“What do you have planned for today?” Emmy asked me over breakfast.

“I’m skipping work today,” I said without a shred of guilt. “I’m meeting a guy who’s supposed to show me the fun driving roads in the area.”

“Be careful,” Emmy said. “You know I worry about you every time you go out for a fast drive.”

“I know, babe, and I appreciate it, but I really don’t take much in the way of risks really at all,” I said. “Besides, I have no idea how this guy drives, so I’m just gonna go at my own pace, anyway.”

“What is his name?"

“That’s the funny part,” I said. “I don’t even know his name. His email address is ‘trakjunki’, and I know he drives a Ferrari 458, but other than that I haven’t a clue.”

“Track junkie?” Emmy asked, puzzled.

“Here,” I said, handing her my phone so she could see the emails.

Scanning through them, she asked, “What does this mean?” pointing at the most recent email. “Bish?”

I laughed, and explained what he meant when he wrote “Oh, meow! I like you already, bish!”

“He thinks you are a bitch?” Emmy asked, still trying to understand.

“No, not really. He’s kidding- it’s just, um, playful banter.”

“If you say so,” Emmy said, still unconvinced.

“So what does your day look like?” I asked Emmy.

“Lee and I are going to rent that rehearsal space we saw in Silver Lake, then work on some songs with Jackson when he gets in at noon,” Emmy said.

“Jackson’s coming to LA? That’s good- it’s been a few months since the three of you have gotten together, right?” I asked.

“Yes, it will be good for the three of us to work together again,” Emmy agreed. “It is not the same without him.”

“Dinner over at Lee’s house again?” I asked.

“I think probably so, yes,” Emmy said. “I will let you know as soon as any plans are made. You do not mind, do you?”

“Of course not,” I said. “And, you know, if you want to bring everybody here for dinner we can do that, too,” I suggested.

“Perhaps not tonight, but soon I would like to welcome everyone to our new house,” Emmy said.

“Jen and Lee have already been here- what’s the difference if Jackson comes over, too?” I asked.

Thinking a moment, Emmy conceded the point. “You are correct. It is not different at all.”

When I pulled into the parking lot of that run-down little store there on Topanga, spotting the Ferrari 458 already there. It was red, of course. I parked two spots over in the nearly empty lot, and the occupants of the Ferrari got out of their car as I exited mine.

“Leah?” asked the guy as he walked over.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I replied, reaching out a hand to shake. “So what should I call you besides ‘trakjunki’?”

“My friends call me Jimmy,” said the guy, but it was obvious his real name was Jianyu or Jiang or something like that, even though he had almost no accent at all.

“So what should I call you?” I asked, smirking.

“Oh, you- I can tell we are gonna get along great!” he said with a laugh.

I was dressed casually, wearing jeans and a T shirt that matched my Aston’s orange paint job, and of course my favorite driving shoes ever, my classic Chuck Taylors.

Jimmy was dressed in what I would describe as ‘Asian-American rich kid’ style. Five hundred dollar designer jeans, limited-edition Yeezy sneakers, some sort of oversized turtleneck sweater, ridiculous glasses (that he probably didn’t actually need) and baseball hat at a stupid angle.

The girl that was with him, the one who hadn’t said a word so far, was wearing very nearly nothing. She had on booty shorts that were so snug you could tell she’d freshly shaved, a spaghetti-strap top that showed off her black bra underneath, and ridiculously high-soled clunky black boots. Her completely disinterested demeanor sat well on her doll-like face, with its heavy black eyeliner and blood-red rosebud of a mouth. Bored of our conversation, she got back into the Ferrari to wait, revealing that the back of her shorts rode so high the bottom half of her butt was completely uncovered.

The two of them looked young- Jimmy seemed as if he might be my age, twenty or twenty-one, but she looked underage. She could have been twenty-five for all I knew, but she looked seventeen at the most.

“So I have a question before we get rolling,” I said to Jimmy.

“What’s that? Ask away, my dude.”

“The guy I met here the other day said his name was Stephen, but you called him Zeke in your email. Which is it?”

“That’s your one question?” laughed Jimmy. “I’m gonna let you figure that one out on your own,” he said, as he walked around my car, eyeballing it carefully.

“What have you done to your Aston?” he asked, looking the car over.

“Nothing,” I said. “Bone stock.”

“O.K., I deserved that,” Jimmy said with a laugh. “But seriously, that Ti exhaust- that’s not stock. I can’t imagine anybody dropping the coin on pipes like those without spending some money under the hood.”

“Bone stock,” I repeated, my face totally deadpan.

“Sure, sure,” Jimmy said, peering under the car. “Sure it is.” Straightening up, he said “Zeke mentioned that your GT-R is the track package, right?”

“No, that isn’t what I told him,” I said.

“It’s not the NISMO track package?” Jimmy asked, surprised. “That pic you sent me showed the NISMO rear spoiler.”

“You’re a track junkie, right?” I asked.

“Well, yeah…”

“Let me know when you’re going to the track next and I’ll bring Godzilla,” I said with a shrug. “Do you track that 458?”

“Yeah, it’s the ‘Speziale’ edition, so it really kicks at the track,” Jimmy boasted. “It’s rear wheel drive, not all-wheel like your GT-R, so it takes a little more skill.”

“My GT-R isn’t all-wheel drive,” I said with a shrug.

Frowning, Jimmy said, "What do you mean? They’ve been all wheel drive for a long time now.”

“Yeah, most are,” I agreed. “Mine isn’t.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jimmy asked, realizing what I was telling him. “It’s one of the special race cars?”

Pursing my lips and nodding, I said, “Yep. GT3.”

He swore something in Chinese, then said, “So that explains why you said it isn’t street legal.”

“Never been registered, anywhere,” I agreed.

“Fuck, this I gotta see,” said Jimmy.

“Pick a date,” I said. “My schedule is flexible, and I really want to get some time in here on the SoCal tracks.”

“It’s too hot the next few months,” Jimmy said. “Nobody runs in the middle of summer. The heat kills cars, so we really can’t do any track days until late September at the earliest,” Jimmy said, his disappointment at not seeing my car anytime soon obvious.

“Well, let’s get driving what we’ve got here, then,” I suggested, indicating the Ferrari and the Aston Martin.

“Sounds good,” Jimmy agreed. “Just follow me. I’ll try not to drop you.”

“Fair enough,” I said.

I followed Jimmy down Tuna Canyon (yes, that really is the name), then up Las Flores, Old Mulholland, Stunt Canyon… after a while the roads all sort of blurred together. Jimmy started out fairly conservatively, but by the time we’d hit road number three he was going pretty good and using his local knowledge to make life hard for me. I wasn’t about to let him get away, though and was having a lot of fun following him through all these crazy, windy roads.

After a while, Jimmy pulled over and waved for me to come up alongside. “Wanna get lunch?” he shouted when I rolled my passenger window down.

“Sure, sounds good,” I said. “Lead the way.”

Following Jimmy into Malibu, I had to wonder why the area had such appeal for the rich. With only one real street, traffic was absolutely horrible. Sure, the ocean was right there, but all the beachfront homes had front doors that opened onto the Pacific Coast Highway and its non-stop cars. ‘No thanks,’ I thought, wondering at the lifestyle choice.

Jimmy pulled into the parking lot of a cafe right there off the Coast Highway, a parking lot filled with high-end cars. My Aston and Jimmy’s Ferrari fit right in, not standing out in any way.

The three of us were younger than most in the place, though. The bulk of the crowd in the cafe were middle aged, tanned, and perfectly groomed. And of course, they were all busy checking each other out.

“I hate the vibe here, but the burgers can’t be beat,” Jimmy said in a conspiratorial whisper.

I noticed more than a few people checking the three of us out, evaluating us, maybe mentally assessing our net worths. I caught a few eyes and stared them down, finding a tiny bit of personal satisfaction with the knowledge that they had nothing I want.

The hostess showed us to our table, which was far from the best in the house, but whatever.

“You recommend the burgers?” I asked Jimmy, glancing through the menu.

“Yeah, but not the fake ones. That stuff tastes like shit.”

When the waitress came and got our drink order, Jimmy ordered for the girl whose name I still didn’t know, without even asking what she wanted.

The girl said something in Chinese when the waitress asked for our lunch order, so Jimmy ordered for her, then, too. I did as was suggested and got the Hawaiian burger with sweet potato fries.

“Leah,” Jimmy said, taking a sip of his Pepsi. “You got some skills. Even when I was workin’ it pretty hard, you were on me like white on rice. My car should be able to roll away from yours, since it’s, like, five hundred pounds lighter and has maybe fifty more horsepower, right? But every time I looked in the mirror you were right fucking there.”

Shrugging, I said, “It’s easier to follow another driver than it is to lead out.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Jimmy hedged. “But I’m starting to think that you’re gonna work me over good when we do get to the track. I mean, if this is your bone stock street car…”

“Aw, c’mon- it’ll be fun!” I said.

“For you,” agreed Jimmy. “It’ll probably be embarrassing for me.”

Changing the subject, I asked, “So where do you live?”

“We live over in Arcadia, along with all the other rich Chinese kids,” Jimmy said, a note of bitterness in his voice.

“What’s wrong with Arcadia?” I asked. “A friend of mine bought his mom a house there.”

“She Chinese?” Jimmy asked.

“Korean,” I said.

“Close enough,” he said with a shrug. “That’s the thing. That whole area is just too damned Asian.”

“It may not be, um, PC for me to mention this, Jimmy, but, well, you’re Asian.”

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, then pulled back his sleeve to look at the skin of his arm. “Huh. Yeah, I guess it is.”

This got a laugh from me, and the first real reaction from the girl he had with him. She looked over at him with what seemed to be disdain, but again, she kept silent.

After lunch, Jimmy said, “Hey, we gotta do this again some time soon. I’ll show you some of the other fun roads- ACH, GMR, Big T… And you gotta meet the guys, too. They’re gonna get a kick outta you.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “Maybe I’ll run Tuna again before heading in to the office.”

“You gotta work? Dude, that sucks. I guess it’s no worse than what I gotta do. I promised her,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the silent girl, “That I’d take her shopping after we drove. She’s so F.O.B., she doesn't even have a license yet.”

“You are really an asshole, Jimmy,” the girl said in perfect English, with even less of an accent than he had. “Don’t make me tell Mom about all the shit I have to put up with from you. You’ll fucking regret it,” she threatened.

“See?” Jimmy said, spreading his hands wide. “Can’t even speak any English. F.O.B, I’m tellin’ ya.”

“Shopping. Now,” demanded the girl that apparently wasn’t his girlfriend, but maybe his sister.

“Hey, look,” Jimmy said, glancing around, furtively. “I can let you have her for, like, five grand. Five Gs and she’s yours, but no give-backs.”

“Asshole!” the girl shouted from inside the Ferrari.

“Three grand. C’mon, it’s a deal!”

“Seems like she’s your problem, my friend, but I appreciate the offer,” I said with a laugh.

“Look, she can’t cook, can’t clean, and I get it, that knocks some value off, but I’m told she gives amazing head. Twenty-five hundred.”

“Get in the fucking car and drive me to Costa Mesa now, or I’m calling Mom,” came the angry voice from inside the 458.

“Your loss,” Jimmy said to me with a shrug as he got into the car and drove off, presumably to the mall.

“Did that scene just happen?” a well-dressed woman in her thirties asked me as I tried to stop chuckling.

“I’m pretty sure it did,” I said.

“That was the funniest thing I’ve seen all week, and probably the least politically correct,” the woman said with a smile.

“That about describes it,” I agreed.

I strolled into the office in a good mood, figuring I’d put in a couple of hours crunching numbers before heading over to the ‘way too Asian’ San Gabriel Valley to Lee and Jen’s place for dinner.

Glancing in Jake’s office as I walked past, he gave me a glare and tapped his wristwatch meaningfully. I furtively glanced around, then stuck my head in his doorway.

“Ssh! Don’t tell the boss I came in late!” I stage-whispered.

“Just don’t make a habit of it, young lady,” Jake said in a disapproving tone, but couldn’t keep a straight face. “I thought you said you weren’t coming in today? We could do some more inspections if you want- my afternoon looks pretty light.”

“How does tomorrow look? I had some thoughts last night and wanted to spend some time looking at numbers,” I replied.

“You’re the boss,” Jake said. “But honestly, why anybody would want to look at numbers is beyond me.”

“Seriously,” I agreed.

I’d just settled in to my chair and fired up my laptop when Brenda knocked on the frame of my open office door.

“Got a moment?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said. “What’s up?”

“We finally got a reply from the building owners, and they said they’d be willing to sell. Here, I printed up their email, and also the breakdowns of the various leases in the building as they currently stand,” she said, handing my several sheets of paper. “Also, I did a quick market survey of commercial real estate sales in the area, broken down by price per square foot, cross indexed with income flow.”

“That’s really helpful, Brenda,” I said, glancing over the papers. “Thanks. What’s your assessment of the deal?”

“Honestly? It’s not a good deal at all. As much as I hate to say it, I think they asked for a pie in the sky number.”

“O.K., this brings us back to the idea of moving the office. Did you ever send out that memo about a staff meeting to discuss where we might be best situated?”

“No, I wanted to wait to see if this deal,” she said, tapping the papers on my desk, “would work out, first.”

“Makes sense. I think we can go ahead and schedule the meeting. The more I thought about what we may need to do here, the less viable this location seemed. I think we need a lot bigger footprint than we could really ever get here.”

Dinner at Jen and Lee’s place was actually really nice. Jen had cooked tarragon chicken with pilaf and a beautiful salad, and it was very tasty. We ate out on the back patio, which was nice, other than the screeches of the peacocks off in the distance.

“Fucking things,” grumbled Jen. “At least they actually shut up by bed time. Can you imagine trying to sleep with that racket?”

“Where are the peacocks?” Emmy asked.

“All over this part of town,” Jen said. “They run wild, all over the residential neighborhoods in this area.”

Puzzled, Emmy said, “I did not think they were native to North America.”

“They aren’t. They were introduced, and now they’re pests. Well, some people like ‘em and put food out, even though that’s illegal.”

“It is illegal to feed the peacocks?” Emmy asked for clarification.

“Yeah,” confirmed Lee. “You can feed any other bird you want here in Pasadena, just not the peacocks.”

“And since this is inside the city limits, I guess you can’t shoot ‘em, either,” said Jackson. “I wonder how they taste? Maybe like turkey?”

“But more colorful,” I agreed.

“On a totally different note,” Jackson said, changing the subject, “I saw a couple of Night Children in Austin the other day, walkin’ down the street. I didn’t know you had any of your people in Texas.”

“No, we do not have any of our people there. They were showing their faces?” Emmy asked. This conversation surprised me a bit, since I had had no idea that Jackson, Lee and Jen were in the loop on Night Children affairs at all.

“Yeah, plain as day, and in the middle of the afternoon, too.”

“That is… interesting,” Emmy said, giving me a look.

“We might need to send Michael and some of the guys to Austin to make contact,” I said, wondering who the mystery Night Children were.