real music

January 3, 2087. George McCarthy is 32, Blossom McCarthy is 27, Vicky Garth is 22, Vale Akiyama is 26.

* Where we left off with Vicky: making her peace about Dallas, but not about Summer. Her island in the sun. 

* And meet Vale. 


After his wildly successful New Year's Eve gig, Vale planned to stay with his sister for a few days before they traveled up north together to visit their parents.

Blossom's first pregnancy was an alarming milestone in their family, considering they were less than two years apart. It seemed too soon, although of course it wasn't soon at all. Blossom had been married for three years. He and Blossom had always had a lot in common until now. He'd been following her well-charted path for most of his life, exactly eighteen months behind. Now her path diverged from his in a way he couldn't see himself following any time soon. His career was fun and frivolous, his apartment in Catalina was small and possibly toxic, and he hadn't had (or wanted) a steady girlfriend since high school. He wondered if it was a switch that just flipped at some point, the desire to finally settle down?



But Vale was excited to become an uncle, although he knew nothing about children in the least.
He tried to remember his favorite toys from childhood and they all seemed a bit advanced for a baby, but he picked out a little blue tank to bring with him. "And well, if it ends up being a girl, I hope she likes tanks," he said.

Blossom told him to make himself at home, watch TV, raid the fridge, whatever. She had a quick prenatal appointment to attend, and George was at work tying up some last-minute projects before their trip up north. Vicky should be hanging around here somewhere. "She doesn't exactly have a job to go to. But I'm glad to have her here with the baby coming. I think it'll be a big help. Do you remember Vicky?" Blossom called out, "Vicky!" but there was no answer.

Vale had met Vicky only once. Three years ago at Blossom and George’s wedding. They had hardly spoken that night, but he remembered thinking that she seemed nice, then abruptly changing his mind when she broke into a snarl and spent the whole night fuming about some girl she wanted to beat the snot out of. He thought that was amusing because Vicky looked exactly the opposite of what he imagined to be the brawling type. Looks could be deceiving, he supposed.


After Blossom had left, he followed the most enchanting sound to the kitchen, which was where he finally found Vicky. He didn't know she could sing. The sound was soft and unassuming—not his style, of course, but objectively beautiful, earthy, and full. He imagined her accompanied by a lone piano, delicate so not to drown her out, or a folksy finger-picked acoustic guitar.

It felt like a crime to interrupt her, but it also felt wrong to watch her unannounced.

"Hey, Vicky."

But she didn't answer. She just kept singing and cutting vegetables and bouncing lightly to her music. 


Even when she slammed her finger in a drawer, she still didn't notice him there. When her singing paused, he could hear the muffled volume of her earphones, which must have been why she couldn't hear them calling to her.


He snuck up behind her and jabbed his fingers into her sides. "Boo!"

"Oh my god, what is wrong with you?"


He cracked up. "You should have seen the look on your face!"

"You are the most awful human being," she said. "I can’t even believe how awful you are. You're like a man-sized turd."

"Oh, come on. That was funny. I liked the song though. What were you singing?"


"Nothing."

"Yes you were, I heard it. Sing it again."

"For you? No. Never in a million trillion years."

"Aw, come on. I was just messing around. It sounded nice."

"You do remember it then," she said. "Good, so you don't need an encore." She pointed to the counter behind her. "Sandwiches, if you want."

—

Vale did play real music sometimes, if only because he had songs in his head and needed to get the notes down. The musical curiosity came naturally to him, but not the talent. He could play just about any instrument you placed in front of him to a mediocre degree, but his special talents would always lie in mixing other people's sounds. Maybe he should stick to what he was good at.

Blossom and George went to bed early, but Vale wasn't tired. He flipped through the channels and grabbed a snack. Then Vicky came downstairs with the same idea.


"You can sit down, Vicky, I won't bite."

"Not this time?"

"Ha. So I heard you spent a year living on a houseboat. Sounds like the life!"

"It was supposed to be a kind gesture from my dad. I was flunking my pre-med degree. He was trying to make up for neglecting me since I was a toddler, I guess. It was the worst year of my life. I sunburned too easy, almost got eaten by a shark, almost broke up an engagement."

"No shit? You’re a mess."

"Thanks."

"So you came home and went back to med school?"

A pause, a playful smirk. "I was never going back to med school," she said. "But if you were offered a freebie year on a houseboat, would you admit that first?"

"Ha, I guess not. That's sneaky. So how was it the worst year of your life then?"


"Well, it's a long story."

"I'm on vacation. Entertain me. I wanna hear about this shark. Sounds epic since you obviously lived to tell about it."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but the shark was probably the least interesting thing I did that year. I survived because it didn't decide to attack me."

"So what's the most interesting thing?"

"I, um... I helped a guy rob a bank."

"You what?"


"Okay, I helped a guy who helped some guys rob a bank. He was a decoy, and I posed as his girlfriend. We had to pretend to get kind of saucy in this public pavilion to draw the cops over and cite us for public indecency. Meanwhile, the rest of his crew snuck into the bank. Of course, we didn't get as much of a cut as they did."

"You're a criminal!"

"Not exactly," she said. "I just knew some for a while."

"You really don't strike me as the type to date a criminal."

"How could you even guess what my type is?" Vicky shook her head at him. "Anyway, I wasn't dating him."

"Ah, okay, just making out with him in public for money."

"Pretend making out. He wouldn't even put his tongue in my mouth. He was actually engaged to somebody else. It was tragic."

"My mind is truly blown. And here I thought you were one of those goody-goody kind of girls."


"I always thought I was supposed to be one of those kind of girls," Vicky said, seeming saddened by the idea of it. "You'd have to know who Dallas was to understand why Matteo interested me. See, Dallas was the tidiest, dorkiest, sweetest boy who ever lived, and he broke my heart for one of those kind of girls. So then comes Matteo, who was bad, and strong, and bold, and just... different. And I really needed something different. He asked me out a few times, actually. Then one night he flipped the whole thing around, acting like he only wanted to be my friend and he told me he was engaged to his highschool sweetheart. She sounded like one of those nice kind of girls, too. Why do guys do that?"

Vale paused, wondering if it was a rhetorical question, but she waited on an answer and he decided that it wasn't. "I would guess, he was interested, but then he felt bad about it?"

"Maybe," she said. "Well, I didn't leave town right away. We became friends, I guess. I made other friends, this lady who taught me about herbalism and mystic religions. She was the best part of my year."

"Did you make out with her for money, too?"

"No." Vicky sneered. "But Matteo didn't act like he was about to marry his sweetheart. It was so confusing, he acted the same way he did when he used to ask me out and spend the whole night trying not to kiss me. He would fight with his fiancée and then show up at my boat with his complaints. She wanted him to break ties with that gang, and he didn't know what to do. And I'd listen because I guess I'm a doormat like that. We'd sit out under the stars, talking until dawn. Not kissing."

"So this is the part where you broke up their engagement?"

"Almost broke up the engagement, but no. I just slept with him."

"As a decoy, or for real?"

"For real. And I didn't even regret it. I wonder if that makes me a really terrible person." She thought about this for a moment. "But in the morning, he said it was a huge mistake and he begged me never to tell her. So I didn't. I didn't even stick around. I was just... mad is an understatement. I sold the houseboat for some cash. I gave my friend, Imelda, some money. I bought a plane ticket out of there. I guess Matteo and his sweetheart got settled somewhere new, away from the gang. They invited me to the wedding, but, ha! Total flop of a year. Although I do have a little bit of money left over from selling that boat, and now I know how to grow medicinal herbs, read palms, and deep sea dive." Vicky shrugged. "Your turn."


"What?"

"What's your story?"

As frivolous and fun as Vale's life was, it all felt suddenly boring in comparison. He couldn't think of anything to tell. Nothing like that, anyway.

"Come on there must be something," Vicky said.

"Well, working the New Year's Eve party was pretty epic. That was my first real gig."

"I already knew about that," she said. "What else? You must have some secrets."

The only standout memory Vale had was from a few years ago when he caught a peek of his buddy Asher going down on some super hot girl. Vale stood at the door and listened for maybe a few minutes longer than he should have. Problem was: the hot girl stuck around and became Asher's girlfriend. Then they decided that they really liked each other a lot and they moved in together. Now they were talking about getting married some day, and Vale would probably be the best man at their wedding. And every time he saw Poppy, that super hot girl, he remembered what her orgasmic moans sounded like. He could never take that back. But that secret was more pathetic than epic, and he didn't really want to share it.

"No?" Vicky said. "That's too bad."


She got up and cleared their dishes. She was cocky about it almost. Vale felt both enraged and intrigued by that, like he had to go out and do something spectacular just to brag to her about it.

He turned off the television and headed for the stairs. At just the same time, she emerged from the kitchen and started up the stairs, too.


"So, would you sing me that dirty french song?"

Vicky laughed. "That's definitely a three-vodkas-down kind of request."

"Huh, rain check then?"

"Maybe."


"Good night."

"Yeah, good night."


That was weird, they both thought.

—

Vale dreamed of music that night. His mind mixed a beat and through it he wove that ethereal sound of Vicky's song, not the one she sang in the kitchen, but some other that hadn't even been created yet. He wondered if she ever tried to write something of her own. Or if not, could he? And would she sing it for him? Now that he knew she was bold and adventurous and capable of doing all of those wild things.

But she said no. "I don't sing for people."

"You could. You sound great. Why wouldn't you?"

"I just don't." Vicky said. "What does it matter anyway? Can't you just grab some vocal track off some song? Mix it all together. It's not like it's real music anyway."


The way she said it was so dismissive and sure, even though he doubted she knew anything about what he did. He was more offended than he wanted to admit.

Vicky was an enigma to him, both cocky and insecure at the same time, stand-offish and mean. She didn't make sense. One thing he knew, she was not a nice girl, as she admitted. Not that he wanted her to be that kind of girl. He didn't need her to be anything at all.

Whatever. He shrugged it off and took his dishes to the kitchen.



She stood beside him, shifting her weight.

"Do you have something to say?" Like, I'm sorry might be nice, he thought.

"No," she said.

"Then why are you standing there?"

"I'm just... I was going to get some water."

"You were not."

"Why do you think you know me so well? You don't know me."


"I know it's hilarious how wound up you get," he said. "You go from fine to murder-rage in five seconds flat. It's really quite impressive. Whoa, I think I can count the blood vessels on your face."

Vale laughed at her. Vicky's temples throbbed.

"And just so you know," Vale added, "it is real music. It's not just pressing 'play' on a radio. Just so you know, I do create my own riffs and blend sounds that I created, and I am putting together some real music. Just so you know, I made bank that night at the New Year's Eve gig."


"I don't care how much money you made. Still not real music."

"Like you would know," he said. "When have you ever performed? Ever? At all?"

"I took a quarter of music theory in college. I played clarinet in high school marching band."

"Big fat deal. You don't know me at all. You don't know if I can play instruments or not."

"Okay, Mister Hot Stuff. What do you play? The 'play' button?"


"Wrong, actually, I play four instruments. Real instruments. And I write lyrics. And I took music theory in college, too. How about that? Come at me now!"

"Fuck you," she said.

"Fuck you first. Fuck you, and fuck that whole tree you got stuck up your ass. Truth be told, I was just sad for you."


Her temples throbbed again. "What right do you have to be sad for me?"

"Singing in your kitchen in front of nobody? If you wanna know the truth, that is not real music. And with a voice like yours, that's just being a coward. And it's sad."

"Why do you care if I'm a coward. It's none of your business."

"I don't care," he said. "In fact, I don't care at all. I don't even want you to sing in my music anymore."

"Your music is not real music! It's like, noise, with a beat. And I didn't want to sing in it anyway."

"You know, you sound a lot like noise right now. I'm sorry I said you had a pretty voice. It actually sounds pretty insufferable!"


"Ugh, you are so annoying," she said. "And you're so wrong. It's hilarious how wrong you are. I can't stand you. I can't wait for you to leave."

"You and me both, princess."

"Ugh, I am going upstairs. I'm staying upstairs until you're gone."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

Vicky stormed off, all heat and stomping, and each huff was a symphony of fury.


It only made her body jiggle in all the right places.

And damn, Vale thought, what a shame such a fine piece of ass was wasted on such a shitty personality.

—

gameplay notes: I'm gonna let these two take this wherever they want it to go (which may be nowhere at all!), but truth be told, I have never had an "enemies with benefits" relationship status in my game. That would be super cool to achieve, lol! I did try to steer it that way, but Vicky wasn't having it.

and author's notes: Sorry this blog has slowed to a crawl... for many reasons. Nothing bad—just other work, other games, and other interests have had my attention. 

But also, I'm blaming Vale! He's rather new to me as a character, but for whatever reason I felt compelled to tell this story from his POV. Being dropped into my story at 26 years old, without the advantage of having seen him grow up his whole life, I had to drabble a lot to get a feel for who he really was. 

Not only that, but through Vicky's narration, I also wanted to fill in the missing few years of her life since the LH blog. Although I never posted most of the scenes of her time in Isla Paradiso, they were drafted. I don't have the means or the desire to sim her remaining adventures on the island, so you get her recap in narration instead. 

The next few pieces should come quicker. And hopefully they'll be much shorter! I have a lot of gameplay and pictures stored up while I was working on this. It took me so long to write this piece, it's about 6 story-weeks ahead in my game now and Blossom actually just went into labor! My game is paused on her and next time I play, their little one will be born! Although you won't meet him until it's time. ;)