It was really late when we finally got to the hotel in Sydney. When we asked if the hotel restaurant was still open we were told that it had closed a few minutes earlier but we could get light plates in the bar, so that’s what we pretty much all did, swamping their poor late-night staff with our requests for food and drink at nearly midnight on a Monday night.

“Europe was so much easier,” Jackson grumbled as we waited for our food. “The flights were an hour or two at the most. None of these long-ass all-day things.”

“Dude, I know,” Lee agreed. “I mean, it was cool getting to visit with the fam in Seoul, but Jesus… And we’ve got, like, a ten hour flight from Melbourne to Tokyo, and then home again!”

“Yeah, the flying sucks,” Jen agreed, “but I’ve always wanted to see some of these places and they were never gonna get any closer to California, right?”

“Not until the big one hits and Cali separates from the mainland and drifts across the Pacific,” Jackson agreed.

“Dude, how many times do I have to tell you? Cali is a town in South freaking America. It is not the name of the state we all live in,” Lee protested. “Every time you use that word everybody knows you aren’t a local.”

“Lee, man, every time I open my mouth and say anything, everybody in California knows I’m not from around there,” Jackson said, intentionally emphasizing his Texan accent.

“Yeah, no lie there,” Lee admitted with a shrug.

“What’d your relatives in Korea think of your American accent?” Jackson asked, curious.

“They loved it. They thought it was great. One of my great aunts even said that she thought my accent showed showed I was a mix of the old and the new. Born in California, but still honoring my Korean ancestry,” Lee said. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I’m like ninety-seven per cent Californian and maybe three per cent Korean.”

“I am not sure what my percentages are anymore,” Emmy said as the waiter brought our drinks. “In Paris, I felt both at home and like a tourist. It was a very strange sensation, knowing that I will never live there again, just visit.”

“Why do you think you’ll never live there again? You guys could buy a place there if you wanted,” Jen asked, puzzled.

“It is complicated,” Emmy said with a sigh.

“It boils down to being to close to her parents,” I said, which was the truth, but far from all of it.

“Yeah, I guess I get that,” Jen said, nodding thoughtfully. “I sure as hell don’t want to move back to San Jose.”

“Because of your parents?” Angela asked.

“No, because San Jose. My parents are O.K., but I can’t say I have any good memories of that town,” Jen said. “I guess it’s not necessarily a bad place, you know? Just, well, boring A.F.”

Angela and I got up early to work out, leaving Emmy sleeping peacefully. Angela planned on using the hotel’s gym, but I wanted to get out and enjoy the morning. My run took me north past some salt marshes and then west along the river for a while. It was a nice and cool morning and the ground and air were still damp from the rain that fell overnight. It felt good to get out and let the miles roll by, but before too long I came to the end of the park along the water, so I turned south and then east back to the Olympic Park and the hotel.

Emmy was still in bed when I got back to our room, but she was awake when I finished my shower.

“Where is Angela?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Still in the gym, I guess,” I said, leaning down and giving her a kiss. “Hungry?”

“Yes, I am,” Emmy admitted. “Let me shower and we can go down to the restaurant.”

“Can I watch?” I asked with a smile.

“Yes you can,” Emmy said, slowly stretching in that languid way of hers. “In fact, I want you to watch."

Laughing, I pulled open the blackout curtains to let some light in, only to see the front entrance of the stadium right across the street. When Emmy joined me looking out of the window she laughed in that pretty way of hers.

“It will be very easy to get to the venue on time,” she said, leaning against me.

“Yes it will,” I agreed. “Heck, I could probably stay right here in the room with the windows open and hear the whole concert just fine.”

Emmy laughed at that and held me close. “This will be our biggest concert ever, Leah. We have sold over eighty thousand tickets for Saturday night’s show. Leah, we sold out football stadiums here and in Melbourne. Football stadiums!” she said with a mixture of pride and maybe a little bit of nerves.

“Steph did say that if you guys had toured Europe in the summer you would have done it there, too,” I reminded her.

“I did not take her claim very seriously,” Emmy admitted. “It seems so unlikely that we, Lee, Jackson and I, could ever make music that is so popular. But here is the proof. Stephanie has said that the US leg of the tour will be in big venues, but I had been imagining baseball stadiums like the one in Anaheim. This is nearly twice the size!”

“You’re going to kill it, babe,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “It’ll be awesome.”

Angela came back to the room while Emmy and I were still standing there pondering the soccer stadium only a few hundred yards away.

“What’re you guys looking at?” she asked, joining us at the window.

“Where we will be performing in a few days,” Emmy said.

“It’ll be great,” Angela said. “Hey, do you guys mind if we get breakfast soon? I’m starving.”

“I was going to take a shower,” Emmy said, pulling herself away from my embrace. “And Leah was going to watch.”

“Oh, really?” Angela asked, intrigued. “I need a shower, too…”

“We should save water and shower together,” Emmy suggested. “And Leah can watch us both at the same time. It will be nice and efficient.”

“I like where this is going,” I said in the deepest, growliest voice I could summon up. And yes, I did like where it went. The two gave me a good show as they soaped each other up and rinsed each other off. Afterwards I had the pleasure of toweling off each of them in turn, so I certainly can’t say that I felt left out of the fun.

Over brunch at a nearby restaurant we agreed to do general touristy things for the next couple of days, including a tour of a nearby wine region, Australia’s oldest. On Thursday The Downfall had an in-studio then a sound check on Friday, so we only had the evenings together those days.

The Sydney Tower was cool, and so was the walk across the Harbour Bridge, but Emmy and Angela liked wandering around the old part of town right at the base of the bridge the best. It was a cute area with cobblestone streets and buildings over a hundred years old, now mostly filled with trendy restaurants and pubs.

After the sun set we took a dinner cruise that lasted a bit over three hours. The dinner was a lot better than I would have expected and the wine pairings from regional wineries were excellent. I made a note of a few of the wineries to tour the next day. Of course Emmy and Angela limited themselves to nothing more than little sips, but they said they enjoyed it anyway.

Standing out of the cool wind in the tail of the boat, Tiny admitted to me that touring with The Downfall had allowed him to see more of the world than he had ever thought was possible.

“It has been like a dream in a lot of ways,” he said. “Dinner tonight, for example. A six course meal! Filet Mignon and lobster! Two years ago I was working in a warehouse for minimum wage, wondering if I would have enough money for my share of the rent.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” I told him. “After the tour is over, would you want to make it a permanent thing? Being a bodyguard for Emmy and Angela?”

“I can’t tell you how much I’ve been hoping you’d ask me to stay on,” he said. “It would be such an honor and a privilege.”

“I’ll talk to Michael,” I said. “You’d have to move to Los Angeles.”

“Whatever you need, I’m your man,” Tiny replied, obviously pleased to be offered the position.

“I’m glad to hear it,” I said, clapping him on the back. “You’ve been doing a great job on this tour, Jeremy. I’ve been really happy with your diligence. I’m sure that working with Grant has been a real learning experience. I hope he hasn’t been too tough to deal with.”

“It has been a learning experience,” Tiny admitted. “Very much. And Mr Henry, he’s a stern teacher, but very fair.”

“Well, I’m going to ask a lot of you, so soak in every bit of wisdom he has to offer.”

“I have been,” Tiny replied. “Every day I think I learn a little more.”

The Hunter Valley trip the next day was really nice, even though we wound up with quite a crowd. Lee and Jen, plus all three of the touring musicians and both of the backup singers wanted to go when they heard we were going to go for a wine tour. Jackson had declined, but other than him all the performers packed into the limo bus that I chartered for the day. I would have preferred a little more low-key outing, but it turned out to be a lot of fun anyhow.

The Hunter Valley region was pretty and the weather was perfect, and thankfully the bus didn’t turn into some sort of raucous rolling party. We hit a wide range of wineries, from little family-run places with very casual amenities to elaborate estates with large tasting facilities with their own restaurants. We liked a few of the wines well enough to order cases sent to Los Angeles and New York.

Sitting at an outdoor table at one of the smaller wineries, Angela got the keyboard player (apparently named Tino) to snap some photos of Emmy, Angela and me together. On the table in front of us were our wine glasses and the cheese and fruit plate, a screen of eucalyptus (the locals called them gum trees) half-hiding the view of the valley and vineyards behind us. Looking at the pictures later, I decided that the best one needed to be blown up and framed. At least for my office, if not for one of our homes.

“You guys are sickeningly adorable,” Jen said after Tino finished taking the pictures.

“Thanks!” Emmy said with a smile.

The next morning Angela and Emmy spent an agonizingly long time picking out which of Angela’s swimsuits she and I should wear. Well, to be honest, Angela knew which she wanted for herself- it was me they insisted on using as a dress-up doll, making me try on various bikinis and one-pieces, then going back and trying on ones I’d already modeled. I finally said enough was enough and the two agreed that the bright blue racer back was the best on me.

Secretly it had been my favorite, too, since it was the most functional of all of the two-piece outfits Angela had brought along. Neither Emmy nor I had asked why Angela had packed over a dozen swimsuits- it was Angela’s job to post pictures of herself in swimwear, after all.

The hotel’s concierge suggested we skip Bondi in favor of Manly Beach, saying that it was more scenic and less crowded- more of a locals type of place than one packed with tourists.

What he didn’t tell us is that it was a full hour’s drive from the Olympic Park, but at least we got in a little bit of sightseeing, including a drive across the Harbour Bridge. We were on the wrong side of the road, of course, so we couldn’t see the Opera House from the bridge, but that’s life sometimes.

Manly reminded me of a typical California beach town, but that’s not a bad thing at all. The beach proper was also pretty similar to what I was used to- the color of the sand, the width of the beach itself, the waves, the boardwalk… All very familiar, other than the accents of the people we passed.

As Angela and I walked along the herringbone brick boardwalk, we spotted a number of volleyball courts set up on the sand.

“Do you want to play?” Angela asked me as we stopped to watch some people playing.

I sighed, sitting on the low wall separating the boardwalk from the beach. “The thing is, it’s a no-win for me,” I said. “These guys aren’t very good, so if I invite myself to play with them I’d destroy ‘em unless I sandbagged so hard it hurt-”

“Sandbagged?” Angela interrupted, puzzled.

“It means to play badly on purpose, to hide how good you are,” I explained. “So I can either sandbag, which is no fun for me, or I can demolish these people, which is no fun for them.”

“Hey, I couldn’t help but overhear,” a sunburned curly-haired guy said as he walked up. “So you’re good, then?”

“Yeah, pretty good, but I haven’t played much for a couple of years now,” I said, noting the guy was tall, maybe six foot five or so, typical of top volleyball players.

“We’ve got an open tournament here on Saturday mornings. Signup is at seven, matches start at seven thirty, and it’s open to all comers.”

When I stood up to take the four by six card with the information he was handing out he looked surprised when he realized I was almost as tall as him.

“You’re a tall one,” he said as I took the glossy card. “What level d’you play at?”

“Collegiate national champion at Stanford,” I said.

“They wanted her for the Olympic team,” Angela boasted on my behalf.

“Right,” the guy said. “Well, we get some really good players, so no sandbagging, right? Bring your best game. My name’s Mike Hall- I coach the local- I guess you’d call it high school, right? Years eleven and twelve? Right. I coach the boys team and teach adult volleyball skills here at the beach Saturdays,” he said. “Like I said, the tournament is open, just show up and sign in.”

When I introduced myself as Leah Farmer, he wrinkled his brow for a moment in thought. “Killer Leah?” he asked, unsure he was remembering correctly.

Sighing, I agreed that was me.

“You’ll make quite a splash,” Mike said, grinning. “Look, whatever else you might have Saturday morning, cancel it and come play, right? I’ll pair you up with a friend of mine- she plays pro, but her teammate is out with injuries right now.”

“Lee, I want to watch you play,” Angela said, taking my hand in both of hers. “We don’t have anything until the show, and that’s in the evening.”

“Alright,” I told Mike. “Tell your friend I’ve only played a few times since graduating, and sand was never my focus, so don’t expect too much.”

“Right,” Mike nodded knowingly. “See you at seven on Saturday, Killer.”

After leaving Mike and the volleyball area behind, Angela took my hand as we walked. “Emmy’s gonna be so jealous she won’t be able to watch you play,” she said with a smile.

“She’s seen me play plenty,” I said, telling her the story of our senior year in high school and Emmy’s help against West Temecula.

The day was warming up nicely and eventually we found a spot that had hardly any other beachgoers, so we set our blanket on the sand and stripped down to our swimsuits.

“You are so beautiful,” I told Angela as she removed her sun dress.

Smiling shyly, Angela knelt down on the blanket and gave me a kiss. “I’m starting to feel fat,” she said, looking down at her tummy, which had certainly lost its six-pack definition. It looked like a normal woman’s belly now, but still far from fat.

“Angela, baby, you are freaking gorgeous. You’re gonna be even more gorgeous in a few months when your belly is big and round, because that’s our baby you’re carrying around. Our baby, Ange.”

Smiling sweetly, Angela rooted around in the beach bag I’d been carrying to find the container of cut cantaloupe she’d brought from the hotel.

“Do you want some rock melon?” she asked, spearing an orange chunk with her plastic fork.

Laughing, I said, “I can’t believe how difficult that discussion was this morning.” I opened wide and she placed the chunk in my mouth.

“They say you learn something new every day,” Angela agreed. “That guy learned the American word for these things today, and we learned what they call it here,” she said, taking a piece for herself.

“What is it called in Colombia?”

Shrugging, Angela said, “Cantalupo,” as she offered me another piece.

Waving it away, I said, “Well, that’s an easy one.”

“We definitely do not call it Melón de piedra,“ she agreed with a smile.

I leaned back on my elbows, looking out over the ocean. “Hey, is that a shark fin?” I asked.

“What?” Angela asked, her eyes wide in dismay as she searched the waves for an ominous triangle.

“I was just kidding,” I said with a laugh. “I think I’m gonna go in.”

“O.K.,” Angela said, fishing in the beach bag for her little waterproof camera. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

A gave her a quick kiss, then ran to the surf. The water was colder than I expected (honestly about typical for a SoCal summer), but I kept running, high-stepping as the water grew deeper until I could dive into the face of an oncoming wave. I swam outside, getting used to the cool but not too cold water. I turned back to the beach to watch Angela walk sedately to the edge of the water, then dip her toes in.

She stepped back away from the next wavelet, avoiding it as it moved up the beach towards her. Looking up and seeing me watching, she wrapped her arms around herself and made an exaggerated shivering motion- clearly the water temp didn’t meet her requirements.

Amused, I bodysurfed back to the shallows, then walked out of the water to where Angela stood, looking beautiful.

“Hey, babe,” I said, taking her in my arms, earning a shriek of protest at the cold water on my body.

Laughing, Angela pushed me away. “That water is freezing!”

“It’s not so bad once you actually get in,” I said, reaching out for another hug, but she straight-armed me to keep me away.

“I want to take some pictures of you in the water,” Angela said after I gave up trying to get her wet. “Go back and and just play around,” she instructed, pointing at the waves.

“There’s going to be a fee for this,” I warned her.

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna need some kisses at the very least,” I confirmed.

Looking around to see if anybody was watching, Angela leaned in and gave me a passionate kiss. “Lee,” she said when we parted. “What will you charge me for some topless photos?”

“Topless?” I asked.

“Tops aren’t legally required on Australian beaches,” Angela said. “I looked it up. People don’t like it if you go topless around families with kids, but look- there’s nobody anywhere near us. It’s a Thursday morning and the beach is mostly empty. I want to take pictures of you in the water with no top on. For Emmy,” she added.

“For Emmy, sure,” I said with a wry smirk. “O.K., I’ll do it. For Emmy. But I’m gonna charge you extra.”

“More kisses?” Angela asked.

“Yeah, but Australian kisses,” I said.

“What are Australian kisses?” Angela asked, her brow wrinkling in confusion.

“They’re like French kisses, but down under,” I said, waggling my eyebrows as best I could.

It took a moment, but Angela’s puzzled look was replaced with a sly smile. “I think I can afford that, but you’ll have to wait until we get back to the hotel. And since these pictures are for Emmy, she’ll have to pay half.”

“It’s a deal,” I said, glancing around once again to make sure we still had our part of the beach to ourselves before pulling my top up and off. Handing it to Angela, I said, “Don’t lose it.”

Angela got a lot of pictures of me and I got quite a few of her after she finally braved the water, which really had to have been over seventy degrees.

We took some pictures back at the blanket, too, doing the whole ‘implied nudity’ thing to make them acceptable for social media.

All in all, three enjoyable hours went by quickly as we goofed around. After a while, though, we got hungry, so we dried off and put our dresses back on and packed everything back in the beach bag to go look for something to eat.

We found a pedestrian promenade with a number of quick dining options, most of which weren’t that appealing. Eventually we settled on a pub that had four floors. We were seated on the rooftop deck, which had great views down the promenade and out to the ocean.

“Thanks for coming to the beach with me today,” Angela said after we put in our orders. “I really enjoyed it.”

“I did too,” I said, resting my hand on hers. “I love spending time with you.”

Angela smiled, taking my hand in hers but not saying anything, just letting the physical contact do the talking.