The Making of a Gigolo (14) - Erica Bradford

by Lubrican

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Chapter Fifteen

The reason Bobby was absent from musical practice while all this was going on was quite simple. First off, the sets were done. But he had received another request from Misty Compton too. She had invited Jasper to come to Nashville, to sell some of his songs. She had also asked Bobby to come with him, and offered to pay his way again.

"I feel bad about you spending all this money," he had told her on the phone.

"It's my money," she said. "I want to see you."

He had agreed, which was a good thing, because Jasper was almost paralyzed by the idea of meeting Nashville music producers. Bobby spent most of the plane trip to Nashville trying to calm him down.

"Look, Jasper," he said. "You either sell the songs, or you don't. If you do, you make a little money, and write some more. If you don't, you sing them yourself and have fun, and write some more anyway."

"I guess you're right," said Jasper. "I just don't want to do something stupid."

"Well that's easy," said Bobby. "Don't sign anything until you have a lawyer look at it."

"I never needed a lawyer before," sighed Jasper. "It sounds scary to think that I need a lawyer."

"If that's the biggest problem you have, then you're in pretty good shape," laughed Bobby.

Misty, though she had specifically wanted Bobby to come, dropped him off at her house, while she took Jasper on to a business meeting. She gave him a quick kiss and said her mother would be there to keep him company. That didn't bother him. Her mother had sent a kiss through Misty, when he'd left last time. Misty dropped him off at the curb, and didn't go in with him because she and Jasper needed to get to the meeting.

Misty's mother was, in fact, at home, waiting for Bobby.

She was also cleaning her father's shotgun on the kitchen table.

"Come on in here, boy," she said, gesturing at a chair across the table from her. "Heard you was coming back. Set a spell."

"How you been?" he asked.

"Been peachy keen," she said, wiping down the receiver with a rag. "How 'bout you?"

"I've been all right, I guess." he said.

"How come a stalwart young stud such as yerself ain't hitched by this time in yore life?" she asked, much too casually.

"Never met a woman who would have me, I guess," said Bobby. "Why, has Misty changed her mind?" Bobby was referring to the last time he'd been there, when Misty had told her mother ... in front of him ... that she wasn't interested in marriage, because it would interfere with her career.

"Things change," said the woman, reassembling the shotgun. "She seems awful sweet on you."

"Are you asking me if I'm interested in marrying Misty?" asked Bobby.

"Just curious ... that's all."

"The subject came up a couple of times," he said. "Not about her and me, you understand, but about marriage in general. She told me pretty much the same thing she told you." He looked at the woman sitting across the table from him. "You got something on your mind?"

"Younguns," sighed the woman holding the assembled shotgun. "They think they're so smart, an' that they can keep secrets."

"What kind of secrets?"

"She didn't have her monthly last month."

If she expected Bobby to be shocked, she was disappointed.

"Did she talk to you about it?" asked Bobby.

"Nope. She seems to think I won't notice somethin' like that."

"You think she's pregnant?" asked Bobby.

"A mother knows these things," she said wisely. "Course it helps that she's been actin' squirrelly ever since she should have started bleedin'. It was pretty clear to me she'd been pumpkinated."

As serious as the conversation was, Bobby almost smiled when he heard a new term for being made pregnant. He forced his mind to be serious.

"She told me she was on the pill," said Bobby.

"She talked about that kind of thing with you?"

"Yes, ma'am, she did."

"You know, I like you," said Misty's mother.

"Kind of hard to tell when you're bandying about a shotgun like that," said Bobby dryly.

"This old thing?" She snorted. "Just needed cleanin', that's all."

"And you just happened to think of that ... on the day I get here ... when you think your daughter is pregnant."

"I'm just saying that iffen things change, I wouldn't mind havin' you fer a son-in-law," she said. "I'd sure rather have you than one o' them slick fellers she keeps runnin' into in the music racket."

"Well, I'll keep that in mind, Mrs. Compton," said Bobby.

"Whyn't you call me Madge," said the woman. "We's friends and all."

"Okay, Madge," said Bobby. "Seeing as how I got some time on my hands ... you got anything around here that needs fixing?"

Misty was bouncy and elated when she got home. She'd left an astonished Jasper at the hotel after helping him sell four songs that she said she'd put on her next album. She kissed her mother and went to find Bobby.

Ten minutes later she was back in the kitchen, yelling at her mother at the top of her lungs. She was furious that her mother had even mentioned anything about her suspicions to Bobby. She'd intended to talk to Bobby about it first, and then her mother after Bobby had left.

Bobby waded in and broke up what looked like an argument that could last for hours. After he got them stopped, he turned to Misty.

"Are you pregnant?"

"Yes!" she shouted.

"You don't have to yell," he said. "Why didn't you tell your mother?"

"Because I knew she'd yell at me!" snarled Misty.

"Can you understand why she might?" asked Bobby.

"Whose side are you on?" she complained.

"I'm not on anybody's side," he said. "I just want the two of you to get along."

"Hmmm," said Madge. "Good lookin', can fix things, and a peacemaker too. He's a good catch!"

Misty tensed up and Bobby put a warning hand on her shoulder.

"Mamma," she said, her voice tightly controlled. "I know in these modern times, things seem strange to you, but I am not interested in getting hitched right now."

"How can you say that?" wailed her mother. "You're with child, girl!"

"Yes, maybe I am," said Misty. "I haven't been to the doctor yet, but that's not the point, Mamma. I have money. I have a career. I'm doing so good singing. I like Bobby. Maybe I even love him a little, but I don't want to marry him!"

"How could you let him get you with child then?" complained Madge.

"I didn't intend for him to get me with child, Mamma!" yelped Misty. "That part was an accident." She looked shrewdly at her mother. "Why are you so upset about this anyway? You've been yammering about grandbabies for the last two years. And my cousin Sadie has three children and isn't married. And I can think of at least two more cousins like that too!"

Madge's lips got all tight and she folded her arms across her chest.

"Oh, all right then," she said, sounding disgusted. "I just like this one ... that's all." She was referring to Bobby.

"And you point a shotgun at him?" Misty's voice climbed.

"I didn't point it at him," said Madge grudgingly. "And it weren't loaded nohow." She frowned. "Wouldn't have done no good anyway. This one has backbone. That's one of the reasons I like him."

"I like him too, Mamma," said Misty. "And I'd like to see him again someday. Do you really think he'll ever come back here after this?"

"Of course I will," said Bobby.

"You shut up!" snapped Misty, turning her hot eyes on him. "In fact, you go wait for me in my room!"

"Better do it," sighed Madge, looking at Bobby. "When she gits like this, can't nobody do nothin' with her."

"I found that out when she got off that plane and I met her for the first time," said Bobby smiling.

He hurried out of the room before Misty could find something to throw at him.

He was sitting on her bed, wondering what might happen, when she opened the door and walked in. She stopped and just looked at him.

"I'm not happy right now," she said.

"I kind of figured that out."

"I was very happy when I knew you were on your way here."

"Were you going to tell me?"

"That I'm pregnant? Of course I was going to tell you," she said.

"What do you want to do about that?" he asked.

"Don't you start in on me too!" she snapped. "Take off your clothes!"

"Misty ..." he said.

"Don't argue with me," she said, stepping closer. Her voice had changed. It wasn't pleading, but it wasn't ordering either. She started unbuttoning her own western style shirt.

"It's just that your mother is here," he said.

"She knows what we're going to do!" The edge was back in her voice. "I told her what we're going to do! I'm grown up now. It's none of her business!"

"Don't pout," said Bobby softly. "You're not very sexy when you pout."

"Please, Bobby." Now she was pleading. "I've been looking forward to this for so long."

"All right," he said softly.

She had been looking forward to it. That much was quite plain. She came within about a minute of him penetrating her, and she came hard. Her legs wrapped around him and her arms were tight as he lunged into her. Her nails dug into his back as she moaned, "Ohhhh yessss."

Three orgasms later she calmed down a bit and lay there while he continued stroking her with his prick.

"I love this so much," she moaned.

"I can tell," he said, grinning and kissing her lips.

"You made a baby in me," she said softly, looking up at him.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I was too," she responded. "But the more I think about it, the less upset I am."

"Why's that?" he asked.

"Tell ... you ... in a ... minute," she panted, as her pussy muscles started rippling all along his prick and she had another orgasm.

When she caught her breath she went on like nothing had happened.

"I love you," she said, looking into his eyes. "I don't want to marry you, but I love you. And now part of you is growing in me, and I'll have a beautiful little baby that will be half yours, and I can love him, or love her, for the rest of my life." She arched against him as he kept stroking. "Maybe I'll change my mind in a year or two," she panted. "I don't know. But I'm not mad at you."

"I'm glad," he said.

"I want to feel it, Bobby," she panted.

"Feel what?"

"I want to feel what it was like when you made me pregnant."

Within two or three minutes, with her lips locked to his ... she did.

Misty didn't even attempt to put up a pretense and install Bobby in a guest room. Both she and her mother were hard-headed, and Bobby worried about that. Madge said she was going shopping that evening. Her mood was still stiff, but only towards Misty. Apparently she assumed any man would act like a man, regardless of the circumstances. She didn't seem to hold any of this against Bobby.

Misty was insatiable that night. Each time she got him hard again she did it while moaning that he was leaving the next day, with Jasper, and that she didn't know when she could have him again. He tried his best to satisfy her and finally, soaked in his sperm, she fell asleep in his arms.

Apparently she was satisfied, because when he awoke the next morning, he was in her bed alone. He got up and got dressed, and found them in the kitchen. Mother and daughter were holding hands and talking softly. He backed up and made a noise, but it didn't make any difference to them. Madge got up, made him a waffle in an electric waffle iron, and then sat back down to continue their conversation.

It was good to know they'd made up, when he and Jasper got on the plane to fly back to Wichita.

The New Year's event of 1976 was the wedding of Jill Trimble to Sal Warner on Sunday, the fourth. Christy was her maid of honor and Jillian was her flower girl. Steven, of course, was the ring bearer. Sal had wanted Bobby to be his best man, but Bobby had asked him to choose someone else. He didn't think it was fair to Jill to have him standing beside Sal while they got married. Since most of Sal's existence, to that point in time, had been the diner, he'd asked one of his long time customers to stand up with him. There was little fanfare, and only thirty or so guests, but neither the bride nor groom cared about that. They had eyes only for each other. The honeymoon was postponed so that they could spend a week camping at Yellowstone National Park when the weather was good.

On the twenty-third of January, while Bobby was rubbing warm oil on Janet's distended belly, her water broke.

It had been a surprisingly comfortable pregnancy, at least for the first eight months. She had continued to work and, while her back ached, occasionally, usually at work, she hadn't had many complaints. They'd stopped having intercourse when she couldn't find a comfortable position to be in. Even being on her hands and knees got uncomfortable in her eighth month. After that, he simply gave her massages and ran his hands over her body, bringing her release with his fingers and mouth. Leaving her without getting his own satisfaction wasn't a problem. The twins were only three months along and still wanted him pretty much constantly.

Mirriam had given up trying to talk to her youngest daughters about their impending motherhood. They had adjusted to the fact that they would be mothers and, for them, that was all that mattered. That they seemed intent on living with her, she accepted a lot more readily than she might admit to verbally. She had been a little melancholy, actually, when she had earlier wondered when they'd want to spread their wings, because those wings might take them far away some day.

Bobby drove Janet to the hospital. When he let her out, and said he'd be right in, she told him to go home.

"I can't do that!" he said.

"While you were getting the car ready, I called Rhonda," she said. "She's coming to be with me while I do this."

"I can't just go off and leave you alone," he objected.

"You've been here too many times, with too many babies," she said. She had asked him about all the others, making him tell her, while they made love months back. "I'm going to tell them I don't know who the father is, and I don't want you here to start any rumors."

"That's silly," he said.

"No it's not," she said. "I may meet a man yet. I'm not so scared anymore, you know. And if I do meet a man, I don't want him to think that you're standing in the way."

"I don't think you're thinking straight," he said.

"You just do what I say, Bobby!" she snapped. Her face twisted as she had a contraction. "And don't argue with me. I'm having a baby here! You'll get to see him ... or her. You'll just have to do it at home."

He didn't argue with her. He let her hobble into the emergency room, and then parked the car and waited for Rhonda. When she got there and he told her what had happened, she hugged him.

"Don't feel bad," she said. "She's been planning this for months. She wants to be independent about this. It's important to her."

"I feel like I'm running out on her," said Bobby.

"You'll come around when she gets home," said Rhonda. "I know you, and she does too. You know she'll ask for anything she needs, and I know you'll break your back to give it to her."

"It just doesn't feel right," he said.

"It's what she wants, Bobby," said Rhonda.

"Call me if she changes her mind," said Bobby.

"I will."

A mere eight hours later, Brie Griswold was welcomed into the world. Her father was never summoned to the hospital.

Brigadoon opened on the twenty-ninth of January, 1976 in Granger. Erica was a wreck as last minute problems were dealt with. Not only was it her first foray into the dramatic arts, but she had big shoes to fill. As the date got closer, people she met in the grocery store, or wherever she was, told her how excited they were to have gotten tickets, or how they intended to do so.

She was quite aware that a number of VIPs, if that was the right term for them, would be in the audience Thursday night. Will and Jake would be there, of course. A special place had been taped off, with room for their chairs, and folding chairs beside them, one for Tilly, and the other for Erica. Additionally, Julia Staffordshire had commandeered the entire front row of seats, in the middle section.

"For people who deserve to be there," she had said. Erica hadn't quite known what that meant. She knew that Julia and most of the teachers who had said anything about coming were planning on attending opening night, but there weren't enough seats in the front row for all of them.

She had wanted the all-school assembly to be done on Thursday, right after the dress rehearsal on Wednesday night. Julia had refused.

"Don't make their first audience their friends," counseled the principal. "They can play for the school on Friday. If it goes well Thursday night, they'll be all fired up for the assembly. If it doesn't, then use Friday to give them a chance to get their confidence back for Friday night."

It seemed to make sense to Erica, who had too many other things to worry about anyway.

Now, as she wrung her hands, waiting for something to go wrong, the auditorium filled up with townspeople. People came to her with last minute issues and, by the time she had a chance to look out into the seats again there were only five minutes to curtain. She did a last check of the sound board, at which Terry Caldwell, a senior boy, sat. He would cue all the records being used to back up the singers, since they were too small a town to have a real orchestra in the pit. He was calm, almost bored. He'd done this a hundred times and just wished she'd go away. She pointed to a dial.

"Why is the microphone gain up?" she asked.

"It's a surprise," said Terry.

"Don't play with me, Terry!" she warned.

Just then she heard the microphone being used.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," said a voice Erica knew all too well. It was Emily Emerson, who was in the lead role as Fiona.

"What's she doing?!" gasped Erica. The curtain was just supposed to open as soon as the overture was done. Terry had that record cued, and it was turning, but he hadn't dropped the needle on it yet.

"This is the surprise," said Terry, somewhat smugly.

Erica's heart dropped. She went to peek out and saw Emily standing there. Her eyes went to the front row. There was Julia. She also saw Bobby Dalton and the Chumleys, sitting there in the front row. Bobby was sitting next to a woman much too young to be Chester Chumley's wife. Christy Brown was on his other side, with the cook from the diner and the woman he had recently married.

"Welcome. We are so pleased that you all have come to see Brigadoon," said Emily, as the crowd got quiet. "Before we begin, we'd like to acknowledge some help we got from some very special people." Emily looked over and saw Erica staring at her from the wings. She smiled brightly.

"The first is our director, Ms. Erica Bradford." She pointed at Erica and made a "come here" motion.

There was polite applause as Erica stepped out, flushing bright red. She didn't know whether to go take the microphone away from Emily, or not. She ended up stepping back off stage.

"Two other people we'd like to thank are Mr. and Mrs. Chester Chumley," said Emily. "I can't tell why yet, but you'll find out later." She seemed to get serious. "But the two most important people we'd like to thank tonight are who we have decided to dedicate this show to." She looked down. "Jake? Will? Would you two stand up please?"

Erica's heart almost burst as she realized the horrible mistake that Emily had just made. Both men had only one leg! Neither could stand. They'd be completely embarrassed!

But the kids had planned for all this, completely unknown to their director. A vote had been taken, and all had agreed that Ms. Bradford just didn't need to know about this, because she'd likely try to stop them.

Tilly went to help Jake stand. She'd been briefed on this, even though Jake hadn't. And Christy Brown stood from where she was sitting in the front row and went to offer her arm to Will. His face was serious as he looked up at her and Erica saw the woman lean down and say something to him. He looked sideways and saw Jake standing, and almost leapt from the chair. Christy held onto his arm and he turned about halfway around until he could face Jake.

"These two men," said Emily, "were our unofficial critics while we rehearsed. Mr. Jake Johnson, who most of you know already, was injured in a mining accident. The other man is William Bradford, Ms. Bradford's brother, who was injured in Vietnam, fighting for his country. They were brave enough to sit in front of us, one night, not knowing what would happen. We learned from them how to be brave enough to do this show for you tonight. Both men donated hours and hours of their time to help us get to the point where we can't wait to open the curtain." Emily beamed at the two men as startled silence turned into a ripple of uncertain applause.

"So if it's good," said Emily happily, "we just wanted you to know they helped us get that way." She looked down. "Thank you. We love you."

Erica's knees felt weak and she knew she was going to faint. The opening strains of the overture suddenly blared from the speaker right beside her, though, and a shot of adrenaline solved that problem. She turned around to see Terry grinning from ear to ear. He wiped the smile off his face and looked down at the board, trying to look busy. Emily walked back through the break in the curtain and, probably because she was an A student, went to the opposite side of the stage from where Erica was standing.

Then it was under way. Erica thought to go sit by Will, but when she looked, Christy Brown had sat down in the chair beside him. Feeling like things were getting out of control, Erica decided to stay backstage, where she could attack any problems that arose.

It was like a dream for Erica. There were things that happened, and she was involved in them, making decisions and giving instructions, but it seemed like she was floating in the air above all this, watching her body do this. There were problems ... missed notes ... botched lines ... but nothing really horrible. The sets worked like they were supposed to, the kids performed like they were supposed to, the audience went apeshit over Sidney when he paraded down the aisle for the wedding scene, in act one.

She thought she might be able to take a breath during intermission, but there was always something else that needed her attention. She did manage to look out and see how Will was doing. Christy Brown was still sitting with him, and held a plate of cookies she had gotten from the foyer, where the mothers of the cast had prepared refreshments. She saw Will reach out and pick up what looked like a brownie. There was a man she didn't know standing and talking to Jake and Tilly. He turned and said something to Will, and then walked back up the aisle apparently toward his seat.

Then the second act started, without any direction from Erica. Finally she just sat on a stool, in the wings, and watched as the kids did their thing. Sidney drove the crowd wild with his bagpipes again for the funeral of Harry Beaton, whose unrequited love had married another man. She was so proud of them by the time the curtain closed that she was close to bawling.

Nobody had told her about the tradition of giving flowers to the director, and they had to come get her and pull her on stage after they took their curtain calls. The kids were manic, high on the feel of success. They knew they'd nailed it. The standing ovation didn't hurt either. That both Jake and Will had stood with the rest, balancing on one leg, until Tilly and Christy reached to support an elbow, made the girls all cry.

Including Erica.

She didn't know to go up to the foyer and thank people as they left. She intended to go see Will, but never made it, because the crowd came to her. By the time it thinned out, the only person she saw down front that she knew was Bobby. Both Jake and Will were gone.

"Where is he?" she asked.

"I think Christy took him to get ice cream," said Bobby. "They talked all the way through the show. I had to shush them twice."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, confused. "They only met once before."

"Yeah, well, from what I heard, you didn't know about the dedication either, so don't feel too bad."

"I didn't!" she squealed. "They snuck that one in on me!"

"You want a root beer?" he asked. He held up a hand. "This is not a date! I know you're not available."

She actually grinned at him. Things had gone perfectly. She couldn't believe how great she felt.

"A root beer float!" she said. "But I'm buying," she said. "For all your help."

"All of it?" he asked, looking like he was stunned. "All my help is only worth a root beer float?"

"Don't try that with me," she scolded him. "Come on!"

They were halfway up the aisle, her arm in his, her right breast pressed warmly to his arm, when she stopped.

"My coat!" she said.

She ran to get it from back stage. He was already waiting for her by the exit doors. Ten minutes later they were in his car, parking at the A&W.

She finally started to relax. An hour later, as they sat and just talked, Erica wondered if this was anything like a real date. If it was, she decided ... she'd been very foolish in the past.

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