The rest of the week was workouts, work, homework, class, and sleep. The only real break was dinner over at Andy and Jenna’s house. I didn’t mention to them that we were expecting- that was something to share when Emmy and Angela were here. Instead we talked about the various Downfall shows, Emmy’s dad giving thousands of pounds worth of tickets to random strangers, stuff like that.

When I told the two of them about the bespoke suit fitting, Andy got a bit of a dreamy look in his eye.

“I’d love to have just one custom-tailored suit made,” he said. “It’s not like I wear suits much, but still… It’d be awesome to have that kind of swagger when I do wear it, you know?”

“You guys aren’t poor,” I said. “You could get one if you want.”

“I’ve heard great things about the tailors in Hong Kong,” Andy said. “That might be the way to go, if we do go to Japan to see Emmy play.”

“You guys still thinking you want to see The Downfall in Tokyo? Let me know as soon as you can so I can make sure you guys are set up with all-access passes and everything.”

Andy looked at Jenna and she nodded in answer to his unspoken question.

“Yeah, I guess we do,” he said. “If you can get us passes, we’ll go ahead and buy the plane tickets. Are you gonna go see ‘em in Asia at all?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “A lot of those decisions are going to be made when Emmy and Angela get home in a few weeks. I’d like to- I’ve never been any closer to Asia than Hawaii.”

“It’s gonna be real different seeing it as an adult,” Andy said. "I mean, I was nine when we left Japan, right? Most of the time we were there we were actually in Okinawa, and that’s about as typical of Japan as Hawaii is typical of the US. I didn’t even realize the dialect was any different until we got moved to Iwakuni and I got teased for my accent.”

“I didn’t know you spoke Japanese when you were a kid,” I said, surprised.

“It wasn’t something I made a big deal about,” Andy said with a shrug.

“He minored in Japanese at USC,” Jenna volunteered.

“That’s cool,” I said, meaning it.

“Yeah, but honestly, not all that helpful in daily life,” Andy admitted with a shrug.

“We went to this omakase sushi place in Burbank, what, two weeks ago? The chef was blown away by this big, goofy white guy talking to him in Japanese,” Jenna said. “It was really cool, and I think Andy made that guy’s night.”

“That’s pretty awesome, alright,” I admitted. “Well, not the sushi part, but the fact that you could talk to the chef like that.”

“That’s right- Angie said you don’t like seafood,” Jenna remembered. “Well, you would have hated it, but take my word for it- it was amaaaaazing,” she said, stretching out the middle syllable.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said. “In the meanwhile, I’ll take another couple of slices of that brisket.”

Friday found me back at The Pit in San Jose for my morning workout. Ruben wasn’t in that day, but the rest of the long-time staff knew me and were glad to see me, which was nice. Although I’d moved away from the South Bay, it still felt a bit like home. I only worked out for two hours, though, since I wanted to be at the office early- I had a lot to catch up on, and a ton of meetings scheduled.

In fact, I wound up working through lunch and staying well past six that evening just to get back up to speed with everything going on. It had been a month since my last visit to San Jose and there was a whole lot that had happened since the last time I’d been in the local office. Staying true to my new org chart, I really didn’t make any decisions on anything- it was all about getting a feel for what my department heads were doing on their own. Sure, I made a few suggestions, but I really tried not to micromanage anybody.

Checking my phone as I left the office, I saw a text from Ashley. “Hey- the guys down at the pit said u came in this morning. u in town?”

Settling in behind the wheel of the baby blue M3, I texted her back. “Yeah, I’m here for the weekend. Want to get together sometime?”

She immediately responded with, “U going to the club tonite?”

“Of course”, I replied.

“Take me with?” she typed back, followed by a hopeful face emoji.

“Sure. I’ll pick you up a little before 8”, I sent back. Then, “Wear something nice”.

“No see thru mesh?” she asked.

“Something classier. You made your point that one night. No need to do it again”.

“K. See u when u get here”.

Wondering if I was going to regret it, I headed to the condo for a shower and to change into something less ‘office’ and more ‘mob den’.

I don’t want to give the impression that I didn’t find Ashley fun to be around, or that I didn’t enjoy my nights presiding over the speakeasy, but it had been a long day and not much sleep the night before, so I was hoping for a relaxed evening and maybe calling it a night earlier than usual.

The door to Ashley’s apartment opened immediately when I knocked, one of her roommates eyeing me up and down.

“Hey Ash! It’s your hot giant lesbian!” she shouted back inside the apartment.

“Well, let her in!” somebody else shouted. “Don’t just stand there in the door like an idiot.”

“I’ll wait out here,” I said, amused and a bit grateful that none of the people that I surrounded myself with back in college were such stereotypical air-headed kids.

Maybe a minute later Ashley stepped outside, looking good in a mini tube dress and a short jacket.

“I’m ready,” she said, holding a pair of strappy heels in one hand, a little clutch in the other.

She walked barefoot to the car, and when she slid into the passenger seat, she made sure to give me the expected peek to show she wasn’t wearing any panties. When I glanced up and she caught my eyes, she winked.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “You’re the only one who gets a peek tonight.”

Dinner and drinks at the club went uneventfully, Ashley keeping it light. We talked about how school was going for her and how the Downfall shows I went to were.

“I watched one of their shows’ live stream,” Ashley admitted. “Trace, my roommate, she’s into ‘em. I mean, I’m not really a fan, y’know, but it was a good show. They really do a heck of a job.”

“Yeah, they do,” I agreed.

Ashley restrained herself from any overt moves when I took her back to her apartment after we left the club, but did ask if I had any plans for the next day. When I told her that I didn’t, she asked if I wanted to do something.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked.

“Well, you did say you’d take me to the haunted mansion sometime,” she said. “We could do that. Or maybe go to San Francisco? Heck, we could just go out for a drive again, like that day we drove to the mountains.”

“Well, no mountain passes for us,” I replied. “It’s winter, and the roads up there are all buried in snow. We could go to the Winchester Mansion, if that’s what you want. I’m even O.K. with going to San Francisco.” Pulling up in front of her apartment, I said, “Tell you what. You come up with a plan, and tell me about it on our run in the morning.”

“Run? Tomorrow morning? But it already is tomorrow morning!” Ashley complained.

“Right. Be ready at eight,” I said. “Let’s get in a good, long run.”

“What?” she moaned. “Like, how long?”

“I dunno. Maybe ten miles?”

“You’re kidding! Ten miles? Are you some kind of psycho?” she demanded.

“That’s only an hour and a half or so,” I said with a shrug.

“You are a psycho,” Ashley groaned. “You really do want to kill me.”

“Kill you? Aren’t you on the track team?” I demanded.

“The fifteen hundred, three K- that’s what I run. My longest training runs aren’t any more than six K,” Ashley protested.

“Eight o’clock,” I said.

“Ten K,” Ashley pleaded. “Any more than that and I will die.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want that on my conscience, now would I?” I replied. “Alright, we can keep it short and only do ten K.” Then just to tease, I added, “Or so.”

“You’re an evil woman, Leah Farmer,” Ashley said as she exited the car.

She was ready at eight though, and we did get in a good run even if it really was only about forty-five minutes of hard exercise. Ashley didn’t do too much complaining while we ran, but she didn’t do all that much talking in general. When we slowed for the last couple of blocks to her apartment, she finally had enough oxygen to hold a conversation.

“It’s the off season,” she whined. “I’m not supposed to go that hard this time of year.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “That wasn’t hard.”

“Fuck me,” Ashley said under her breath. “What’s your idea of going hard?”

“That same speed, but twice as far,” I said. “That’s hard.”

“No shit,” Ashley groaned.

We stopped at the bottom of the stairs that led to her apartment.

“Alright,” I said. “I’ll run home and get showered and changed-”

“What? You ran here?” Ashley demanded, looking around for my car.

“No,” I said, amused. “I drove. I meant ‘run’ metaphorically. So anyway, I’ll drive home, get changed, and be back to pick you up in an hour.” Seeing she was still looking for the baby blue BMW, I said, “I parked about half a block up that way- closest spot I could find,” I said, pointing off down Running Farm Lane to the north.

“Jesus fuck,” Ashley said. “You know I would have believed it, right?”

“My condo is at least fifteen miles away,” I said. “That is a little bit too far.”

“You know, you don’t actually have to go home,” Ashley said, a sly smile on her lips. “You could use my shower. I have the master bedroom, so I have my own bathroom.”

“Let me guess. We should save water and shower together, right?” I said, rolling my eyes.

“It’s the conscientious thing to do,” she agreed, smiling.

“Go,” I said, pointing up the stairs. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

Sticking her tongue out at me, she did as instructed but made sure to wiggle her butt as she climbed the stairs.

We didn’t wind up going to the Winchester Mansion after all. We went out for breakfast at a French bakery, then drove down the Pacific Coast Highway all the way to San Simeon, enjoying the mixed clouds and sunshine through the Big Sur. We even saw a few condors flying around when we stopped at a turnout to look down at the ocean hundreds of feet below.

On the return leg of the drive we cut inland and took the 101, since we were going to run out of daylight.

“Leah,” Ashley said, looking out the car window at the farmland we were passing. “Thanks.”

“Hmm?” I asked, rousing from my own thoughts.

“Thanks for putting up with me,” she said, turning to face me. “I know I can be a bit much sometimes, and I realize that you don’t have to, well, put up with me. So, and I mean this, thanks. Thanks for taking me to your club. Thanks for making me feel safe enough to take off all my clothes. Thanks for… well, just, thanks for all of it.”

“I don’t have to put up with you,” I said, emphasizing the ‘have to’ part. “I enjoy your company, Ash. You’re fun to be around, even if sometimes I do get worried about what you’re going to do next, and sometimes the flirting is way over the top. But I like to think of you as a friend, somebody to just spend time with because- because doing so is its own reward, I guess.”

“Thanks,” she said, and when I glanced over, I saw the soft expression in her hazel eyes. After a few moments, she asked, “Are you going to your club tonight?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Wanna go?”

“Um, can I… can we just have dinner in the restaurant? I mean, I like the bar, but it- I’m not sure I want to go two nights in a row. But I’d still like to have dinner with you, if that’s O.K,” Ashley said.

“Sure, that’s fine,” I said. “I need to stay, but I can get you an Uber when we’re done with dinner.”

“Thanks,” Ashley said, and I could hear the relief in her voice.

She was dressed nicely but certainly not nightclub-ready when I picked her up at six thirty, emphasizing that she was serious about not wanting to spend the evening in the speakeasy.

“How many of those outfits do you even have?” she asked, looking at my charcoal pinstripe suit.

“A few,” I admitted. “The key is accessorizing to change it up,” I said, pulling my electric blue tie out of the vest for her to see.

“Well, you look hot in ‘em, whatever your tie color,” Ashley said. “Can I ask you a question?” Ashley asked after a few minutes.

Resisting the urge to say that she just did, I replied, “Sure. What?”

“That scar on your face. Is that from a car accident?” she asked, touching her cheek.

“No,” I said, signaling for a left turn. “I was in a knife fight. Guy cut me.”

“No, I mean, seriously, how did it happen?” Ashley persisted.

“Seriously, that is how it happened. The guy had this antique dagger from the Middle East and he managed to cut me, but I didn’t even notice until later. Adrenaline, I guess,” I said with a shrug.

“I get the whole gangster image thing, but, like, this is me. How did it really happen?”

“Google ‘Emmy Lascaux attacked in San Francisco’,” I told her. “I think the Chronicle had the most coverage of it, but the Stanford Daily had pretty good coverage, too.”

Taking her phone out of her pocket, she said, “You know I’m gonna do it.”

“You wanted to know,” I said with a shrug.

Just about then we pulled up in front of the steak house, putting the conversation on hold.

There were quite a few people waiting to be seated, so I dragged Ashley back to the speakeasy, but grabbed a restaurant menu on our way back.

“I don’t want to take a table from anybody with a reservation,” I explained.

“But aren’t you doing just the same in the club? I mean, you’re taking a table either way, right?” she objected.

“It’s different,” I said, knocking on the unmarked door. “When I’m not here, nobody sits at my table.”

“Good evening, Boss,” Tony said, seeing who it was. “And good evening to you, Miss Ashley,” he added, a welcoming grin on his face.

“Hey, Tone,” I said, bumping fists with the large man.

When we settled down at my corner table, Ashley asked, “How did that guy- Tone, you called him? How did he know my name?”

“Tony has two requirements for his job. First, he’s the bouncer. If somebody needs to be escorted out, he’s well trained to do just that. He’s big and strong, and was a champion Judo wrestler, so he knows all about pins and holds. Second and more importantly, as the doorman he has to recognize and remember everybody on the list. Lots of guys can work as bouncers, but very few have the sort of memory and name recall he does. I guarantee that if your dad walked in the door, Tony would greet him by name.”

“My dad’s only been here one time,” Ashley objected. “And you never introduced him to Tony.”

“That’s the magic of it,” I said. “The staff here gets names one way or another, and feeds them to Tony. He remembers everybody.”

“Crazy,” Ashley said, shaking her head.

“There’s more,” I said. “The bartenders remember everybody’s favorite drinks, too. Anybody could walk up and ask for the same as last time and they’ll get it.” As if to emphasize my point, Theo set down glasses for the two of us just at that moment.

“That’s cool, I guess,” Ashley said, sounding dubious, but looking at her drink as if it had appeared by magic.

“No, it’s key,” I said, leaning in. “Look, the whole concept is private, exclusive club, right? If a member can walk in and get greeted at the door by name, sit down and have his favorite drink set down immediately the moment he takes his seat, he feels special. He- or she, but honestly, it’s ninety per cent guys- feels known, and respected. They feel as if they belong here, and in turn, start to wonder why they would ever go anywhere else.”

Ashley took a while to think about it, then admitted that it made sense. “You’ve really thought about the psychology of it all, haven’t you?”

“This place cost millions of dollars to set up, and we knew we had one shot at getting it right. We knew who we wanted for clients, and we went after it with laser-guided precision.”

“Wow,” Ashley said. Thinking about it for a long moment, she said, “I think I’m missing something here.”

Just then the waiter came to ask if Ashley knew what she wanted. Ashley ordered the filet with roasted Brussels sprouts off the menu, and I said I’d take the same, but add a side Caesar’s salad, too.

“Like I was saying, when we met, you were just about to graduate, right?” Ashley asked.

“And you were finishing up your freshman year,” I confirmed.

"Then, when my parents were here last September and you took us back here…” she trailed off, getting her thoughts in order. “This place was already well established, right? I mean, it wasn’t new, right?”

Nodding that I was following along, Ashley asked what had been bothering her.

“So, like, it was at least a year old by that time, which means that you started this place when you were what, a junior?”

“A sophomore, actually,” I said.

“I’m a sophomore, and I’m sure as shit not spending millions to start exclusive secret bars,” Ashley said.

“Maybe you ought to,” I said with a shrug.

“Money has a real different meaning for us,” Ashley said dryly.

“In high school, I took the city bus at six twenty AM to get to school every morning, and then to get back home. I worked two jobs,” I said.

“Well, it freaking paid off,” Ashley said, looking around. “Seriously, look at this place. It oozes money.”

“Honestly? It doesn’t make as much as the restaurant out front does,” I said.

“Seriously?” Ashley asked, but my answer was interrupted by a couple of guys coming up to the table to say hello.

Our steaks had arrived by the time the guys left, so we ate in companionable silence for a while.

I could see that Ashley was thinking about something, so eventually I asked what it was.

“Well, like, you said you grew up poor,” she said.

“Not poor, per se, but we didn’t have much extra money,” I corrected.

“Whatever. But now you have tons of money. Like, literal tons. I mean, you’re for sure a millionaire- maybe even a billionaire, for all I know.”

“See that guy over there? The one with the hot pink tie? He’s a billionaire. That other guy over there? In the green sweater? He’s a billionaire, too. Me? I’m nowhere close,” I said.

“Closer than I am,” Ashley replied.

“Yeah, probably so,” I admitted.

“So anyways, what I was gonna say is that you seem like you were born rich. I mean, well, the way you carry yourself, they way you act… I’ve known some people born into money, and they have a sort of… Well, a way of acting that shows that they don’t have to concern themselves with how much anything costs. You have that same sort of, um…” Ashley said, at a loss for the correct words.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I asked, curious.

“Well, I mean, it’s not good or bad in particular,” Ashley said, thinking about it. “I guess some people might think it’s bad, but others wouldn’t. It depends on where you’re coming from. Some people can be real shits about their wealth- I mean, real arrogant, like anybody that has less money than them isn’t worth their time, you know? But you aren’t like that, so that’s definitely good.”

“Shoot me if I ever get that way,” I said, agreeing with her.