The Plan Sequel

The great stev2244 wrote a story called "The Plan" that posted around eight years ago. Like so many of his stories, it's a masterpiece. But its ending left things hanging. Many comments at the time made note of this, and the author weighed in with, among other remarks, this one: "Anyone who is inclined to write a sequel is more than welcome."

Since my understanding of the protocol is that one should request permission from the original author to write a sequel to his/her story, I sent s2244 such a request. No reply. Well, duh. Why should one of LW's finest waste time responding to some pipsqueak asking a question he'd already answered?

So I took his public comment from eight years ago as a yes.

And what was the reason I wanted to write a sequel that no one else, in the eight years which had elapsed since then, chose to? The answer is that on a recent re-read of his story, I was struck across the forehead by a realization of what Tom's "Plan" at the end was. The first sentence of this sequel, a sentence more or less borrowed from stev's greatest story (in my opinion), "The Hermit," spills the beans.

OK, so I had a "plan." But what would happen after that? It took some thinking to come up with an answer. Hope it works for you.

Another issue was how much consistency with the original should I shoot for? There's no way I can match the work of such a superior writer. Nor emulate his style. But I decided there was little choice but to do my best. So for better or for worse, here it is. And unlike the original, I found a way to work dwarf tossing in.

xx

TOM:

I am the man without a plan.

I play music. Anyone who plays music knows about making things up on the spot. Improvising. All that jazz. And everything after.

So my own version of Laura's "Plan" is a riff. Nothing more, nothing less. A riff to freak her out.

Calmly watching her reaction, I think it did.

xx

LAURA:

Shit. What does the black hair mean? What is he trying to tell me? That he sees me the way I saw Mercer? That would break my heart. Though maybe I deserve it. After all, I did whore myself out to Mercer in order to advance in my work. Which I thought was important to do so I could make life easier for Tom.

But maybe it means something else. I sure hope so. But maybe I shouldn't even be so sure about hoping so. Since the something else might be even worse. Damn. Now what?

I don't think another Plan will work. I can only hope we stay together, living day by day. Then maybe I can find out what Tom is doing with this. What his Plan is.

xx

TOM:

The funny thing is I don't have to do anything. I got her off balance, and I like it. Laura has always taken charge. When we were married, she was the one with the drive, the ambition. That fit in well with my laid-back attitude. But then it fucked everything up.

Even when she came back, a little less sure of herself, she still managed to seduce me and control events so that I became a part of her plan to destroy Ted Mercer. I have to admire her for all of that, but that doesn't mean the past is all in the past. When she was done with the Mercer plan, and we reconnected, and she moved into my place, I had to wonder. Can I trust the new Laura? Or is she same as the old Laura? Guess that remains to be seen.

So now, I've got her on the back foot. She's obviously feeling a little uncertain. Good. That takes the pressure off me to figure things out. Even after she seduced me in order to cuckold Ted Mercer, Laura is still the most beautiful and best lover I've ever had. So now that I've got sort of an upper hand, the thing to do is take her back to the bedroom and make love. Like we did last night. That always works. For both of us.

As for the rest of it, where do we go from here? Live day by day, and see what happens.

xx

Something has happened to my music. Maybe looking in the mirror every morning and seeing someone different from what I used to see has done a number on me. But for whatever reason, the songs I write now are not so tender, not so laid-back. I'm rocking a bit more. And the melodies, the musical phrases, are all shorter. Where it used to take 20 notes to get from here to there, now I'm doing it in five. Simpler words, too. Four words instead of forty. Maybe it's not exactly Dylan going electric, or Tyrannosaurus going T. But whatever it is, it's a change. A change that laid-back me has to accept.

Not that it will make any difference. I still make my living, such as it is, on the violin. The gigs I play are for me. To sing my songs for an audience. And for the girls. Which doesn't help me any now, since I'm busy with my wife. My used-to-be-wife. Now my girlfriend. Or whatever it is that Laura is to me now.

Sure wish I still had my band. Don't know how these new songs will work with just me. Guess there's only one way to find out. I'm going to work them into my regular set, and play some gigs to see how it goes.

xx

LAURA:

I've never not had a Plan. All my life, I was always the one with a Plan. Until now. Tom really threw me off with the hair. Especially since I was the one who did it first, dyeing my hair black when I was with Mercer so that, at least in my mind, I'd be someone else, while I set Mercer up for destruction.

But now, when nothing else has seemed to change between Tom and me, I've decided better just go with the flow. So that's what I'm doing. Tom is still the gentle and tender, yet also passionate, lover he was when we were married. So that's still all good.

Working in the big city instead of the smaller town has been good for my law business. And I get to come home to Tom every night. So maybe my old Plan worked, after all. I've just got to be patient. Being patient was never easy for me before, but that's the new Plan. To not have a Plan, except to let Tom slowly show me what his Plan is.

I hope it's for us to stay together. And get married again. This time for good.

xx

TOM:

It's another small gig. I'm playing a set mixing my new songs with my old material. And the audience seems to like it. This may be pointless in a money sense, but it's the most satisfying thing I get to do. Other than sex with Laura. Sex with Laura is still wonderful as ever.

Afterwards, I'm sitting at the bar decompressing with her, when a thin middle-aged woman confidently strides up to me, hands me a business card, ignores Laura, and says "Victoria Peterson, you need a band, call me." Then walks away.

"That was weird," says Laura, who looks none too pleased about this aggressive intruder into our pleasant after-show ritual.

"Yeah." I get the feeling Laura wants me to throw away the card. I absent-mindedly put it into one of my pant pockets. But then we get back to our discussion about how the show went, and I think we both forget about the skinny lady.

xx

A few days later, I want to wash those pants. So I fish through the pockets to make sure there's no money in them that would get ruined in the wash, and find the card. On an impulse, I call the number on it.

"Victoria Peterson, who's this?"

"I'm Tom, you gave me your card after my show the other night."

"Oh yes, I remember. What are you doing right now?"

"I was about to do the laundry."

"Your laundry can wait. Can you get over to my office? The address is on the card."

"Umm...OK."

xx

I walk into her office. Quite impressive, gold records on the wall. They still make those? Or are they from twenty years ago? I don't get the chance to investigate, as she walks me over to a chair in front of her large desk. She goes behind it, and sits on what looks like a much more comfortable chair than the one she put me in. She gets right to it.

"I was impressed with your music, Tom. I think you've got some hits there, not everything, but enough that I can build a career for you. I assume you'd want that?"

I'm a little overwhelmed, but nod my head. Going with the flow.

"All right, I'll be your manager, it's a 25% cut, but you'll be better off with 75% of something than the 100% of nothing you have now. For that 25% I take care of everything, setting you up with musicians, studio time, videos, the whole works, and once we have the package assembled, we decide which label gets the honor of borrowing your work for a time. In the end, though, your work will belong to you. And 25% me. But you'll basically own it. You'll never have to do a 'Tom's version' of anything.

"I'll draw up the paperwork. You need to review it with an attorney. Do you know any, or should I give you some names?"

"My girlfriend is a lawyer."

"Is that the woman you were sitting with at the bar? She's a pretty one. But don't marry her. We need to make the girls think you're available, at least until you're so big it doesn't matter anymore.

"By the way, I checked out those YouTube videos you made. I like your new look better, and the songs you played the other night are a lot stronger than the ones you posted. Keep moving in the direction you're going, and the sky's the limit."

It's a lot to take in all at once. Maybe it will all turn out to be bullshit. Yet this wasn't all that strange or unfamiliar a situation. After all, I'm used to take-charge women. I've always seemed to attract them. So why not in music business, too?

"I'll get the contracts over to you in a couple of days. Just leave me your address."

xx

The paperwork arrives, and I give it to Laura to go over. She tells me they look OK for the most part, but need a few fixes, which she makes. I bring them over to Ms. Peterson's office, calling first to make sure she'll be there.

"Hmmm, I see you made some changes. Your girlfriend's a smart one. I put in a few things to see what I could get away with. She caught each and every one."

And then she signs them. Since she's accepted Laura's version, I sign them, too. I now have a manager. For what it's worth.

xx

LAURA:

While I'm glad to see that Tom's music may get some of the attention he's always deserved, I can't help feeling uneasy. The music industry is pretty cut-throat. I'm going to have to watch out for him, so he doesn't get chewed up and spit out.

xx

TOM:

I never had anything like a manager before. It was always just me, my guitar and my band. And then after I moved away and divorced Laura, it's been just me and my guitar. Until now.

Maybe all managers are like this, but Victoria sure has things moving fast. I wanted to see if my old band could move here, but before I could ask her about it, she'd already put a new one together. They're a lot better than my old one, but I miss the comradery. Like a band of brothers. Guess that'll grow in time with these new guys. Hopefully.

She's also got me taking voice lessons, and a movement coach. Things I never thought about before, like projecting moves to a stadium-size audience. Which seems ridiculous, since I don't see that happening for a long time, if ever. Victoria tells me that these tricks work even in the small venues, and I have to learn to ramp things up when it all gets bigger. Like pulling off from a city street to get onto a highway, building up speed to meet the faster traffic.

And long, long hours in the studio. Way different from just playing a song, and uploading it to YouTube. So much time spent just getting the sound of the drums right, then the bass. And so on. I'm expected to be here for all of it, and to have opinions.

Meanwhile, I had to quit my job with the orchestra. Victoria wants me to only have my career to think about. Lucky that I have all that Mercer money Laura pushed on me. Since I can dip into that for expenses. But I don't even get to do that, since my manager insists on taking care of everything for me. And I mean everything.

I'm learning a lot, but this isn't so much fun and easy as music used to be. But the black hair guy in the mirror is telling me it's too late to turn back now. So I'm looking at all this from outside myself, watching this stranger turn into something like a rock star. Even though that's nothing I ever asked for. Money, fame, and all that never meant shit to me. So here I am, an actor playing a role.

Since I've always gone along with things as they are, I am going along with all of this. Except that another thing I'm being taught is how to not be so laid-back. To assert myself, to be a leader. With my old band, I might have been the singer, main guitarist and songwriter, but it was a group of equals. Here, these pros look to me for direction. It's heady, but also nerve wracking.

When the album is almost finished, I piss off everybody, especially Victoria, when I decide the name of the album is going to be "Dwarf Tossing." No one likes it. Everybody thinks it's stupid, and doesn't mean shit. I'm digging in on this. I have no idea why that name came to me, but I know it's the right thing to do. Just like when I dyed my hair black. It's a good riff. A hot lick.

xx

LAURA:

I don't get to spend much time with Tom anymore. He had to quit the orchestra, and while I'm working, he's busy with voice lessons, dance lessons, business meetings, and then late nights in the studio. When he rolls in at 3am, I'm already asleep. I'll be glad when the album is done. Though I worry about what comes next.

I'm happy for him, he deserves to get some recognition. But I miss him. And our lovemaking has sure taken a dive. We're almost never awake at the same time anymore. Morning comes, and he's deep asleep. I just don't have the heart to disturb him, and in any event, I've got to get ready for work. And when he gets in, I guess he doesn't have the heart to wake me up, either. Or he's too exhausted for anything but sleep, anyway.

Think I'll take a day off from work and go visit his manager. To find out what is her plan for him after the album gets finished. And to let her know that he needs a break. Tom and I need to get away on a vacation to reconnect.

xx

There he is. That magnificent specimen of manhood. Broad shoulders, strong muscles. That handsome face. Those beautiful eyes. Sensual mouth. Just watching him leaves me breathless. Every motion, every gesture, every expression is perfect masculinity. Such graceful movement. Unassuming presence. Quiet strength.

What I'm seeing would be perfection, were he alone in this room. And if the place was our bedroom, or an elegant boudoir in a golden castle.

Sadly, that's not the reality.

While he is as hunky as ever, the skinny middle-aged skank riding him from on top turns this scene into a travesty. It's like Michelangelo's statue of David covered in mud and feces. And the setting is no magic kingdom. It's her fucking office, and she's fucking him on top of her big messy desk, strewn with papers.

This coupling looks more than tawdry. It looks mechanical, at least on Tom's part. He's just lying there, while the old prune does all the work. She's having a grand old time, moaning like a freight train. I'm sure he'll eventually come in her, but it doesn't look anything like I imagine we do. It's more like a bitch with her bone. Disgusting.

They don't see me standing there. Or hear me. Just as well. I've seen more than I want to see. I don't want to have anything to do with this shit. Now I really know how Tom must have felt when he saw me with Mercer.

Tom just left me after seeing that. That's not my way of doing things. But do I have any good choices? Maybe my law trade would do better back in my small home town, after all. Maybe I should find out.

xx

TOM:

Another late night at the studio. Maybe that's my manager's strategy, wear me out so I don't have any time to think. It's nearly four when I stagger into our bedroom, ready to collapse into sleep on our bed.

Where's Laura? Even when we're just sleeping, it's still a comfort being together. Maybe the only thing remaining from my old life. So where is she? It's pretty early for her to be off to work.

At least all her stuff is still here. Hmmm. Wonder if she's off with someone else? Wouldn't be like that never happened before. Maybe she's hatched another Plan.

Fuck it. Whatever's going on, I'm too tired to think about it now. There will be time to look into all this tomorrow. In between everything else, I guess.

xx

LAURA:

I've got a good law firm. And though it's done well in the bigger city, it's still like a small fish in the big pond. Where I lived before, it was big fish all the way. That is, after I gutted Mercer, took away half his money, and at least that much of his business.

So I've spent the last few days back there, staying with family. There's a lot of good office space I can rent. And better yet, most of my old clients would welcome me back with open arms.

On the other hand, moving back would mean losing Tom again. But after seeing him dirtying himself up with his stinky manager, I wonder what there is left to lose. This whole rock star thing has changed everything, but it took viewing their sex for me to completely get it.

What first drew me to Tom was the music. Music was something I'd never paid much attention to before that night, when my friend dragged me to a club and I heard and saw him. His music had beauty, sensitivity, and an intelligence that spoke to me like nothing had ever done before. It also didn't hurt that he was a hunk.

And so I fell, and from then on, Tom was the only man for me. It's not like he didn't have his pick of women. But somehow he felt the same way, though maybe for different reasons. Why doesn't matter. We fit together perfectly. Completing the jigsaw as one.

My drive and his passivity fit. He didn't care about money, or things. I had enough ambition, though, for both of us. And it's not as if I wanted the big house, the flashy cars, the designer clothes, or any of that shit. What drove me was the same hunger I'd always had for achievement, from when I was a little girl who saw her mother getting all used up, and a feckless father. Damn, I wasn't going to be like them, I was going to make something of myself. My path was straight and clear, and my Plan was simple and straightforward: work my way to the top, using my brains, an appetite for hard work, and when necessary, my looks.

Tom wasn't part of that plan, but he became the new reason for my plans. Now the reason for all the planning was that I wanted to be able to take care of him, make him so secure that he would never have to do anything he didn't want to do. Instead, I'd make it so he could write and play the music and gigs he wanted to, and wouldn't have to sub in a big orchestra playing dead people music in order to make ends meet.

And these new plans led me to Mercer's firm, and then to giving in to Mercer when he became the obstacle to overcome. And in so doing, I became my mother, and lost Tom.

So then I hatched the new Plan, the one to destroy Mercer emotionally and financially. And get Tom some payback for what Mercer had convinced me into doing, which ended up hurting my sweet husband, and destroying our marriage. The Plan worked like a charm, especially since I was able to reconnect with Tom and enlist him in it. And when it was over, I forced him to accept some of Mercer's money, even though he really didn't care about it, or even want it. But he took it.

And then he dyed his fucking hair black. I still don't know what his Plan was, what it is. Whatever it might be, I hope it's working for him. Because I love him, despite everything.

Or do I? I know I love the Tom I knew, the Tom I married, and the Tom I accidentally betrayed because my Plan to use Mercer didn't see the forest for the trees.

But what I saw in that music office wasn't the sweet, sensitive, beautiful Tom I've known and loved. What I saw was someone else, someone I don't know. It's best to be honest with myself. The Tom I loved is no more. Either he's become a sly and manipulative man with a Plan, or he's just going along with a different power woman. But either way, the sensitive musician is gone, replaced by a shell whose ambition is like mine, or who is going through the motions. Either way, he's not the man I love any more.