Tara still couldn’t remember which bodyguard was Maurice—the name fit as well as a size nine foot in a size seven shoe—and which was Scott, but it didn’t matter. They were interchangeable, both packed with muscle and bad attitudes. Flipper was chafing under the restrictions they’d imposed on his life, and before they left for Barb’s they’d had a full-blown argument over his refusal to ride in the back seat of their Hummer.
The men nodded to Flipper and assumed their positions in front and behind him. He took a firm hold of Tara’s hand as they made their way to the front door.
As soon as she stepped inside Barb’s, she stood stock-still and surveyed the peanut shells on the floor, the skimpy swimsuits tacked to the walls, the neon beverage signs, and the large wooden bar at one end of the room. Then she heard a chorus of voices shout “Flipper!” and turned to see more than a dozen people seated at a long row of tables pulled together at the back of the restaurant.
“Holy Baby Ruth, what a turnout,” Flipper murmured.
“Baby Ruth?”
“You know, that scene in Caddyshack where a floating candy bar in a crowded country club swimming pool causes a mass panic.”
“Is Caddyshack a movie?”
“Is it a movie? It’s a comedy classic.” When she shrugged, he added, “Never mind. Next time I’ll just say holy shit.”
She swatted him, and he surprised her by pulling her close and smooching her on the mouth.
“Get a room!” a female voice rang out.
Tara jerked away from him while Jo flashed a wicked grin and then waved them over. Slinging his arm around Tara’s shoulders, Flipper propelled her forward.
“I thought you two were never going to get here,” the detective teased when they reached the table. “Did something come up before you left home?”
The woman beside her rolled her eyes. “You’re as subtle as a hand grenade, Jo. Hi, Tara, I’m Kelsey. We’re thrilled you could join us.” She gestured at two empty seats. “We saved these for you.”
“Thank you. I’m glad to be here with all of you.” Tara smiled at the others staring at her expectantly. I can do this. I can do this. Don’t let them see how nervous I am. Just keep smiling.
“Quite the crowd tonight,” Flipper noted. “You’d think Barb’s was giving away beer.”
“There’s no way we’d miss the chance to check out your new girlfriend,” blurted a buxom blonde who appraised Tara from hairstyle to sandals and made no effort to hide her perusal.
“The news was all over the aquarium by mid-afternoon,” explained the man next to her, who kept dabbing at a stain on his wrinkled polo. Tara thought he was cute in a just-rolled-out-of-bed kind of way. “Gossip spreads like warm butter in that place.”
Tara wanted to ask them how everyone had reacted but decided not to spoil her hopeful mood. If people were ready to riot over her romance with Flipper, she’d find out soon enough.
“I’m Jack Barfield, by the way,” the rumpled guy said, “and this is my girlfriend, Stella Harper.”
Before Tara could say “nice to meet you,” someone chided, “Didn’t your mama teach you any manners, O’Riley? How about introducing the rest of us to your lovely lady?”
“Just for that, Sanders, the first round’s on you,” Flipper retorted. “Tara, that lunkhead over there is my best friend, Evan. And that’s his fiancée, Dani Davidson, who’s definitely too good for the likes of him but loves him anyway for some reason I’ll never figure out.”
They both raised a glass to Tara in salute. Over the next few minutes, she met everyone else who’d turned out to gawk at her or show support for Flipper. A few greetings were less enthusiastic than she’d prefer, especially from one of the vet techs, who looked on the verge of telling her where to shove her protest signs before Flipper stared him down. And Kenshin’s glaring absence was disappointing, though not unexpected.
“I usually do quite well with names. But if I forget anyone’s, please forgive me,” she announced with forced cheer.
“We won’t hold it against you. Much.” Gina Martino, a marketing specialist for the aquarium, had a glint in her eye that Tara didn’t trust, and she responded with a wary smile.
“What Gina means is we don’t expect you to remember who everyone is the first time you meet us,” Melanie Williams, Gina’s boss, chimed in. “I was the new girl not long ago so I know how you feel. It can be overwhelming under the best of circumstances.”
“And God knows these aren’t the best of circumstances,” Gina added, earning her more than a few reproachful looks.
Tara ignored her. “So Melanie, your brother-in law, Cosby, lives with Monica, who’s a marine biologist along with Jack. And Stella is a volunteer who works with sea turtles, which is Monica’s specialty, and Tanner over there is curator of Turtle Lagoon. Did I get that right?”
“Yes,” Melanie confirmed. “You’re a quick study.”
“This is like that old game where you try to link actors back to Kevin Bacon,” noted veterinary technician Sherrie-Lynn Henning. “Only it’s the Six Degrees of Gulf Shore Aquarium.”
“Here’s another set of connections. For a long time, Jack had a huge crush on Monica, who’s dated Evan and Tanner,” Gina supplied. “And I had the hots for Evan, Tanner, and Flipper, unrequited unfortunately, before I met my fiancé, Jeremy.”
“Too much information, as usual,” Dani pointed out.
“Where’s your man tonight, Gina?” Monica asked. “Home polishing his silver spoon?”
“As a matter of fact, his overbearing mother summoned him to dinner. I got out of it by telling them I was working late. Jeremy’s parents are both insufferable bores who hate me because I wasn’t born into money like they were.”
“Sounds like one big happy family,” Tanner observed.
“Oh, you have no idea. Let me tell you what the old gasbag said about me behind my back.”
As Gina launched into her story, Tara let out a relieved breath and felt some of the tension drain from her. Flipper kneaded the remaining knots in her neck and shoulders.
“Remind me to thank Gina later,” Tara whispered to him.
“For what?”
“Taking the focus off me.”
“I doubt she did it for your benefit. She’s not that kind of girl.”
“It doesn’t matter. I hope she monopolizes the conversation for a while longer.”
“Be careful what you ask for. You’ll be wishing you had earplugs in about five minutes. Or less.”
* * * *
Despite a few awkward moments, the evening rolled along without incident until an attractive blonde walked in to Barb’s, spied the GSA group, and made a beeline for their tables. A local real estate agent, who’d plastered his airbrushed image on billboards and bus-stop benches all over town, intercepted her, giving Flipper a short reprieve.
“If you want to make a break for the men’s room, I’ll cover you,” Jo offered.
“What are you going to do?” he said. “Spray bullets at her feet while I make my escape?”
“Don’t be so dramatic. I’m simply offering to stall her if you don’t feel like facing her tonight.”
Her palms suddenly slick with sweat, Tara wanted desperately to take advantage of that offer.
“I don’t want to do this right here, right now,” she told Flipper.
“What are the chances that reporter just wants to say hello, and then she’ll go away and leave us alone?” Stella asked. She looked affronted when someone snorted in response. “Well, it could happen.”
“And I could be crowned Miss America,” Jo retorted. “Oh, geez, here she comes.”
“Helen, what a coincidence,” Flipper greeted when she reached the table. He covered Tara’s fidgeting hand with his. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in here before.”
“I come in once in a while for lunch,” the reporter replied. “The Messenger staff usually hangs out after hours at the Punchy Pelican.”
“Isn’t that place
a total dive?” asked Stella.
“I made the mistake of going in there once, and I swear my shoes stuck to the floor,” Gina added. “If I were you, I’d never order anything that doesn’t come in a bottle.”
“Another no-tact attack by the TMI twins,” Kelsey murmured.
Helen chuckled and turned her attention back to Tara and Flipper.
“I apologize for interrupting, but I wonder if I could steal you two away for just a bit. Maybe we can step outside where it’s quieter?”
“My rent-a-hulks will veto that idea,” Flipper answered.
“Oh. Where are they?”
“At the table closest to the front door and the one by the back entrance.”
Helen glanced in those directions. “Hmm. They know how to blend in, don’t they? I wouldn’t have noticed them if you hadn’t said something. But I guess that’s the point.”
“They’re less conspicuous sitting down,” Tara observed.
“Listen, I hate to be a pest—I know that’s difficult for you to believe—but my editor won’t get off my back until I write a story about you two being together. I prefer to do it with your cooperation, but you need to know we’re running something whether you talk to me or not.”
“Why are we news?” Flipper protested. “I’d rather you write about my dolphins.”
“You know why. You’re like a Hatfield and a McCoy, Nancy Pelosi and John Boehner, Murphy Brown and Dan Quayle, Donald Trump and Rosie O’Donnell.”
“I don’t think we’re as caustic or as dramatic as all that,” Tara disagreed.
“Or as interesting,” Flipper added.
“Are you kidding? This is a great story,” Helen enthused. “And you have my word I’ll treat it with sensitivity and fairness.”
“Does that mean you won’t interview Larry Clybourne?”
“I’m sorry, Tara, but SWADS versus SAD is part of the story. In fact, Larry called the producer of that TV debate show and made a strong pitch for being on the panel. So we’re adding a second person from the aquarium to balance the discussion.”
“Son of a worthless woman,” Flipper swore.
“You don’t get creativity points for that one,” Tara told him.
“Why not?”
“It wasn’t your best effort.”
“How about ‘son of a sodden sailor’?”
“Better, but there’s still room for improvement.”
Flipper gestured to his puckered lips, and Tara stole a quick kiss.
“You two are so cute together,” Stella gushed.
“Blech. They make me want to do the toilet tango. Ouch!” Gina rubbed her ribs after Melanie elbowed her.
“Hey, I have an idea,” Flipper suggested. “Helen, why don’t we schedule an interview for later this week so we don’t have to do this in front of an audience?”
“How about tomorrow?”
“Well, I, uh, need to check my schedule. And we can’t do it at the aquarium.”
“How about I drop by your cottage after you get off work?”
Flipper heaved a sigh of resignation and glanced at Tara, who nodded. “Seven o’clock?”
“Seven it is,” Helen confirmed. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”
“I wish I could say the same,” he groused.
She patted his shoulder. “It’s going to be fine, Flipper. Trust me.”
Chapter 27
It was fine, as it turned out, and even fun at times, too. Helen had such a disarming interview style that Tara and Flipper almost felt like they were chatting with a friend, which was the point of that approach. But more than that, the reporter delved deeper than the hype and headlines in an effort to craft a three-dimensional profile of their relationship.
Not that all of Helen’s questions lacked the squirm factor.
“How do you think your bosses at the aquarium would describe your choice of a girlfriend?” she asked Flipper.
“Career suicide,” he replied without hesitation.
“Do you fear for your job?”
“I feel like I’m roller skating along the San Andreas Fault.”
“Are you preparing for the worst?”
“As soon as we’re done with this interview, I plan to polish my résumé. And I’ve been practicing saying, ‘Would you like fries with that?’”
“If you couldn’t be a dolphin trainer, what would you want to do instead?”
“I don’t want to do anything else. But I might have to. Maybe I could open a dog obedience school or something.”
“Would that make you happy?”
“Not as happy as being a dolphin trainer, but I’d make the best of it.”
Tara blinked back tears and wondered yet again how she’d survive the guilt if Flipper was forced to spend his workdays without dolphins. He placed his hand on her knee to still her restless leg, which she’d been bouncing in a burst of nervous energy. He gave her a reassuring smile, and she took a deep, cleansing breath.
“Hearing him say these things, how does it make you feel, Tara?” Helen asked.
“Culpable. Outraged on his behalf. Sad for his sake.”
“And yet you plan to go on local television and argue a position that would make it nearly impossible for him to practice his profession.”
“Now you see my dilemma. I can’t win either way. I’m starting to question whether my activism is extracting too high a price, for me and for people I care about. And I don’t just mean Flipper, although he’s my most important consideration. Spending time with his coworkers last night helped me see them as individuals who have hopes, dreams, and sorrows just like I do. And I must admit, they’re enormously fun to be around.”
“Will you miss being a part of SWADS?” Helen asked.
“I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt when they evicted me without so much as a chance to stand up for myself. I poured my heart and soul into that organization and didn’t deserve to be dismissed, let alone in such an underhanded manner. But there’s no use crying over spilled wine. There are plenty of other bottles on the shelf just waiting to be opened and experienced.”
*
Kenshin refused Helen’s request for a comment on Tara and Flipper’s romance and referred all questions to Wesley. At Jonquille’s urging, the director granted an interview in which he claimed the aquarium stood one hundred percent behind its head dolphin trainer, who Wesley called “impeccable, indispensable, and irreplaceable.”
“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” Helen challenged.
“Are you doubting my sincerity?”
“Do you have a reason to overcompensate?”
“Are you always this cynical?”
“I’m skeptical. There’s a difference.”
“Let’s not play word games. What exactly are you getting at?”
“I heard you and Kenshin were so upset with Flipper that you would’ve fired him if your HR director hadn’t stepped in as the voice of reason.”
Wesley looked at her as if she’d just threatened to print his Social Security number and bank account information on the front page under a banner headline.
“Did Flipper tell you that?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“I can’t reveal my source. But judging by your response, I’d say it’s accurate.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Wesley groused.
“Are you denying it?”
“I’m neither confirming nor denying. And I’d better not read it in the newspaper, attributed to an anonymous source.”
“The Messenger’s policy is to quote only named sources except under rare circumstances okayed by our editor-in-chief. This story wouldn’t come close to qualifying.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
Helen fidgeted with her pen before setting it atop the notepad on her lap. “Have you ever known me to be anything but a straight shooter?”
“No. I have to say, of all the reporters who’ve covered this b
eat, you’ve done the best job. I haven’t always agreed with what you’ve written, but you’ve always conducted yourself as a professional, and I respect that.”
“Whenever you’ve taken issue with one of my stories, it’s because you objected to an opinion expressed by someone I quoted. I have an obligation to let the other side have its say, too.”
“And my priority is to protect the interests of this facility, its animals, and its personnel.”
“I understand that, Wesley. And I know you’d prefer I didn’t write this story about Tara and Flipper. I’d feel the same way if I were in your shoes. But think about what Flipper is risking to be with her and what she’s overlooking to try to make it work between them. Doesn’t that make you want to root for them? And won’t people be impressed by how open-minded you are for supporting rather than condemning them?”
“Why do I feel like I’m being manipulated?”
“I’m not trying to sway you. I’m simply presenting the issue from a different perspective and asking for your reaction.”
Wesley chewed on his bottom lip and stared at the wall. Finally, he shifted his attention back to Helen. “Here’s my quote. You ready?”
She picked up her pen and nodded.
“We care about Flipper as more than just a valued employee. We want him to be happy and fulfilled in his personal life, too. If being with Tara Langley does that for him, then we wish them both the best.”
*
Flipper lowered his newspaper and looked at Tara across the breakfast table. She set down her copy of the Messenger and wore an identical astonished expression.
“I’m stunned,” he said. “Wesley gave us his blessing? How the hell did that happen? And what’s he up to?”
“I don’t know. But let’s just accept it as a gift and move forward.”
“I’m keeping a copy of that story in my desk so I can wave it in Kenshin’s face or anyone else’s who dares give me crap again.”
“Be the bigger person, Flipper.”
“Kenshin, my supposed buddy, was ready to can my ass.”
“That’s his burden to bear. One day he’ll wish he hadn’t thrown your friendship away.”
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