Emmy And Me

“Take a bath with me?” Emmy asked as we got to our room.

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” I replied, kicking off my shoes. “Call me when it’s ready,” I said, stripping down and flopping on the bed. Once again I was struck by how quiet the townhouse really was, despite being in the middle of one of the biggest cities on Earth. Sure, there really wasn’t much traffic on the street in front, but the FDR Drive was pretty much just a couple hundred feet away from the bedroom windows, and despite the traffic that road got, I couldn’t hear it at all.

I’d almost fallen asleep right there on top of the bed by the time Emmy called out that the bath was ready. I got up, still a bit groggy, and joined her in the tub. The water was as scaldingly hot as usual, so actually getting into the tub was a slow process. When I finally settled in and Emmy had leaned back against me I wrapped my arms around her and simply held her. I felt no need to talk, but eventually Emmy broke the comfortable silence.

“Do you think Wally will work for us?” she asked, stroking the back of my hands.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he will. Essentially getting paid a full year’s worth for what may be essentially six to eight months off? He’d be acting against his own best interests to turn it down. The way I look at it, he’d get to spend a lot more time at home with the wife and kids, or he can maybe drive for Uber when he’s not driving for us. In any case, it’s a distinct improvement to his standard of living. He already said that driving for us has been good, so I can’t imagine him turning it down,” I said.

“Who is this other person you are thinking of hiring? You had not mentioned anybody before.”

“Grant’s oldest daughter just got out of the Marines and needs a job. She’s flying up tomorrow afternoon to interview,” I explained.

“What are you thinking her duties would be?”

“Well, general around-the-house sort of things. Light maintenance, maybe a little bit of cleaning, but also, she’d be security. She’s seen combat, and Grant knows the potential threats here and believes she’d be able to deal, so I figure she would be a good addition to the household,” I explained.

“Leah, have I ever told you that I love you?” Emmy asked.

“Once or twice,” I said, giving her a squeeze.

“Well, let me tell you one more time. I love you very, very much. You are far more than I could have ever imagined.”

“I love you, too, Em. More than I can say.”

Grant was at the breakfast table when I grabbed a bottle of water for my run in the morning. “Hey,” I said. “I got to thinking last night- did you explain the potential threats Mia might have to deal with working for us?”

“Well, I didn’t spell out anything about the Night Children,” Grant said, sipping his coffee. Apparently he’d figured out the complicated brewing machine, since it wasn’t in a to-go cup. “But I did tell her that there are groups actively hostile.”

“All right. If she seems receptive to the job today, I’ll explain everything. I guess I’ll have to explain to Luisa and Wally, if they both decide to stick with us.”

“They will,” he said, then went back to his crossword.

I ran clockwise around Central Park that day, just to change it up. I’m not sure I preferred the Central Park loop or the Roosevelt Island loop, really. The Park is cool, and it’s nice to see everybody else getting their morning workouts, but running across the Queensborough Bridge was pretty damned cool, and then running along the shoreline of the Island was special as well.

Luisa was working in the kitchen when I got back to the house. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked.

“Maybe after my shower,” I answered. “Hey, are you making breakfast?”

“French toast,” she replied.

“Better tell Wally not to pick up any bagels today, then,” I said on my way out.

“Hey! I don’t have his number!” Luisa called after me.

“I’ll let him know,” I said from halfway up the stairs.

I texted Wally before I jumped in the shower, which soon had a second occupant, to my surprise.

“I didn’t expect you up so early,” I said as Emmy shampooed up my hair.

“You woke me up when you came in.”

“Sorry,” I said enjoying the scalp massage.

“Do not be sorry. I am very happy that you did wake me- now I get to bathe you,” Emmy said, turning me to put my head under the shower.

I seized the opportunity to take her breasts in my hands, rubbing little circles around her nipples with my thumbs.

“No, no!,” Emmy said, twisting away. “I get to play with you this morning. Hands off.”

I stuck my lower lip out in an exaggerated pout, which got one of those musical laughs of hers. She didn’t relent, though, so I played along. She soaped me up very, very thoroughly, especially in all those difficult-to reach nooks and crannies, then took the handheld shower head and rinsed me off again, paying extra attention to certain parts.

When Emmy was finally satisfied, she handed me the shampoo and said “O.K., now you may do me.”

“Oh, I am absolutely gonna do you,” I agreed.

What with one thing or another, our shower took nearly a full hour and we both felt ready for a nap afterwards. Exhausted, but very, very clean, we made our way downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast.

Luisa served up a couple of plates of classic French Toast, with real whipped cream and everything, along with some fresh-squeezed orange juice for me and coffee for both Emmy and I.

“Oh! It is like pain perdu,” Emmy said after tasting it. “It is delicious, but it is just too much! I could only eat half of this,” she said.

“Um, can we talk?” asked Luisa while Emmy and I were enjoying breakfast.

“Of course,” Emmy replied.

“What you were saying last night, about people wanting to kill Emmy,” Luisa began, clearly unsure how to phrase what she wanted to say.

“I said I’d explain everything if you decided you wanted to keep working for us,” I said.

“Um, yeah, I guess I have one question before I make that decision,” Luisa said, playing nervously with the dish towel she was holding. “Is it, like, some sort of criminal thing, and that’s why it’s a big secret?”

“No, it’s political,” I said. “We aren’t engaged in any sort of criminal business, if that’s what you’re worried about. No drugs, no guns, nothing like that. The people that hate Emmy do so for a completely different reason- her political activities.”

“What, is she like some sort of dissident or something?”

“Something like that. But that’s why I said that you were unlikely to ever get wrapped up in any of it. These people want to shut Emmy up, but don’t really care about anybody associated with her.”

“O.K. If you promise you guys aren’t drug lords or anything like that, I’ll stay,” Luisa said. “If you guys are drug lords, I don’t want to know any details- I’ll just go.”

Laughing, Emmy said “No, we are a musician and a real estate developer, that is all.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” Emmy said.

“Well, alright then. I’m staying. So what’s the secret?” Luisa asked.

“I'll explain it later, when Wally and Mia can be part of the conversation,” I said.

“Mia?” Luisa asked.

“She’s the one I might hire to help you out here. She’s Grant’s daughter.”

“And Grant knows the secret?”

“Yeah, of course he does,” I said. “Look, it’s only secret in the sense that we don’t want the info going public. It’s more P.R. than anything else, and really, nobody’s business outside those involved. Grant knows, and isn’t concerned about the risk his daughter might be facing, working for us.”

“All right,” Luisa said. “You’ve got me curious.”

“I’ll explain everything, I promise,” I said.

“Luisa,” Emmy said, changing the subject. “Leah told me that you wanted her to model for you?”

“Um, oh, yeah, I do, I mean, if that’s alright with you, I mean, she is your wife…” Luisa babbled, nervous again.

“I would like to see your work, “ Emmy said.

“Uh, well, a lot of it is in boxes, but yeah, I can show you some things- can you give me an hour to get my sh- my stuff together to show you guys?”

“Take all the time you need,” Emmy said. Then, turning to me, Emmy said “I will be up in my studio. I have some new song ideas I need to work on.”

“That’s cool,” I said. “I should do some work, too.”

Moments after Emmy left to go upstairs, while I was helping myself to a second cup of surprisingly good coffee, the doorbell rang.

Looking at me, Luisa asked “Do you want me to get that?”

“No, it’s alright. I was just about to head upstairs anyway.”

I was surprised to see Grant answer the door before I got there. He spoke for a moment, then led the two guys into the foyer, where I was waiting.

“Miss Farmer, these fine gentleman are detectives from the local precinct. They’ve come to ask you some questions about the other night,” Grant said, for some reason doing a remarkable impersonation of a butler.

“Sure. Let’s go in here,” I said, indicating the library. “Would you guys like some coffee?" I asked, leading them into the room adjoining the foyer.

“Uh, yeah, that’d be great,” one of the plainclothes officers said, and the other nodded.

“How do you take it?” asked Grant, still acting like a butler. Moments later he was off to go get them their java.

I sat down in one of the overstuffed easy chairs, and the two sat down on the silk couch. “I gave my statement to the officers on the scene, but if you have any further questions, I’d be happy to help,” I said, sipping my coffee.

Just as the shorter of the two was about to speak, Grant came back with a tray with he two cups on it, setting them down on coasters in front of the two. This distracted the guys for a moment, and they both made appreciative noises after sipping the elixir of the bean.

“Uh, thanks,” said the short guy. Pulling out a little note pad just like you see in the movies, he checked his notes. “You were out late with your… wife, and a friend,” he said. “The suspect approached you and pulled a gun. You disarmed him, then assaulted him with his own weapon, is that right?”

“Well, that isn’t how I would describe the events, but it’s essentially correct,” I agreed.

Nodding, the detective continued. “The suspect suffered a broken nose, a fractured skull and concussion, as well as two broken fingers and wrist,” the officer read off.

I didn’t say anything, just nodded that I was paying attention.

“You beat him up pretty good, didn’t you?” he said, trying to get a reaction.

“Well, he did try to shoot me,” I replied, as cool as a cucumber.

“Yeah, about that,”” the detective said. “He claims that he’s the victim here, and that you pulled a gun on him and fired at him.”

“Seriously?” I asked. “That’s… ballsy.”

“So it wasn’t your pistol?”

Laughing, I said, “No, I can’t say that it was. I’m curious,” I said, leaning forward. “Why would three well-off women, out for night at a comedy club, go around assaulting tweakers? And why, if I had a gun, would I fire it once, miss, then use it to pistol whip some random junkie outside that same comedy club? Just for laughs, maybe? I’m sure there’s a good story there somewhere,” I said, leaning back and taking another sip.

“So you deny that it was your gun?”

“I deny that it was my gun,” I agreed.

“And you deny you fired it?”

“I deny I fired it.”

“How about beating him up?”

“Oh, no, I absolutely did that,” I said.

“Why did you beat him up once you had taken his gun away from him?”

“To neutralize the threat,” I answered simply. “I had no way of knowing what other weapons he might have had, and I certainly didn’t want him to turn around and stab me, my wife or our friend the moment I let go. He clearly had the intent to rob us, perhaps worse, and the fact that he actually pulled the trigger proves that he was perfectly willing to even kill us.”

“I see. So, you’re saying it was self-defense?” the detective asked.

“Absolutely,” I agreed.

“Did you need to rough him up so thoroughly?”

“I could have done a lot more. I did the minimum to keep him down, that’s all.”

“He says you threatened to kill him.”

“I told him that if he moved a muscle before the police got there, I’d kill him. That’s true.”

“Would you have? Killed him, I mean.”

“No, I don’t think so,” I said, laughing. “I just wanted him to believe that getting arrested was in his best interests.”

“I see,” said the detective, taking notes.

“If I can ask one more question,” the detective said, looking up from his notebook. “How does a volleyball star from California wind up beating up muggers in Manhattan at three in the morning on a weeknight?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” I said, shrugging. “Is there anything more I can help you guys with?” I asked, standing up.

“You gave this as your address to the officer on scene,” the detective said as the two stood. “But your domicile is listed as being in Palo Alto.”

“Yes, we just bought this house,” I agreed. “The purchase was made by an LLC to keep our names off the records.”

“Any particular reason for that?”

“My wife is a rock star,” I said, knowing full well that he was fishing. “Paparazzi and stalkers are an issue, and the less people know this is our home the better.”

“I see,” he said, as the two stood in the doorway. “We’ll let you know if we have any more questions.”

“We’ll be leaving in a couple of days,” I said. “Call ahead before stopping by.”

As soon as the guys had left, I asked Grant “What was with the butler routine?”

“I just wanted them a bit off-balance, and to reinforce the idea that you were rich and therefore couldn't possibly be a criminal,” he replied with a grin.

“Well, I thought it was funny,” I said. "It was hard not to laugh, seeing you with that tray in your hand like you’d done that a million times before.”

“Actually, I have,” Grant said. “When I was on my embassy protective assignments, I’d often pose as a butler at functions.”

Laughing, I said “Well, you pulled it off this time. Those guys kept glancing at you out of the sides of their eyes, wondering how a California volleyball star could have a butler and a fancy old-school townhouse.”

“It’s the suit,” Grant said, indicating the navy pinstripe he was wearing. “Who wears a suit at eight in the morning at home? There was no way they were going to believe I was your dad or anything like that.”

Laughing, I took my now mostly empty cup up to my office to get some work done. I was in the middle of writing a proposal to a potential client when a text came through on my phone.

“Hey, R U guys in New York?” Stephanie asked.

“Yeah, we bought a house in Manhattan,” I sent back, glad for the distraction.

“SRSLY? U bought a house?”

“SRSLY”

“We R on tour right now- we’ll be in New York next week! We should get together!”

“Well, that timing sucks,” I texted. “We’re going back to the Bay Area the day after tomorrow.”

“Damn!”

“SRSLY,” I agreed. “Where are you guys now?”

“Last nite was Pittsburgh, tomorrow nite Buffalo, then Rochester, Albany and then three sites in NYC.”

“I wish we could be here for your shows. I know Emmy would love to see the boys, and I’m sure she’d want to join them on stage,” I wrote.

“Is there any way you can stay?”

“I have finals next week. But maybe Emmy can stay and you and the boys can hang out here?”

There was a long pause while the little dots indicated Stephanie was typing, then the dots disappeared for a moment, then reappeared.

“That would be great,” Stephanie wrote, but I was pretty sure she’d meant to say something else at first.

“But?”

“Honelsty, I was hoping to see U,” Stephanie replied after a bit.

“Yeah, it would be great to get together,” I replied. “We are going to be moving to LA after school is over. We can get together then.”

“LA? But you just said you bought a house in NYC?”

“Yeah, we did, and yeah, we are. It’s a long story.”

“Must be nice.”

“Honestly, it is,” I agreed. “I’ll talk to Emmy about her staying another week here.”

After the text conversation with Stephanie, I just couldn’t get my head back into the proposal that I’d been writing, so I wandered down the hall to the sitting room that was slated to be transformed into a recording studio. Emmy was picking out a melody on her new guitar, adjusting a note here and there as it formed in her mind.

“Hey, babe,” I said, interrupting her, which I hated to do in general. “I just got word from Stephanie that the Sons are going to play three nights here in New York next week, I told her that I had to go back to Stanford for finals, but maybe you could stay and guest with the band. What do you think?”

“Stay here without you?” she asked, puzzled.

“Yeah, just for another week,” I said. “That way you could hang out with Brent, Justin, Todd and Eddie for a few days, do some music, maybe get the house settled a little bit more. I have finals next week, so I’m not going to be much fun to be around back home, anyway.”

“You would not mind? Me here without you?”

“I’d miss you, not gonna lie. But seriously, if you want to see the boys, I’m fine with you staying here for the extra week.”

“You are too good for me,” Emmy sighed. “Simply too good.”

“So you’ll stay?”

“Do you want me to stay?” Emmy asked.

“I want you to do whatever will give you the greatest enjoyment, Em. I know you love playing with the Sons, and I absolutely know that they would love to have you onstage with them. If that sounds like a good time, then that’s what I want for you.”

“But I don’t have any of my gear here!” Emmy protested.

“Well, I’m sure Brent has an extra guitar or two lying around, and probably some effects pedals you can use- or maybe, just maybe, you should go out and buy whatever gear you might need. You’ll need to keep some stuff here in New York, anyhow, right?”

“You would not mind?”

“Of course not!” I said. “When have I ever minded you spending money on your music?”

A knock on the door announced Luisa’s entrance. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“No, not at all,” I said. “We were just discussing Emmy maybe staying here another week.”

“Will you be staying?” Luisa asked, looking at Emmy.

“I think so, yes,” she said.

“All right,” Luisa said. “I’ll do some more grocery shopping this afternoon.”

“Better plan for a few more mouths,” I said. “Grant will be staying here, too, and if Mia hires on, she’ll be here from now on out.”

“Grant will be staying?” Emmy asked.

“As long as you’re here, he will. Besides, he’ll need to work with Luisa and Wally, right?”

“I had not thought of that,” Emmy said.

“Um, anyway,” Luisa said, “I’ve got some stuff for you guys to look at. Some of my art, I mean, if you have a few minutes.”

“I can take a break,” I said. “Em?”

“I can, too,” she agreed. “Let us see what you have to show us, Luisa. I am very looking forward to seeing it.”

Following Luisa upstairs, it occurred to me that she was wearing a uniform of a sort- it certainly wasn’t just normal casual wear. She had on a pair of dark pants, a white button-front shirt and a vest that matched the pants- almost like two out of the three pieces of a suit.

I didn’t comment on it, just filing it away as maybe what she thought was appropriate work attire for her new job.

She had set up the spare apartment as a sort of gallery, with maybe a dozen canvasses leaning against the walls, and a big portfolio binder on the little kitchen table. I’m not sure what I’d expected as far as Luisa’s art was concerned, but this was definitely not it. The paintings were really old-fashioned in the sense that they were realistic portraits- not photo realistic, but not far off. They were very detailed, and the lighting and shadows were perfect examples of what Mrs Rubias in high school would have called chiaroscuro.

“Wow- these are amazing,” I said, looking around.

“You are very talented, Luisa,” agreed Emmy.

“Thanks,” Luisa said, self-consciously.

“Have you displayed your works in any galleries?” Emmy asked.

“Nobody is interested in this kind of thing these days,” Luisa sighed. “This type of painting is so out of fashion nobody wants to touch it with a ten foot pole. I’ve done a handful of commissioned pieces, and sold a few others at art fairs, but really, I just mostly do it for myself, you know?”

“Well, what do you think?” Emmy asked me.

“I think it’s amazing. The detail work is incredible.”

“That is not what I meant, but I do agree with you. I meant about posing.”

“Um, Luisa, I don’t see any figure studies, much less nudes,” I said, looking around.

“I’ve only done a couple of nudes,” she admitted. “And those got sold. I do have some photos I took of the pieces, though,” she said, opening up the binder.

Emmy and I leafed through the binder, which was mostly pencil sketches with a few pen and ink drawings. At the back were photos of all of Luisa’s completed works, including a fair number that weren’t on display in that room.

The three nude figure studies were all of men, and two of them were posed in ‘implied nude’ poses, such that no goodies were on display. The third, which was full frontal, had the figure’s arm blocking the view of the guy’s face, so the model’s identity was hidden.

“I would not like that,” Emmy said, looking at the three laid out on the table. “I would want to see Leah’s face, and not have anything be hidden.”

“Well, I mean, that’s up to the model, you know?” Luisa protested.

“I will commission you to paint Leah,” Emmy announced. “But I get to choose the pose.”

“Um, O.K.,” Luisa said.

“Hey, don’t I get a say in this?” I demanded.

“No,” Emmy replied, with a smug look on her face. “This is my present to me,” leaving me with a sinking feeling that I was going to be experiencing maybe more than just a tiny bit of mortification.

“All right,” I sighed. “Where are we going to do this?”

“Out here on my deck,” said Luisa, waving in the general direction of the upper terrace.

“Outside?” I asked.

“Nobody can see,” Luisa assured me. “Seriously, I’ll show you.”

We went out on the terrace and Luisa said “Look around. Can you see any windows of any buildings nearby?”

“Well, no,” I had to admit. “But I can see people on the bridge and across the river,” I said, pointing.

“Those people on the bridge that you see- tell me what any of them are wearing,” Luisa demanded.

“I can’t really make out what they’re wearing- they’re too far away,” I admitted.

“Exactly. Look, if it makes you feel any better, we can move the table and umbrella over there to block their view entirely.”

“Emmy, will you be O.K. out here for the duration?” I asked.

“I will stay in the shade, and wear a hat and my sunglasses,” Emmy replied. “I would not miss this for anything.”

“All right,” I grumbled. “Let’s move the table.”

While Luisa got her things set up, Emmy and I went back downstairs to get ready. I ditched my clothes and threw on a silk kimono Emmy had bought for me, but I almost never wear, while Emmy put on another layer of her sunblock and grabbed her hat and sunglasses.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” Emmy said, stretching to give me a quick kiss. “It means very much to me.”

“I’m just glad you did such a thorough job shaving me this morning,” I said. “At least I won’t be stubbly in all my glory.”

“Oh, and you are very glorious indeed,” laughed Emmy, snaking her hand up under the hem of the kimono and giving my vaj a quick caress. “Very, very glorious.”

“Hey, cut that out,” I said, stepping out of reach. “If you keep that up we’ll never get back upstairs for the painting.”

“Afterwards, then,” said Emmy. “Promise me.”

Walking back up the stairs, I made the mistake of leading, giving Emmy the opportunity to lift the hem of the kimono to check out my butt. After the first couple of times I slapped her hands away, I just gave up and let her ogle the rest of the climb to the seventh floor.

Luisa had brought out her easel and drawing pad, of course, but she’d also brought out a chair and draped a sheet across it for me to pose on, or with, or something. Emmy took a seat at the table, on which Luisa had set a couple of bottles of water.

I asked “How do you want to do this?” as I looked out over the East River.

“Well, typically a model does a few warmup poses, for maybe five minutes each, then when she’s feeling ready, we start to figure out what pose you’re comfortable with, and I guess what Emmy wants, right?” Luisa said, clearly as nervous as I was- maybe even more so.

“All right,” I said, untying and removing the kimono and handing it to Emmy. “I’m ready when you are.”

This seemed to jar Luisa from her momentary paralysis, and she stepped behind her easel. “O.K., just do whatever feels natural. These are just warmups, alright?”

I felt awkward, but Emmy really wanted this, so I put any misgivings aside and struck my first pose of the day- sort of a standing version of that famous statute, ‘The Thinker’. My left foot went up on the chair, my elbow on my knee and my chin in my hand. My right arm crossed below my breasts and hand resting on my thigh, I looked off, past Luisa.

“Oh my god, that’s perfect,” Luisa said. “Now, if you could just, maybe, I don’t know, flex a little? Show off those muscles a little bit?”

While Luisa was giving instructions, Emmy relocated to one of the other cafe chairs to see better.

“What do you think, Em? Like the view?” I teased, to try to take some of the awkwardness of the situation away for everybody involved.

“Oh, yes, very much,” laughed Emmy. “It does not get any better than this.”

“Um, O.K., that was five minutes. Want to try a different pose?” Luisa suggested.

For my second pose, I faced the river, away from Luisa, and took a sort of classic body builder pose standing on my left leg, trailing my right leg behind and resting on its pointing big toe. I curled my spine a little sideways, lifting my left arm high and my right in a standard bicep curl position. I tensed my back and my glutes to maximize the effect, getting a quiet “Oh my god,” from Luisa.

“Jesus, Leah. That’s incredible. Yeah, just hold that for a few minutes,” she said, and I could hear her pencil on the paper louder than the traffic on FDR down below.

After five minutes of that, I took a sip of water, then got back to posing. All in all, I posed in a dozen different positions until Luisa finally said “I think we’re done with the warmups. Why don't you take a few minutes, and Emmy and I will discuss the pose we’ll want for the real portrait.”

While Emmy and Luisa looked over the sketches and discussed different aspects, I wandered over to the railing to look out over the river. The morning was warming up, and I’d been in the sun for an hour, but I felt fine. I guess the little bit of a breeze helped, and of course, the fact that I had full-body ventilation. Somehow in the last hour of posing I’d gotten over my discomfort, I realized, since it hadn’t even occurred to me to put the kimono back on during the break.

“All right, I think we’re ready,” Luisa announced, as she turned the sheet-covered chair sideways.

She directed me to sit sideways on the chair with my right arm draped over the back, my wrist resting on the top edge. My right knee pointed towards Luisa off the side of the chair, while my left leg was at a ninety degree angle off the front. It was a pose that was calculated to look casual, as if I was just sitting comfortably in the chair, but in reality it was as uncomfortable as anything. Sitting like that would naturally involve slouching, but Luisa had me arch my back to emphasize my chest and keep my abs tensed- the absolute opposite of the natural position. My off-side foot was in an awkward position, too. All in all, it was one hundred per cent uncomfortable, bordering on intolerable.

“I won’t be able to maintain this very long,” I warned Luisa.

“Oh, but you must!” Emmy protested. “It looks incredible!”

“We can take breaks if you need to, just as long as you can get back into the same pose afterwards,” Luisa assured me.

“All right,” I grumbled. “Hey, Em, could you get me a cold Coke, please?”

“There are some Cokes in my fridge,” Luisa said, her pencil working at warp speed on the paper.

I held the pose for maybe ten minutes, then stood up to stretch and drink the Coke that Emmy had gotten me. I was just standing there, leaning back against the rail and chatting with Luisa and Emmy when Grant, Wally, and presumably Mia walked out onto the terrace to join us.

Of course, I was as naked as the day I was born.