My last morning at the gym there in Melbourne started off just fine. Walter signed me in and asked if I wanted to extend my membership to monthly, but I told him that I was leaving for Tokyo the next morning. I’d enjoyed my time at the gym and liked how nice and clean it was, I told him, and I’d leave a good review.

Of course, I didn’t mention that my fight gym back in the States was grimy, smelled funny, and wasn’t nearly as well lit, but was a real MMA gym with real fighters, not a ‘kickboxing for housewives’ type of place like this one. Still, I’d been able to get good workouts in, so that was fine.

After my weights session Kitty came over to talk to me.

“I Googled you,” she admitted, looking embarrassed. “You’re married to Emmy Lascaux, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here in Melbs, isn’t it? Because her band played at the MCG, right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” I said.

“I read that you’re a real estate developer there in California,” she added.

“That’s true, too,” I agreed.

“So you’re not some sort of back-alley fighter at all, are you?” she asked, as if she’d just found out that Santa Claus wasn’t real.

“Google this,” I said, pointing at the scar on my face.

She was about to ask what I meant, but I turned away to continue my workout, so she shut up and left, making her way back to the front desk.

I ignored the stares from the gym’s clients as I did my plyos, then shadowboxed for the last hour. I really did miss that stinky pit of a gym back in Los Angeles, and missed having anybody to spar with. Heck, I even missed the knife and stick work with Mr Han back in Singapore. I was definitely going to have to throw down with a few of the guys when I got back to California.

When I signed out for the last time, Kitty looked at me with wide eyes.

That scar- you got that fighting some skinheads with knives in San Francisco?” she asked, hoping it was true.

“Yes, I did,” I agreed.

“What happened?” she asked breathlessly.

“I beat ‘em up. Kicked their asses,” I said.

“Fucking serves them right, those bastards,” Kitty said.

“They won’t do it again,” I agreed, then turned and left.

Angela and Emmy just wanted to be lazy our last day in Melbourne, but I wanted to go out. Thinking I’d just do some walking, I ran into Jackson and Tino (the band’s keyboard player) in the lobby. They said they were going to visit a local whisky (no e) distillery, so I joined them. A twenty minute taxi ride across the Yarra river and into a light industrial district brought us to a fairly nondescript building with subtle signage indicating it was in fact the right place.

“I’ve never been to a distillery before,” Tino said as we got out of the cab. “But I have done brewery tours, and that’s exactly what this smells like.”

“Yeah,” Jackson said. “That’s really the first step. Basically they brew beer, more or less, then distill that. When they talk about mash, it’s pretty much the same as beer wort.”

“Interesting,” Tino said as we made our way into the tasting room. We signed up for the full immersion tour with tastings straight from the barrels and a class in blending for flavor profile. Jackson and I had each done similar tours before, but it was all new for Tino, and he was very impressed.

Roggo, our tour guide (pronounced Raw Go), had recognized Jackson and mentioned that the concert was amazing, but was otherwise completely professional and didn’t treat us any different than any other rich tourists interested in their juice. We each came away with a bottle we’d individually blended, which was cool. I went ahead and told Roggo that I wanted three bottles of each of their other offerings. When Tino asked, I said it was one bottle of each for each of our three houses.

“You can’t take it all on the plane,” Roggo said. Give us your addresses and we’ll have the bottles shipped from our American distributor.”

“Makes sense,” Jackson said. “Maybe I should get a couple of bottles for my old man, too. I think he’d get a kick out of it.”

“It is a pretty cool gift,” I said, and flashed back to that Scotch that Henry Powell had sent me.

“So you have two other houses besides Los Angeles? Must be nice,” Tino said, shaking his head.

“I ain’t seen their new penthouse in London yet, but the joint they’ve got in New York is something special,” Jackson told him. “And you’ve seen the LA place.”

“That freaking house, man. It blew my mind, hidden like that on the backside of the studio. That’s some shit, man. That is some kind of shit.”

“Let me tell you, that studio really saved our asses. When we all moved to LA, we couldn’t find a damned practice studio to save our lives- not one that was worth a damn, anyway. Then when Leah found that old movie studio and had it converted, it was like a ray of sunshine straight into our lives,” Jackson told him.

“I’ve never worked in such nice conditions,” Tino agreed.

“World class, my friend. It is world class. It simply don’t get any better,” Jackson assured him.

By the time we finished the tour and blending class and then had our whisky flights in the tasting room, Tino was pretty much intoxicated. Jackson and I both had shown quite a bit more restraint with our sampling and were O.K., but to be honest, I wouldn’t have wanted to drive. All in all, it had been a good way to end the stay there in Melbourne, and in fact, Australia in general.

“I’m gonna have to come back here as a tourist somewhere down the road,” Jackson said in the cab, mirroring my own thoughts. “Sometime I can relax, spend as much time as I want.”

“That’s no lie, man,” Tino agreed. “I could spend a month here, and it would prolly still be too short.”

“Jax,” I said. “Emmy hasn’t really talked about you guys’ schedule after the tour is over, but you know she’s gonna have to take maternity leave. Are you guys going to take a break for a while?”

“We’ve been talking about it, yeah. I’ve been thinking about putting a solo album together, and I know Lee has a couple of bands he wants to produce. But we haven’t actually sat down and made firm plans or anything,” Jackson added. “But yeah, we might take a year off, something like that.”

“That’s kind of what I thought,” I admitted. “I figured you and Lee would have side projects while Emmy was busy with the baby.”

“It’s funny even calling what I want to do a side project or a solo album, since both Lee and Emmy have promised to help out on it,” Jackson mused.

Walking through the hotel lobby, Jackson steered me to the pub-styled restaurant on-site.

“You got a few minutes? I’ve been meaning to talk to you in private,” he said, so I let him lead me to a table. We ordered a couple of drinks and some chicken wings to share. When the waitress left, I asked what was up.

“Well, I have two things I wanted to talk to you about, and they’re kinda related. First, my dad has been pestering me to talk to you about the place you and that guy Rawson own there in Austin. He wants to buy in as silent partner. I’ve told him I have no idea how you run things, but he’s been talking to Rawson and he seems to think you’d accept another money man in on the deal.”

“So that’s a topic that has come up before, and I’m not really sure how to deal with it. The deal my company has with Rawson is that we provide the capital and the business expertise, he provides the face and the talent. We work together on the concept and setup, right? So Rawson, in this case, can call it his restaurant, but our guys do the actual business side of managing things,” I explained.

“Yeah, that’s how dad explained it. I guess he’s thinking that he could buy in, provide some more capital for expansion or something, in return for partial ownership.”

“Besides eating all the barbecue he wants, what else does Bob think he’d get out of it? I’m sure investing his money back into his concrete company would yield higher returns,” I said. “Restaurants aren’t all that profitable.”

“Dad wants to retire and hand over the company to us kids, but at the same time he wants to stay busy with something, you know? I think he thinks that restaurant ownership sounds like fun,” Jackson said with a shrug.

“You know Emmy and I love your folks,” I said, “but I’m not even sure what he would do to keep himself busy with a restaurant. Don’t get me wrong, I’d totally take him on as a partner. I mean, he knows business, right? He built the family company into what it is now, and that’s not nothing, even if it is completely unrelated to the hospitality industry. I just don’t know what he would do, if he’s looking to keep himself busy.”

Jackson shrugged. “I promised Dad I’d talk to you, so I’ve done my due diligence. Do me a solid and reach out to him and see what he thinks he can bring to the table, that all I ask.”

“Emmy’s got your parents’ contact info. I’ll shoot him an email,” I said.

“Nah, no email. Call him on the phone. He’s old school like that,” Jackson said with a smile. “I don’t think he even knows how to text, for that matter.”

“Alright, I’ll call him when we get back to the States.”

“It’ll mean a lot to him,” Jackson said with a smile. “So, the other thing. This tour is gonna make us a lot of money- well, I guess not you and Emmy, but Lee and me. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and I’d like to ask a favor. If you could find me a house to buy, someplace nice but not crazy, I’d appreciate it. I know you know more about the LA real estate scene than I ever would, after all. I figure you have leads, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s easy enough,” I assured him as the waitress brought our drinks.

“Also, I want to invest in your real estate trust. I think it’s time to get serious about money, and I don’t know anybody more serious about it than you. I’ve got most of my money right now in mutual funds, and that’s cool for somebody old, but right now I should be investing in more, um, dynamic instruments.”

“That’s dead simple,” I said. “Just come to my office, talk to my guys, and give them as much money as you want.”

“That does sound simple,” he said with a grin.

“It really is that simple. I mean, there are minimums and so on, but yeah. Easy.”

“Alright- when we get cashed out from our tour money, I’ll be handing most of it over to you,” Jackson said.

“Sure,” I agreed. “In the meanwhile, what kind of property are you interested in? Give me some hints so I know where to get started,” I told him, and we spent the next hour or so discussing what kind of house he wanted me to find for him.

When I got back up to the room, I found Angela leaned up against the headboard, Emmy lying down between her legs, head resting on Angela’s bare belly.

“I was just singing to our babies,” Emmy said, a dreamy look on her face.

“What were you singing?” I asked, curious. Every so often things like this reminded me that while they might both be mine, they were each other’s, too.

“She was singing Guns N Roses just before you came in,” Angela said, stroking Emmy’s hair lovingly.

“Guns N Roses?” I asked, surprised.

“Sweet child of mine,” Angela replied. “It was very beautiful.”

“Where did you go? You were gone for a very long time,” Emmy asked, not lifting her head from Angela’s tummy.

“I was going to go out for a walk, but ran into Tino and Jackson in the lobby and they invited me to go on a tour of a local whisky distillery. Jackson said that that girl Georgie from the band that opened for you guys had recommended it.”

“I liked them,” Emmy said. “I wish we could actually watch the opening acts. It is a shame that all we get is to see them on monitors backstage.”

“I talked to Georgie a little at the afterparty. She seemed really down-to-Earth,” I agreed, sitting on the bed and stroking Emmy’s back.

Changing the subject, I mentioned that Jackson wanted me to find him a house to buy in Los Angeles when we got back. “I guess he’s tired of renting, giving up on thinking he’ll only be in LA for a limited time,” I said.

“You need to find him a very sexy place,” Emmy said, still with her cheek against Angela’s middle. “But sexy in a classy way, not too showy. Not one of those contemporary places up on the hills, but maybe something that had been owned by a famous actor from a long time ago.”

“I might need your help, then,” I said, leaning down and kissing her cheek, then leaning down more and kissing Angela’s midriff. “It sounds as if you have a better idea of what to look for than I do.”

“I would be happy to help. We also should look for a better house for Jen and Lee, too. That house in Pasadena is not good enough for them.”

“Do they want to stay near his mom?” I asked. I wasn’t really hip to the housing market in the San Gabriel Valley, but I could look into it.

“No, I do not think so. At least, not for Jen’s sake. Lee’s mom and sister hate Jen.”

“That’s what she told me a while back,” I agreed. Thinking about it a moment, I said, “It makes me appreciate my in-laws all that much more.”

“Mamí and Papí love you both so much,” Angela said. “They were very… skeptical until they actually met you two, and then they saw how wonderful you both are.”

“My mother and father think that I could not have done better. They tell me that I have done better than they could have imagined with the two of you,” Emmy said.

“I think my mom kinda thinks you two are O.K. enough,” I said with a shrug.

Emmy laughed, finally lifting her head from Angela’s tummy. “Your mother loves Angela and me very much,” she said.

“Yeah, maybe more than she does me,” I agreed, nodding.

“Do not be ridiculous,” Emmy replied. “Your mother would do anything for you and Tiffany. You two are the world to her.”

I kicked off my shoes and settled onto the bed, snuggling against Angela’s side, level with Emmy.

“You two are my world,” I said as I pulled myself in close. “And it’s a very wonderful world.”