by Marie Brown
Part Four
Wednesday found Shane, Erik, and Betsy Dunraven settling in to some serious business in Marty Finborn's office. Having a lawyer there made a world of difference. Shane found himself wishing desperately he'd known Ms. Dunraven back in the early days. So many nuances to these contract things he'd never appreciated. . .
Afterwards, they all returned to the house.
"I love what you've done with the place," Betsy, in her less formal guise of landlord, said, waving around at the paint job in particular.
"It's a work in progress," Erik said, patting the arm of the new-to-them leather couch. They'd passed it at a garage sale and it practically jumped onto the car of its own accord. "Neither of us realized how much work it is to make a place into a home when you've been living out of a motel room or someone else's place for several years."
"I suppose it would be," Betsy agreed. "I never really thought about it that way. I haven't moved in many years."
"Everybody's so settled here in Chicago," Erik shook his head. "How do you all stand it?"
"Silly gypsy, we're Midwesterners," Shane said fondly. "We're dull, predictable, and sedentary."
Erik laughed.
"Had a question for you," Shane said to their landlord. "About the garage."
Betsy squinched her face up in a thoroughly unprofessional manner. "We don't talk about the garage."
"Why not? What's in there? We tried to look, but it's worse than a pack rat's den inside."
"I agree. Much worse, in fact. I've clearly never gotten around to cleaning it out. If you guys get bored, or feel suicidal, either one, go on in there with my blessing. If you find anything worth keeping, keep it. If you want to haul the lot to the dump, that's fine with me. And if you want to do what everyone else has done over the last fifteen years that I've owned this house and just ignore the shit, that's fine, too."
"Cool," Shane said. He grinned. "Really cool. I want to see what's in there."
"You are braver than I."
"Not really, just curious as your average cat."
"Be careful in there. I'm reasonably sure there's animals living in amongst the junk."
"Probably," Shane nodded. "Wouldn't surprise me at all."
After their landlord left, they called out for pizza, which led to an impromptu gathering when it turned out the delivery driver had orders for their neighbors as well, Harvey and Fritz, plus Ellen and Jennifer. They all collected on the porch of the Victorian house split into multiple apartments and enjoyed the warmth of companionship and the evening.
The accountant called the next morning, requesting Shane's presence at his earliest convenience. So they abandoned the day's household development efforts and headed into the city, glad the worst of rush hour had abated.
It was good news. Betsy Dunraven had told them the day before that Kirby, their former manager, had buckled without much fight and handed over Shane's money into an escrow account. Seemed Kirby really wanted to avoid the chance of any criminal charges, or protracted court battles. Now, all Shane needed to do was sign the appropriate paperwork, and he'd finally have access to his rightful earnings.
"You're serious," Shane said, staring at the numbers the accountant laid out before him. "This is for real."
"Indeed, Mr. Haggerty," the accountant nodded. "This is the current balance of your accounts, freed from escrow. For comparison, the average American family earns roughly seventeen thousand a year."
"This is. . ." Shane did some rapid math. "Oh, hell. I suck at math. But this is several years' worth of income."
"Indeed. And if you'll take my advice?"
Shane nodded numbly.
"I would recommend taking twenty thousand to an investor. I have several referrals for you, people who are very good at making your money grow. If you and Mr. Mac Rae are both sensible with your cash values, you will never need to work again."
"This is for real," Shane said again, then his brain shook free of its state of stunned incomprehension and he smiled at the accountant. "Good. I would very much like to make one extravagant purchase, but I see the wisdom in your advice. By all means, give me the referrals, and I'll see that the money gets invested straight away. As for the rest," he looked at Erik, "I'll follow your guidance. Otherwise, I'll be broke within a week."
"What are you going to get, that's so extravagant?" Erik asked, as they left the accountant's office a bit later.
"Something I've always wanted," Shane grinned. "A baby grand."
Erik laughed. "I should've known. You do love them keyboards."
"You've got that right!"
They stopped on the way back for lunch at a little Italian restaurant, one that reminded both of them forcefully of the day they'd met.
"That was a crazy night," Erik said.
"What was?"
"You know, when we met. When you and Kevin came in all soaking wet and both nearly fell off your chairs staring at me."
"What can I say?" Shane shrugged. "You were playing our song."
Erik laughed. "In a rather different sense than most people mean, but yeah, I played a Luna Sea song."
"And then you thought we were nutcases, didn't believe our offer."
"It sounded nuts," Erik pointed out. "I mean, come on, how many rock stars show up in little dive restaurants, watching a guy on guitar play for little kids having spaghetti fights?"
Shane grinned. "Clearly none, because we weren't stars until you came along."
"You know what I mean."
Their food arrived then, distracting them from a conversation that could easily have led to uncomfortable territory.
Shane was glad of that. He didn't want to do anything to risk driving Erik away again. That had been a completely different life back then, just let it lay sleeping. No need to stir up too many old memories.
Especially not the ones before Erik had broken down and kissed him. Oh, the painful longing and frustration. . . Never mind.
Life began to settle into an easy, comfortable routine. The house grew around them into a true home, made even better with the new addition of Shane's baby grand piano. Big and black and gorgeous, it took over the music room with an air of elegance, ready to fill the old house with sound at any given moment.
Shane was fiddling around with his gloriously beautiful new piano, not really playing much of anything, just listening to the amazing tone and resonance of the baby grand. The old upright had never sounded like this!
Then something slid across the music stand in front of him and he looked up at Erik with a smile. "What's this?"
"You know how to read music, right? You don't just play by ear."
Shane groaned in a dramatic reaction to the memories of many hours of lessons. "Yes, I know how to read music. Many, many years of self-inflicted torture, in the form of music lessons, taught me to do so." He looked at the open score in front of him and his eyebrows went up in surprise. "Prokofiev, eh? Not easy stuff."
"Nope, not at all. Can you play it?"
"Yeah. Might take a couple runthroughs, I haven't played anything this complex in years, but I can do it."
"Great," Erik grinned. "Then I'll play with you." He held his violin up, which Shane hadn't even noticed him holding, and grinned a challenge. "You up for it?"
Shane considered for a split second. Ah, what the hell. "You know I've wanted to hear you play that thing for a while now. Let's go."
So he mustered up the skill he used to have several years ago at sight reading, and dove right into the Prokofiev piece.
Playing classical music was, needless to say, an entirely different world than anything they'd ever done together. The music soared around them, filling their hearts with an entirely different kind of magic and wild exhilaration. Part of Shane noted that Erik was amazing with his violin, as he damn well better be with that master's degree from Juilliard. And part of Erik just plain reveled in having such an accompanist. True, Shane missed some of the more complex runs due to lack of practice, but by damn th
e man played with an emotional expressiveness entirely lacking in anyone he'd ever played with before.
Which, of course, was the source of the magic. Put the two of them together, on any instruments or even just vocals, and they became far more than either alone.
"Where were you when I was playing recitals?" Erik said, still awash with the magic even after the final notes faded into silence.
"Right here in Chicago, waiting for you, love."
"You're amazing! I had no idea you had such skill."
"I'd say the same, but truth is, I expected you to be amazing," Shane smiled, brushing his hair back from his eyes. It'd gotten a little wild during some of the more lively parts.
"Fair enough. I did tell you I had a degree in violin performance, after all. But you. . . You brat! Hiding all that talent from me all this time."
Shane laughed. "Come now, surely you didn't think I bought this amazing piano because I wanted to start learning to play it?"
Erik sat his violin and bow aside carefully, then sat on the shiny black piano bench. "Move over, you," he said, then captured Shane's lips in a kiss still filled with the fiery magic they'd raised while playing.
"We do make beautiful music together," Shane murmured, tangling his fingers in Erik's hair. "I'm so glad we gave each other a second chance."
"Me, too," Erik said, trying to find a more comfortable way to kiss his lover without either of them falling off the bench.
"Think I know why we didn't make it before." Shane rearranged his arms so he could hold Erik without dislocating his back. Man, a piano bench wasn't made for making out! "Regardless of what happened that horrible night I blacked out."
"Oh, yeah? Why's that?"
"Neither one of us bothered to get to know the other. We had the band, and the tours, and the crazy wild loving. That's all. But now, look at us." Shane smiled, touching Erik's face. "We share so much more now. We've built an entire life with each other, and know each other so well. . ."
"You may be right," Erik said, then stood up. "This piano bench hates me. Let's take this somewhere more comfortable."
"No arguments here."
They wound up on the couch, the overgrown and over-comfortable leather thing they'd picked up at a garage sale. By the time they got there, they were both laughing, because one or the other had started a tickle fight, and they landed in the big couch's embrace tangled up in each other and giggling uncontrollably.
"I love you," Shane said, when he could speak again, smiling up at his lover. Erik's rumpled hair outlined him in a glowing halo where the afternoon sun caught it, his eyes shone with love, and his smile seemed permanently etched into his face.
"Don't you ever forget it," Erik demanded, then kissed him, preventing any further response.
Life is good, Shane thought later, drowsy and content in the sun, with Erik in his arms. So very, very good. . .
A few weeks ago, he never would have believed any of this was possible. Erik sharing his life, a lifetime supply of money in the bank, a home, a new recording contract. . . the achievement of all his goals and dreams, all fallen into his lap right as he'd completely given up on life itself.
Karma. Yeah, must've done something right, racked up some good karma.
Now if only he could keep things going this good. . .
* * * *
Note:
This story isn't over, which is why the ending doesn't feel like an ending. However, the next part takes a dramatic turn away from 1970s Chicago, diving right into fantasy through a gate between worlds hidden in the old garage. So, since I know the audiences for ordinary fiction and fantasy don't always overlap, I've split the story into two parts. That way fantasy lovers won't get bored with the mundane storyline, and regular fiction folk won't get run off by the fantasy stuff. Hope this works for you, and keep an eye out for the reast of the story if you're so inclined.
Visit the author online at
the Evil Kitten Project
Other titles from Marie Brown
From The Ashes
With Honor
When Gods Walk
and many more
* * * *
Coming Soon:
The Worldstack
Pounding hoofbeats split the night. A messenger cries on her way through town, The Worldstack is coming! The Worldstack is coming!
But wait a minute. . . What the heck is a Worldstack? Let me tell you. It's the result of a crazy-weird dream I had as a teenager, where this thing that looked like a hovering stack of translucent, glowing papers took up residence in my closet. Each one of the individual papers led to a different world.
So there's the origin of the Worldstack. Its real life incarnation will be a website, leading to information on each of my imaginary worlds. Character portraits, maps, information that never made it into stories. . . you know. The silly stuff nerds, geeks, and fans want to know. Look for the Worldstack to go live in October 2014. (Probably just bits of it at a time, I have a lot of worlds to cover. . .)