Tempest Brewing Tropical Storms Part 1

by Sandra Ross

  From the Schooner she walked on William Street inland to Eaton Street. Taking a right on Eaton, she soon found herself on the infamous Duval Street. Without a specific destination she turned right and started up Duval, immersed in the frenetic chaos of alcohol-attenuated tourists and the ever vigilant locals looking to change the available cash balance between the two groups. She was lost in her own place, unaware of the human energy around her; she wasn't obsessing about any one thing.

  Fragments of thoughts, memories, and emotions drifted in and out of her consciousness without settling on anything in particular. Of one thing she was quite certain, most of the emotions were of discontent; she had to make some changes.

  She saw him standing on the street as if he were the only person; not one of the multitude that surrounded him. She stopped to study him for a minute. He was across the street from 801 Duval, the Bourbon Street Pub. He was just leaning casually on the stone wall that edged the property across the street. He didn't appear unusual or uncomfortable; just like a tourist who stopped at this particular spot to rest and reflect. He casually looked up and down the street as if he was looking for someone, and then would just stare over at the Bourbon Pub. The scene would have been comical if Joy didn't read it immediately.

  As she walked up to him she remarked "So when you said you knew what a drag show was, it was from a book or the internet or something right? You've never actually seen a drag show."

  "It's about time you showed up." was Vincent's greeting.

  "Excuse me?," was all Joy could utter.

  Vincent was clearly a little agitated. "I've been standing here waiting for you for like three hours. I've been solicited by at least three homosexuals for sure and at least one woman who I think wasn't my kind of lady. One guy came by and asked me if I wanted a "bump," what the hell is a "bump?" And then the cops came by and asked if I was all right. I assured them I was, and then they left but holy cow Miss Joy, I could've done okay with a whole lot less of the local color, if you know what I mean."

  Joy just looked at Vincent the dentist from the Deep South and burst out laughing. When she could recover herself a bit she managed to say "You poor baby."

  Vincent looked at her for a second and joined in the hysterical fit of laughing. Between spasms of uncontrolled giggling he sputtered "Yes'um, for gosh sakes, poor me!"

  After they both got control of themselves, they stared at each other like schoolchildren.

  "So how did you know I would see you here? We didn't have a date or anything, did we? Last I knew you were a satisfied customer."

  "I jes knew, that's all." he softly said.

  After a short silence Joy asked "So you want to go on in and see?"

  "I told you," Vincent replied gently, "I reckon it'd be okay if you went with me."

  Joy linked her arm into the dentist's arm and walked with him across the street. "Don't get freaked out if some guy hits on you."

  "I'd be disappointed if no one did," Vincent stated with a completely straight face. "I'm not that ugly now, am I?"

  Joy smiled to herself thinking how Brian would react to a cross-dresser coming on to him. The image was not at all pretty. Joy liked the quiet confidence this man she was with, possessed. Maybe, she thought, it was all an act to subterfuge a major player within. She hoped not. She didn't think it could be true. Every indication of Vincent's behavior had pointed to a genuinely good guy, spreading his cultural wings and sowing some wild oats before inheriting a lifetime of dedicated service to his community as the family dentist.

  Joy happily took Vincent by the hand and led him into Duval Streets' premier gay spot. Inside, there was no pretense at anything mainline, anything went.

  From the second that they entered the club, Joy could sense the conflicting rules of etiquette and convention Vincent struggled with. He quickly gave up his usual "Howdy Ma'am," or "Howdy sir" in lieu of "How are you tonight?" And it sounded authentic each time he uttered it.

  His spontaneous and natural reaction to the scene and people around him was as spontaneous as if he had just encountered a prehistoric tribe village while on vacation kayaking on the Amazon River. He was witnessing and experiencing a culture he had only been exposed to in media and the internet. There were no gay clubs in Montgomery, Georgia. He literally soaked it all in and spontaneously joined in the rambunctious applause and hooting after each performer. A couple of Jack and Cokes had loosened up the good dentist a bit. He genuinely seemed to be having a good time. But he never let Joy out of his attention for more than a second or two.

  He was continuously on guard to make sure her drink was filled, and that she was enjoying the show. He often would solicit her opinion. "What about that on?" he would whisper intimately in her ear and jerk his eyes toward a particularly attractive woman.

  "Man." Joy would respond with conviction.

  "No!" Vincent would exclaim with disbelief, "Too pretty, I mean, way too pretty."

  "I know her," then Joy caught herself, "I mean him, he's in a class I take at the community college. Only there he's a guy and hot as can be, always coming on to girls in the class."

  "You mean that beautiful woman is a guy? I mean, mind you, not a queer guy, but a straight guy?" Vincent asked incredulously. The reality of the individual he saw before him on stage defied his boundaries of comprehension. "Why?" was the only rational question he could ask.

  Joy answered "For tuition, he's studying to be a Paramedic at the local college. He's taking one sociology requirement with me. He's doing very well, he's at the top of his class. Do you have any idea how much money he will make tonight? Between what the club pays and tips from 'admirers' through the night he'll walk with six or seven bills."

  "What do you mean "Bills?" Vincent asked.

  "You know," she responded, "Like, hundreds. He'll take home six or seven hundred bucks on a good night. And there are more good nights than bad."

  "So why did I go to dental school?" Vincent asked in genuine awe.

  "Cause you would look like shit in makeup and a wig." Joy told him with a grin. "Have you ever walked in high heels? They couldn't pay you enough, believe me."

  Vincent roared appreciatively. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Can you imagine that?" And he started laughing again at the mental picture of himself wearing a wig and in high heeled shoes. It was nothing he had ever considered in his entire life, not even once.

  At one point in the show Vincent leaned over and whispered to Joy "He can sure sing like a girl."

  Joy considered not telling him the truth, his awe was so genuine. "She's lip syncing, not actually singing."

  "What? Really? It's perfect, I mean the lips move exactly in sync and the facial expression-" Vincent was accustomed to looking at mouths. He truly appreciated the skill displayed by the entertainer singing Adele's recent hit "Fire in the Rain." There was also a part of him untainted by contemporary racism that also appreciated the way the performer moved . He was a true actor and his talent was worth every penny they made. Vincent thought "For cripes' sake didn't Robin Williams make a bundle of cash pretending to be the nanny to his own kids in a movie?"

  Mrs. Doubtfire was actually very entertaining to see and one could learn a lesson or two, watching it. "Not all families have one mummy and one daddy," Mrs. Doubtfire had announced on national television. "It's the love that binds."

  Vincent had a really great time in Joy's company experiencing a new perspective on human existence. He absorbed it like a dry sponge soaking up water. She appeared to enjoy herself as much as he was enjoying himself. It was exactly as it should be, he thought, stealing a glance at the beautiful woman with him in this alternative universe. "I have to remember to thank Dad for this." he thought.

  After the show, Vincent suddenly felt a surge of anxiety as he realized there was no further reason for Joy to hang out with him. It never occurred to him that she might actually enjoy his company and might be feeling similar feelings about the end of the show and not being ready to part ways.

&n
bsp; "So that was fun." She said innocently.

  "So is that it?" asked Vincent.

  "What do you mean?" Joy asked, knowing very well what he meant.

  "I mean, so is that it? Like, we walk off into the night and pretend that there wasn't something between us? A spark?" Vincent implored. "...Something?"

  Joy knew exactly what he was talking about, but wasn't close enough to identifying her own feelings and acknowledging his. She felt something about this guy she had just met, but all of her experience in Key West warned her that he was only here for a few days. That anything and everything he said was designed to provide one more memorable experience in his one-week vacation, and then he was off to wherever it was he came from.

  "I love you" could mean "I want to fuck you." "I want to be with you forever" could mean "I want to be with you forever, at least until my flight back to Iowa in a week."

  This was the first time, however, that she had allowed herself to open up just a little. Just a little, though. When he left without any intention of remembering her or acknowledging the time they had spent together she would be hurt, but just a little. She would have only herself to blame for allowing the little spark of hope that this guy was different. None of them were ever different, she believes, they were all there on vacation in Key West and were there only to have a good time, not meet the girl of their dreams.

  "Relationships are based on mutual trust and take time." Joy started to explain. "I had a lot of fun with you tonight, but what are you asking me? I mean really, what are you saying?"

  Vincent absorbed what Joy had said and immediately understood the situation from her perspective. His demeanor immediately became submissive and undemanding. "What I meant to say was... Can I see you home tonight and maybe have lunch with you tomorrow?"

  "It's not that easy you know." Joy said.

  "What's not easy?" asked Vincent. "All you have to do is whatever makes you happy. Anyone who cares about you would respect that, or should."

  "Sounds good, Vincent, but I have to figure a few things out, you know?"

  "I know, I know. So do I, but I can't just say "good-bye". You know?"

  "I know," Joy quietly said lowering her gaze imperceptivity. "Look," she said meeting his piercing gaze head on, "We don't have to decide the fate of the world in the next ten minutes, right? It's still early, let's just go have a drink and sit and enjoy the night for a few more minutes. You're not rushing back to Alabama or Georgia or wherever tonight, are you?"

  With his face turned into a schoolboy grin Vincent replied, "No Ma'am, I'm surely not."

  So off they went to Virgilio's Martini Bar, a Duval Street establishment which had some quiet space where people could sit, have a drink and talk. There was a screen portrait of Audrey Hepburn that hung above the bar lounge area. She isn't smiling in the picture but is absolutely stunning with a slightly pouty, mildly irritated look proclaiming "Enough already -- make your move."

  They sat and drank, she sipped Fireball in Red Bull, and he drank Stella Artois. And they talked for hours. They talked about nothing, and everything. They talked about childhood memories and favorite teachers. First loves lost and hopes for the future that had been modified over time. Pets they had loved and lost and what kind of puppy each would choose next time.

  What they didn't talk about, or the huge elephant in the room so to speak, was the current situation between them. They had in actuality just met, and yet they were comfortable in each other's company. It felt as if they had known each other forever, and yet each yearned to learn more about the other. Joy felt completely safe with this gentle southern giant. She couldn't exactly put her finger on it, but it just felt right, felt good.

  When Vlad the Russian bartender called his "last call", Joy was completely surprised. Time really just flew by. She couldn't believe it was that late. Luckily, Joy didn't have to work until the dinner shift the next day, so she could sleep in a bit in the morning. Vincent very sweetly insisted on paying for the cab ride for her home when she refused his offer to walk her the several blocks to her apartment.

  As she was getting into the cab Vincent asked gently "Can I see you tomorrow?"

  "Yes," was all Joy answered and slipped him a white cocktail napkin where she had scribbled her cell number on earlier in the evening, just in case she wanted him to have it. And she did want him to have it.

  It was about 2:30 when Joy let herself into the apartment. Brian still wasn't there. She didn't find that unusual or disappointing. She was really relieved she wouldn't have to discolor the vibrant pleasure she enjoyed tonight. Instead of dealing with Brian, she fell asleep reviewing some of the funny things she and Vincent had talked about.

  He had jokingly said that he didn't date any girl until he knew her dental history. "Just joshing," he said. But Joy had thought at the time that she had perfect teeth, nothing to worry about there. She fell asleep happy.

  The next day there was evidence that Brian had come home to change clothes, at least. His dirty pants and shirt lay on the bathroom floor. The toilet seat was up and unflushed. A note left on the kitchen table was written in childish script said "Boat sound, out fishin'."

  As she picked up his dirty clothes and put them in the hamper, she thought she smelled that fruity sweet odor again, only it was very faint. She wondered if he had gotten a new deodorizer for his ratty old pick-up truck, because it sure needed something to help with the fishy smell it always held.

  Joy had awakened rested and happy that morning. She didn't immediately identify the source of her content until the phone rang at about half past ten. Although she didn't recognize the number showing with its foreign area code, she knew it was Vincent and she smiled. Her heart rate pounded with excitement and thrill. She had to force herself to let it ring the second time, not wanting to appear too desperate or needy to want to talk with him again.

  "What's up Doc?" Joy answered.

  "Oh, like I've never heard that one before," laughed Vincent. "No, wait. I really never have heard that one. Most folks don't see Dentists as real doctors anyway, right?"

  "Ah, sir, doesn't the "D" in your "M.D." stand for "Doctor?"" Joy jokingly asked. "Anyway, what is up Doc?"

  "Was jus' callin' to remind you of your appointment with the good doctor at noon today for lunch." Vincent said, trying to sound like a dutiful secretary making a routine reminder call.

  "Oh, I'm so glad you called," played in Joy. "It slipped my mind completely. What exactly is the address, please?"

  "201 William's and please dress accordingly, swimwear will be required." Vincent added, trying to sound nonchalant.

  "Okay, but you are aware that I have to be at work by 5, right?" Joy adds.

  "Yes, well we've booked a three hour appointment today, so you should have plenty of time. See you at noon?" The hint of urgency was unmistakable in Vincent's voice.

  "We'll see you then," she confirmed.

  "Ah, Ma'am, who exactly would 'we' be?" asked Vincent. "Is that kinda like the Royal "We?" Or you plannin' on bringin' someone else?"

  ""Exactly" was all the giggling Joy could let out. "Seeya." And she hung up.

  "You're coming alone, ain't cha?" Vincent asked. But the line was already dead.

  Chapter Four

  AFTER JOY HUNG UP, she realized why the address sounded so familiar. It was right next to the Schooner's Wharf on the marina. She wondered what he had in mind. Aside from the Schooner, there was an ice cream place which also served lunch. On the other side was Turtle Kraawls, an sprawling establishment which was trendy, upscale, and tourist-y.

  What Joy found at noon astounded her. Even after living in Key West for as long as she had, she couldn't have put together a more beautiful, exciting and delicious lunch.

  It was impressive, too, because every thought showed through -- from the choice of wine, flowers, to the meal itself -- and at such short notice. Joy was awed, impressed, humbled and just emotional in general at this particular date.

  He met her at the mari
na with a rented 16 foot Boston Whaler skiff with an impressive outboard. On board was a selection of great wines and imported beers, soda, juice, bottled water and lunch.

  The flower arrangement, which he immediately handed to her, was a selection of lilies, daisies, and white roses.

  Lunch had been catered by the chef John at Cafe Sole. The "picnic" lunch was all packed in woven baskets. It included tropical baby green salad with a balsamic reduction glaze, seafood salad seasoned with cilantro and curry mayonnaise on fresh baguettes, huge prawns boiled and chilled with spicy cocktail sauce and lemon and a variety of pickled vegetables.

  For dessert there were chocolate dipped fruits of all kinds and creamy cheese cake. Just a light fare for a day on the water. Joy stared at the boat laden with deliciousness and noticed a plate of cheeses and fresh fruit on the navigation console.

  Vincent wore a floral swimming trunk and a sleeveless tank top. Joy couldn't help but noticed his toned, buffed physique. He was obviously a gym buff.

  Joy had worn a sexy two piece swimsuit which flattered her amazing athletic and young body. Over the suit she had worn a lacy, macrame beach dress that gave the impression of propriety, but hid nothing. She looked as if she had just stepped off the cover of Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition.

  Joy didn't see a guide or captain so innocently asked "Do you how to drive one of these things?"

  Vincent started whistling the theme song from Gilligan's Island.

  "Really?" Joy asked as she boarded the skiff.

  "I will have you know, my lady," Vincent pacified, "There are a lot of bodies of water in Georgia and I am an avid - did I say avid? - I am an avid skier. Got a Lil' John boat just like this at home in jus' a little lake, barely fifteen mile across. We're not goin' far, even if it is the damn Gulf of Mexico or Atlantic Ocean. Always wanted to see France anyway, or Cuba, come on, you game?"