In the rental car on the way back to Jackson’s parents house (where Emmy had been staying for the last two months) Emmy asked me about the conversation I’d had with Rawson.

“It seemed as if you two were discussing something serious,” she said as we headed northwest out of town.

“Well, maybe,” I hedged. “I suggested to Rawson that if he wanted to open a restaurant I’d be willing to partner with him.”

“Why would you want to own a barbecue restaurant in Texas?” Emmy asked, puzzled.

“O.K., you know when I had to find jobs for the Strays at first, I got them all jobs as helpers in the various trades our property management company uses, right?”

“Yes, I remember that,” Emmy agreed.

“Well, it seems to me that public-facing service positions would be a better idea. If a carpet layer goes into an empty apartment, he’s got no contact with anybody outside his crew, right? Sure, the crew gets used to seeing a Night Child, right, but does anybody else?” I asked.

“So you think that if they have jobs as waiters, cashiers, and so on more people will be exposed to seeing them,” Emmy said, pondering the idea.

“Exactly. Now, we haven't had the guys try to recruit any Strays here in Texas yet, but it’ll happen sooner or later, and it would be good to be able to give them jobs right away, right?” I explained.

“You…” Emmy began. “You amaze me every day, Leah. You plan, you think things out, you- you are amazing,” she finished, at a loss for words.

“I try,” I said, smirking as I blew on my fingernails and rubbed them on my shirt, which got a laugh from Emmy. God, I loved the sound of her laughter. I think I’d mentioned that it reminded me of bells, or wind chimes or something like that. Her laugh sparkled.

As Lake Travis came into view, Emmy gasped as she remembered something. “Leah, do you mind going to see a show tonight? I had forgotten all about it!”

“Um, sure, I guess,” I replied, not really burning with enthusiasm. “Who’s playing?”

“It is the Prodigal Sons! They are playing at a club Downtown!” Emmy said, excited. “I just found out yesterday that they are going to be here!”

Hearing who it was really changed my attitude. “Yeah, that’s awesome. I’d love to see ‘em,” I replied. “Do we need tickets? What time?”

“I have tickets. They were delivered to our dressing room yesterday. I will look to see what time when we get back to Wendy’s house,” she said.

I found it interesting that she always referred to the house owned by Jackson’s parents as ‘Wendy’s house’, not ‘the Coolidge residence’ or even ‘Bob and Wendy’s house’. I guess I could understand it, giving it some thought. Bob got the home office, the outside garage and the basement game room, but Wendy ruled the rest of the house- the kitchen most of all. There was no way I was ever going to make the mistake of offering to help do the dishes ever again, let me tell you. For a tiny woman in her sixties she swings a mean wooden spoon, no doubt about that.

Pulling up in front of the rambling ranch house, their three big dogs came running up so say hello. I wasn’t used to dogs, much less dogs the size of small ponies, but Emmy had been living there for two months and got along great with them.

Laughing, Emmy told the boisterous dogs to stay down and not jump up. The three were big enough to put their paws on her shoulders and give her a big old slobbery kiss, but she’d perfected a technique of pivoting out of the way just in time, which really only seemed to encourage them even more.

Thankfully they left me alone even as they mobbed Emmy. Once they’d finally calmed down, Emmy gave them all scratches along the full length of the ridges along their spines. This seemed to be a ticklish spot, because every time Em scratched them there a hind foot would come up part way as if to scratch, but then the dog would stand on the other three feet, uselessly waving the one that was off the ground. It was a comical sight, seeing Emmy coo and make baby talk noises to these monstrous dogs who seemed to absolutely adore her.

Bob, Jackson’s dad, had admitted that the three were useless as guard dogs. “About the worst they’d ever do is lick somebody to death,” he’d said. “But they do have a helluva bark, and that’s really all that’s needed. For people, anyway. They’re excellent at keeping coyotes off the property, though.”

Wendy came out of the kitchen to say hello when we walked in, and asked if we were going to be home for supper. I’d noticed the first time I came out to Austin to see Em that Wendy and Bob referred to their house in such a way that made it clear they felt it was Emmy’s home, too, and mine by extension.

“No, thank you, Wendy,” Emmy replied. “We had a very big dinner just a little while ago. Leah’s friend Rawson made an excellent barbecue.”

That got Bob’s attention. “Did you say ‘Rawson’?” he asked. “Dark hair, sideburns, about so tall?” he asked, holding his hand up a couple of inches below his own height.

“You know him?” Emmy asked, surprised.

“Sure! I’ve known him for years. He’s the mechanic I always ask for whenever we have any trouble with our Caterpillar machinery out in the field. I had no idea he ‘cued,” Bob said thoughtfully, a distant expression in his eyes. Thinking about barbecue, I figured. Texans.

“Leah wants to open a restaurant with him,” Emmy volunteered.

Turning his gaze to me, Bob smiled. “Well, he’s a helluva good kid. If he is as good a pit master as he is a mechanic I’m sure it’d be good. I’d be sorry to see him leave Caterpillar, though…”

Laughing, I said “I’m sure he’d be happy to hand you a plate of brisket next time he grills. Actually, Bob,” I said, as something occurred to me. “It’d be a big favor to me if you’d go over to his place next time he does a barbecue and really give it a fair evaluation. I mean, I don’t know one barbecue from another, but you’ve tried them all, right?”

“Repeatedly,” Bob confessed, laughing.

That night we got to the club where the Sons were playing right when it opened for the night, about an hour before the band was scheduled to take the stage. We’d invited Lee and Jen, but they were going to some other show- I can’t even remember who it was, so it was just Emmy and me.

The place was an old brick-fronted building in the downtown club district, stuck between a cocktail bar and a tacky tourist gift shop. Even that early, there was already a line waiting to get in, and they all went crazy when they spotted Emmy.

I’d thought seeing Emmy get mobbed by the Coolidges’ dogs was something, but seeing all these local hipsters was even more comical. They were torn between wanting to rush up and fawn over Emmy, not wanting to lose their spot in line, and wanting to look too cool to admit they wanted to see her up close.

Ultimately, Emmy had to raise her voice to say that yes, we were going to see the show tonight and if people wanted to come over to our table to say hello, that would be nice.

I would have gotten in line with the crowd, but Emmy was having none of that. She took my hand and led me straight to the door, cutting in front of everybody. The doorman seemed to expect that and didn’t even glance at our tickets, just waved us straight in.

There was a little antechamber, I guess you’d call it, with a counter displaying club merch and also stuff from the band. I liked the new shirt design and thought I’d pick one up later. The blonde girl standing behind the counter hoping to sell the stuff wasn’t Stephanie, I noticed.

At the top of the stairs the entire upper floor was basically one big, long room, with a hardwood planked floor and black-painted rafters. Along one side were old-fashioned diner-style booths, but otherwise it was standing room only- no tables, no chairs.

All but one of the booths had already been claimed, and the only thing keeping the open one from use was the ‘Reserved’ sign on its table. “That one is ours,” Emmy said, pointing to the empty booth. “We should go back stage and say hello before sitting down,” she added, grabbing my hand to pull me to the small side door to the right of the stage.

The security guy stood aside as we walked up, so clearly the staff had been told to expect us (and probably been given a description, if that was even necessary at this point). We went back into the hallway covered in autographs written in permanent marker to a green door. When somebody called out “Come in,” after Emmy knocked, we entered to say hello to the band.

The guys looked pretty much the same as they did back the last time I’d seen them in San Diego, but with a bit more facial hair and a few more piercings and tattoos.

Justin, the bass player, leapt up to give Emmy a hug. To my surprise, he gave me a hug, too. “It’s great seeing you guys!” he exclaimed as the rest of the band crowded around to say hello. Brent being Brent, he just gave a nod to me and said, “Lookin’ good, Leah. Real good.”

“Thanks, Brent. How’re things going for you?”

“Awesome, dude. Just awesome. Living the rock star dream- just livin’ the dream.”

We only spent a few minutes backstage before we returned to the booth being held for us. It seemed as if quite a few people were upset that one of the maybe half-dozen booths in the entire club was off-limits, but when they saw who we were they seemed to be a bit more understanding.

The booth itself was one of those horseshoe-shaped naugahyde things you’d picture in a classic diner, but the color was a strange, unappealing brownish red. Maroon, I think the color is called. Anyway, we sat down and that left room for at least three or four other people, so when Emmy saw a small group looking for a place to sit she invited them to share the booth with us. Emmy was always good like that.

“Thanks!” said the tallest of the three girls as she scooted to the deepest part of the booth.

“My name is Emmy, and this is Leah,” Emmy said, introducing us.

“Um, yeah, we guessed,” said the girl with the hipster glasses and Sons T that she must have just bought.

Ignoring her friend’s snide comment, the tall girl said “This is Marie, Courtney and I’m Dawn,” pointing at the blonde, glasses girl and herself. “We go to U.T.”

“How do you know the music of the Prodigal Sons?” Emmy asked I waved a waitress over.

“Oh, the college radio station plays them a lot,” Dawn answered. “We saw them when they came through last fall,” she added. “Um, Emmy, you wrote some of their songs, right?”

“Only four,” Emmy said, which was news to me. I hadn’t realized she'd written any songs for them at all.

“And you used to perform with them, right? They were your original band?” Dawn asked.

Emmy laughed, asking “Where did you hear that?”

“I think I read it somewhere online.”

“No, I only performed with them one time, back in high school. They were never my band, I just was a guest musician,” Emmy explained.

Turning to the blonde girl who hadn’t said anything so far, Emmy said “It is O.K. You can take as many pictures as you would like. It is fine with us.” Relieved, the girl brought her phone up from where she had been trying to hide the fact she was snapping pictures of the two of us. Obliging, Emmy snuggled up against my side and I wrapped my arm around her, posing as the other two took out their phones as well.

I’d noticed a few people in the crowd trying to be subtle about taking Emmy’s photo, but when the three girls made it obvious that we were O.K. with it everybody became much more willing to come up and ask for photos. Of course, being who she was, Emmy obliged every one.

By the time the emcee took the stage the three girls had gotten over the novelty of sitting with a rock star and the conversation had turned to more normal topics, like “What’s your major? You went to Cancun for spring break? How did you like it?” and so on. I wasn’t that involved, honestly. It was all Emmy, keeping the three girls engaged.

The house lights dimmed, and as the crowd cheered, a guy in sunglasses, a black cowboy hat with the sides folded up and a leather vest walked onstage.

“I’m Eddie Delgado, D.J. at Austin’s best rock station, KBCA!” He yelled into the microphone, trying to get the crowd fired up. “We at KBCA are proud to present, playing here tonight at The Assembly, Austin’s finest independent music venue, straight from Los Angeles, The Prodigal Sons!”

As he stepped aside and waved to the stage door, the guys walked out onstage to cheering and whistling. Sure, I’d seen them at that little club in San Diego and the mood was good, but this place was about twice the size and it was packed. It was good to see the guys get this kind of reception so far from home, out on tour.

“Thanks, Eddie!” Said Brent into the mic as he settled his guitar strap into place. “And thank you, Austin!” Which got more cheering.

“We are very happy to be here, right here during South By Southwest! This is the center of the musical universe, and being a part of it is a wonderful feeling!” Brent said. “So let’s get to the music!”

I’ll be the first to admit that while I’d listened to both of their CDs, I didn’t really know their music. I mean, I enjoyed it anyway, and the boys sounded good, so did it really matter that I couldn’t sing along the way the three girls were doing?

After the second song was over Emmy got up out of her spot at the end of the booth and to my surprise Stephanie slid in next to me. I scooted over a bit, crowding the blonde girl, who in turn moved over a bit and so on until there was room for Emmy again on the end.

I leaned in to speak into Stephanie’s ear (because the music was loud enough to make conversation difficult) and said hello.

Getting that close, smelling her familiar scent of vanilla and cocoa butter, did something to me down inside. I couldn't help but breathe in, savoring the moment. Yes, I did feel a bit guilty, but I couldn’t help but get a tingle from being pressed up against her, squeezed into that naugahyde booth. It had been almost a year since I’d seen her last, and although we texted every once in awhile, we hadn’t actually spoken since Memorial Day the year before and a lot had happened since then.

“It’s great to see you, Steph,” I said, grateful I was even that smooth. “You look great!”

Turning so she could speak into my ear, I was hyper aware that her boob was pressing up against my arm. Like I said, yeah, getting so aroused made me feel a bit guilty, but the way I saw it, it was like an art museum, right? You can look and admire all you want, and in fact, absolutely should- just don’t try to take anything home with you, right?

“Leah. I’m glad you guys could come to the show tonight. The boys are super amped that Emmy agreed to do a few songs with them,” Steph said. “And I’m glad to see you, too, babe. It’s been too long.”

I wasn’t sure how to take that, so I didn’t say anything. Better to stay silent, I realized.

Steph and I chatted like that for a while and I totally missed most of the show. It wasn’t until Emmy reached over and grabbed my thigh to get my attention. She signaled that she was headed to the stage and I nodded to show I understood.

Unfortunately, Emmy leaving meant the rest of us had room to spread out a little once more, and Steph moved a little bit away.

I felt the loss, and using the excuse of talking to her again I moved over to regain that contact. I was telling myself that this was all O.K. and meant nothing, just harmless flirting with an old friend, but really, I wasn’t buying it.

Emmy joined the Sons on stage for their encore set, waving to the crowd who were cheering like you wouldn’t believe.

“Emmy De Lascaux, ladies and gentlemen,” Brent announced, as if everybody didn’t already know. “Now, I have to admit, we,” Brent said, indicting himself and the rest of the band, “didn’t know Emmy was going to join us until earlier tonight, so we haven’t practiced any songs together in years. But that doesn’t matter, because this is rock and roll, and rock and roll never forgets!”

Emmy stepped up to the front of the stage, one of Brent’s guitars slung low on her hip. Looking out over the crowd, she smiled and waited until the crowd grew quiet, wondering what they were going to hear.

“What is she going to play?” asked Stephanie, but I had no idea and I told her so.

Just as the wait seemed to go on just almost too long, Emmy started playing that chik chik chic wow wow wow riff and the crowd went wild, recognizing Hendrix when they heard it. The drums joined in, then that old, so familiar guitar lead from Voodoo Child had the crowd absolutely loving it.

Brent picked up the vocals as Emmy just laid waste to the audience, at turns taking it cool, then hot as the sun. Emmy kept the theatrics to a minimum- no playing the guitar with her teeth or anything like that- just played it like she meant it, if you know what I mean.

As the song came to a close, Emmy moved up to the mic and started the next song with another familiar riff. “Ohhhh yeah!” she said, leaning into the heavy blues lead. Red House is a classic, and Emmy did both the guitar line and the vocals justice. “I got a bad feeling my baby don’t live here no more,” she sang, then settled into an amazing bridge, the audience just eating it up.

“If my baby don’t love me no more, well, I know her sister will!” Emmy sang as she finished up the song.

“Give it up, people!” Brent said into the mic, and believe me, they did.

After a quick little bow to the audience, Emmy said “This is my last song for tonight. I want to thank Justin, Brad, Tom and Brent for inviting me to play with them tonight! Here is a little bit of history trivia for all of you here tonight. My very first public performance was with the Sons! Can you believe that? The very first time I took the stage in front of a real audience, it was with these beautiful boys!”

Nodding to the drummer, Emmy started into a much slower riff, which was yet a third Hendrix tune, Little Wing. Of course, it’s my favorite Hendrix song, so I was absolutely floored that she would play it.

It meant a lot that she looked right at me when she sang “Take everything you want from me,” her voice soaring along with the guitar.

“Jesus,” Stephanie whispered. “God, she really is fucking amazing,” and I had to agree.

After the show, we said goodbye to Stephanie and the boys and headed back to the lake house.

“It was good to see Brent and the others,” Emmy said, looking out the car window. “It has been a long time.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, not really paying much attention to the conversation.

“Stephanie looked good,” Emmy said.

“Yeah, she looked great,” I agreed starting to see the thin ice forming in what Emmy was saying.

“She seemed happy to see you, too,” Emmy added, and the ice was getting much clearer, and I realized that I would have to tread very carefully.

“I was happy to see her, too,” I said. “It’s been almost a year since I saw her last Memorial Day.” I wasn’t going to dissemble in any way to Emmy, but I also wasn’t going to make it seem as if Steph and I were anything but old friends- because that’s all we were anymore.

“You should try to see her more often, Leah,” Emmy said, and I felt the ice under my feet give way. This was not how I expected the conversation to go. “She misses you, and you obviously miss her, too.”

“Well, I guess after I graduate and we move to L.A. it’ll be a lot easier to see old friends from home,” I hedged.

“Yes, I think that is true,” Emmy said, and left it at that.