I stopped by the fight gym the next morning, right when Eddie opened up.

“I think I’m done here,” I told him. “Go ahead and cancel my membership.”

“Is this about yesterday? About the fight?” Eddie asked as we walked to the front desk.

“Well, yeah, but most of all it’s about Linda Rubio hearing about me from whatever idiots Marco talked to. I don’t need my business broadcast around like that,” I said.

“Yeah, I get that,” Eddie admitted. “When I heard about the whole thing last night, I gave him a steaming plateful of shit for it.”

“Unfortunately, a bit too late,” I said.

“Yeah, well, he won’t do it again,” Eddie said, handing me the paperwork to sign. “The guys are all going to miss you, you know. You’re quite the topic for discussion around here.”

“I’d rather not be,” I replied, handing him back the signed papers.

On my way out, I bumped into Ritchie coming in.

“Not working out today?” he asked, looking at my work clothes.

“I just quit my membership,” I said.

“Because of yesterday?” he asked, even though he wasn’t there when the whole thing happened, proving that yes, word had gotten around.

“Because of big mouths,” I replied.

“That sucks,” he said. “I mean, that really sucks. You gonna find another gym?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I might just work out at the super secret government assassin HQ, you know?”

“It’d probably be more convenient,” he agreed with a laugh.

I was first to the office, hoping to make up for some of what I’d skipped out on yesterday. I had over an hour and a half before Jake poked his head in to see how I was doing.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked, taking the seat across from my desk.

“My knee is a little sore and I have a few scrapes, but I’m O.K.,” I said.

“Your black eye isn’t as bad as I’d thought it was gonna be,” he said, touching his cheekbone.

“Thankfully, I don’t bruise very easily,” I said.

“I guess that’s a real positive trait, given your lifestyle choices,” Jake said. “Kickboxing seems like a bad choice of activities for anybody that bruises easily.”

“Yeah, it sure would be,” I agreed.

Changing topics, Jake asked, “Is this going to blow back on the company? What do you think any repercussions might be?”

“I doubt it,” I said. “Linda Rubio isn’t going to want people to know that she got involved in an unsanctioned fight, and even less that she lost and had to go to the hospital, right? So I don’t think she’s going to make a stink. I also think she’s got no real grounds to sue, and if she does talk to a lawyer, they’d figure out pretty quickly who represents me and they’d probably tell her to give it up. No, I think the worst that could happen is for the story to get picked up by some sort of MMA-focused news outlet, or, God forbid, TMZ or some tabloid outlet like that. If that happens, the story could blow up and maybe the company could get some press.”

“Our owners and investors wouldn’t like that sort of publicity,” Jake said, thinking about it.

“Some wouldn’t,” I agreed, “But some would. I know for a fact that at least a handful have signed with us because they’ve heard my reputation for being a fighter. Those folks would only have their beliefs confirmed.”

“Metaphorical fighter is different than street fighter,” Jake countered.

“No, I mean my reputation as a street fighter. There have been rumors for a long time that I literally beat people up, and more than one investor has told me that it was a factor in deciding to invest with us. They think that someone who’s known to use their fists won’t take any shit in the boardroom, either.”

“Was this here, or up in the Silicon Valley?”

“A few down here, but mostly up there. I think the business community is smaller up there and they all talk, you know? Down here, it’s just too big a city for everybody to know everybody,” I explained.

“Makes sense,” he said.

Just then Sandy knocked on the door and peeked in. “Sorry to interrupt, Boss, Jake. Leah, is it true? Did you really put Linda Rubio in the hospital yesterday?”

I waved him to come in and sit down. “Jake and I were just discussing what ramifications it may have on the company.”

“This could be huge,” Sandy said. “You know everybody up in the South Bay already thinks you’re a badass, right? Well, this might jump start that same rep down here. We could really capitalize on it with just the right PR.”

“No,” I said. “I want this to blow over. Don’t make a big deal about it,” I told him.

Visibly deflating, Sandy said, “Are ya sure? This could be to our benefit.”

“I’m sure.”

“You’re the boss, Boss,” Sandy said, standing up. “Hey, will you have time to look at a couple of sites this afternoon?”

“I should be able to,” I said. I quickly checked my calendar and said, “I’m free after two.”

“I’ll see you then,” he said, shutting the door as he left.

“O.K., I get that the hospitality world is different,” Jake said. “Celebrity owners are a big deal, but not in property management.”

“No, you’re right,” I agreed. “And that’s why I want this kept quiet. We don’t need this sort of publicity.”

After Jake left, I got back to work my market analysis for the Dana point project. It was looking more and more as if we were going to have to carry pretty much the whole thing, and I really wanted to make sure we were going to come good. Time passed quickly, and all too soon Sandy was knocking on my doorframe to remind me I’d promised I’d make a couple of site inspections with him.

“Give me ten minutes,” I said. “I need to finish a couple of emails.”

“You want to drive together, or separately?” he asked.

“Where are we going?”

“One’s in Hollywood, the other Silver Lake,” he replied.

“Then separately. I’d rather not come back all the way here to get my car, only to head back to Hollywood afterwards.”

“I’ll text you the first address. See ya there,” he said, pulling out his phone as he left.

The first place was on Wilcox, just off Sunset. It had been built as a movie theater back in the Thirties, during the Golden Age of cinema- the period of large, ornate movie houses. It was currently limping along as a discount clothing store, just barely keeping the doors open. I found a parking spot nearby and joined Sandy outside the shabby clothing store.

“This place is perfect!” Sandy said, his Aussie accent strong with his excitement.

“Looks like a dump,” I said, doubtfully.

“Oh, it is, now,” Sandy agreed. “But the space is amazing, and with creative restoration it’ll be stunning.” He led me inside, and I could see what he meant. The grandeur of the old theater had been let slide into ruin over the decades, but the high ceiling, with its elaborate plasterwork, had remained untouched.

Sandy led me to the checkout counter and asked for somebody named named Emilio.

“Emilio Arduño owns this building,” Sandy explained to me. “He’s eager to sell.”

When Emilio arrived, Sandy asked him for a tour of the place. “This is my boss,” he said to Emilio. “She’s the one making the final decision.”

After we shook hands and he looked at me curiously, presumably wondering about my black eye, he said, “Would you like the full tour?”

“For sure,” I said.

He indicated we should follow him as he led us to a side door. “The old stage and screen were walled off years ago, but we use it for storage,” he said, indicating the high space. Although the lights were poor, I could see the old catwalk up behind the new wall where the old curtain had been.

“It wouldn’t take much to bring it all back to life,” Sandy said, seeing what I was looking at.

“I guess I don’t really understand why you’d need all this for a nightclub,” I said as we followed Emilio down some really shabby stairs down into the old backstage area.

“The whole concept relies on live music, and live performers,” Sandy said, clearly exasperated that I hadn’t paid as much attention to his pet project as I clearly should have.

“Yeah, I get that, but somehow I’d thought you wanted something more, um, intimate,” I said, afraid to touch anything, for fear of tetanus.

“I think that was the right way to go up in San Jose,” Sandy admitted. “But this city is something else. This place thrives on- demands even- spectacle. Intimate is good, but ostentatious is better.”

“Hmm,” I said.

“This could be my crowning glory, Leah,” Sandy said. “This could take us into the big leagues. Trust me on this one,” he said, almost pleading.

“Emilio, what are you asking for the building, as is?” I asked.

“Seven and a half million,” he replied.

“If you’ll take four and a half, you can have it in your hand by lunchtime tomorrow,” I said.

“No, no way I can take that,” he said. “Even at seven, I’m not asking what it’s worth.”

“Alright,” I said with a shrug. “If you change your mind, you have Sandy’s phone number, right? C’mon, Sandy, let’s look at the other place you found.”

Sandy had a stricken look on his face, but didn’t say anything as we walked out. He followed me to where I’d parked.

“Six is fair for the building,” Sandy said. “It’s in rough shape now, but-”

“He’ll sell. He’ll try to talk us up, but he’ll accept four and a half,” I said. “This place has been shopped on and off the market for years, and nobody’s even made an offer, as far as my research shows,” I said. “It’s only worth what people are willing to pay for it, and that’s what I’m willing to pay for it.”

Sandy stared at me for a moment, then shook his head. “And that’s why you’re the boss,” he said. He pulled out his phone and texted me the address of the second site he wanted to show me, over in Silver Lake. “You wanted Emilio to think we were going to look at another place to buy instead of his, didn’t you?” he asked, but he knew the answer.

I gave Sandy a smile and said, “See you over there.” Exiting the lot I lit the tires up just to amuse myself and to remind Sandy that I wasn’t all work and no play.

The place in Silver Lake was a classic neighborhood bar, unassuming from the outside. It was bigger than most dives, but had the requisite neon Corona Beer signs, billiard tables and dartboards. Looking around, I could easily imagine Stephanie cleaning up at the pool tables, taking unsuspecting chumps for drink money. This bar wasn’t super close to her house, but it wasn’t far, either. I made a mental note to ask if she ever stops by.

“Take a seat anywhere, hon,” the middle-aged waitress said with a wave.

Instead of sitting, I wandered around the room. Noticing that they must have a kitchen, I wondered what Sandy saw in the place that would make it worth our time.

Just then he walked in and spotted me. “What do you think?” He asked.

“Looks like any other dive bar and grill anywhere,” I said.

“Did you look closely at the pictures?” he asked, indicating the old-school signed head shots framed on the walls. “You are standing in the oldest operating bar in Los Angeles,” he said. “Not the first bar, of course, but the one that’s been in business the longest.”

“And it’s up for sale?” I asked. “Why?”

“Owner wants to retire, kids don’t want to run a bar. Same old story,” Sandy said, indicating we should sit at the bar.

The bearded hipster bartender asked us what we wanted, his gaze lingering on my black eye for a moment.

“I’ll take a pour of the Van Winkle fifteen,” Sandy said without hesitation.

The bartender gave him a look and asked, “You know that’s four hundred dollars, right?”

“Of course,” Sandy said. “I think my friend here will need to see the rare bottle list.”

The hipster bartender pulled a printed sheet of paper from the back counter and handed it to me, then turned and grabbed the Rip Van Winkle from a glass-fronted case and poured it for Sandy.

Looking at the list, I asked, “You actually have a bottle of Four Roses Fiftieth?” I asked. “I’ll take a double.”

“You see the price?” The bartender asked, making sure I knew I was ordering a six hundred dollar pour.

“I see you have the full bottle prices,” I said. “These look a little high, but I’ll take a bottle to go, too.”

“And now you understand,” Sandy said with a laugh.

The bartender set my tumbler of golden liquid down in front of me, saying that he’d get me my bottle when we were ready to go.

“Here’s the thing,” Sandy said. “For most people that walk in here, it’s just a hip dive bar, right? But this place has the best whiskey list in town. I’ve seen their storeroom downstairs, and it’s a literal gold mine. The seller has connections in the industry you can’t believe, and he can get anything, and usually has a bottle or two in the basement. He’s agreed to stay on as buying agent. I’ve talked to him about expanding his activities to work as a buyer for our various clubs.”

“I get it now,” I said. “Really, we’d be buying this guy’s contacts and relationships, and getting this bar as a sort of bonus.”

“Yeah, but I promised him we wouldn’t loot this bar’s stock for our other venues,” Sandy said.

I took a sip of my whiskey, savoring the sweet, mellow caramel, tobacco and leather notes as it went down. The bartender was watching, so I gave him a smile. “Four thousand bucks for a bottle of whiskey is ridiculous,” I told him as I took another sip. “But sometimes you just have to treat yourself.”

“True dat,” he said with a nod. Apparently I’d passed the test.

“So what do you think?” Sandy asked, enjoying his own stupid-expensive drink.

“Make the deal,” I said. “But part of what needs to happen is that the seller needs to take on an apprentice, so when he finally does retire for good we won’t be left high and dry.”

“Do you have anybody in mind?” Sandy asked.

“Are you angling for the gig?” I asked with a laugh.

“It’s my dream job,” Sandy said, smiling.

Of course I was right- a bird in the hand is better than two in the bush, and Emilio Arduño gave in and settled for four and a half for that old theater the next morning. I told Sandy that he had the go-ahead to build his dream club, but he’d better strike while the iron is hot.

“I want the doors open by this time next year at the absolute latest,” I told him. “We don’t want anybody poaching our concept.”

“Oh, Hell no,” he agreed. “The moment Emilio signs the paperwork I’m going to have our crews in there to start the work. I’m gonna keep it all in-house.”

When Sandy came into my office with the paperwork later in the morning, he handed me a bottle of Michter’s Rye Twenty-Five. “This is a ‘Thank you’ from Ted for buying the bar and its stock, but even more than that, agreeing to sign him on as buyer for our group. He really liked the idea of an apprentice, too.”

“Nice,” I said, admiring the bottle. “I’ll be sure to enjoy this.”

“I brought two glasses,” Sandy said, helpfully.

I laughed and told him to come back at four, at the end of the day.

Jake came into my office later and saw the bottle sitting on my desk. “”Don’t let the boss catch you drinking on the job,” he said, picking up the bottle to look closely.

“Careful with that,” I said. “That’s worth around fifteen grand.”

“Seriously?” he asked, gingerly setting the bottle back down on the desk.

“I looked it up, and the last bottle to come up on auction went for that, yeah,” I said. “Fifteen thousand dollars. So that’s about, what, twelve hundred bucks for a two-ounce pour?” I said.

“That’s way too rich for my blood,” Jake said. “I’m more of a beer man, anyway. Never really did develop a taste for hard alcohol.”

“Honestly, that’s probably for the best,” I said, picking up the bottle and admiring the deep amber-red color of the rye inside.

Sandy didn’t manage to make it back for his taste of the grain, so I took the bottle home with me. I sat it up on the top shelf of the home bar, giving it pride of place. The reality is that I might never actually open that bottle, but if the right occasion ever came up, well…

Wondering where Emmy and Angela were, I wandered through the house looking for them. I found the two of them in the small bedroom next to ours that was going to be our nursery, snuggled together on a pile of pillows, wrapped in a big, soft comforter from our bed. The room was empty except for the two of them, sleeping peacefully in each other’s arms. I quietly took out my phone and snapped a few photos, planning to load them onto my digital picture frame at work.

I sat down against the opposite wall and just looked at the two. Quite some time passed like that, the two beautiful women cuddled together in their loving embrace while I engraved the memory deep in my soul.

This moment was perfect and I would have been happy to simply stare at the two forever, but eventually Angela woke up. Not realizing I was there, she gently kissed Emmy’s hair and gave her a little nudge to wake up.

“Em, Lee’s gonna be home soon,” Angela murmured. “We should get up.”

“She can come join us when she gets home,” Emmy said, burrowing against Angela.

“I would, but I didn’t want to wake you two,” I said, my voice soft, but still startling both of them.

“Lee!” Angela squeaked. “You scared me!”

“Sorry,” I apologized as I made my way over to the two. I leaned down and kissed each in turn, then again for good measure. “You two were too peaceful to wake up.”

“How long have you been here?” Emmy asked, her voice still a bit groggy.

“Maybe half an hour?” I said with a shrug. “You guys were so adorable I just lost track of time.”

“We were talking about babies,” Emmy said, her voice still a little thick.

“I figured,” I said, stroking her fine, white hair. “You two are going to be such wonderful mothers.”

“I hope so,” Emmy replied. “I so desperately want this to work.”

“Me, too,” I agreed. “I can’t imagine anything I want more than a household with our little girls running around, laughing and singing.”

“This, I want so very much, too,” Angela said, moisture forming in her big, blue eyes. “I want our little nenas to sing, and dance, and have the best lives anyone could ever have.”

“They will,” I assured her with another kiss. “Of course they will.”