Sex on Flamingo Beach

by Marcia King-Gamble

  “Mind if I ask you a question?” Mack asked.

  “Not at all.”

  “What’s going on between you and James? I’m not looking to cause problems. Nor am I looking to be used.”

  “We’ve been out several times. I wouldn’t exactly say we have a relationship. There’s no engagement ring on my finger.”

  “Good. That leaves the field clear.”

  “Emilie Woodward, my goodness, you get around,” Camille Lewis said snidely. She plopped down on the ground next to them. “I didn’t think you were the type who came to these things.”

  Sheena Grace joined them, sitting on Mack’s side.

  “Hello, Camille. Sheena,” Emilie said, since she could hardly ignore them.

  Of all the people in this town it had to be these two. There were plenty of other places to sit on the grass, but no, they’d have to choose here. Emilie guessed it was intentional.

  Sheena was too busy making eyes at Mack and watching him eat his sweet potato pie, to acknowledge her.

  “The white guy dump you?” Camille asked in a too-loud voice, getting the attention of Mack and the surrounding people.

  Emilie heard a collective gasp and debated how to handle the rude comment.

  “I’m not sure what white guy you’re talking about.”

  “The developer. The one with the money. I ran into him earlier. He had another black woman hanging all over him. A good thing you found yourself a black man, which is really the way it should be.”

  Emilie bit back the words on the tip of her tongue. She’d only be playing to the crowd. Besides, there was no winning with Camille. It would only cause a scene. She threw back her head and laughed. What she really felt like doing was grabbing the woman’s neck and choking her.

  “You’re so funny. Mack, have you met Camille Lewis? Camille’s one of these folks who makes it her business to know everything that’s going down. Sheena, I’m sure you already know.”

  She hoped he would read between the lines.

  Emilie stood, flicking blades of grass off her white shorts. This little outing was over with, ruined by seeing Rowan and his date, and now the encounter with these two dreadful women.

  Mack stood up, joining her. He draped an arm around her shoulders.

  “Got to go, ladies. Catch you some other time.”

  “Are they always like that?” he asked when Sheena and Camille were out of earshot.

  “Always.”

  Incidents like this one were starting to make her rethink Flamingo Beach. Except where could she go?

  A lightbulb went on. Urban cities like Chicago, New York and Los Angeles had huge hotels. She’d have choices and could meet a diverse group of black, professional men. But for now her focus would be to get the jam session up and running at the hotel. Maybe senior management would rethink their position if they were considering letting her go.

  Chapter 17

  Rowan had had it up to here with the Seminole group. He was sick to death of finding out secondhand from Stephen Priddy about decisions that he should have been involved in. Starting right now it had to stop. Today he’d made an appointment with Keith Lightfoot and he planned on putting it all out on the table.

  “Come on in,” the Native American chairperson said. Keith waved him into the seat across from him. He’d set up temporary offices in a trailer on the site where the casino was to be built.

  Rowan removed his hard hat and eased into the chair.

  “Something on your mind?” Lightfoot asked, giving him the perfect opening.

  “Yes. I keep getting word from Stephen Priddy about changes coming down the pike. Since when is he my boss?”

  “Stephen is our CFO,” Keith said in his clipped manner. “I’ve been busy with the executive crowd. It’s not only the Knight group I have to contend with but the Landsdale crowd, as well. You haven’t been around, either.”

  “What do you mean I’ve not been around?”

  “You’ve been too busy to attend meetings. The mall and whatever other projects you have in the works are consuming your time, at least that’s what I’ve been told.”

  “You heard wrong,” Rowan growled. “And whoever is feeding you this information obviously has his own agenda.”

  “Weren’t you in the Bahamas on a Monday when one of those meetings was called?”

  Since when did he have to ask permission to leave town? He was the developer, not some rank-and-file employee.

  “I don’t recall this meeting being on my schedule,” Rowan said, barely holding on to his temper.

  Keith Lightfoot looked away. He rapped his knuckles on the table’s surface. “Didn’t Priddy call you? He told me you were off having a good time with one of the resort’s management. He said you never returned his call.”

  Rowan had suspected Priddy was behind this. What he couldn’t figure out was what the man would have to gain by directly sabotaging him.

  “This is supposed to be a joint venture,” Rowan reminded Keith, straightening in his seat. “If there are changes I need to be kept informed.”

  “That’s what Stephen tells me he did.”

  Was there a hint of doubt creeping into the Seminole chairperson’s voice?

  Rowan was quickly beginning to lose patience. Keith was no one’s fool. He’d gained a reputation as a tough and astute businessman. He had to see what was going on. Why did he keep handing him off to Stephen Priddy?

  “When is the next scheduled meeting with the Landsdale, Knight and Seminole group?” Rowan asked.

  “Nothing definite has been set up as yet.”

  “You will let me know about future meetings. I’d prefer to hear directly from you and not your CFO. If that’s a problem I’m open to reworking the agreement or stepping down.”

  “This project has your name written all over it, James. You wouldn’t want to just walk away.”

  He was finally getting somewhere. Rowan stood, planting his hands on Keith’s desk.

  “I helped broker this deal with Landsdale, Keith. It was my suggestion to build a casino, and it was through my contacts the funding was obtained. A fair percentage of the casino’s proceeds were to go toward education, a good cause and one I believe in. All I’m asking is for you to be straight with me.”

  “I am being straight with you,” Keith said, also standing. “When I get information I’ll give you information.”

  “And not through Priddy. You want him on your team, fine by me, but I don’t have to like him.” Rowan’s jaw was clenched so tight it hurt. When Lightfoot said nothing, he continued. “I’m okay with contacting Landsdale and Knight directly if that’s what you want. The project is still in the early stages and now is the time to determine if we share the same vision.”

  “You’re getting worked up for nothing.”

  Rowan looked at him straight on. “Worked up for nothing? I value my reputation and I am a man of my word. I have a signed contract and the way it looks my agreement has already been violated.”

  Leaving the usually inscrutable Lightfoot openmouthed, Rowan barreled through the trailer’s open doors almost knocking over Stephen Priddy.

  By the time he got to his offices he was a lot calmer. He returned some urgent phone calls before accepting the note Blanca handed him. It sat on his desk as he scrolled through e-mails, answering some and deleting others. The building of the mall was at least coming along nicely, and the small amusement park in a neighboring town had gotten off to a good start. The community was all for it. They welcomed the idea of having a recreational facility for their children and appreciated the money it would bring to the town.

  Almost midafternoon he got to the note. It brought a smile to his face for the first time that day. He’d deliberately resisted calling Emilie. He was sick and tired of being the one begging her to give a relationship a chance. She needed to make up her mind about what she wanted from him, none of this running hot and cold stuff. He’d made his intentions known and it was up to her to be adult enough to
decide whether to move forward or not. He was not going to sit in limbo forever.

  Rowan had seen her at the food festival with Mack Allen. The man had had a proprietary hold on her. He’d concluded they were sleeping together. Call him old-fashioned, but he didn’t want a woman who shared her affections with more than one man. Dating was one thing, but being intimate with more than one person at the same time was a major turnoff.

  Still she’d called him, and that was a good sign, he supposed. Maybe she was finally coming to her senses.

  He picked up the receiver and punched in the resort’s number.

  “Emilie Woodward, please.”

  It took a while before she came to the phone. Rowan strongly suspected her assistant might be hunting her down.

  “This is Emilie.”

  “Emilie, it’s Rowan. You rang earlier?”

  “Yes, I was wondering if you were able to get a commitment from your buddies Ice Cube and Twenty Cents.”

  This wasn’t at all about him, and to think he had hoped.

  “When do you need them?”

  “Two Saturdays from this week,” Emilie said. “We got the go-ahead to move the jam to the resort, at least through summer and fall. Tre’s going to start advertising on his show, and mentioning the names of the judges should help.”

  “I’ll make the call to confirm both men are free on those dates then I’ll get back to you. Will you be in your office for a while?”

  “I’ll wait for your call.”

  Blanca hovered in the doorway.

  “Yes,” Rowan said more curtly than he’d intended.

  “Maggie Smith from WARP called. She said you would know what it was about.”

  Maggie, whom he’d taken to A Taste of the Beach. She was WARP’s new on-air personality. He remembered mentioning something about dinner, but hadn’t confirmed. She was entertaining company and pretty to boot. Since Emilie didn’t want him he wasn’t about to sit around bemoaning her loss. The problem now was, since he’d just spoken with Emilie, Maggie was the last person he wanted to sit across a dinner table from.

  “Did you tell her I was in?” Rowan asked his assistant, who stood waiting.

  “I said you were on a conference call, and I wasn’t quite sure when you would be done.”

  Good girl. That at least bought him time since he didn’t have to get back to Maggie right away.

  “I’m still on that conference call if anyone else is looking for me,” he added, shutting his door.

  He phoned both Willy Corbitt and Dwayne Ramos. Both Twenty Cents and Ice Cube were unavailable. Eventually he left messages with their public relations people.

  Emilie was expecting to hear back from him and he had nothing concrete to tell her. But he was sure the boys would come through. If not, they’d find him another big name. He was that sure of them.

  Rowan had just picked up the receiver to call Emilie again when Blanca signaled to him.

  “Some guy called Willy Corbitt is on the phone. He said you called him.”

  “Willy Corbitt, otherwise known as Twenty Cents,” Rowan filled her in.

  Blanca’s eyes grew wide. “The rapper? You know the rapper?”

  “Grew up with him.”

  The phone on her desk shrilled and Blanca went off to answer it. “You’ve got a Dwayne Ramos now. Tell me he’s not another rap artist.”

  “You’ve heard of the entertainer Ice Cube?”

  “Sure, who hasn’t heard of him? D’dawg plays him all the time.” Blanca’s eyes got even wider as she slowly began to comprehend. “You know him, too?”

  “I grew up in the hood. Those are my boys. Have them both hang up and let’s try for a conference call.”

  Ten minutes later he’d gotten a commitment from both men. Dwayne had to reschedule a taping, but promised he would do whatever it took to make it.

  “Don’t let me down now. My reputation’s on the line,” Rowan said softly.

  Willy snorted. “I hope she’s worth the trouble.”

  “She is.”

  Happy with his accomplishment Rowan made the next call.

  “Feel free to run your advertisements. Both men are in,” he said the moment Emilie picked up.

  “I love you,” she shrieked.

  If only it were true.

  “Anything new on the job front?” he asked.

  “Not a thing. After the Landsdale people do their assessment of the hotel, hopefully I’ll hear something. Either way, I’m going to start looking in some of the bigger cities.”

  “You mean you would move after all?” he asked.

  “I might not have a choice.”

  Blanca was now waving her hand at him.

  “Can you hold for a moment?”

  “Sure.”

  “Maggie Smith again,” Blanca mouthed.

  Rowan had just started thinking what a pain she was becoming, but then she was probably looking for him to confirm their dinner tonight.

  “Tell her I’ll call her back in five minutes.”

  He returned to Emilie, taking the call off Hold. “I have to run,” he said, “Let’s have dinner and discuss your plans for the jam.”

  “How about tonight?” she surprised him by asking.

  He wanted to jump on that invitation, but it was poor form to cancel on one woman and go out with another. He’d felt like a real skank at Lightfoot’s house when he’d gotten caught making out with Emilie. Tiffany, who’d been his date, still wasn’t speaking to him and she’d ignored his attempts at an apology.

  “I’m already committed tonight,” Rowan said after a long while.

  Emilie’s silence on the other end spoke volumes. She hadn’t expected to get turned down.

  “Well, call me when you’re free.”

  Before he could say another word she’d hung up.

  Taking a deep breath, he signaled to Blanca to put Maggie through.

  Ever since she’d gotten home, Emilie had been sulking, no, actually, pouting. She’d thought for sure Rowan would jump at the chance of having dinner with her tonight. But no, here she was in an apartment surrounded by boxes listening to the D’dawg show. How pathetic was that?

  She could have been sitting in a restaurant eating a delicious meal, not nibbling on leftover cold chicken and deli potato salad, most of which had ended up in the trash can anyway. She wondered whom Rowan was committed to.

  It was totally her fault. She’d dragged her feet for far too long and he’d found someone else. After months of flirting with him she’d finally come to the realization that she cared about him. Those feelings had snuck up on her, unwelcome and unbidden, but nevertheless they were real, very real. And she had no clue how to deal with them. She also hoped it wasn’t too late to act on them.

  What if he no longer felt the same way about her? She’d done everything in her power to drive him away. She’d been hung up on color instead of the qualities that truly mattered. Rowan had been kind, caring and there for her always. More than she could say for most people.

  Stepping around the half-packed boxes, she turned the radio’s volume up high. D’dawg’s urban drawl came at her over the airwaves, causing her to listen carefully to what he had to say.

  “Ya’ll hear about the mayor’s windfall? Where you suppose he’s getting the bucks to build a brand-new house on the ocean? I hear he bought a yacht, too. Something smells rotten to me. What y’all think, Flamingo Beach? Hit me up.”

  The calls came in fast and furiously, the opinions all over the place.

  “The mayor’s a crook, always has been.”

  “Didn’t his mother die recently and leave him an inheritance?”

  “Would have to be a big chunk of change.” D’dawg chuckled.

  “What about that kickback rumor?” another caller asked, putting it right out there.

  “It’s the fastest set of permits to build anything I’ve ever seen granted. Had to be something in it for the mayor.”

  And so it went for the next hour with citiz
ens spouting their opinions all over the place. It did make Emilie wonder how the mayor had amassed that much money and where it had come from.

  Emilie was about to pack it all in and take a book to bed when Joya called.

  “Hey, I’m thinking of going out for ice cream. Want to join me?”

  “You’re going to abandon your husband in favor of me?’

  “Derek’s out of town on business. I’m alone and wide-awake and there’s something I want to run by you. Meet me in twenty minutes at that new place on the boardwalk. Ocean Café I think it’s called.”

  Emilie didn’t even bother changing clothes. She was comfortably dressed in cool cotton drawstring pants and a T-shirt—clothing she’d planned on wearing to bed, but that didn’t shout pajamas.

  She arrived on time for once, bought the early edition of the next day’s Chronicle and found a table in the cool interior. Few people were out and about at that hour. On a weeknight the sidewalks of Flamingo Beach rolled up fairly early.

  The new casino had made front-page news as usual, as it had for several days. The speculation now was that Landsdale executives would soon be cleaning house, and bringing in their own management team.

  More to worry about, and keep her up at night. Emilie flipped the pages, turning to another article. More speculation again. This time about Rowan and the Seminole group. This reporter claimed to have gotten word from a good source that there was a falling out between him and the Seminole chairperson, Keith Lightfoot. Divisiveness in the ranks, it had been called, over an unclear vision for the casino. She wondered what was behind that mumbo jumbo.

  Needing to find something much more lighthearted, Emilie turned to the Dear Jenna column. She was in the midst of reading a saga written by a brokenhearted woman abandoned at the altar, when Joya came racing in.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she teased. “Usually that’s your line.”

  Emilie playfully wrinkled her nose. “You’re such a bitch. Let me buy,” she said, standing. “What are you having?”

  Joya chose a concoction loaded with calories. Petite and slender as she was, she could well afford it. When Emilie returned with two bowls in hand, Joya’s head was stuck in the newspaper.