Authors: Jean C. Joachim
Clare
sashayed over, slipping her arm around Hank’s slim waist. “Is my son giving you
the third degree?”
“You’d
better tell him you’re an independent woman before he knocks my block off.”
“He’s
protective, but he’ll adjust.” She patted Gunther’s cheek. “I’m going to name
the pug Capra, after my favorite director.” That broke the tension. Everyone
laughed.
Guests
didn’t start leaving until nine o’clock. Clare settled down with a glass of
mulled wine, flanked by her boyfriend on one side and her son on the other.
At
ten o’clock, Erica’s phone dinged. She opened it.
Who could possibly be calling me at this hour?
She was still
connected to Max Webster and a service that measured box office receipts. Her
eyes widened as she read the numbers coming in from all over the country for
Hustle and Dance
plus an update from Max
Webster on advance sales for
Sway.
Erica
excused herself and retrieved Gunther’s laptop. She input in the Christmas Eve
movie ticket sales, an important predictor of success or failure, into an
Excel
spreadsheet. Top one-hundred
markets first.
By
ten-thirty, the last reveler had left. Even Hank finally made his farewells.
Gunther shook the older man’s hand, though he didn’t look too happy. Then, he
came looking for her.
Erica
turned and looked up at him, beaming. “Receipts for tonight’s movie sales were
booming in the Midwest, South, and West.”
“Let
me see.” He sat down beside her. They went over all the figures, comparing them
to earlier weeks and projecting final receipts. The numbers were good. Holiday
ticket sales for
Sway
were also
strong. Gunther was clearly elated. He sent a brief text to Max Webster. Then,
he poured champagne for Erica and himself. Clare had already gone to bed.
“It
looks like East West Productions is gonna fly,” Gunther said, sitting back, a
smile of satisfaction spread across his face.
“Here’s
to continued success.” Erica raised her glass to his.
The
nonstop activity of the day, coupled with the exciting news, wore them out. The
lovers toddled off to bed, barely huddled together under the covers before they
fell asleep, tucked together like two nesting figures.
* * * *
Christmas
Day found Erica and Gunther exhausted. Clare woke them early for a breakfast of
eggs and leftover ham. They planned to attend church at eleven. After rushing
through their food, they settled down in front of the tree. Although she didn’t
expect to receive anything, Erica had brought gifts for Gunther and Clare. The
entire trip had been Erica’s gift.
“Gunther
was always Santa, in charge of distributing the presents.” Clare nodded at her
son.
He
delivered the first package to his mother with a smile. She opened it to reveal
a beautifully framed photo of their entire family. The picture was old, but
still in good condition. Clare
teared
up when she saw
it and gave her son a hug.
One
by one, presents brought surprises, sighs, and smiles. Erica had bought Gunther
a beautiful red, plaid flannel shirt. She had bought Clare a soft, wool, hand-knit
shawl in deep violet for the cold winter nights. Clare surprised the younger
woman with a lovely white, scooped-neck blouse trimmed in lace. She gave
Gunther his father’s gold wristwatch and a set of sterling silver cufflinks to
wear with his tuxedo.
“I’m
sorry, Erica. I wasn’t expecting you…” Gunther began.
She
held up her hand. “Please. Don’t worry about it. No problem.”
“But
there’s something under the tree for Erica from you, Gunther.” Clare handed her
a simply wrapped package.
He
paled. “I sent that ahead, but…”
“Please,
it’s okay.
Here.
” She handed the small, wrapped box
to him.
“Taking
a gift back on Christmas?” Clare’s eyebrows shot up. “Gunther! What are you
thinking?”
“Mom’s
right. I bought this for you. You should have it.” He returned the rectangular
package to Erica.
She
blushed, but opened it slowly and carefully. “A gun isn’t going to go off when
I open this, is it?”
“Nice!”
Gunther said, shaking his head.
The
gift stole her breath away. Inside, nestled in a bed of black velvet, was a
diamond tennis bracelet.
No one has ever given
me anything like this before.
“I can’t accept this. It must have cost a
fortune.”
“Keep
it. He can afford it,” Clare said, folding Erica’s fingers around the box. “Try
it on.”
“Please,
take it back, Gunther. It’s really not…necessary and now…” Her voice faded as
she thrust the glittery bauble toward him.
“Keep
it,” was his gruff response.
“Try
it on. If you don’t like the way it looks on you, you can give it back.”
Clare’s eyes twinkled.
Erica’s
fingers shook a little, causing her to drop it several times before Gunther
picked it up and clicked the catch into place. The bracelet was a perfect fit.
Clare gasped. “It’s beautiful on you. You must keep it.” Erica looked at Clare
then at Gunther.
“Ma’s
right. Keep it.”
She
clasped the jewels to her chest then hesitated before giving Gunther a quick
kiss. “Thank you. It’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever had.” Her heart
fluttered.
Don’t forget he meant it when
he bought it, but he doesn’t mean it now.
Her smile melted away.
Something to remember him by.
Suddenly,
it was ten-thirty, and they had to scurry to make it to church on time. Clare
was greeted by her many friends, some with a “howdy” and some with simply a
wave. Erica was envious for a moment at the number of folks who cared about
Clare.
Her
family troubles embarrassed Erica. In high school, she had discovered it was
safer to stay aloof rather than try to get close to people. Her father’s
inability to hang onto money forced her to work as a waitress at the local
diner, not leaving her much time for a social life.
Erica
had blossomed early, physically. She had been breathtaking at fifteen. The boys
in her class had fallen all over themselves to get a date with her, sparking
jealousy in most of the girls in her class. She hadn’t dated, but she did have
some boys as friends she’d hang out with during lunch and free time at school.
When
her stepbrother and sister came along, Erica was in charge of watching them
when she was home. Having no respect for her stepmother, who was as
irresponsible as her father, Erica pitied her step-siblings and tried to take
care of them as best she could. They were grateful and adored her. When she
went off to college on scholarship, there had been a tearful parting. Erica had
worried about the children, but was powerless to help them, outside of sending
them money.
She
chuckled to herself over the not-so-subtle looks and raised eyebrows when she
walked in with Gunther. He gave a polite nod to Clare’s friends, renewing their
acquaintance, but didn’t crack a smile.
“That’s
quite a looker, you got there, Quill,” Barney
MacMahon
said.
Gunther
flashed a tight smile in reply and kept walking. When Erica slowed down to talk
to the man, Gunther took her hand and pulled her along to a seat next to him.
After the service, the crowd dispersed quickly.
“Hank
invited us over for Christmas dinner.”
“I
have work, Ma.”
“Work?”
“We
got some figures last night. Erica and I have to finish projections. I’m
assuming you’re helping me?” He turned to Erica for corroboration. She nodded.
“Gunther,
it’s Christmas!” Clare said.
“But
tomorrow’s a work day. I want to have these waiting for my partners tomorrow
morning.”
Clare
let out a breath and frowned. “You just don’t like Hank.”
“That
has nothing to do with it.”
“Then
you do like him?”
“Do
you want me to lie to you, Ma?”
“You
don’t even know him.” Clare crossed her arms over her chest.
Erica
kept silent, amused to see mother and son go head-to-head.
She’s just like him!
“You
don’t need me, Ma. Go. Be with him. I’m sure you’d rather, anyway. I’ve
gotta
get this done.”
He
pulled into the driveway and screeched to a halt. Clare stiffened her jaw then
exited the car. She stomped into the house. Gunther followed, talking loudly
and gesturing.
“If
you don’t come, you’re on your own for dinner,” Clare sniffed as she headed for
the stairs.
Gunther
ran his fingers through his hair. “She can be such a pain in the ass. Her way
or the highway.”
“Reminds
me of someone I know,” Erica said, filling the coffee pot with water.
“Who,
me? I’m nothing like her.”
Erica
burst out laughing. “You’re exactly like her. Only she’s nicer than you are.”
Gunther
shot her an angry look. “Whose side are you on?”
“Just
telling the truth…” She knew that as soon as the words left her mouth, she was
in trouble.
“Truth?
You wouldn’t know the truth if it spit in your face!” he roared.
“Are
we going to do this…again?” Her voice rose.
Before
Gunther could hurl another insult, Clare reappeared. “You two are worse than
toddlers throwing temper tantrums. Cut it out! Why can’t you get along?”
Gunther
and Erica quieted down. The only sound was the hot coffee dripping into the
carafe.
“If
you keep this up, you can both leave tomorrow. You once loved each other. You
must have gotten along then. Please, remember. Do it again! This is my holiday,
and I want it to be pleasant. Gunther, you will come to Hank’s house, and you
will be pleasant!”
The
lovers glanced at each other and nodded.
Gunther
broke the silence first. “I’ll go, out of respect for you. But I don’t have to
like it.”
“Hank’s
serving a big spread. At least you’ll eat well.”
“Come
on, let’s do those numbers first.” He took Erica’s hand, and they disappeared
into the den.
The
dinner at Hank’s started out awkward, but after a few martinis, Gunther warmed
up. He and Hank sang carols at the piano. Clare put her arm around Erica and
introduced her to everyone as Gunther’s “special friend.” She basked in the
glow of Clare’s warmth.
Hank’s
party was the icebreaker necessary to stop the hostility between Gunther and
Erica. Gunther never said they were back together. Nevertheless, they
functioned as a couple, during the day and at night as well, for the remainder
of their stay in Maine.
Even
the excitement of resuming shooting on her first movie didn’t keep Erica from
crying when it was time to leave. She had grown fond of Clare. And leaving
Gunther was harder than she expected. Gunther returned to Los Angeles while
Erica returned to Florida. With a heavy heart, she watched his plane takeoff
from Kennedy Airport in New York. She wondered how Gunther was handling the
takeoff without her.
“Probably
fine. Some stewardess will hold his hand.” She grimaced. He was so adept at
finding women to warm his bed.
Will I be
replaced?
Once on board her flight, Erica heaved a sigh, touched her tennis
bracelet, and studied her lines before falling into a restless sleep.
Chapter
Twelve
Erica
wasn’t surprised to see Gunther show up on the set three weeks later. She
expected to be fired.
This would give him
the ultimate joy. Retribution. Firing me a second time.
But she understood.
She’d been sick, throwing up, missing her scenes. Not once, but on several
occasions.
She
had figured out what the problem was and determined to keep it a secret.
Desperately trying to figure out what to do, she distanced herself from
everyone. One nosy reporter kept asking her if she had some infectious disease.
Not unless you consider pregnancy a
disease.
Pregnant and alone.
She
gave a snort.
What else could happen to me?
She’d chided herself a hundred times for having unprotected sex with
Gunther. But in the middle of the night, she lay in bed and fantasized about
having Gunther’s child. She dreamt of them together, raising the baby. A smile
pulled at her lips.
I wonder if he or she
will be as stubborn as Gunther and Clare.
She thought about Clare.
Will she be happy or ashamed?
Knowing
looks from some of the other producers when Erica showed up late, pale as a
ghost,
clued her in that her secret might have already been figured
out. She dreaded appearing in the tabloids.
Career not even off the ground, and
already I’m scandal material.
She
continued to study her lines and tried to determine what time of the day would
be the best for her to perform. After the first week, she seemed to settle into
a routine. By eleven o’clock, her nausea had passed, not to return until around
four in the afternoon.
The
producers shuffled the schedule, to complaints from some of the
primadonna
performers. They whined that they wanted to
sleep late too, instead of getting up at five to get to makeup. Jealousy ran
rampant. Erica was chilled by the cold attitude of some of her co-stars. Worry
about being replaced, coupled with the queasiness, made her lose weight.
Costumes had to be taken in, delaying production even more.
So they’ve called in the big guns
to either talk to me or fire me. I can’t do anything to prevent it, so be
prepared to get canned.
Rumors
about Gunther’s impending arrival flew through the set like wisps of smoke.
Some wanted to meet him, others were afraid of him. None knew of her past relationship
with him, and she wanted it kept that way.
She
munched soda crackers while watching her co-star, Cliff Townsend, do a scene
with the female lead. At the break, someone whispered and the set went quiet.
She turned.
There
stood Gunther, larger than life, dressed to kill, and sexy as hell. His red shirt
was open enough to reveal some chest hair, his leather jacket was slung over
his shoulder, and his tight jeans hugged his thighs. Her heart leaped. She
wanted to touch him. A flutter in her belly kicked up her pulse.
I could jump his bones right now if he
wasn’t here to can me.
“Erica,
could I see you a minute?” He motioned her to follow him.
“Sure,”
she said, her mouth as dry as old newspaper. Her heart beat so loud she was
sure others could hear it.
All the shitty
jobs I’ve had, I never got fired. Now, I have my dream job, and I’m going to
lose it.
Tears filled her eyes. She pushed to her feet and followed along
behind him to the producers’ trailer.
Gunther
opened the door and motioned to the two men inside. “Guys, could we have a
couple of minutes, please?”
They
gave her pity looks as they left. Gunther sat down on one side of the table.
She perched opposite him. Her stomach rumbled. She prayed not to lose her lunch
in front of him.
“I
know I’m costing a bundle, being sick all the time. I’ll make it up now. I’m
feeling better,” she began. He raised his hand, and she fell silent for a few
moments.
“Please
don’t fire me.” She hadn’t intended to beg, but the words poured from her
before she could check them. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
Gunther
handed her his handkerchief. “I’m not here to fire you.”
“You’re
not?” She wiped her eyes and nose.
“I’m
here to propose to you. Erica, will you marry me?”
Does your hearing go when you’re
pregnant?
She blinked and stared at him. “What?”
“You
heard me. Marry me.”
“Really?
Wait. You know I’m pregnant?”
He
nodded.
“How?”
He
tossed a newspaper clipping on the table. “Ma sent this to me. I don’t usually
read the rags unless I’m looking for something specific.”
What supporting player on the set
of Gunther Quill’s latest movie is too sick to perform? Is it malaria or is she
expecting?
The
article went on, but Erica stopped reading. “So, you’re asking because I’m
pregnant.”
“No,
yes, sort of.”
She
shot him a quizzical stare.
“I
love you, Erica. But you know that.”
“I
do?”
“Don’t
interrupt. I do. And this pregnancy is wonderful. I’ve always wanted children.
You’ll be a great mom.”
She
stood up. “A pity marriage? No!”
“Come
on. Don’t do this by yourself. I want you to be my wife.”
“Like
Elsa was going to be your wife?”
“A
real wife this time. I’m in love with you. Don’t you believe me?”
She
shook her head.
“Do
you still love me?”
“That
doesn’t make any difference. I’ve made enough mistakes in my life without
adding a bad marriage to the list.”
“It
won’t be a bad marriage. We’ll be great together. And with junior…”
“Junior?”
She narrowed her eyes. “How do you even know it’s yours?”
She
could not have stunned him more if she had hit him in the head with a sledge
hammer.
“Of
course, it’s mine. It is, isn’t it?” His brow furrowed.
“Wouldn’t
you like to know?”
I’ll bet he didn’t
expect that.
He
reached over and closed his fingers around her upper arm. “Stop teasing. Is it
my kid or not? Or don’t you know?”
“Of
course, it’s your kid.”
“So,
what’s the problem? We can get married in a few days.”
“Lovely.
A shotgun wedding at city hall. To a man who would hardly speak to me two
months ago. How romantic.”
“Please,
Erica. I want you, and I want this baby.”
Looking
into his eyes, she saw he spoke the truth.
He
does want the baby. But what about me? What if he tosses me aside and tries to
take my child?
“You hated me two months ago and now you expect me to
believe you love me? Not buying it.”
She
headed for the door. He jumped up, following her. “Wait, Erica!”
She
took off across the set. A loud noise grabbed her attention. She looked up in
time to see a large spotlight break free from the ceiling and swing down toward
her. Everything happened too fast for her to dodge the heavy object. It bashed into
her belly, knocking her in the air. She flew about ten feet before crashing
into a wall.
Gunther
yelled her name and ran to her. Blood began to ooze out of her, soaking her
jeans.
“Call
911!” He screamed. “Get an ambulance!”
The
assistant director joined him. Gunther pleaded frantically, “Please, please get
someone. She’s bleeding. Can’t you see? She’s pregnant. Call!” Gunther hollered,
picking her up in his arms.
People
scattered. Calls were made and someone brought a blanket. Others brought
towels. Erica was awake, looking up into Gunther’s eyes. Tears had gathered
there. He brushed her hair back from her face and kept murmuring, “You’ll be
okay, you’ll be okay.” She nodded and tried to smile, but the pain in her guts
made her cry out.
The
ambulance took them away. Gunther rode with her, holding her hand the entire
time. She felt the warm wetness of his tears spilling on her cheeks. At the
hospital, she was taken away. Doctors and nurses hovered around, giving orders
and carrying them out. Her head buzzed, and her mind was fuzzy. She was out cold
before she could utter a word.
When
she awoke, she was in a private room. Gunther dozed in a chair next to her bed.
The minute she moved, he jerked awake. He took her hand.
“The
baby?” she asked.
Gunther
paused. Tears overflowed his eyes again as he shook his head.
Erica
covered her mouth with her hand. “Tell me the baby is okay!” she hollered,
gripping his arm with all her strength.
“The
baby is gone, doe-eyes. I’m so sorry.”
She
gave a loud wail then collapsed, sobbing. Gunther got on the bed and took her very
gently in his arms. A doctor came in for a moment then retreated. When Erica
was able to calm down, the doctor reappeared. She had cracked her collarbone
and broken some ribs along with losing the pregnancy.
She
was doped up for a day. When she was able to walk, Gunther accompanied her to
the set. That night, he took her back to his suite. They ordered in dinner.
When they finished eating, she stretched out on a velvet divan while he
massaged her calves.
“I’m
sorry I cost your movie so much money.”
“Forget
about it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.
My timing may stink, but…” He pushed to his feet then reached into his pocket.
He opened his fingers to reveal a small velvet box as he dropped to one knee.
“Marry me, Erica. Doe-eyes. I can’t stand being without you. I love you so
much.”
She
listened.
“I’m
so much better with you. Happier. A better person. Please, baby. Do you love
me?”
She
nodded.
“Then,
what’s the problem? Let’s get married.”
She
smiled at him and held out her hand. “Yes.”
He
slipped a gorgeous, four-carat diamond ring on her finger.
“I
love you, too, Gunther.”
“I
believe you do.” He smiled.
“Can
we try again?”
“Of
course. As many kids as you want.” He picked her up and carried her to bed.
“A
shame we can’t make love the night we get engaged.”
“We
have the rest of our lives to make love.”
“Do
you promise to chase me around the bedroom until you’re ninety?” she asked.
“Why
stop at ninety?” He chuckled.
“Call
your mom.”
“Yeah.”
He checked his watch. “She said she’d wait up.”
“She
knew about this?” Erica raised her eyebrows.
“Hell,
yeah. You know I can’t keep anything from her.”
“This
wasn’t her idea, was it?”
“Really?
Come on, give me some credit.”
She
cuddled into his shoulder. Sadness mixed with optimism for the future.
“We
can never replace that baby,” she whispered, her eyes tearing up.
“Nope.
But we can share the grief. Please don’t shut me out. That was my baby, too.”
She
turned her face into his chest and cried. He rested his cheek on her head, his
eyes watered, and tears disappeared into her hair.
* * * *
Six months later
Strange Bedfellows
ran
over budget as Gunther suspected it would. He didn’t worry too much about it
because the feuding stars on the set would bring in a ton of publicity, which
he figured would spark sales.
Sway
was
a huge Broadway hit, nominated for a bunch of
Tony Awards
. Erica went back to work for Gunther until her next
acting job arrived. They were casting for
Sway.
Max Webster had signed the papers and East West Productions was launched as
a new corporation. Max was looking into the possibility of bringing
Strange Bedfellows
to Broadway if the
movie should hit it big.
Erica
had temporary office help while she was planning the advertising and promotion
campaign for
Strange Bedfellows.
She
and Gunther had put their wedding on hold until the major projects of the
fledgling company were set in motion. In the meantime, there was much to do.
Gunther bought a four-bedroom house in town. Erica moved in with him, leaving
Amy with the headache of paying for their apartment alone.
Arguments
broke out between them about who should play which part in
Sway, the Movie.
“I
want Jake Matthews,” Gunther said.
“I
doubt he’ll speak to you after what happened between you and Gracie.”
“But
it’s her movie. She wrote the script.”
“I
hear he’s still pissed.”