Emmy And Me

I’d finally talked Mom into the idea of me buying a house for her and Tiffany, so I figured that it would be nice to spend some time house-hunting with Mom once school got out for summer break. Grace complained a bit, but she’d never been to Southern California and I told her we would rent a place by the beach for a month and she could learn to surf.

She’d really gotten into outdoor activities and so doing nothing but surfing for a month appealed to her. The timing worked for Emmy as well, since her parents were going to be in Fallbrook all summer and she could spend some time with them.

I found us a short-term rental in Leucadia a block from the beach the surf camp I signed Grace up for used for their instruction, and within easy walking distance of shops and restaurants. It was nice and breezy, with a view of the ocean from the back deck.

We’d driven down, taking both cars so that Emmy and I could have our separate vehicles for the month. In addition to spending time with her folks, Emmy wanted to visit some Los Angeles recording studios and of course, I was going to be seeing real estate with Mom.

I’d insisted we bring Eddie with us and that Emmy wouldn’t go anywhere without either me or him along, and Emmy acquiesced fairly easily. “I’d feel a lot better if you had somebody watching your back,” was all I really needed to say.

There were a few errands that I needed to run in SoCal, and a few I could have done back home in Palo Alto but never seemed to find the time to get them done. Heck, I didn’t even have to feel guilty about missing workouts, since there were beach V Ball courts maybe a quarter mile away.

Relaxing on the deck on the afternoon of our first full day there, Emmy said “This is very nice.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty today, but that’s unusual for this time of year. Realistically we can expect a lot of cloudy days, maybe some light drizzle this time of year. It won’t be cold, but the famous ‘May gray’ is a real thing,” I said. I was a bit distracted, trying to figure out if I was actually seeing a whale way offshore or not. “I wish we had binoculars,” I said. “I’ll pick some up tomorrow.”

A big selling point for the house I’d rented us was the big master bath with large soaking tub, and that night Emmy and I tried it out. As usual, she filled the tub with water so hot I had to ease in very slowly, but after a while it cooled down, or maybe I just got used to it- like the famous frog.

“Leah,” Emmy said as she washed my hair. “Have I ever told you that you make me think of California? Of beaches, and sand and sky?”

“I think you’ve said that, yeah,” I mumbled, enjoying her fingers on my scalp.

“It is true. In my mind, when I imagine you, it is almost always near water. A pool, or the sea. I imagine you on a boat in the Caribbean.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, luxuriating in the scalp massage I was receiving.

“You are like gold,” Emmy said. "Even now, when you are not very tanned, your skin is like gold, your hair is the color of a sandy beach, and your eyes- they are like the sky on a perfect day. You are summer, Leah, and sun and waves.”

“I’m not really all that much of a beach person, though,” I objected.

“You would be, if we lived here all the time,” Emmy assured me.

Once I’d rinsed the shampoo out of my hair I turned to face her. “You told me that you were envious of that, too, but I told you that you shouldn’t be. I told you that I love that you’re different, that you’re so much more beautiful than just another beach blonde.”

“Yes, you did say that,” she admitted. “But I do wish that I could enjoy that life with you.”

“The life we have together is suiting me just fine, thank you,” I replied, pulling her onto my lap. “I wouldn’t trade this for anything.” Cupping her round bottom in my hands, I said “Besides. We tried the beach thing in Florida and it didn’t work out so well.”

Covering her face with her hands, Emmy groaned. “I cannot believe how badly I ruined our honeymoon,” she said. “It was terrible.”

“Not all of it, Em. There were some really good parts, too. They just weren’t the parts where we spent too long in the sun, that’s all.”

“Good parts? I do not remember. All I remember is sweating and shivering in our bed for a week.”

Leaning in to kiss her, I asked, “What about Jordie’s restaurant? That show you put on?”

“But that was not for us,” Emmy said. “That was me being selfish and enjoying myself without you.”

“I had a great time, Em, don’t ever think I didn’t. I’m still amazed at how you knew every song that anybody requested.”

Leaning back to look at me, Emmy grinned mischievously. “I did not know them all.”

“But you played every one!” I objected.

“No, I did not,” Emmy said, smiling at the memory. “Nobody else could see the name of the song that I drew from the bowl, right? So when I drew one that I did not know, I simply chose a song that I did know and said that it was the song chosen.”

Laughing, I pulled her in tight. “You are a devious one,” I laughed. “But my devious one.”

When we were out running errands a few days later, a bright red jeep pulled into the post office parking lot right behind us and then into the spot two spaces away from my parking spot, even though I’d pulled to the far side of the lot. I generally tried to park well away from other cars to avoid door dings, so this jeep’s parking close to us but well away from any other vehicles had me on alert.

“Stay in the car for a moment,” I told Grace as I stepped out into the bright sunshine, my hand reaching into my jacket pocket to grasp the knife there, just in case.

A large Marine in desert MARPAT camouflage fatigues climbed out of the jeep and asked “Lee?”

“Chris?” I asked, seeing a man that looked an awful lot like the boy I’d dated back in high school. “Is that really you?” as he stepped closer.

He whipped off his utility cap and gave me a big hug, which I returned. When I saw his lips zoom in for a kiss, though, I turned my head so he got my cheek instead of my lips. Getting the hint, he stepped back, putting his cap back on.

“Wow, you look great, Lee. Really great,” he said, looking me up and down. “It looks like things are going really well for you.”

“Yeah, they are,” I agreed. “How about for you? Are you back in town long-term?”

We chatted like that for a few minutes before I realized Grace was still waiting in the car. “Hey, Chris, I hate to be rude, but we have an appointment to get Grace here her passport paperwork going. Is there a chance we could meet for lunch somewhere in an hour?”

“Oh, sure,” Chris said. “I just saw you driving and couldn’t believe it was you, so I followed you here. I have all afternoon free, so call me when you get done here and we’ll get together,” he said, fishing a pen out of his pocket along with an old 7-11 receipt. Writing down his number, Chris said “I’m just running errands today, so I can meet you anywhere you want.”

“I’ll call,” I said, tucking the number in my pocket. Chris got back in his Jeep and I opened the door for Grace.

“Who was that?” she asked, watching the bright red Rubicon leave the lot.

“An old boyfriend of mine,” I replied, shutting the door after she climbed out. “You’ll get to meet him- we’re going to have lunch later.”

“Won’t Emmy mind?”

“No, she won’t care,” I responded, pretty sure it was the truth.

Filling out the paperwork and getting the pictures taken took a whole lot less time than I’d expected, so it was only half an hour later that I called Chris. We met at the Café that Emmy introduced me to that first night she slept over at my house, which had become my favorite place to eat in Fallbrook.

“I’ve never been in here,” admitted Chris when he sat down at the table with Grace and me.

“It’s nice,” I said. “Everything I’ve tried here has been really good.” I introduced Chris to Grace as “An old friend of mine,” even though I’d already told her he’d been my boyfriend. I mean, I was happy to see Chris and glad he seemed to be doing well, but I wanted to make it clear that there was no way any chance of rekindling anything was going to happen.

I introduced Grace to Chris as “my daughter,” making Grace blush in embarrassment.

“Wow,” Chris said. “I know kids grow up fast these days, but…” Chris responded, making me laugh.

“I’m not her daughter,” Grace said, indignantly.

“I kinda figured that,” Chris said, laughing. “Since you’re about fifteen years too old for that.”

“No, she isn’t my daughter, but I am her legal guardian,” I explained. “She’s living with us.”

“Who is ‘us’?” Chris asked, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

“My partner and I,” I replied, stringing him along.

“Oh, yeah, right.” Chris said. “And your partner would be…?”

Giving up my game, I asked Chris “How much do you know about what happened at school the year after you graduated?”

He admitted that he had a pretty good idea and knew about me and Emmy.

“Well, we’re married,” I told him. “I’m in my junior year at Stanford, and Emmy is taking time off from school to do her rock star thing.”

“I downloaded their CD,” admitted Chris. “Their second one, I think.”

“So you’re pretty well caught up to speed, then,” I said.

The waitress brought our food just about then, and eating slowed the conversation down somewhat. Still, I got from Chris that he’d just made Sergeant and things were going really well.

“We’re in town to visit for a while,” I told him. “Maybe you’d like to meet Emmy?”

“Um… Wouldn’t that be awkward?” Chris asked.

“Well, it wouldn't be awkward for me, and I don’t think Emmy would be bothered either, so if you’re cool, then no- not awkward at all.”

“Well, I guess that’s O.K. then,” Chris said. “I’ve never met a rock star before.”

“You remember Brent from school, right?” I asked. "His band is doing pretty well these days,” I said.

“The Prodigal Sons?” Chris asked. “Yeah, but they aren’t in the same league as The Downfall.”

“Maybe not,” I conceded, “But they still count.”

I was right in some ways. Dinner with the two of them wasn’t awkward for Emmy or Chris, but it was a bit mortifying for me. The two told ‘Leah stories’ all night, and with each one I just wanted to sink farther into my chair. It isn’t that the stories themselves were all that embarrassing, really, but just the basic fact that I was the center of conversation and they were talking about me as if I were some sort of secret treasure they shared in common.

Of course Grace ate it all up, and kept asking for clarification on this point or that, or explanation of who various people were in the stories.

Finally Chris left, promising me that he’d look into what I’d asked, and a few days later, he called to tell me he’d set up the meeting that I’d asked for.

Grant Henry was a big man, at least an inch taller than me and maybe two hundred pounds. He had the look of work-hardened leather about him, and the direct, no-nonsense demeanor of somebody secure in their position in the chain of command.

"I'm told you're a fighter," he said, looking me up and down. "Chris tells me you want some training and workouts while you're here in town. He seems to think that you're interested in doing some armed combat training. Sounds like a load of shit to me, but I guess if you make it worth my while I can show you a trick or two."

"I'm not looking for 'a trick or two'," I replied. "I'm pretty confident in my knife technique, but I thought that perhaps I could learn a little more. Chris said you're the best, and I'd like to see how I stack up."

"Pretty confident, huh? That's a good quality, but it can get you in trouble.”

Leading me over to the boxing ring, he said “Well, let's get started. Let's look at your unarmed technique first," he said, quickly stripping off his jacket and long pants to reveal a tank top and mesh shorts. He was muscular, but not big and beefy. No, he was lean and looked extremely fit, despite looking as if he might have been pushing fifty years old.

I followed his example and got down to my sparring gear, which consisted of a sports bra, bike shorts and grappling gloves. The Marine looked me up and down again, reevaluating. "You look like you might have done this before," he grudgingly admitted.

"Once or twice," I agreed. I could see Grace giving me a thumbs-up from a bench near the ring, and it made me smile.

"O.K. Let's see what you've got," he said, assuming a defensive stance. I lunged in as quickly as I could, causing him to react just as I'd expected him to. Since he played into my hands I carried through with my plan and a second later he was on the floor, my knee in his back.

I stood off him, and he got up off the canvas. "That was a sweet move," he admitted. "Let's see if you can do it again."

He didn't fall as easily the second time, but after a little bit of back and forth I had him on the mat again.

"Chris," he called out as he stood. "You brought me a ringer. You say this was your old girlfriend?"

"Yeah," Chris said.

"I hate to tell you this, kid, but she's more of a man than you," the Marine said, giving Chris a ribbing.

We took our stances again, and this time it was a long back and forth before he finally got me to the floor, pinned. It hadn’t gone easy for him, either. I slipped loose a couple of times and made him pay for it each time with a vicious elbow jab or punch to something unprotected. As we stood and took sips from our water bottles, he said "Well, it certainly looks as if you've got the unarmed combat covered. In fact, that was the best match I've had in months. I like that you never gave up. Most guys, you get ‘em down and that’s it."

"Thanks," I replied, my breathing returning to normal. "You aren't so bad yourself, for an old guy."

Snorting, he asked "You still have some to learn, but it's clear that whoever has been coaching you knows what he's doing. You aren't falling into the trap I see so often of guys who come to me thinking they can fight because they've been doing Muay Thai or Jiu Jitsu or something. Most of those guys can't break out of their form. Most of them have no idea what a real fight is like, just what a bout in a ring with all its rules is like. You, though, aren't held back by any sort of preconceptions about fair fights. You fight dirty. I like that. In fact, if I hadn’t been wearing a cup, that punch you gave me right in the sack would have won that fight quicker’n spit."

"Thanks, I guess," I replied, not sure if it really was a compliment or not.

"Keep doing what you're doing. Whoever it is you're working with isn't teaching you any bad habits. You're fast and a lot stronger than you looked when I first saw you, and that'll surprise most opponents. Use it to your advantage." Then, changing topics, the big Marine asked why I wanted to learn to fight with a knife.

Seeing that Grace and Chris were engaged in a conversation and not paying attention, I stepped in closer and told the guy "I killed a guy with his own knife a while back, then I beat his friend to death with my bare hands. I have a nagging suspicion that similar circumstances may arise again, and I want to be better prepared."

He looked at my face, then looked long and hard straight in my eyes. Evidently what he saw convinced him I was telling the truth, because he asked "What makes you think it might happen again?" as if we were talking about getting a flat tire on my car.

"The two guys were sent after my fiancée," I replied. "Whoever sent them might send more."

"And it's your job to protect him?" The big Marine asked. "Why not hire a bodyguard?"

"Her," I corrected, hoping the news that I was gay wouldn't bother the guy.

"Her, then,” he said, not batting an eye. “Why not hire a bodyguard? Chris mentioned you have a lot of money."

"We have, but Eddie can't be around all the time, you know?"

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Grant admitted.

“Also, as dedicated as Eddie is, he could never care as much as I would, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true. Most real good bodyguards would take a bullet, though. Which brings up my next question. Why not get a concealed carry permit? I mean, you don’t want to be the one bringing a knife to a gunfight, right?”

“Well, it’s hard to explain, but there is almost no chance of these guys being armed with firearms. It’s a cultural thing, you know? For them, it’s all about the knife,” I replied, hoping he wasn’t going to want too much detail.

Nodding that he understood, Grant asked “And you want to use a knife against these guys to make a point, if I understand correctly?”

“So to speak,” I agreed, and he chuckled at his own unintentional pun.

“Got it.” Then, getting to business, he said “I’ll train you. I can give you as many afternoons as you want for the next month or so. How long are you going to be in town?”

A little bit of schedule comparing got me three hours a day every afternoon for the following two weeks. We spent the rest of the hour sparring, and although I came away sore and bruised, it was a good session and I felt good about working with Grant.