Shore Feels Right

by Annette Mardis

  “I’ll drink to that.” Flipper poured himself another glass of beer.

  About a half hour later, Dani walked into Barb’s, kissed Flipper on the cheek and Evan on the lips, and took the stool beside him. She handed the dolphin trainer a stack of envelopes.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Apparently it’s more letters from that animal rights group that’s been lobbying Wesley to release all of our marine mammals.”

  “How’d you get them?”

  “Just before my shift ended Wesley came out to Dolphin Inlet, looking for you, I guess. We were making small talk and I mentioned I planned to head over here to meet Evan after work. He asked if you’d be here, too, by any chance. When I said yes, he handed me the letters and asked me to give them to you.”

  “Crap. Why me?” Flipper asked testily. “Kenshin’s in charge of marine mammals and has more authority than I do.”

  “Wesley said, quote, ‘In case Flipper wants to know why I’m giving these letters to him, tell him to read them. There are specific claims about the care of our dolphins that he should know about.’”

  “Son of a…” He stopped when he caught the hard look his best friend gave him.

  “Don’t shoot the messenger, remember?” Evan reminded.

  “Yeah.” Flipper scrubbed his hand through his sun-lightened hair. “Sorry, Dani. I just can’t believe we’re dealing with this kind of thing yet again. It’s ridiculous. You know how much we all love those dolphins and do our best to keep them safe, healthy, and happy.”

  “I certainly do. But I’m afraid this issue won’t ever go away as long as aquariums keep dolphins and whales.”

  “Unfortunately, I think you’re right. Gee, wouldn’t it be a shame if someone accidentally spilled beer on these letters and they had to be tossed in the trash?”

  She laughed. “I’ve delivered them. What happens to them now is beyond my control.”

  “You ready to go?” Evan asked his fiancée. “I could go for a roast beef dinner from that new place out on the highway.” She nodded.

  He clapped Flipper on the back. “Have a nice evening, buddy. See you tomorrow.”

  The trainer responded with an unintelligible grumble.

  * * * *

  Sitting through the latest English comedy of manners appealed to Cosby as much as getting his feet run over by a cement roller, but he agreed to see it to make Monica happy. He suspected he’d slept through part of the movie but hoped she’d been too engrossed in the excruciatingly slow plot to notice.

  “Did you enjoy that?” Cosby asked when the credits rolled.

  “It’s one of his best yet.” She referred to the popular leading man who’d been arrested a few years back for having sex with a transvestite prostitute in the back seat of his Aston Martin.

  “I take it you’ve seen the others?”

  “Yes, I have them all on DVD. You should come over to my apartment sometime and watch them with me.”

  As they walked out of the theater, Cosby tried to figure out if she was kidding. He couldn’t tell by her deadpan expression so he opted to play it safe.

  “Uh, yeah, I, um, guess we could do that.”

  Monica laughed. “You’d rather have all your toenails ripped off with pliers, wouldn’t you?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “You might’ve gotten away with it if you hadn’t started snoring during the film we just saw.”

  Cosby had the good sense to be embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry. It wasn’t the company, trust me. That just wasn’t my kind of movie.”

  “Why didn’t you say something? We could’ve seen something else.”

  “Somehow I don’t think you would’ve liked that war movie or the gangster film or the one about serial killers.”

  “Not really, no.” Monica stopped in the parking lot, pulled Cosby to her, and kissed him. “Thanks for suffering through it just for me.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her again.

  “You’re welcome. Maybe we should go back to your place and watch another one.” He waggled his eyebrows, and she swatted him.

  “Just for that, I get to choose the restaurant,” she informed him. They’d decided to do dinner and a movie in reverse that night because they’d both eaten a late lunch.

  “You picked last time.”

  “And you liked it, right?”

  “Well, yeah, but…”

  “Then stop complaining. How do you feel about barbecue?”

  “I love barbecue.”

  “Let’s go. I know just the place.”

  Chapter 12

  Flipper spent the weekend researching 4-D theaters and wrote a proposal that outlined the basics. They featured 3-D films with special effects mimicking the action on the big screen. For instance, tiny nozzles spurting scents, bubbles, water, and air in intricately timed bursts. Some theaters also had seats that moved, strobe lights, and oversized fans to simulate the wind.

  At the aquarium, for example, the seats could list like a boat out on the Gulf of Mexico, and viewers could feel the spray of “seawater” on their faces. Or they could be splashed by a dolphin leaping out of a pool and feel the breeze from flapping pelican wings. The possibilities, Flipper wrote, were endless. Best of all, Evan could shoot the films if GSA purchased 3-D camera equipment for him. They’d have to hire a programmer with experience in using the software that synchronized the 4-D effects with the footage.

  Flipper’s report also included information from Busch Gardens in Tampa about how much it cost to set up the 4-D theater there, plus Internet links where Wesley could read more about the technology.

  The dolphin trainer felt confident going into Monday’s meeting, and that feeling intensified when the boss shot down the tired ideas floated by other managers. An irritated Wesley obviously expected another disappointing suggestion when he pointed at Flipper and challenged, “What about you, fin head? Think you’ve got something to wow me?”

  The aquarium director’s eyes widened when Flipper stood up and passed out copies of his proposal to everyone in the room. When he finished outlining his plan, Wesley began clapping.

  “Finally! Somebody with some imagination! I wasn’t sure you had it in you, Flipper. I’m impressed.”

  “Full disclosure, sir, it was Evan’s brainstorm. He urged me to present it to you, and I looked into it further over the weekend and compiled the report.”

  “I’ll be sure to let him know how much I appreciate it. Well done, both of you.”

  After Wesley dismissed them, Flipper had to listen to Kenshin grumble all the way back to Dolphin Inlet.

  “You could’ve at least given me a heads-up on this 4-D thing,” the marine mammals supervisor groused.

  “Why, so you could commandeer my report and present it as your own while I sat there with my dick hanging out?” Flipper retorted.

  “As your boss, I should rip you a new one for saying that. As your friend, I admit I had it coming. But I thought you’d finally yanked the stick out of your ass over the Dolphin Follies show. Are you ever going to let it go?”

  “Forgive, yes. Forget, no.”

  Years ago, Flipper worked as an assistant to Kenshin, who was head dolphin trainer at the time. They were assigned to create an ambitious new presentation featuring Echo, Neptune, Aquarius, and Calypso, performing together for the first time at GSA. Though most of the ideas in their proposal were Flipper’s, Kenshin took the bulk of the credit.

  He became defensive when Flipper called him on it, and a huge argument ensued. Kenshin wrote him up for insubordination and the document remained in Flipper’s personnel file, the only black mark on his fifteen-year tenure at the aquarium.

  “It would’ve been nice to at least have an inkling of what you were going to say today,” Kenshin persisted. “C’mon, man. When I look good, you look good.”

  “It’s actually the other way around,” Flipper pointed out.

  “All right, fine. Have it your way. Just r
emember who you’ll need in your corner when those animal rights activists start burning you in effigy across the street.”

  “Are they seriously that wacko?” the trainer asked in alarm.

  “Some of these groups are. I’ve never heard of this latest one. SWADS. It stands for Stop Whale and Dolphin Suffering.”

  Flipper rolled his eyes. “Catchy name. What’s their track record?”

  “Don’t have one yet. Weren’t those letters postmarked out of Orlando?”

  “Yes. You haven’t seen them?”

  “Wesley gave me copies, told me you had the originals. I skimmed them and made notes. You and I need to sit down soon and go over them line by line.”

  “If they’re from Orlando, why are they targeting us? I mean, SeaWorld’s in their backyard.”

  “What makes you think they haven’t gone after SeaWorld?” Kenshin asked.

  “I haven’t seen SWADS mentioned in any media about the killer whale controversy. We should reach out to SeaWorld, see what they know about this group.”

  “Good idea.” Kenshin patted Flipper on the back. “Let me know what you find out.”

  “Thanks a lot for your help,” he grumbled. Kenshin merely grinned.

  “Jackass,” Flipper added under his breath and his supervisor laughed.

  * * * *

  Dani didn’t blame her mother for being irritated. She’d called several times to discuss wedding venues and complain about the difficulty of finding a place on such short notice, and Dani had let her go on thinking the nuptials might be in Jefferson City. She needed to tell her mother the truth but had stalled on purpose, hoping the decision would be made for her when Rita Davidson came up empty.

  “I’ve called all over town and everybody is booked solid that weekend,” her mother fretted. “Honestly, Dani, I don’t know what we’re going to do. You might have to think about picking another date.”

  “I can’t do that, Mom.”

  “Well, then, we’ll be having punch and cookies in the backyard instead of champagne and a nice dinner buffet in an elegant reception hall. I’m telling you, nobody has anything open.”

  “I don’t want a fancy wedding. Evan and I refuse to go into this marriage with that sort of debt hanging over our heads. We’re saving for a house.”

  “Then I guess there’s always the church hall if you don’t mind the folding chairs and tables they use for bingo. We could always dress them up with nice tablecloths.”

  “St. Bernadette’s won’t let us have the reception there because I’m not getting married in the church, remember?”

  “How can I forget? Your grandmother and I are very disappointed in your decision.”

  Dani felt a major guilt trip coming on and mumbled, “Grandma probably won’t even notice the difference.”

  “What was that?”

  “Never mind.”

  “I heard you, and that wasn’t very nice. Your grandmother can’t help the fact she’s not as mentally sharp as she used to be.”

  “I know that, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so flip about it. It’s just that…look, there’s something I really need to tell you and I’m not sure how.”

  Rita immediately launched into worry mode. “What is it, honey? Did you and Evan have a fight? Oh my goodness, you haven’t broken up, have you?”

  “Of course not. Mom…I don’t want to get married in Jefferson City. I want to get married here, on the beach, like Evan and I originally planned.”

  The silence stretched into a painful pause. Rita sighed deeply. “There’s no way your grandmother can travel that far, so I guess you don’t want her at your wedding.”

  “You know that isn’t true. I love Grandma and you and Dad, too, and nothing would make me happier than for all of us to be together on such a special day. I’ve agonized over this to the point that I’m sick to my stomach. Please don’t make me feel guilty for wanting to have the kind of wedding that’s best for me and Evan.”

  “Is he the one who talked you out of having it in the place where you’ve spent most of your life?” Rita’s accusing tone raised Dani’s ire.

  “No. He promised to go along with whatever I decide. If you want to blame somebody, blame me.”

  “Nobody’s trying to blame anybody, Danielle Rose. Don’t be so dramatic.”

  Dear God, give me strength, Dani thought. “I don’t know what else to say about this except that I’m not trying to hurt anyone, and I hope you’ll respect my decision.”

  “So that’s it, then?”

  “I’m sorry, but yes, that’s it.”

  Rita huffed out a loud breath. “I don’t see how your father and I can just take off for Florida and leave your grandmother. What are we supposed to tell her?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “That’s not helpful, Danielle. I’m serious. Do you know how devastated she’ll be when she finds out you’ve gotten married without her and that your dad and I were part of that? She’ll never forgive any of us.”

  “Then don’t tell her.”

  “That’s your solution?”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  “So what do I say when she asks where we’re going and why?”

  “Tell her you’re visiting me and that I invited her, too, but her doctor decided she wasn’t healthy enough to travel.”

  “Let me get this straight. You want me to lie to her and, because we both know she won’t take my word for it, somehow convince her doctor to lie, too.”

  “I know it’s not a perfect plan, Mom. But it’s the best I can do off the top of my head. We have time to think about this and come up with something else.”

  “You’d better. Or your grandmother will never speak to either of us again.”

  Chapter 13

  Monica opened her front door to find Cosby standing there with a plastic shopping bag in one hand and a dozen roses in the other.

  “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” The way she kissed him had Cosby wishing he’d brought her a dozen more.

  He followed her into the kitchen, where she took a vase from the cabinet under the sink and filled it with water. She trimmed about an inch off the end of each stem and then arranged the flowers in the vase. As she worked, Cosby admired the way her jeans molded to her body and enjoyed a tempting glimpse of cleavage when she bent over. He wasn’t sure she’d be receptive to what his hormones urged him to do, so he turned his attention to the pot simmering on the stove and the wonderful aroma wafting from the oven.

  “Something smells great. Besides you.”

  She smiled. “Asian-marinated baked chicken. Nothing fancy, but very tasty. You soak the meat overnight in soy sauce, ginger, garlic, and a little brown sugar. Then you bake it for forty minutes.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it. So simple even a marine biologist can do it.”

  Cosby laughed and looked into the pot on the stovetop.

  “Green beans. Mmm, my favorite vegetable.”

  “Yeah? Mine, too. We can spice them up by drizzling some of the marinade over them if you want.”

  “Sounds delicious. I’m starving. I had popcorn for lunch.”

  “That’s it? Why?” Monica asked.

  “Two people called in sick, and we were slammed. I worked the front counter for much of the day, and Gavin spent the afternoon at the hospital with a couple of dumbasses who got banged up jumping boat wakes.”

  “Were they kids?”

  “No, college age. Couple of real yahoos.”

  “You can tell me more about it over dinner. The chicken will be done in just a few minutes. Until then…”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and met his lips. At first they were teasing kisses. But after she ran her tongue along his bottom lip and then slipped it inside his mouth, he kissed her with more urgency. His hands slid down to cup her rear, and she pressed herself against his growing arousal.

  Just when he thought he’d gladly postpone dinner, the oven timer buzzed.
/>   “Ignore it,” Cosby instructed as she pulled away.

  “I can’t. Our food will burn.”

  “Sure you can.”

  He maneuvered her over to the range, turned off the buzzer, and went back to devouring her mouth. After a few moments she managed to reach over and shut off the oven and the burner under the vegetables. He picked her up and set her on the countertop, and she wrapped her long legs around him. He’d started unbuttoning her shirt when first his stomach growled loudly and then hers, making them both laugh and spoiling the mood.

  “As much as I hate to say this, I think our bellies are trying to tell us something.” His belly rumbled again, right on cue.

  “That’s one body part that just won’t be denied,” she noted.

  “I can think of another one.”

  “Mmm, me, too. But let’s eat first. We need to keep up our strength for later.”

  “Aw, jeez. You just had to go and say something like that. Every coherent thought just evaporated from my lust-clouded brain.”

  “How do you know I’m not talking about an after-dinner hike, an arm-wrestling match, or a Wii aerobics marathon?”

  Cosby laughed and kissed her on the tip of her nose.

  “That’s what I like about you. You always keep me guessing.”

  Once they’d filled their plates and taken their places at the table, Cosby elaborated on the dubious excitement of his day. Two twenty-year-olds had lost control of their Jet Skis and collided.

  “How badly were they hurt?” Monica asked.

  “Not as badly as they could’ve been. When they made it back to the dock, one of the idiots complained he’d wrenched his back and hurt his arm, and the other one was limping because of what turned out to be a hairline fracture of his lower leg. We called 911 and the paramedics took them in for X-rays. Gavin followed the ambulance to the hospital, waited there while they were treated, and then gave them a ride back to the rental office.”

  “How much damage did they do to your equipment?”

  “Nothing that can’t be fixed, at their expense, of course. Their day on the water turned out to be pretty expensive, not that it fazed them. They’re fraternity brothers with rich daddies. When Gavin told them they were on the hook for the repairs, one of them replied, ‘Whatever, dude, just send the bill to my old man.’ They were more worried their injuries would prevent them from strutting around on the beach and picking up girls in the local bars.