Page 5 of Happily Ever Laughter

“I’m an office assistant at Healthy Communities, a division of the city’s Public Health Department.”

“Cool. Is it interesting?”

I take another sip of lemony sweetness. Yikes, these things could get addictive quickly.

“The work is just work. You know how it is. But the pay is more than fair, and the people are really nice. It’s good to know that there’s someone keeping an eye on our city, and making sure things are safe. Plus the hours are great – nine to four-thirty weekdays. Pretty much the only time we ever have to work late is during our year-end catch up week.”

“That’s pretty sweet,” Felix nods.

“What about you?” I ask.

His eyes shift in a way I can’t read. I wonder if he’s going to feed me some line to try to impress me. Then he laughs. “I write the music you never remember.”

“Huh?”

He sets his beer down, leaning a little closer as he turns to me. “You know those little fragments of music in between segments on a TV show, or as they fade to a commercial?”

“I guess I’m aware they’re there. But you’re right, I don’t really think about them.”

“Exactly. It’s a tiny soundscape to evoke a certain energy, then disappear.”

“And you write those?”

He grins with pride. “I compose them, perform all of the instruments, and mix them. I’m sort of my own mini recording studio that specializes in three minute and under sound clips.”

“Weird. But neat.”

“Exactly, right?” He laughs. “My mom is pretty old-fashioned, and when I try to explain to her that I’m a musician, she keeps asking me when my new album is coming out.”

“Do you write real songs as well?” I ask, then stop myself, flustered. “I mean, not that the other stuff isn’t real music. You know what I mean.”

To my relief he simply chuckles. “Yeah, I’ve dabbled here and there. But for some reason I can’t be serious when writing stuff like that. I start out with a heartfelt love song, and then it ends up being about beer.”

My belly tightens and my cheeks feel a little sore as I realize I haven’t laughed so much in a long time. “So you’re a comedian?”

“Completely unintentionally. Sort of.”

His eyes narrow as he stares at my laptop strangely. He almost looks angry. “Play that yellow drink clip again.”

I can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s not being rude, he’s in the middle of an idea. I play it immediately, staying silent so that he can process whatever is going on in his head.

When it finishes, he simply says, “Again.” I tap the play button once more.

When it ends, he replays it several more times, then leans back, sipping his beer thoughtfully. After about two minutes of simply staring at my laptop, he blinks hard and turns to me. “Do you have more clips like this?”

“Yes.”

“How many? Like at least twenty?”

“Likely at least fifty that are finished. Why?”

He pulls a thumb drive from his pocket. “Can I have just a few of them, please? For an experiment.”

“Sure.”

I po

p in the drive and quickly load up what I consider to be five of my best clips so far, including the lemon drop explosion.

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