Afterward, as they headed to her apartment complex, Monica debated inviting him in for a drink and whatever else might happen. But by the time he’d pulled in front of her building and shut off the engine, she’d decided against it. She’d had a wonderful time and definitely wanted to see him again. But sex complicated and often muddled matters, especially this soon, she’d come to realize. When they did fall into bed together, she wanted both of them to be sure they knew what they were getting into.
Right now, she’d settle for another taste of him, a more leisurely feasting. He apparently had the same idea because they both moved at the same time. Her arms went around his neck as he pulled her close and held on. His groan and her sigh ignited a torrid lip-lock that left them both gasping and more than a little stunned. So what he suggested next surprised her.
“Let’s go to the movies.”
“Now?”
He laughed. “No, Saturday night. You’re off the next day so it won’t matter if we’re out late.”
“Don’t you work Sundays?”
“Yes, but sleep is highly overrated.”
“If you’re willing to make such a sacrifice, the least I can do is say yes.”
“That’s the spirit. C’mon, I’ll walk you to your door.”
He waited while she rooted in her purse for her keys and unlocked the door. Then he tilted up her chin for one last kiss. This one was shorter but no less potent.
“Good-night,” Monica told him in a husky voice when it was over. Then she hurried inside before she changed her mind about asking him in.
Chapter 10
Despite his assurances to Monica that her past didn’t matter, Cosby’s thoughts were a jumble the next day. He didn’t want to face it, but her admissions really did bother him, and that frustrated him to no end. What does that say about my ability to give her the benefit of the doubt? he asked himself. Why can’t I just let it go? I mean, she didn’t betray me. Maybe I’m worried that she will, that she hasn’t really changed.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since he’d met her, and now that she returned his interest he should’ve been the happiest man in town. If he could’ve kicked his own ass, he would have.
Cosby knew that some men would be so blinded by Monica’s physical beauty that they wouldn’t care what type of person she was, at least not until they’d had their fun in her bed. Others who lived by a more judgmental moral code wouldn’t spend another minute with her after finding out what she’d done.
He just wanted to hear her voice, so he called her on her cell phone Friday to confirm their date the next day. She’d just been interviewed by a couple of teenagers for their high school newspaper’s Career Focus feature. Evan had provided photos of her to use with the article.
“I’ll bet that’ll be a popular issue,” Cosby predicted. “All the guys will cut out the picture of you in your wet suit, and all the girls will read the article to find out how to be as successful as you are.”
“Either that or they’ll use it to line their birdcages at home. At least my name’s easy enough to spell that there’s a chance they’ll get it right. A small paper back home ran my photo one time when I was still at Scripps and identified me as Monique Simmons.”
Cosby laughed. “Even I’m smart enough to know that getting names correct should be a priority for any media. One of the local shoppers that did a story on us reopening Nauti-Toys identified me as Crosby Williams. That one little ‘r’ bothered the hell out of me for awhile, mostly because my jackass brother wouldn’t stop calling me Crosby.”
“Where did your parents get the name Cosby from anyway? Were they fans of Bill Cosby or something?”
“Have I told you that story already?”
“No, I was just guessing, but it makes sense.”
“Mom told me she thought about naming me Theo or Cliff after the two male Huxtables on The Cosby Show, but my father didn’t like either of those. Why he thought Cosby was a better first name I still don’t understand.”
“Did you ever ask him?”
“Yeah. All he said was, ‘It’s a hell of a lot better than Gavin, which is a namby-pamby name if ever I heard one.’”
Monica laughed. “I’ll bet your brother really appreciated that.”
“Oh, yeah. The fact that he was named after an actor on The Love Boat didn’t make him much happier.”
“Could be worse, though. Your parents might’ve named him Gopher. Or maybe even Tattoo or Roarke after the characters on Fantasy Island.”
“I actually called him Gopher one time and ended up with his fist in my face.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope. He was trying to impress this girl and she laughed her head off and walked away when I called him that.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah, he chased me around the yard, in and out of the house, and down the block,” Cosby continued. “When he finally caught me he was even more ticked off, so he socked me in the nose.”
“What did your parents do?”
“Nothing, because I didn’t tell them. He warned me that if I tattled he’d tie me in my underwear to the monkey bars at the playground. So when Mom asked why my nose was bloody and swollen, I said I wasn’t watching where I was going and ran into a pole.”
“Your brother sounds like he was a mean kid.”
“Nah, not really. Typical big brother. He could beat on me but nobody else could. He was my protector until I got big enough to defend myself.”
“So I guess you guys get along well now, insults aside.”
“We do. He’s a good guy and an even better husband and father. I’d love you to meet his wife. I think you two would really hit it off. You both have spunk.”
“Spunk? Is that a nice way of saying we’re demanding and hard to please?”
“Not at all,” Cosby replied. “I like kick-ass women.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Just then, he heard a telephone ring. “Is that yours?”
“Yeah, that’s my office phone. Hold on a sec. Let me see who it is.” Cosby heard her side of the conversation and it sounded like an animal might be sick.
“I’ve got to go,” she told him. “One of the turtles apparently ate something a visitor dropped into the habitat.”
* * * *
Numerous signs warned guests against feeding the animals, but that never stopped some people from ignoring the rules. Flipper, the head dolphin trainer, once caught a teenager dumping a full cup of ice into one of the pools at Dolphin Inlet. While ice wouldn’t hurt the dolphins, the trainers panicked because they had no idea what else might be in the cup. Thankfully, it turned out to be just a small amount of watered-down soda. But the aquarium could never be too careful with the health of its animals, and the pool water had been tested and retested to make sure.
This time, concern focused on the hotdog chunk a six-year-old tossed in for Chester the loggerhead. The kid didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. In fact, he expected to be praised for his willingness to share his lunch, and that’s exactly what his mother did.
Monica and Tanner Presley, curator of Turtle Lagoon, explained to the child and his parents that all of GSA’s animals were on strict diets and that people food could make them sick. But the boy balked at being corrected, and his mother refused to “damage his self-esteem” by scolding him. The father simply disconnected from the conversation and stared at his phone. Monica suspected he was playing Fruit Ninja from the way he kept dragging his finger across the display screen.
The set of Tanner’s mouth indicated he was in no mood to listen to such nonsense. He told the parents politely but firmly that they’d be banned from the aquarium if they didn’t obey the guidelines. The mother acted put out, the kid was too busy jumping, rolling, running, and screaming to care, and the father apparently had moved on to Candy Crush Saga. The confrontation in the turtle department conference room ended with the mother promising to send a scathing letter to Gulf Shore’s dir
ector and to local media.
“If this is how you treat your guests, especially impressionable young children, then we won’t be back,” she promised.
Monica wanted to shout, “Good! You’re not welcome here.” But she sat tight-lipped while Tanner replied through gritted teeth, “I’m sorry you feel that way. However, the safety of our animals is paramount. Now if you’ll please corral your child and vacate the premises, I’d be much obliged.”
“I demand a full refund,” the woman screeched.
“Guest Services will be more than happy to give you one. I’ll call and let them know you’re on your way.”
After the mother stomped off with her wailing son and inattentive husband in tow, Monica and Tanner stared at each other in bewilderment.
“Chester will be fine,” the curator assured. “He only nibbled on the hotdog, and I don’t think it would’ve hurt him if he’d eaten more. What do you think?”
“I think that kid’s going to be in prison by the time he’s eighteen. As for Chester, I agree with you.”
“I’ll talk to facilities about putting up more ‘No Food and Drinks’ signs around the animal habitats. And I’ll ask the department heads to remind their people to keep close watch on all guests, especially small children.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“So now that we’ve taken care of that, how’s it going with you, Monica?”
It sounded like a simple question but it wasn’t. After all, Tanner was the boyfriend who broke up with her because of the way she treated her coworkers. He’d worried that she’d retaliate in some way, but her sister’s blunt advice had forced Monica to admit to her abysmal behavior, and she’d apologized to him. Now she wished Tanner nothing but the best. He’d happily fallen in love with an elementary school teacher he’d met through the aquarium’s human resources director.
“I’m doing okay, Tanner. How’s everything with you?”
“Great. Katie and I are talking about moving in together when the six-month lease is up on her apartment.”
“That’s terrific. What do your girls think?”
“They’re thrilled. They love Katie.” That statement hung in the air while an awkward moment passed. Neither mentioned that Tanner’s two daughters had resented Monica. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”
“Yes. We’ve gone out once and have another date tomorrow night. His name’s Cosby Williams and he’s one of the two brothers who bought that watercraft rental place down the street.”
“Nauti-Toys?” When she nodded, he continued, “I’ve been thinking of renting a boat and taking Katie and the girls out to the sandbar for a picnic.”
“Do it. And when you call for a reservation, ask for Cosby and tell him we work together. He’ll treat you right.”
“Cosby as in Bill Cosby?” Tanner asked.
“Yes. His mother was a big fan.”
“Works for me. Well, I’d better get going. I’ve got a meeting in five minutes. Wesley’s supposedly announcing some big new initiative. I can hardly wait. Last time the curators and department heads got called in to meet with the big boss, he told us about acquiring more freshwater snakes and otters. And before that it was the fifteen alligators from the farm that went out of business.”
“Otters and moccasins and gators, oh my!” Monica quipped.
“Okay, Dorothy, save it for the wizard. But yeah, next the boss will want whale sharks and manta rays.”
“Seriously?”
“Who knows. Wesley’s always throwing us curveballs.”
Chapter 11
“If we hope to keep pace with other aquariums, we’ve got to bring in something new,” Wesley Coffey, Jr., GSA’s director, told the managers assembled before him. “Something exciting.”
Flipper expected the boss to argue in favor of beluga whales as he’d done months earlier. But Wesley surprised him, and not in a good way.
“We have an opportunity to acquire a collection of exotic snakes from a zoo that wants to make room for a big cat expansion. Constrictors, including boas, pythons, and anacondas, plus highly venomous species from Australia and Africa. Snakes repel and fascinate people at the same time. Just think how many guests an exhibit like that could draw.”
Everyone in the room look stunned, but apparently nobody wanted to be the first to disagree with Wesley. As the only son of a man who’d made a fortune creating and selling computer software, Wesley usually got whatever he wanted. His father had even built Gulf Shore Aquarium for him to run. Though he’d helped the facility find its niche in a market saturated with similar attractions, Junior occasionally let the thrill of acquisition overrule his common sense.
Several years before he’d set his sights on juvenile great white sharks. Then he’d wanted sea lions and harbor seals. Whales were next on his list, specifically belugas, known for their ghost-like coloring and comically expressive faces. Each time, Wesley’s management team had talked him out of the millions of dollars worth of construction that keeping those animals required.
Now it was snakes. And Flipper really hated snakes.
“We’re a marine aquarium,” he pointed out. “Snakes don’t fit in with what we do here.”
Wesley gave him a pointed look. “Are you forgetting the cottonmouths and the other snakes in Florida’s Freshwater Wilderness?”
“But those are native species,” Flipper argued, “and it makes sense to have them as part of that exhibit. Instead of bringing in snakes that have nothing to do with Florida, why don’t we expand the rivers, lakes, and swamps habitats and better showcase the animals we already have? We could give the otters more room, for starters, and get more freshwater fish species.”
“Where’s the wow factor in that?” Wesley challenged. “Do you really think people will pack this place to see bass, bullheads, and crappie?”
“How about an exhibit of invasive species like lionfish, bullseye snakeheads, piranha, swamp eels, and suckermouth catfish?” Tanner suggested.
The director yawned. “Sorry, did you say something?”
Tanner’s mouth set in a grim line, and Wesley looked around the room and shook his head.
“C’mon, people. Somebody needs to give me something or I’ll be calling a man about some snakes.”
“Why don’t you allow us more time to think about it?” suggested Kenshin Hamasaki, the supervisor of marine mammals. “A few days won’t hurt, will it?”
“I suppose not,” Wesley admitted. “But I expect to hear some valid alternatives on Monday. Understand?”
* * * *
“Got any ideas?” Flipper asked Evan over a pitcher of beer that evening at Bikini Barb’s. “Because the only animals I can think of are even worse ideas than those snakes.”
“Besides the money it would cost to construct secure enclosures for those things, we’d need to hire keepers familiar with handling such dangerous animals,” Evan mused. “I can’t think of anybody already working at GSA who’d want to deal with them, except maybe Clyde, and he’d probably be dead within a week as foolhardy as he is.”
“He would’ve been fired a long time ago if he wasn’t Wesley’s cousin,” Flipper agreed. “About the only thing he’s good for is taking out trash and scrubbing fish tanks. Remember when the boss had to take away Clyde’s scuba gear so he wouldn’t go diving with the sharks? And wasn’t he the one who put the bug in Wesley’s ear about great whites?”
“Wesley comes up with enough wild ideas of his own without having his idiot cousin egging him on. So is he just floating this snake thing out there to piss you guys off so bad you’ll come up with alternatives, or is he really serious about it?”
Flipper sipped his beer as he considered the question.
“I think he’s feeling the pressure to compete with that new exhibit at The Florida Aquarium, and he’ll grab hold of anything he thinks will boost our attendance.”
“Our numbers aren’t down, are they? I thought we had a pretty good summer. And we’re closing in on the holid
ays. Attendance always goes up when people are here visiting family and friends and the kids are out of school. It doesn’t take a nuclear engineer to figure that out. Or a guy with a high school diploma.”
Evan and Flipper both snickered. Many GSA employees resented how Wesley made such a big deal about hiring people whose formal education exceeded his. He’d even insisted on a bachelor’s degree, at minimum, as a prerequisite for clerical, maintenance, and retail sales positions. Not surprisingly, he had to relent when Human Resources had difficulty finding people with those credentials willing to take the lower-paying jobs. When anyone, especially the media, asked why he hadn’t pursued a college degree if it was so important to him, Wesley extolled the value of lessons learned from his father and from the “school of life.”
“So maybe instead of acquiring more animals, we can offer a related attraction, like some sort of ride or, I know, a 4-D theater,” Evan proposed. “We could build one from scratch and still show our usual 2-D films in the Shoreline, or we could look into retrofitting that theater.”
Flipper smacked his hand on the table.
“That’s brilliant! It opens up more opportunities for you if you’re interested in shooting 4-D stuff, and it relieves the pressure on me and the other managers to come up with the next best thing in animal exhibits.”
“After that argument you and Kenshin had with the boss over belugas, you probably could use a few brownie points.”
Flipper rolled his eyes, remembering. “Talk about shooting the messenger. Let me buy you a beer to thank you for your idea.”
“I’ve got a whole pitcher in front of me.”
“Then let me buy you something to eat. Chicken wings, anything.”
“As soon as Dani’s off work we’re going out for a real dinner. Want to come along?”
“No, thanks. You deserve some time alone with your girl. I’ll just have to owe you one.”
“Not necessary. I’ve been mulling the 4-D idea for a while but I sat on it because I didn’t want Wesley to think my proposal was self-serving. And anyway, when he’s happy, we’re all happy, right?”
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