I’d been lucky to run into Ida Rosenstein in the elevator a few days back. She’d given me an ear load about a friend whose family was putting her in an assisted living facility. Ida’s friend wasn’t quite ready to give up her condo, being that she’d been in the building almost as long as Ida but she would consider a lease with option to buy when she was ready. Part of the rent would go to the down payment.
I’d said I might be interested in a lease with option to buy, although I didn’t have a clue where I would get the money. So now I was hoping Ida could put in a good word for me and I could swing it. It would be the ideal situation all around, especially since the old lady had one of those corner apartments with a great view of the beach and boardwalk. Even if it was a bit musty I could air it out and slap on a coat of paint. And I would be living high on the hog.
The sun was going down and several evening joggers zoomed by me. Preparing to walk, I put my head back and thrust out my chest. My six pound weights felt heavy but I was determined to complete the two mile walk which was the personal goal I’d set for myself.
Quen and I had gone jogging that morning as well. I hadn’t mentioned that I was doubling up on the exercising. He’d been complimentary about my appearance and proud as heck of the weight I’d lost. He’d assumed it was because of the diet he’d put me on and I didn’t want to pull the rug out from under him. The truth of the matter was that the diet pills killed my appetite and made me zing.
I was so focused on walking briskly that I didn’t see the cyclist until she was almost on top of me.
“Chere is that you?”
I recognized the voice but almost didn’t recognize the tiny woman perched on a bicycle wearing a cap with the brim pulled low over her eyes.
“Hey, you,” I said back.
Joya had stopped peddling. She was wearing a grin a mile wide.
“Looks like you’re working up a sweat. Can I interest you in dinner? I was thinking of heading for the pizza joint. A pizza and a cold beer could be exactly what the doctor ordered.”
Although I no longer had an appetite I was tempted. It seemed like months since I’d had a Colt and even longer since I’d had pizza. I was also curious to find out what she wanted. I hadn’t run into her on the boardwalk before, it seemed strange I would run into her now.
“Oh, come on, live a little,” Joya said, “I’ll drive. How about I pick you up in front of your building in half an hour?”
How did she know where I lived? Then again everyone knew everything in Flamingo Beach. She must have seen me coming out of Jen’s building. Curiosity got the best of me. Quen had been very close mouthed after that phone call, and I had no idea what was going on between the two of them. Not that I would take Joya’s word as gospel.
“Okay,” I said. “Half an hour should give me time to clean up.”
“Great, see you then.”
Joya peddled away looking young and carefree. I’d heard from the beauty shop crowd who knew even more than me, that she was my age. Thirty-three.
After she disappeared out of sight I cut my walk short and doubled back. I was determined to take a quick shower and climb into decent clothes. I couldn’t have Joya showing me up.
At the appointed time I was showered, changed and downstairs in front of the building.
Joya pulled up in a sporty red BMW, tooting her horn just in case anyone missed her. The car had a black interior and was a convertible. The top was down and Ms. Thang was wearing a white halter top and her Jada Pinkett Smith sunglasses in red that matched the car.
I shouldn’t have wasted my time agonizing. Size sixteen just couldn’t compete with size two. I’d thought I was cute in my black walking shorts—my new color—and a long beige T-shirt that hid my hips.
I forced a smile and got into the front seat. No sooner had I done that, Joya sped off. The good folks of Flamingo Beach stared at us as we zipped through Main Street, passing the historical district and Joya’s grandmother’s store Joya’s Quilts. We’d be the topic of every dinner conversation tonight and there would be a lot of speculation.
“How are you settling in?” I asked to be polite and because I was in the front seat of her car.
“I’m loving the apartment I’m renting. I don’t have a lot of stuff but I have the essentials.”
“That’s nice. You gotta love the view.”
“It’s great. How do you know about my view?”
I gave her a sideways look. “I rented that apartment to Peter and Dustin. Initially they were going to buy but didn’t want to spring for a water view. Aren’t they who you’re subletting from?”
She got really quiet. “Yes.”
“So how come I haven’t seen a lot of you?’ I asked. “You must be helping your grandmother out in the quilt shop during the day?”
“Actually, no.” Joya took a sharp left and sent me flying against the door. “Sorry. I’m managing the Vintage Place.”
“Come again?”
“Carlton’s liquor store changed hands it has a new name. Peter and Dustin Millard are the new owners and they’ve got big plans for the place. It’s being turned into a wine and cheese shop complete with wine tastings. I’m managing the store temporarily until the guys can wrap up their business in New York.”
I had to give the woman credit. She’d been here only a couple of weeks and had managed to find an apartment with a to-die-for view and a job some would kill for. It would be only a matter of time before she found herself a man, if she hadn’t already. My man.
“I’d say you settled in quite well. Will the airline hold your job indefinitely?”
Joya took her eyes off the road for a brief second. “I took a six month leave of absence with the understanding I could extend it if I needed more time.
“Time for what?”
“To find myself.”
A peculiar answer and too damn new age for me.
We were on the side street now where Castiglione’s Pizza was. The Italian family had owned the shop for years, at least they been there since I moved to town. And there were dozens of them who regardless of being male or female looked alike. Most of the men and two of the women had married outside their race. I think it might have something to do with the fact that there weren’t a lot of white single young people in Flamingo Beach. As the demographics shifted most whites fled further north. But black, white or mocha, the Castigliones looked like each other.
Joya parked her Beemer and we entered the restaurant together. A few families were still finishing up dinner and a handful of teenagers sat at the Formica counters snacking and talking about how bad life was in general. They should get to be my age.
“Whatcha havin’?” Joey Castiglione, asked slamming the oven door and approaching the counter. His hands were coated in flour and his dark curly hair was threaded in silver. There were no other Castigliones around.
I’d once had a thing for Joey but it never went anywhere. I think I might have reminded him of his mother because of my size. He didn’t seem to recognize me now.
“Hey, Joey,” I said. “How you been?”
His hair sticking up in clumps, and a dusting of flour on his cheeks, he stared at me for a moment then finally said, “Chere Adams. What happened to you?”
“I lost weight.”
He kept staring at Joya.
“The hot-looking woman with you must be Joya Abrahams.”
Joya flashed him one of those smiles that made smart men go stupid. Joey turned abruptly and rammed into a pile of trays. They clattered to the floor. He used the excuse of picking them up to gather his composure.
“Hamill, right? You took back your maiden name,” he said when he straightened. I’d never seen Joey this red.
“I did,” Joya said tapping her cheek for Joey’s floury kiss. “Hey, Joey, do you think you can make us a pizza with the works? I’d like extra cheese please and sausage. And we’ll have two Coors.”
“Coming right up.”
Joey gave me a kiss, too,
but I could tell he was doing it to be polite.
“Where would you ladies like to sit?” he asked.
We looked around for a spot and Joey began sweeping trash off the tables and into a garbage bag. He wiped down the tabletops with a cloth tied around his middle.
“What about over there?” Joya said, pointing to a table for two in the corner.
“You got it.”
The table was ready before we even walked over. The Castigliones were from the Bronx like me, and they still moved with whirlwind speed. That pizza was done in record time. Some poor bugger who called in for delivery was going to have to wait.
Joya and I sat across from each other. Joey kept staring at me as if he still couldn’t believe what he saw. He was particularly fascinated by my legs and couldn’t seem to take his eyes off them. I’d worn a miniskirt; the only thing I could fit into now that didn’t look like I’d borrowed it from an aunt.
“Damn, you’ve shrunk, girl,” Joey repeated over and over. I wanted to slap that silly grin off his face. He left to fetch our beer and I concentrated on how good the pizza smelled. I wasn’t starving but pizza is pizza.
Joey was back. He plunked down two bottles and a couple of plastic cups. Joya poured her beer into a cup making sure there wasn’t a head. She touched her plastic cup against my bottle.
“To friends,” she said, looking me in the eye. “What’s with you and Quen?”
I tried to keep a straight face and not give anything away. But her question really shook me up. I took a swig of beer. I hadn’t had alcohol since the appletinis and that one gulp went straight to my head.
“Quen’s my personal trainer and my nutritionist. What’s it to you?”
“You spend a lot of time together.”
“So?”
“So, it gives people the impression that there’s more going on than just you two working out. Is there?”
I took a large mouthful of beer. “Would that be a problem for you?” I asked.
Joya looked at me with those huge gray eyes of hers. “Not exactly a problem, but there are a couple of things you need to know about Quen.”
“Like what?” I pushed the half-drunk bottle of beer away and put my elbows on the table. I was beginning to feel queasy.
“Like I still love him.”
“You’re divorced,” I said bluntly.
“That might be so and I take full responsibility. It was a bad move on my part. We had our issues. I wanted to make him into something he was not. I wanted to fix him.”
“I can’t imagine Quen needed fixing,” I said dryly.
“He didn’t but I did.”
Joey returned with our pizza on a round tray. He set it down in the center of the table and slapped down two plates.
“Enjoy,” he said before racing off to take care of another table.
Joya used a knife to separate the pieces. She plopped a huge slice on my plate then placed a smaller slice on the plate in front of her. She nibbled delicately while I took a huge bite.
“You were saying?” I asked with my mouth full.
“No, you were saying you didn’t think Quen needed fixing.”
“I don’t think any man needs fixing. You accept what you get and work with it a little.”
“Hmm. I don’t know if I necessarily agree. Quen and I were young hopefuls. I saw his potential but he didn’t. He was content to spend his time in T-shirt and track shorts. I thought it was a waste. I wanted so much more for him.”
“A waste to work with people?”
“No, a waste of his potential, period. How much could he possibly make as an exercise guru?”
I bit into my pizza finding it looked better than it tasted, and Joey did make a good pizza. I’d lost my appetite and nothing tasted as good as it looked.
“I thought personal trainers did okay,” I said. “They charge a hefty hourly rate.” She didn’t need to know that Quen was discounting his normal hourly rate for me.
“Okay is relative. Young couples need money. I had student loans. We had rent, car payments, new furniture that wasn’t paid for, a baby on the way that we lost. We needed to be practical.”
She’d painted a different picture for me. Most people made it sound like Joya was selfish, and that she’d kept pushing Quen to become something he was not.
I took another bite of pizza. It was something to do and felt comforting.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.
Joya nibbled on her slice. She set it back on the plate. “I don’t want Quen to hurt you.”
Why the hell would she care? Sounded to me like she might be worried. Like my size sixteen body was now cause for concern.
I looked Joya in the eye and said, “And you think Quen would hurt me? Why?”
“Not intentionally. He’s a sweet guy and you might misunderstand his intentions.”
I was starting to get mad. What did she know about anything? What gave her the right to tell me not to misinterpret Quen’s interest in me? They were divorced, supposedly over. Done with. While Joya might be repeating all the things that kept me up at night I didn’t need to hear it from her.
I excused myself and went to the bathroom where I promptly threw up. Too much pizza. Too much sauce. I took a few minutes to compose myself and fix my face.
Then I walked back to our table to find Joey chatting Joya up.
“We need to leave,” I said to her.
“So soon? You just got here.” Joey looked disappointed.
“I have someplace to be.”
Joya glanced at her watch and jumped to her feet. “Shoot, I’m going to be late. I’m heading over to Quen’s place to get some stuff.”
“Perfect,” I said. “Because that’s exactly where I’m going. Why don’t we walk in and surprise him together?”
Chapter 17
“You didn’t seem your usual energetic self tonight, sugar,” Quen said after we’d finished our third radio interview at WARP.
“I’m fine.” Actually I was tired and still a little bit ticked at him. I didn’t know whether Joya had been telling the truth or not because he either wasn’t home or was refusing to answer his door when we’d shown up.
Quen’s fingers circled my arm, turning me around. His chocolate eyes scanned my face and I heard the concern in his voice.
“Are you taking your vitamins?”
“Umm, hmm.”
I was dragging, had been dragging lately and always felt slightly sick. It just didn’t seem like I had energy. My heart was constantly racing and I always felt nauseous. But the good thing was that I was still losing weight, though not as much as I had hoped for.
In the parking lot, Quen stopped me from getting into the minivan.
“You in a hurry?”
“Why?”
“I thought maybe we could stop into the Pink Flamingo and get a snack. I don’t know about you but I was rushing and didn’t have much of a dinner.”
“Okay. You want me to follow you?”
“No, leave your car. I’ll drive.”
I wasn’t hungry but I wasn’t about to pass up on an opportunity to spend time with Quen. And yes, we saw each other practically every day but most of that time was spent working out or jogging, and we hadn’t had time to talk.
I’d been really upset since that night I’d had pizza with Joya. But I didn’t want to come right out and ask Quen if he was seeing her. I would only sound jealous and I really didn’t have any claim on the man.
He held the passenger door open and waited for me to slide into the car. My whole body zinged. I wasn’t getting much sleep lately. Even Jen had commented that I looked wild eyed and edgy. She said I was losing too much weight too soon. Of course I didn’t tell her about the diet pills I was taking because I really didn’t want a lecture.
We drove across town in silence. Quen seemed to be preoccupied. He’d taken to complimenting me about how good I looked, or about the outfit I was wearing but tonight he said nothing. I thought I looke
d cute. I was wearing a halter dress in a light shade of green and beige high-heeled backless sandals, silver jewelry and makeup that made me look glamorous. Because I knew I was going to be interviewed I had driven to Jacksonville to one of the big department stores and had the woman at the cosmetic counter do my face.
We passed through the gated entrance of Flamingo Place. Quen found a parking spot at the Pink Flamingo and helped me out of the car. Holding hands, we walked into the restaurant together.
“You guys rocked tonight,” Rico Catalban, the manager said, greeting us. He was referring to our interview. “I can’t believe how open you were about your weight loss. People really like that because it motivates them. You’re a shadow of what you used to be.”
I managed to smile and thank him. Bypassing the bar, we followed him to a table. I wasn’t hungry. I never seemed to be lately but I ordered a bowl of fish chowder anyway.
Quen waited for our meals to be placed in front of us before starting in on me.
“You’ve changed,” he said, fixing me with his brown-eyed stare.
“How’s that?” I raised my spoon to my lips but couldn’t bring myself to taste the broth.
“You used to be peppy, straight up and to the point. Now I don’t have a clue what you’re thinking. What’s going on?”
I tried smiling. I knew I was changing but didn’t think it would be that noticeable. My goal was only to better myself and make myself more attractive to him.
“I’m reinventing myself,” I answered, forcing an energy I didn’t feel into my voice. “Now that I have this Realtor job I have to tone down a bit. You know, act more professional.”
“Just as long as it’s an act. I liked the old you. You were confident, sassy and willing to take on just about anything and anybody.”
I wondered if what he said was really true that he liked the old me.
“I lugged around a lot of weight,” I said. “I might have seemed confident but I wasn’t happy.”
“You appeared to be.”
“Appearances are deceiving.”
All About Me Page 15