Although my preference is to write sequels, it's best not be a one-trick pony. So this, my second LW story, is "original." In quotes because these events really happened, more or less. I moved some things around to make it more fictional. Not much (if any) descriptive sex here. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it.
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First, my name is Edward Maxwell. I am a composer, a dammed good one, if I may say so myself. No path to riches there, though I've managed to scratch out a living from it. Still, it galls me how much better those illiterate pop musicians do at the bank than an innovator like me. If you're interested, I'll tell you more about it. But first, let me tell you about my wife.
Joanne was three years younger than me, and the daughter of one of my professors in the postgraduate music program at the university. Professor Berger had taken more interest in me than is usual, and invited me to his home for dinner. That was where and when I met Joanne, who had just graduated from college. I imagine that was my teacher's plan.
Though hardly a beauty, she had something about her that spoke to me. And apparently the feeling was mutual. We began dating, and quickly became exclusive. After all, it wasn't as if either of us were being courted elsewhere.
Neither of us were virgins when we met, but I think it's safe to say that we learned a lot together. We experimented a bit, and found that she preferred giving oral to receiving it. Neither she nor I found ass sex to be of any interest. Leave that to the gays, I guess. She did enjoy riding on top, so that along with missionary became our go-to positions.
What we may have lacked in imagination, we made up for with frequency. And so the inevitable happened, in our second year of dating. Though we were probably going to marry anyway, our daughter's conception moved up the timetable. By then I had completed my postgraduate studies, and looked for paying work.
Although the blockbuster games often feature music by the rich and famous, there are a lot of games that aren't such commercial behemoths. For example, online games that pivot off of a free-use platform. While not a lot of money in those, developers who specialize in them can make a decent and steady living.
And those games need music, too. Which is where I was able to come in. Trained composers often gravitate towards film scoring. There's a lot of gold in those hills, but also a lot of competition. Instead of trying to fight my way through, I found steady work creating music for these free games.
The trick is that casual game players (note that I say "game players," not "gamers") prefer the familiar, and so the path to steady work in my field is the ability to create music that sounds like something people already know, but doesn't step on anyone's copyrights. It takes skill to hint at some famous theme within an original composition.
Being expertly trained in all things music, I was able to consistently deliver the goods. Enough so, in fact, that Joanne didn't have to work, and instead could stay at home with Valerie, along with Val's little brother Alex. It also didn't hurt any that since my income came from writing music, I was able to do my work at home, except for occasional outside business meetings in the city.
So there we were, happily married with young children, in a decent and stable home. Sure, we may have been a bit insular, but that's the way we liked it. Not only were Joanne and I like two peas in a pod, but also the four of us were like a quartet in that pod.
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I was introduced to Jerry Stone at a daytime gathering at my father-in-law's house. Joanne stayed home with the children, who were out of school for Christmas break.
Jerry was a brilliant painter, somewhat of a lost art these days. He and I fell into conversation about how real work had suffered from tech. Ironic, since that's where my bread was buttered. Still, we bonded through our resentments about how computers had made both visual and musical art easy to produce for those without knowledge or talent.
And so we became fast friends. Jerry was an interesting mix of shy and manic, and I found comfort in our mutual reticence, while enjoying the enthusiasm that he was capable of showing for, well, just about anything and everything.
Especially our different fields of creation. I found fascination with what he could do with a blank canvas, much as he admired how what I put onto an empty page could be heard. While he had no ambitions in my area, I found myself attempting a few paintings of my own. Jerry encouraged me, offering tips and corrective comments when appropriate.
It was inevitable that he would be invited to my home, and he brought a lot of light into what was, by our choice, a monochromatic situation. Joanne found him to be amusing, but it was Val and Alex who most delighted in the fun he brought.
Neither Joanne nor I had that easy gift of gab with small children that our painter friend brought to the table. So "Uncle Jerry" became a regular guest, which not only enlivened our lives, but also alleviated his general poverty by providing food and drink he could ill afford on his own.
He expressed his gratitude by, as noted above, entertaining and amusing the children, and by painting portraits of us, including one of me sitting at my desk, one of Joanne sitting in her favorite chair, and several of the four of us in the lakeside park which had become our favored place for family picnics.
Being nearly ten years younger, Jerry didn't have a steady lady, though that was a subject we rarely talked about. Despite his wide-open wild nature in our company, I could sense there was a lonely undercurrent in him that he hid under a bushel. And since he brought so much joy into our family life, I didn't want to bring things down by probing.
As for Joanne and I, our married life continued as it was. Our sex life had settled down considerably now that we had the children, though I believe we were both satisfied with the quality and quantity of our couplings.
Although when he was with us, Jerry became the family joy bringer, especially for Val and Alex, he wasn't a constant presence. Maybe once a week or so, usually on a Saturday or Sunday. The kids always thrilled to his visits, and even Joanne and I were cheered by the cheer he brought into our home, and on small excursions from same.
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One day I had to go into town to meet with the game developer who was my most frequent customer. That meeting resulted in a contract to score their new game.
When I returned, the house was empty. Most likely, Joanne was at the market. I was about to go into my studio workshop when I saw a note on the kitchen table. "Please pick up the children at school. I am traveling with Jerry."
Her phone lay next to the note. So there was no way to track where she, or they, had gone to. Not to mention there was no way to speak to or otherwise contact her.
Since we were together nearly all the time, I think this must have been spur of the moment. Naturally, I was pissed. The betrayal not only hurt like hell, but also put me in a bind. Instead of getting right to work on the new assignment, I was going to be picking up the kids, and having to do all the household work Joanne had been covering.
With this new reality, it took several days to adjust. My time to work on music was sharply limited, and I knew I also needed to make some moves to protect myself and our children. So one day while they were at school, I went into town to meet with an attorney for ideas about what to do.
The upshot being that since, now by necessity, I had to take over all the bill paying and check writing that my wife had been doing before she left, I closed out all the joint accounts other than one for household expenses, and moved all the funds into a business account.
And that account was now part of a separate company wrapped in my own trust for the children, so that neither my work nor my (formerly our) wealth, such as it was, could be seriously compromised should Joanne file for divorce in favor of marriage to Jerry. Since I had become the sole caregiver to Val & Alex, custody would almost certainly also be mine in such an event.
I considered spiking Jerry's reputation, but decided against that since I thought it best not to spread the word about what they had done. When my father-in-law called to invite us all over for dinner, I declined on the grounds that I was busy and my wife (his daughter) was fighting off the flu. This invitation, though, told me that Joanne hadn't been in contact with anyone, since had she, her parents would have been first on the list. Since apparently no one other than the children and I (and my lawyer) knew, I left it that way.
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Which still left the problem of my work. Before, I could work pretty much all day, and even into the evening if need be. Now, I was restricted to the hours between taking them to, and picking them up from, school.
Wanting to play my cards close to the vest, I didn't make excuses for my slowed progress on scoring the new game. And it wasn't just the time problems. Distracted by Joanne's destruction of our family, marriage and vows, and her having done so in league with someone I had considered a friend, I found it hard to focus.
Realizing I had a problem, one day as I sat at my desk, I started woolgathering, staring out the window, wondering about possible shortcuts I might employ to get more done at a faster clip. And it was then that a breakthrough came crashing through the door of my mind.
A breakthrough, yes. A shortcut, no.
