could make out was Angela’s name, but Tiny didn’t give a damn. He just stood there like an immovable wall, making it very clear that the guy was not getting anywhere near Angela, no matter what he might think. Grant, I noticed, was circling the room, staying out of the guy’s line of sight but keeping his own eyes open for any backup the guy might have.

“Let’s go back to the hotel,” Angela pleaded. “I’m not in the mood for dancing anymore.”

“Is that the guy?” I asked, and Angela understood my question with no problem.

“Yeah, Luis Cardeño,” Angela confirmed. “He’s why I left Colombia.”

“I would prefer it if Jeremy took him outside and we stayed and enjoyed ourselves,” Emmy said, ignoring Luis’ continued shouting.

By this time the club’s bouncers had arrived and were trying to sort things out, but Jeremy didn’t speak any Spanish, so Angela had to face Luis to explain to the club security that he’d assaulted her. Angela kept her cool talking to the bouncers, and soon enough they hustled Luis out, with Tiny as backup if they needed it.

Grant gave me a look, and with his tilted head I understood he wanted to follow, so I gave him a nod and he slipped out of the main dance area, towards the front door.

“If we leave, he wins,” Emmy explained to a still-distraught Angela. “If he is kicked out, but yet we continue to enjoy ourselves and pay him no mind, then he is the loser.”

“I guess,” Angela responded, but she was clearly not convinced.

“Ange,” I said. “He’s gone. Let’s have another drink, and do some more dancing.”

“He won’t take no for an answer. I told him I’m married now and he should just leave me alone. He just called me a whore and said…” she trailed off, tears welling up in her pretty blue eyes..

“To Hell with that guy,” I said, taking her in my arms and holding her while she cried. “He’s an asshole who wouldn’t know how to treat a woman even if he could ever get any to talk to him.”

It took a little while, but eventually Angela recovered from the incident and we did get back to enjoying the night, staying until the place closed at two in the morning. Two seemed awful early, but Angela explained it was the law and all bars and nightclubs had to close then.

The locals knew the drill and many had cleared out in the previous ten or fifteen minutes, hoping to beat the rush and grab one of the cabs waiting outside. We made our way to the street and were waiting our turn in the cool night air while a long string of taxis queued up to take the tired and sweaty nightclubbers home. Just as the crowd thinned out a bit, a black Chevy Suburban pulled up, blocking the cab that had just taken on passengers. Four guys jumped out, Luis Cardeño among them. They were focused on Angela, which was their mistake.

As they neared, I glanced at the SUV and noticed Grant yanking the driver's door open and pulling a fifth guy out, knocking him out cold and dumping him on the ground.

Tiny saw the danger approaching and stepped forward to intercept. Luis gave an instruction and the two bigger guys refocused on Tiny while Luis and the last guy homed in on Angela.

I stood off to the side, completely unnoticed, until Luis passed me. That was all the invitation I needed. I grabbed him and slammed him to the ground, hard. Just as surprised as he was hurt, Luis lay there stunned for a moment, giving me the opportunity to give him a solid kick to the head, putting him out of the fight. His pal turned to face me, only to receive a round kick to the ribs as he reached in his pocket for a weapon. I looked up and saw that Grant and Tiny had dealt with the last two guys, to my relief.

“In the cab!” Grant yelled, grabbing Emmy’s arm and pulling her to one of the waiting taxis. The two jumped in as I hustled Angela into another, Tiny hot on our heels. The cabbies had seen the attempted kidnapping, so they understood our urgency. We left the scene in a hurry, our driver constantly checking the rear-view mirror to see if we were being followed.

We drove around at random for a bit, but it didn’t seem necessary. The assholes hadn’t gotten their shit together to be able to give us any kind of chase, and we were free and clear.

Angela was still shaking with fear and nerves by the time we reached the hotel, where Emmy and Grant waited for us.

“I don’t think they followed us,” I told him.

“No, I don’t think they did,” he said, holding out a key ring with a Chevy fob on it. “I shut the doors and locked those assholes out before we took off.”