Mayhem in Myrtle Beach

by T. Lynn Ocean

  The two school buddies strolled in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts, and without making a conscious decision, they ended up climbing wooden stairs and walking the length of a fishing pier. The odors of warm beer, cigar smoke, and fresh fish nestled in ice mingled with the ocean air as they walked out to the pier’s end. Laugher greeted them as a large group of teenagers ambled past, one of them tossing popcorn to a smattering of squawking seagulls. The teens moved in clumps of two’s and threes, several with arms wrapped around each other.

  “Goodness, they look so young,” Sherwood commented. “Almost like they shouldn’t be out by themselves, you know? I mean, isn’t it past their bedtimes? I feel old.”

  Freddy laughed. “I think the past few days have aged us both! Besides, it’s all a matter of perspective. Our Great Wingers probably think of us as young kids.” And she was twenty-two. Freddy had worked full time for a few years before starting college which made him a few years older. He’d just turned twenty-four.

  After several minutes of searching the waters for dolphin or other signs of life beneath the surface, Sherwood and Freddy situated themselves on a bench. She was unnaturally quiet and he could sense that she was thinking about her past mistakes. The professor, probably.

  “Sherwood, don’t take this the wrong way. I feel awful for you about the, uh, marriage and all that didn’t work out. But at the same time, I’m glad. Seriously, that guy didn’t deserve you.”

  She wore a sleeveless mock turtleneck sweater that fit her petite frame snugly and he couldn’t take his eyes off the small, perfectly shaped breasts that lay beneath soft ribbed cotton. He had to make a conscious effort not to stare. He breathed deep, attempting to clear his mind, but her sweet fragrance traveled straight through him. Being so near her in a strange town, sleeping in the same hotel with only a wall separating them, and working together as a sort of team was turning into torture. He’d been in love with her for a long time. Now, wishful thinking made him hope for a second chance even though she hadn’t showed the slightest romantic interest in him.

  “Freddy, now that I realize what a jerk he was, I’m glad too. I just feel so stupid. Like I wasted four years on an asshole.” He tried to focus on her words rather than on her mouth. She wore a hint of lip gloss, but her lips would have been plum colored without any makeup. He could spend an hour just watching her lips as she spoke.

  “Why did you go to school?” he asked simply, forcing himself to look away from the mouth that he wanted to feel on his own. He studied the wood framing of the fishing pier intently and wondered how many men and how many months it had taken to build it. Several months? More than a year? As long as it had been since he’d had a girlfriend? He’d had a few throughout his college career but nothing lasting. Sherwood had always been the one he wanted but she wouldn’t even go out on a ‘real’ date with him. The most they’d ever done together, besides study, was attend a few lectures by visiting politicians or lobbyists. But now, he wanted her to completely forget about the stupid professor and think of only of him. Think of him in any other way than a study partner from college.

  “What?” she said, baffled.

  “Why did you go to school?” Freddy repeated.

  “Well, to get a degree of course. For the education.”

  “Okay, then. You got one. You have a degree. So you did not waste four years. The reason you were in college was for the education,” Freddy said, getting lost in the sapphire blue irises that studied him. “With honors, by the way. You weren’t there for him. He was just a sideline. A speed bump in the road to graduation. Besides, you wouldn’t be where you are today if things had happened differently.” Sitting here talking to me on a fishing pier in Myrtle Beach, he thought. The turtleneck was a deep velvety brown, and it accentuated the contrasting color of her eyes.

  “What I mean is,” he blundered on, “things happen for a reason. Even bad things in your life create opportunities for good things to happen.”

  She thought about that for a beat. “If nothing else, the whole experience made me grow up. I’ll never be that naive again. It’s just that…” her voice faded and dark lashes fell over lowered eyes.

  He wanted to grab her and kiss her. But she was still thinking of him as the old Freddy – a shoulder to cry on. Convenient, trustworthy Freddy. He forced himself to listen but his eyes involuntarily returned to Sherwood’s mouth while he waited for her to continue. He could get lost, so lost, just watching the way tiny dimples formed at the corners of her lips when she spoke.

  Sherwood took a deep breath. “I was a virgin,” she blurted. “He’s the only man I’ve ever been with. And now, I feel like I’ve wasted something very precious, something I can’t get back.”

  So that’s it. That was what was still troubling her.

  “Sherwood, look at me.” She did and he melted inside. “Virginity is a piece of skin. When you find someone you love, someone you love thoroughly who loves you just the same, then it will be like the first time. It will be the first time. For you and for him both.” He shook his head. “Don’t harbor regrets over a…. a speed bump that appeared on your road.”

  She laughed, instantly cheering. “A speed bump.” She laughed some more as it dawned on her that virginity really was a frame of mind. And the once revered professor really was nothing more than a speed bump in her life. Not even worthy enough to look back on.

  “How is it that you always make me feel so much better?” she asked.

  In the past few days, Sherwood had seen more sides of Freddy than she knew existed. Ex study partner. Friend. Bus driver. Businessman. Confidant. Counselor. And, he looked so good, better than she’d ever seen him look. He gave off an air of assuredness in himself which she had never noticed before. Or maybe it was there, but she’d never paid much attention to it. Or to him.

  Before she could put too much thought into it, she leaned over to kiss the side of his face. He caught another teasing whiff of her fragrance and the brush of her lips made every nerve in his body jump. He disguised the moan on his lips as a cough and studied a stray seagull pecking at a piece of discarded fish bait. He almost succeeded in redirecting his thoughts by going over the motorcoach departure checklist (clean windows, check the fluid levels, check tire pressure…) when her hand touched his knee. It was a feather light touch, but one that sliced right through his denim jeans.

  “Freddy, what’s wrong?”

  “Wrong?”

  “You look like, well, like you suddenly don’t feel well. Are you sick?”

  Good, he thought. She’d misread him. She didn’t know what was going through his head. She did not realize that he wanted her more at that moment than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

  “I’m fine. I just got lost in my own thoughts.”

  When she removed her hand, every nerve in his taught body was tuned into those few square inches of skin beneath the fabric where her fingers had been.

  “Oh. Well anyway, thanks Freddy. I mean, for letting me vent on you. I guess Willie’s death has just kind of made me realize that your time to pass on can come unexpectedly – young or old. And, that thought has made me start evaluating my life. Thinking about priorities and what’s really important. You know?”

  He did know, because he’d been doing the same thing. He nodded and kept his hands to himself. He didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize his friendship with Sherwood. He may not be able to claim her as his girlfriend, but at least he could retain her friendship. Suddenly there wasn’t anything more to say and they stood. Weaving through sightseers and fisherman, they left the pier. The hotel was only a quarter mile down the beach, and since they were done with their group for the evening, they weren’t in any particular hurry.

  “The ocean is beautiful. So tranquil.” Sherwood spread her arms as if she owned the breaking waves, and the beach was her backyard scenery. Sleek hair fanned out behind her when she looked up at the sky and Freddy believed in that instant that if angels exist
ed, they would look like Sherwood.

  He felt himself growing, pressing against the zipper in his jeans, reminded again of how long it had been for him. Years. Since he had decided that sex wasn’t worth the effort until it could be with someone he loved and respected. Someone like Sherwood. Sherwood, whom he’d dreamt about on and off for years, all the while knowing that she’d never once fantasized about him. Or walked through the woods together, hand in hand, in her dreams. Or shared a picnic lunch beneath a towering shady Oak tree, complete with a rich burgundy wine, fresh baked bread, and sharp cheddar cheese. Or purposely scheduled a class to be near him for at least five hours a week. As he had done every semester, whether he needed that particular class credit or not. During their senior year, he’d enrolled in a film history class as an arts elective because he knew she’d be sitting there with him. The course had ranked high on Freddy’s boredom scale. But he had looked forward to that class every single week.

  Arms still outstretched, Sherwood spun around in a circle but stopped short when she caught the look in his eyes. He was openly staring at her with unconcealed desire. She glanced down and saw the bulge. His shirt was tucked in. He couldn’t hide it, and was so absorbed in thoughts of her that he didn’t even try. He just stood in place and openly looked at her with questioning eyes. To hell with it.

  “Hey,” she said playfully, apparently ignoring the effect that she was having on him, “let’s go sit in that covered gazebo and enjoy the sights a little more before we head back, you want to? I mean tomorrow’s the funeral and then we head home. There’s not much time left to enjoy the beach.” She pointed. The gazebo was a hundred or so yards in front of them and partially hidden by swelling sand dunes covered with Sea Oats.

  “Sure,” he managed.

  Once inside the open gazebo and mostly shielded from the view of others on the beach, she kissed him. At first, it was a whisper of a kiss; soft lips met with surprised ones. Then when mutual understanding was realized as they looked into each other’s eyes, it became a full-fledge deep and probing kiss. All of the self-control that Freddy had been storing up for days and months and years forced its way into the kiss. He was so struck with need that his hands shook when he held her face between his palms.

  “Are you sure?” he questioned. Starving though he was, Freddy didn’t want her attentions because she felt sorry for him. Or, because it was their last night and she thought a one-night fling would be fun.

  “Oh, Freddy,” she murmured. “I…I’ve been so stupid. All this time you were right in front of my eyes, and I ignored you. And, my gosh I must have been blind because you are the finest-looking man I think I’ve ever seen!”

  “It was the nerdy glasses I used to wear,” he heard himself joke. The feeling in his gut was pure bliss. He couldn’t remember ever being happier in his life. She was truly attracted to him. Finally, he thought. Dreams did come true.

  “No, I think it was that you played in the marching band,” she answered, teasing his lips with feather-light flicks of her tongue between words. “It was just socially unacceptable to go with a guy who wore a tall, funky hat with feathers during football game half time.”

  A moan escaped his lips and he pulled her closer.

  Instantly, there was so much they both wanted to say but neither spoke. Sherwood ran her hands over hard shoulders, down a well-muscled back, beyond flat hips, across the front of zippered denim. Freddy questioned with a probing look. Sherwood nodded her consent and smiled shyly. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, overwhelmingly, instantaneously, and the rest of the world was forgotten. It was going to be the first time. It was unexpected, but it was right. So wonderfully, delightfully right.

  He dropped to the wooden boards of the cabana floor, leaning against the latticed railing, which now offered complete privacy, and lay his head back in ecstasy. When she sat atop him and fumbled with his clothing, he made a half-hearted attempt to reciprocate. She pushed his hands off of herself and placed them back on the railing at his sides.

  “Just enjoy this, Freddy.” She understood his need. “I have a feeling that there will be time for me later. Plenty of time for us to be together...”

  “Together,” he murmured. Sherwood had voiced that there would be more—much, much more—of what was about to come.

  Time stopped as the two college friends melded into one. Sherwood knew she’d found something extraordinary with a friend who she could laugh or cry with. A friend that she, well, loved. I love him, she thought with joy. The professor was forgotten. And for her it became the first, delicious time.

  Freddy soaked her up with his body and his eyes, and slid into oblivion as the setting sun highlighted her silhouette, completely free of secrets or shame.

  “I’ve loved you for a long time, Sherwood,” he heard himself say.

  “I’ve loved you, too, Freddy,” she murmured. “I just didn’t know it until now.”

  When time started moving again, they lay together until the wooden floor became uncomfortable.

  “Sherwood?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Let’s walk back to the hotel. I’m counting the ways that we’re going to make love in your hotel room tonight and I’m already up to three.” His mouth curved into a mischievous smile. “No, make that four.”

  “Better make that six, because I’ve been doing the same thing and I’m already up to two.”

  Twenty-six

  Willie

  No longer challenged, Willie found himself semi-retired and needy for something different. He hired an associate and trained her to take over the day to day operations of his real estate portfolio. It was time for a change of pace, and perhaps a change of scenery. He knew that he wanted to remain close to a beach, somewhere along the Atlantic coast. His options were once again wide open, like they were when he was newly married and just out of the Army. Only this time, he was alone.

  After much rumination, he decided that he needed to make some friends. Not business contacts, but people who could appreciate him simply for who he was and not for his money. After seeing a magazine ad, he purchased a unit at the Great Wings Community in Norfolk and a beach cottage in a small community outside of Morehead City with plans to divide his time between the two. He imagined taking on some hobbies, perhaps learning golf. Willie’s goal was a new chapter in his life that did not include prospecting, accountants, and lawyers. Undertaking that new chapter, however, proved difficult. Willie discovered that friendships were much more difficult to find than money-making real estate deals.

  Because he was quiet by nature, his attempts to be outgoing and actively develop a social life failed miserably. He’d never had much of an interest in sports, vintage cars, or hunting as so many of the men around. He wanted to try his hand at golf, but was never comfortable in his attempts to penetrate what he deemed to be the good ol’ boy network that existed in the golf and country clubs, and refused to reveal his net worth as a way of getting into their circle. He enjoyed fishing, but typically ended up on the boat by himself because it was easier not to have to force a conversation with someone. He loved the ocean, but once again the enjoyment was a solitary one, as it just wasn’t fitting to invite a man to go to the beach with him.

  When Willie read about the Myrtle Beach bus trip in ‘Wings Waves’, the Great Wings monthly newsletter, the event jumped out at him. It wasn’t his idea of a great time, but he figured that he should go. Kind of like eating a low fat diet or walking a few miles each day, it would be good for him. He needed companionship, even if it was as a captive on a bus for a week. He could negotiate multi-million dollar deals but he had difficulty striking up a conversation with a neighbor. God hadn’t blessed him with the social gene.

  Out of a busload of people, he estimated, by default he ought to make a friend. Maybe two or three. Then the next group outing would be easier, and eventually, maybe he’d actually enjoy socializing with his neighbors. As a plus, he did love the Atlantic coast. The beaches along this ocean had given him
both his wife and his career, and it was images of the water that clinched his decision. By the time he left Doc Norman’s office after his last physical checkup, he was looking forward to the Myrtle Beach group vacation. He’d even gone out and bought two new shirts, a pair of swimming trunks, and a bottle of sunscreen.

  Twenty-seven

  Offshore, Atlantic Ocean

  Monday morning

  Brackish water chopped gently against the Ocean Annie’s hull as the Great Wingers climbed up a long wooden ramp and boarded her. Minutes later, lines untied, she slowly glided away from the dock. The Ocean Annie was a seventy-foot yacht with a spacious lower enclosed cabin and an open upper deck area complete with tables, chairs, and umbrellas. Patient seagulls squawked as they circled above the ship, waiting to see if any morsels of human food would be tossed into the air.

  Spectacular. It was the only word that could describe the day, Sherwood thought. Sun filtered through wispy white clouds that stretched thin in a crisp blue sky. A light breeze caressed Ocean Annie’s passengers as the charter boat slid easily through the Intracoastal Waterway and toward the open waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

  It was Ruth’s idea to have everyone in the Great Wings group wear a name tag during the ceremony to ensure that everyone knew everyone else’s name. Ethyl had readily agreed with the nametag idea and personally stuck a hand-written one to each passenger as they boarded the boat. This was more to make a statement than to serve an actual purpose, since the group had all begun talking to each other after Willie’s death. As they learned about the man known as Willie Candler, they’d learned more about each other. And, the large white stick-on nametags loudly pronounced that there would be no more unknowns among their group. As Ruth said more than once, there would be no ‘Willies’ at Willie’s goodbye party.