A Duet for Three

Judging by the overhead sunlight in the concert video the band performed at around noon. not a good time. Ryker was probably having trouble getting good bookings for his band. Without the name recognition from being a popular fest band, he would not be able to get better gigs at bars, weddings, or corporate events.

I was not completely on board with Traci singing with Ryker's band. However, I knew that the applause fed something deep within her. Most people who crave adulation are deeply insecure. Despite Traci's beauty and talent, she was as insecure as any actor or musician.

She invited Ryker to our home to discuss his plans.

Ryker wanted to go in a different direction with The Meltdown. Instead of AC/DC, he wanted to pivot to a more theatrical show. He was familiar with the songs that Traci and I had performed on karaoke night, but he had never really paid attention to them. When he got home, he read up on Jim Steinman and watched other videos of songs that he had written and produced.

"I was blown away! How could I not be familiar with this guy? And Meatloaf? I always thought he was just some fat white guy from back in the day. Dude, thanks to you and Traci, I see a whole different approach!"

What Ryker wanted to do was mix a few Steinman songs in with a few Broadway tunes.

"I'm thinking I'll start with the song "Bat Out of Hell" and then go into "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad" and then Traci will sing "Somewhere" from West Side Story. I had never even heard of those songs until you showed me something in a whole new light. I'm thinking of a couple of ABBA songs and one or two Fleetwood Mac songs. This would be a show that the chicks would really dig. And that would bring in the guys and the guys are the ones who spend the big bucks at the fests.

"It's not the kind of music that I thought I'd be playing, but some of these songs are pretty damned good so I can live with it, and performing is performing. So, what do you think, Traci? Are you in?"

Ryker was disappointed that Traci did not jump into the pool with both feet. She explained to him that we would have to discuss it and she would let him know.

After Ryker left, I could tell that she had something she wanted to say.

"I know that we had talked about having my IUD removed and having kids, but performing with the band is something I want to do first."

"How do you see this working? It would mean hours every week in rehearsal and then you would be gone on weekends. You have job responsibilities with your dad. Plus, it would mean that Emma and I would hardly ever see you."

Traci cupped my face in her hand. "I will be home every night. I need you like I need air and water. And I could never be away from Emma. I couldn't love her more if I gave birth to her myself. I will always make time for my family."

She decided she would work out something with her dad that allowed her to join The Meltdown. Her parents knew how important performing was to her, but they thought that she had got most of it out of her system in her ill-fated Hollywood experience. Her mother, Jean, was skeptical but her dad reluctantly accepted her desire to cut back on her hours at D'Amico Automotive. about the whole thing.

I had a bad feeling about the whole thing and especially Rick Ryker.

But Traci stuck to her word. Seldom rehearsing past 7:00 PM, Traci was always home to give Emma a kiss goodnight. As winter headed towards spring the band gelled, putting together a sixty-minute show and a two-hour show. They recorded and uploaded to YouTube a couple of high-definition videos. Then they sent emails to the various festival organizers in the Chicagoland area.

It did not take long for fests to show interest. There were a few bands that would always be good draws, but there were also plenty of bands that faded away. Hunting for bands that were new and different was a never-ending process for festival organizers.

The band wasn't yet getting booked for evenings, but their new direction proved to be popular with festival organizers. They were soon booked through June with most performances at either 4:00 PM or 6:00 PM. Not as good as the coveted 8:00 PM slot, but a hell of a lot better than noon.

The Meltdown was scheduled for every Saturday and Sunday. Some weeks they were scheduled for both days at the same festival. But most of the time, they were scheduled at different festivals on successive days. They only had one Friday show in June. Friday nights only allowed for two shows: a 6:00 PM and an 8:00 PM. They were able to book one 6:00 PM show but no 8:00 PM shows. Still, things were looking up for the band.

By the middle of June, word had started to get out about The Meltdown. The teenage boys stayed away in droves but women in their twenties through their forties suddenly had a new favorite festival band.

It was the third weekend in June when Ryker got the call that would take them to the next step. The organizers at Taste of Wrigleyville told him they needed an act for 8:00 PM on Saturday. Curtis Glow and the Sugarcane Gang, a mostly white group doing old-school hip-hop were being forced to cancel due to the unfortunate arrest of Robert Van Dyne, a/k/a Curtis Glow, for insider trading at his full-time job at JP Morgan.

The Meltdown was on fire that night and the Wrigleyville crowds were blown away. It was not just the north siders in attendance. That weekend was the annual subway series between the Sox and the Cubs. The area around Wrigley Field was packed with people from all over Chicagoland, and as far away as Wisconsin and Indiana.

But the really big next step happened after their show. Two of the organizers of Milwaukee's Summerfest were in attendance, saw The Meltdown's show, and were impressed enough with the band to offer them a couple of slots at the last series of shows at Summerfest from July 4^th through July 8^th.

Suddenly, Traci was going to get all the adulation and attention she could ever want or need. All it would cost her was her marriage.

+++

Emma and I had gone to the first few Meltdown shows of the festival season, but the fests were no place for a six-year-old. There was no place to sit, so everyone stood. There was very little in the way of family entertainment so most of our time was spent walking from vendor tent to vendor tent. Emma got a free stress ball from a cellular phone provider and a free bottle opener from a water filtration company. From there, it was on to some really bad artwork from people whose parents had obviously lied to them for years about being talented. She was bored, and, frankly, so was I.

As the time for The Meltdown to perform would draw near, we would wander over to obtain spots near the stage to watch Traci perform. It was obvious she was in her element when she was on stage but strange and a bit disconcerting to watch her sing "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights" with someone else.

For a couple of years that had been "our" song to the point that she had a set routine that she followed when singing her part. It was uncomfortable watching her stand with her arms crossed in mock irritation with Ryker or stand back-to-back with him singing in duet.

I wasn't sure how I felt about the performance.

Regardless of how I felt, as much as she enjoyed watching her stepmother perform, Emma did not enjoy going to the festivals. After two fests, we stopped going. I explained that it was too much for Emma and while disappointed, Traci understood.

The band continued weekday rehearsals while constantly tweaking its set list and adding new songs.

As The Meltdown continued rising in local popularity, Traci seemed to distance herself from me and Emma. It was subtle at first. At first, Traci would drop to her knees when seeing Emma and give her a big hug. Nowadays, she would squat down and give just a quick hug. Several times, I noticed a sad look on Emma's face. Traci also seemed less affectionate with me and more guarded with her cell phone.

I am a lot of things, but I am neither naïve nor am I gullible. Traci was probably cheating on me and I knew that if she was, our marriage was over. I did what any concerned husband would do, I hired a private investigator.

Lisa Larson was the family law attorney I met with. She recommended we use her husband Paul to investigate before we started any legal action. Paul had spent several years in US Army Intelligence on what he called both the HUMINT (human intelligence, or traditional spying) and SIGINT (signal intelligence, or electronic intelligence) sides of intelligence gathering. He had gone into business for himself after retiring as a warrant officer (what he called a CW4). He mostly worked on industrial espionage cases, but since his wife specialized in family law, he did occasional jobs for her.

Paul followed Traci from rehearsal to home several times and did not see anything unusual. He had trackers as well as a voice-activated recorder secreted in her car. We arranged for a time to email an attachment to Traci's cell phone, which I was able to open while she slept. It took a long time to unlock her phone's facial recognition security, and I was about to give up in frustration when Traci mumbled something in her sleep and groggily opened her eyes for a split second. I was holding her phone at just the right angle for it to unlock. I hoped she did not remember seeing me standing over her when she woke in the morning.

I was able to open the email attachment which downloaded the software that would record every one of Traci's conversations, texts, emails, and monitor every website she visited. I did have some concerns with what I was doing. After all, trust is the bedrock of a marriage and Traci had not really done anything to violate that trust. I had suspicions, but nothing concrete. We still talked and made love. We discussed when we could re-visit having another child. We talked about Emma, who would be entering the second grade in the fall. Day-to-day, very little had changed in our lives.

But there was a wall rising between us. I would ask and she would deny or deflect. So, the only choice that I could see was to spy on the woman I love.

It was the video of The Meltdown's performance at Taste of Wrigleyville that got me into gear. After an hour's concert and then two encores, the band was lined up across the stage taking bows. Ryker and Traci had an arm around each other as they took their bows. Ryker looked down at Traci and blew her a little kiss. Traci looked up at Ryker and beamed the smile that I thought was only for me. The next day I made the appointment with Lisa Larson. She pulled her husband into the meeting and from there, the die was cast.

+++

"I don't think she's had sex with him yet, but it's going to happen soon," my PI said.

"Why don't you think it's happened yet," Lisa, my attorney and Paul's wife asked.

"I don't have anything concrete but once that line has been crossed, there's generally an apparent shared sense of intimacy. I don't see that quite yet with your wife and Ryker. But I do see them easing into it."

I guess that it was good news that he hadn't fucked my wife yet, but I still did not see any way of salvaging the marriage.

"Is the plan still for the band to stay over in Milwaukee for a couple of nights?" Lisa asked.

I nodded my head. "They have a show at the AFI Amphitheater during late morning on July 4^th. Then that night and the next night they are playing at Whiskyeville, a pop-up bar in downtown Milwaukee. On the 6^th they have another late-morning show at the AFI. They're supposed to be back in Chicago on the afternoon of the 6^th."

"You're coming up on the 4^th?" Paul asked.

"Yeah. I'm going to hang out and wait for your call. After their show at Whiskyeville, I'll confront them if they wind up together in one of their rooms. If they don't, I'll head back to Chicago and come back on the evening of the 5^th. You seem to have everything locked down. I don't even want to know how you were able to get cameras into their hotel rooms."

Paul chuckled. "You'll see it on my invoice. It wasn't cheap. Any videos in their room will not be considered evidentiary but could prove useful in negotiations. I still don't think confronting them is the right move. I don't want this to go south so I'm going to search you for weapons before I let you confront them."

"I get that. I don't want to put you in a bad situation. I have a six-year-old daughter that I have to think about. There is no way I am putting her future at risk. If Traci cheats, I'll walk away from the marriage. If she doesn't, we have a lot of work cut out for us in marriage counseling. I can't look at her without seeing that big smile she gives Ryker at the end of their shows."

@@@@@

Traci was on top of the world. The Meltdown had just performed for tens of thousands of people. It was the biggest crowd they had ever performed for by about a thousand percent. Called back for two encores, The Meltdown received sullen looks from the band scheduled to follow them. There was no way that they could match that performance and they knew it.

The band had time to go to their hotel, grab dinner and a nap, before heading over to Whiskyeville for their 9:00 PM two-hour show. If they were lucky, they would be back at the hotel by midnight.

Traci felt unsettled and unsure about this evening. She was missing Coy and Emma and knew what she anticipated for tonight could end her marriage, but things with Rick had been accelerating. Their on-stage chemistry had crept off-stage and the other band members could see something was going on between the two of them. No one had said anything as they were too busy enjoying their meteoric rise from being just a mediocre local festival band to performing at Summerfest. It had been a fast, wild ride.

After the morning show at Summerfest, Rick invited Traci to his room, but she declined. She wanted to take a nap and relax before tonight's show. A brief moment of irritation passed over Rick's face before his normal grin reappeared. She confirmed that they were still on for that night.

That night's show at the Whiskyeville pop-up bar was standing-room only. The bar was an open-air set up in the street in front of the Capital Grill. A temporary bar ran the width of the street with folding chairs available on a first come basis. An area in front of the plywood stage had been left open as a dance floor.

The band started their set with "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights" then segued to "Bat Out of Hell" and then went right into the Fleetwood Mac classic "Go Your Own Way."

The crowd was revved up and ready to party.

"That was almost as good as sex," Rick Ryker laughed as his hotel door room closed behind him.

"I don't think that anything will be as good as sex," Traci said. "But getting that kind of reaction comes pretty close."

Rick grabbed her and pulled her into an embrace. His lips hungrily met hers. Traci slid her tongue into Rick's mouth, and they softly and sensuously swirled each other's tongues. Rick unbuttoned Traci's blouse and let it fall to the floor. He reached for the front hook on her bra and released it as he peeled the garment off Traci's shoulders.

Rick had never seen anything so perfect as Traci's tits. They were not overly large, but full, with dark pink nipples standing at attention. Rick eased Traci to the bed and bent to remove her tennis shoes and socks. He then unbuttoned her jeans and then pulled down the zipper before grabbing them at the waist and slowly pulling them down her long legs.

Traci reclined in her thong as she smiled at Rick. There was no evidence of the apprehension or nerves she had felt earlier, just the post-performance sexual excitement that she before had always shared with Coy.

Rick kicked off his boots and pulled his t-shirt over his head. He bent down and gently took one of Traci's nipples in his mouth. He gently bit and then sucked her left nipple before moving to the right one. A feeling of uncertainty crossed her mind. 'What was she doing here,' she asked herself. 'I shouldn't be here.'

Rick was oblivious to a noise outside his room before it finally registered that someone was knocking. 'I'll ignore them, and they'll go away,' Rick thought to himself.

But if anything, the knocking grew more persistent.

"You better answer it," Traci said. She reached for her bra and top.

Rick sighed and stood. His erection was outlined against his jeans. 'Fuck it,' he thought to himself. 'Whoever's at the door gets to deal with my hard-on.'

Rick looked through the peephole and saw a middle-aged white guy. He flung open the door.

"What the fuck do y..." was all Rick was able to get out. Coy Connery had been standing in the hallway to the side of the door with his back to the wall as his PI knocked. As soon as the door opened he pushed inside past Rick, interrupting his angry question.

Coy walked around the corner toward the bed. He saw Traci sprawled out on the bed, naked except for her thong.

When Traci saw Coy, her eyes opened wide in horror.

"No," she said almost to herself. "Coy, this isn't what it looks like," Traci said, a desperate note in her voice.

"Oh really?" Coy asked. "Then what is it? Because it looks like you were about to fuck Rick."

Traci started crying and hyperventilating. "Let me explain," she managed to gasp out.

"Go ahead," Coy said. "I'm all ears."

"It was an accident! I wasn't going to go through with it! You have to forgive me! Baby! Please!"

Coy shook his head and turned around. Rick slumped against the wall, a defeated look on his face. Coy was not the first husband that he had crossed.

"She's yours now," Coy told Rick. "I want nothing to do with her. Good luck with that, rockstar."

That last was a particularly painful jab for Rick. He had been trying to make it in music for decades. With one sarcastic comment, Coy had exposed Rick for the wannabe he was.

Paul nodded at Coy as he exited the room and closed the door behind him. "You good?"

"Fuck no. But I will be. What we talked about?"

Paul nodded his head. He had a leather strap with metal hooks attached at either end. He put one hook around the doorknob and the other latched onto the door frame. This prevented the door from being opened from the inside. This would give Coy a few extra minutes and prevent Traci from trying to chase him down. That is, if she even wanted to.

In the parking lot, Coy turned off his cell phone, not wanting to be tracked or contacted. He walked to the two vans that belonged to the band. He pulled a pair of side cutters out of his back pocket and snipped the valve stems off all eight tires before getting into his car for the drive back to Chicago. He exhaled deeply.

"Fuck!" he screamed at his windshield.

@@@@@

I picked up Emma at the neighbors and started packing when we got home. Thankfully, Al and Jean were staying over in Milwaukee tonight, so I didn't have to see them. I knew that they were at Whiskyeville. I had deliberately stayed away from the pop-up bar and my in-laws, not wanting Traci to know I was in town. If she was going to wind up in Ryker's room or he in her room, I wasn't going to stop them.

I got out every suitcase and packed almost everything that Emma and I owned. The plan was to stay in a hotel for the night; in the morning I would see Lisa Larson to give her the green light to file for divorce. My final act in Chicago would be the one I dreaded almost as much as divorcing Traci: meeting with my father-in-law.

I still had an American Express card in my name only (from when I was single) so there was no way for Traci to track me that way. We had a joint checking account to pay bills in which we both deposited a set amount of money each month. I would take half of that. Our home had been a present to Traci from her parents when she moved back to Chicago from California. Traci could have it. I left only a few of my items in the house, but nothing that could not be easily replaced.