Loosening Up Bk. 10 Ch. 31-35

Honey was still wary. "I hope there's a next time."

Ginny said, "I'll send you Cricket's book for you to study. She writes about it in detail in there. It's only alluded to on the television show."

Honey turned to Dave, "Can you go again?"

He smiled, "I can go all night."

"Oh, goody. So can John; Ginny will be happy."

Dave stood in the middle of the stage at the Target Center facing over twenty-thousand fans. His voice was mellow and smooth, but with that country twang, singing along with the single acoustic guitar that Ricardo played about twenty feet to his right. The song wasThis Town's Too Small, a somewhat sad song about unrequited love in a small western town.

As he drew out the long last note of the song, the entire arena erupted in thunderous applause. Ashley came forward from where she'd been quietly watching him sing, and made bowing gestures at him as the crowd roared with approval. Dave got kind of choked up. He'd just sang his first song really ALONE ... without Ashley or anybody else ... nearby ... in front of twenty-thousand people ... and they liked it. He'd sung segments before or had Ashley standing next to him ready to step in, but nothing this long or this emotional or so alone on stage -- just Ricardo ten feet behind him.

There were shouts of MORE and WONDERFUL. Some people near the stage yelled that they wanted to buy the recording. Kyle was sitting front and center in the VIP section with some others from the recording industry; he gave Dave a 'two thumbs up' gesture. Off to one side, he spotted John and Honey Westhaven also cheering and wildly clapping for him. He'd see both of them later, he was sure.

Dave waved and the band segued into the next song, which was duet with Dave and Ashley. She came to his side and they shared a brief peck.

After the encore, Dave and Ashley slipped backstage. She punched him in the arm and laughed, "You're upstaging your mentor, Mr. Prentiss. That song was the best of the whole concert."

Dave shook his head, "I don't even think I should be here. I still don't think I can sing."

Ashley stopped him and stood in front of him. She took his head in her hands and got him to look her in the eyes. "Didn't you hear the acclaim that everyone in the place gave you when you sang solo. You have a beautiful voice, and you've got a cute country accent to it ... and a nice ass. You are unique and people love it. From the look on Kyle's face, I know he's going to ask you to do some recordings and probably even put out an album, and all ASAP." She patty his butt.

Dave rolled his eyes. "Ash, I'm a dumb old electrical engineer. Moreover, I'm no spring chicken like you anymore. I'm forty-three. Heck, I'll need a rocking chair in another year." He smiled at his own self-deprecation.

Ashley laughed, "Age has nothing to do with it. Some of the greatest singers were old farts. Look at people like Tony Bennett and Johnny Cash; they sang well into their seventies along with many others. You're just getting started."

Dave hugged the pretty girl, "I'll think about it. This is also a lifestyle thing."

"You have your little jet to fly around anyplace you want, and you can always ride your motorcycle. You can still live in Sarasota and just fly out for concerts. You could even do your own gigs -- have your own band and entourage. You set the how often and where agenda, with Kyle, of course."

Dave teased, "And I can get it on with hundreds of groupies in every city."

Ashley punched his arm again and led him into the green room, "Only if you follow Circle rules ... everyone needs a fresh STD test."

"What are you going to do now?" Ashley asked a few moments later.

"The weather is shifting to fall patterns and that means some chilly weather and even snow flurries in the northern tier states starting pretty soon. Maine already had snow last night. I'm going to Fargo and at least see the eastern edge of North Dakota, and then head south to Texas, and then back to Sarasota. I'll finish the rest of the states next year or sometime. I am NOT riding my bike in the snow like Jim Mellon did -- idealistic and a fantasy to say the least, two wheels on a snowy road, that is."

"What's in Fargo?"

"It's the first major town in the state. I wanted to see it before making a left turn to head south. After that, I drop almost straight south into Texas. I'll reassess there, but I was thinking of heading back to Sarasota then. Maybe I'll store my bike in Texas over the winter. I want to be home for the holidays."

"I have a concert in Dallas in two weeks. Please sing with me. There's enough time to even promote it as a double billing -- you and me."

"I can never say no to you. Of course. That'll fit my travel schedule nicely, too; but after that I want to think about it. You love this stuff, and it is 'heady' to have twenty-thousand people applauding you, but that's not me. I thrive on a job well-done."

Ashley said, "That's what all that applause is trying to tell you -- you just did a great job on some songs and they all loved it. Forget the ego stuff; that's useless. You have millions of people to make happy. Your singing can do that. Don't give it up."

Dave spent Sunday after the concert on his motorcycle heading for Fargo, North Dakota mostly on U.S. 10, a road that one of the Interstates replaced many years earlier. There were signs of abandoned businesses here and there, but mostly the land was farms and, as Dave told himself again and again, it was flat, flat, FLAT!

About ten miles from Fargo in the late afternoon, he came across a very full SUV driven by an older woman that appeared to have one of the flattest tires known to mankind -- but only on the bottom. She was reluctantly unpacking the back of the car and setting everything on the grassy shoulder when he pulled up behind her.

He pulled off his helmet and gloves, and unzipped his leather jacket. "Need help?" he said loudly.

The woman looked worried at his presence, but stated the obvious fact. "Flat tire, and of course, everything I own is on top of the spare." He figured her concern was because of the motorcycle; riders didn't all have the best reputation.

"If you want, I can help. It'll be my good deed for the day. I was even a Boy Scout many years ago so the ethos of helping is embedded deep in my soul."

She wasn't sure, but she said, "I'll pass you the boxes, and you can set them aside. The spare tire is buried in there somewhere." She pointed. "I'm not even sure if it's any good. I've never touched it before."

Dave helped her move box after box, and bag after bag of clothes carefully as she handed them to him. He created a neat pile about ten feet away. Finally, there was enough room to fold up the floor of the SUV's rear and get to the spare.

The miniature spare tire was also flat, although it looked as though it had never been used. Over time, the air has escaped.

Dave said, "This is just out of air after all these years. How old is the car?"

The woman choked up and started to sob, "It's eight years old. Damn, the whole world seems to be ... against ... me." [Sob]

She took two steps forward, put her head on his chest, and started to bawl, her sobs deep and racking her smaller body. Dave wrapped his arms around her and just stood with her there behind her car as she cried her eyes out and whimpered against his t-shirt. Dave guessed that her emotions were about a lot more than a flat tire.

After a few minutes, Dave started to try some soothing words with her. The whole time he knew that the problems with the car tires were nothing compared to whatever she was really dealing with. He wasn't sure whether she was running away from something or running towards something she dreaded. Her reaction was obvious, however.

Dave assured her, "I'm not leaving you until everything in your life is all right, and I mean a lot more than just your tires. I'm a great listener and a pretty good problem-solver, as well."

"What do you do?" she eked out in tiny voice.

"Right now, I guess you could say I'm a singer. Before that I ran a company that made batteries, and before that I was the number two man in a large public utility company."

She looked up at him, "Why are you here?" She seemed to be trusting him more.

"I'm riding my motorcycle around the country for fun. I stop here and there to see friends or do a concert with one of my girlfriends ... or to help pretty ladies change a flat tire. You're my first on that last job."

"You're not married, but I see a wedding band."

Dave chuckled, "I am married, but ... well, we have open marriages. My girlfriend that I mentioned is Ashley Steerman."

"The country singer?"

"That's her."

"And you sing with her?"

"I do. We just did a concert at the Target Center in Minneapolis."

"There was a crowd?"

"Over twenty-thousand. Ashley thinks I'm her new discovery in the music industry. I'm not so sure it's what I want to do. I'm supposed to have 'a think' on all of it before I meet her in a couple of weeks in Dallas for another concert." Dave paused, "May I asked what else is wrong in your life besides your flat tire?"

She sobbed, "My twenty-five-year marriage just went belly up. My soon-to-be ex-husband decided that having a twenty-five-year-old bimbo with no recognizable skills was more appealing than this fifty-year-old model that had her own business." She ran her hands down her sides, and then her face scrunched up and she started to cry again. Her tears had made the collar of her shirt wet.

Dave gently wrapped her up in his arms again. She seemed more relaxed this time. After another five-minute cry, she dried out again and struggled to get hold of herself. "I'm so sorry. You stop to help me change a tire and suddenly I'm weeping all over you. I've soaked your t-shirt and mine. I promise I'll get my act together. It's just ... well ... I drive for a while and then I have to stop and cry, and I repeat often."

"The shirt will dry. You're far more important than a wet shirt. Let's diagnose what's going on with your tire, and then figure out what to do about the rest of you. Personally, I'm thinking your ex-husband made a colossal mistake."

Dave lay on the ground under part of the car as Doris Partridge, the woman, slowly inched the car forward. Dave yelled, "Stop!" and then she joined him looking at the tire. He pointed out the slash where she'd apparently run over something that had cut right through the thinning tread on the tire.

"If I can get the spare on, I can continue my trip."

"Where are you going?"

"Seattle. My sister lives there with her family. I'm a refugee. I don't know where I'll end up, but it won't be near Boston."

"You're not going to Seattle on the spare; no way. That's only good for a few miles -- ten or twenty at most. You'll be accident prone, too; especially at highway speeds. Let me make a couple of calls."

Dave pulled out his cellphone and started calling tire stores in Fargo. They were closed. A call to AAA revealed the wait might be up to eight hours before someone could get to them. Dave thought a bit, and then pulled the spare tire from the back well of the car. He unpacked some of the luggage from his bike, adding it to the pile of Doris' stuff. He then anchored the spare to the back of his bike with a dozen bungee cords, right where a passenger would normally it.

"Doris, you stay here and guard your stuff. You should be all right. If someone else stops, tell them I'll be back very soon with your spare. I assume I can find someplace I can get some air. Either way, I'll be back within an hour." He got on the bike and headed into Fargo.

As he started to find gas station after gas station, he finally found one that was open and that had an air pump if one had a quarter. He also asked about a replacement tire for the one on Doris' car, but they didn't have one and couldn't get one until the next day at best. The spare did hold the air, so he turned around and went back to Doris' car, again pulling up behind her on his bike.

Ten minutes later, the spare was on the car. Dave repacked his motorcycle and helped Doris load the bad tire and her luggage back into her car. As he dusted himself off from the tasks, he told her, "I'm buying you a drink and dinner tonight. I'm staying at the Radisson Hotel in downtown Fargo. I'll follow you there, if that's all right. Where were you going to stay?"

Doris looked embarrassed, "I was going to sleep in my car, probably around Bismarck. I can't afford a hotel. I ... I have no money. The bimbo got it all."

"You look exhausted. Please stay in Fargo -- on me. I like you and we can maybe talk out some of your problems. I don't think they're as bad as you think they are. We'll get your tire fixed first thing in the morning, and then you can be on your way again."

"Thank you."

Doris drove into Fargo with Dave behind her. She didn't have GPS in her car, so in town she followed him to the hotel. She brought in one plastic bag of clothing with her, a point that made Dave think of when he'd first taken Odessa to the United States; she'd never owned a suitcase.

At check-in, Dave turned to her, "Do you trust me enough to share a suite. You'll have your own bedroom and bathroom. It's just nicer quarters than a regular room."

She looked uncertain again, but nodded quickly. Dave made the arrangements, and presented her with a key card.

A few minutes later and an elevator ride to near the top of the building, and Dave escorted Doris into the suite. She gasped, "This is gorgeous. This must cost a fortune."

"It's only money and I can't take it with me."

"Are you sure?"

"Why don't you take this room?" he gestured into one of the two bedrooms. The place had a luscious and expensive look to the décor and paintings. This was very comfortable. He set her bag just inside the door on the floor.

Dave said, "They have a gym in the hotel. I'm going to exercise for an hour and shower and then I'd like to take you to dinner. Supposedly, they have a nice bar and restaurant here, although I'll check on what else is nearby. The dress will be casual. That's all I can really carry on the motorcycle. Don't expect stylish."

At six-thirty, Dave knocked on Doris' door. "Come in," he heard. He opened the door and Doris was stretched out in the center of the huge bed. She said, "This is the most luxurious place I've ever been in. Thank you. I fell asleep for a while and feel much better. I hope what I'm wearing is all right." She stood.

Dave gestured at himself in wrinkled Dockers, a wrinkled sport shirt, and his Sketchers. "I'm not exactly 'date' material, so don't worry about what you look like. Come on."

The bar and restaurant were on top floor of the hotel and offered a great view of the flatland surrounding Fargo. The sun was setting so the sun shades were down on the western windows in the restaurant. Dave asked for window seat on the eastern side, and that's what he got.

"You tipped him to get this seat, didn't you?" Doris asked.

"Yes, I thought it would please you. If you look out a little, you can see the road where you got your flat tire."

"Will you come with me tomorrow to get the tire?"

"I will. I promise. Only when you're whole, will I leave you to your own devices again."

"Are you famous? You seem to have a lot of money?"

Dave said, "I didn't always. My family was pretty modest. A few years ago, I took over a company that was a high-tech start-up. We grew the company, and eventually took it public, so that it's listed on the NASDAQ. I had been working for nothing but stock in the fledgling enterprise. When it went public, I made a lot of money overnight. Since then, I've also done pretty well. After that business success, I decided to take some time off. My wives gave me the motorcycle, and I decided I wanted to ride it through the forty-eight states. I'm a wimp, however, and don't plan to do the winter months riding around. From Fargo, I'll head south to Texas and then back to Sarasota, Florida, our home, for the winter months before I start my journey again."

"You said 'wives'?"

"I have ten of them. I live an unconventional lifestyle. Unlike your ex-husband, I don't practice serial polygamy. I have my original wife of over twenty years, and nine others that range in age from twenty-six to fifty-two. I do have two other girls I'm going to ask to marry us; Penny is nineteen and Sue is mid-thirties. Age isn't important. Their spiritual nature is what really counts."

Doris looked shocked. "And you have a girlfriend -- the singer."

"I actually have about a hundred girlfriends. Ashley is just one of them."

"Are you famous? I've been cloistered away, so please forgive my innocence."

"No, but some of my wives are. Cricket wrote the booksRoad TripandCrystal Clear, that became movies starred in by another of my wives -- Scarlett Johansson. The motorcycle is the one that they used in filming the movie. It's a 1988 Harley Davidson Heritage Softail. Cricket has written some other best sellers since then; one or two a year.

"In my friend category I also include Ashley, Felicity Jones -- another movie star, and Owen Bennett and Mark Worthington -- both billionaires and philanthropists. If you're plugged into the business community there are a few other luminaries." After a silence, Dave said, "Now, tell me your story."

Doris' demeanor softened still further. She gave a huge sigh. "I think it's an old story. Husband starts working with younger girl, and falls in love with her. He announces he wants a divorce so he can marry her. Out with old, in with the new, as the saying goes. We got lawyers. He moved in with bimbo, who, I believe is a nymphomaniac -- right up his alley. I lived in the house and we put it on the market. It sold but hasn't closed yet. I packed up my important stuff, and am headed to the west coast to start a new life. My sister is in Seattle, but I'm not sure I'll stay there more than a couple of weeks. We aren't THAT close. I'd be a burden." She smiled.

"What did you do in your career?"

"Raised two kids, and was a qualified life coach. It was my business."

"Tell me about being a life coach."

"You'll laugh because here I am the cobbler's daughter not following my own advice or using what I know on myself. I counseled clients about their careers and personal challenges. I did a lot of youths trying to figure out what they wanted to be when they grew up. I did a lot of women headed back to work after doing the mommy track. Sadly, I did a lot of women who'd been cast adrift by their husbands who decided to shack up with their bimbos."

"Ever do an itinerant business executive that a friend is trying to turn into a country music star?"

Doris studied Dave, "No, but I'd really like the challenge. You, I assume."

Dave nodded.

"Tell me a lot more about David Prentiss? I'm going to record this, if that's all right with you. I normally do in my clinical work."

Dave spend the next hour as they ate and then had after-dinner coffee telling Doris about himself, Alice, the Circle, his wives, the other men and women in the Circle, and how they interacted. He spent some time talking about his careers and what he found rewarding and also unmotivating about them. He didn't talk about the singing part of things until the end.

"All that brings me to whether or not I want to be a singer. I've kind of dipped my toe in the water, but I've felt I was helping out Ashley. I was a bolt-on to her concerts -- perhaps an on-stage novelty, plus at the first one where I sang with her, she announced to the world that I was really the father of her children and not Kyle. That hit the tabloids in a big way for three weeks until another singer got her third DUI and had to go spend some time in jail instead of her Malibu mansion. Kyle obviously didn't care. He has a girlfriend Marina that Ashley approves of; we all had a small orgy several times when we were all together. Some others even joined in."