Down and Out in Flamingo Beach

by Marcia King-Gamble

“Ms. Joya have anything to do with this sudden enthusiasm?”

  Derek stabbed an index finger at him and cut his eyes. “How many times have I told you I’m not looking to get involved? The woman is beautiful, but she’s high-maintenance and quite bossy. She would be looking to fix me. I like myself just the way I am.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Derek decided to ignore his friend’s pointed smirk. Preston was acting like he knew something Derek didn’t. Derek allowed him to enter Quill’s first. They sauntered past the stationary and to the back where the café was and looked around for seats.

  All the bistro tables were taken, and even the eight tables on the outdoor patio were full. A harried waitress weighted down by a heavy tray brushed by them as several patient customers craned their heads. Just then two men slid off stools at the counter.

  “Better move quickly,” Preston said, dashing over. “You snooze, you lose.”

  They grabbed the vacated seats and menus were quickly slapped down in front of them. The owner was also the chef and this might have added to the confusion. After some time a put-upon waitress poured them water and the men made their selections. Deciding the place was either short-staffed or hadn’t anticipated a crowd, they prepared for a long wait.

  It was an interesting group at lunch, hardly a local to be found. Derek remembered a time when the only tourists that sleepy Flamingo Beach ever saw were families from up north looking to rent cabins, fish and stroll the boardwalk. Times were indeed changing.

  “I’m going to need a deposit from Joya’s Quilts before we get started,” Preston said. “You know the routine. Collect enough to buy supplies and some. We’ll need either Joya or Granny J to sign the paperwork stating what they’ve agreed to have done.”

  Derek squinted at Preston. “I thought you were handling the administrative end.”

  “No, you are. You’re in training. These are all the things that will be expected of you when you own and run your own construction company.” Preston winked at him. “And by the way, you can start your negotiations now. Young Joya just walked in and she has one of her employees with her.”

  Despite not wanting to gawk, Derek swiveled his stool to stare in the direction Preston was looking. Joya stood at the entrance of the café with a young girl with waist-length braids at her side. They looked around for an available table.

  “Food’s here. Sorry it took me so long,” the waitress said, slapping down Preston’s burger and fries and Derek’s turkey sandwich with coleslaw on the side. “We’re short-staffed.”

  Derek stared at his food. He didn’t want to talk contracts now. The woman was there to have lunch. Preston was being conniving and trying to push them together. Well it wouldn’t work. He’d slipped earlier that week and kissed her, but, hell, she’d looked so good. Can’t blame a guy for reacting like any healthy red-blooded guy would. But it couldn’t happen again. From now on his dealings with Joya Hamill would be kept strictly professional.

  As Derek finished his turkey sandwich, he and Preston discussed the job at the Flamingo Beach Spa and Resort that they were bidding on. Preston wanted it badly, but Derek wasn’t so sure. He had the feeling the resort people would be bears to work for. But the money was good.

  “This developer Rowan James is buying up land like crazy,” Preston said. “Last I heard he bought that prime piece of real estate at the end of the boardwalk. Some say he’s going to create an indoor mall, one of those super malls with movie theaters, restaurants and nightclubs. The town is violently opposed to it and petitions are already circulating.”

  “I see both sides,” Derek said. “We’re talking mall here. This is the kind of project that will change the face of Flamingo Beach, and not necessarily for the better. It will bring in money for the city, but at the same time it’s going to attract a lot of hustlers. Anything money-making does.”

  “I’m thinking revenue,” Preston countered. “People drive to Pelican Island if they want to see a current movie. Only in Flamingo Beach would a cinema open only in the evenings and the same show run for a month. We’re not at all forward-thinking. We have Mayor Rabinowitz to blame for that. The money our citizens shell out should be spent right here.”

  “A nightclub is going to attract some undesirable types,” Derek cautioned. “Even gangs. When you get a party crowd, there’s excessive drinking, drugs and crime.”

  “Jeez, Derek you’re beginning to sound like our parents.” Preston gave Derek a friendly poke with his finger.

  It was a sobering thought, since Derek’s parents were long gone. Both had literally died from overwork. It was another reason he was determined to be his own boss and call his own shots. He planned on living to a ripe old age. His retirement was going to be exactly that: a time when he put his feet up and didn’t have to worry about money.

  By an unspoken agreement they removed bills from their wallets and slapped them down. Joya and her companion were now seated at a table in the middle of the room. Preston, of course, chose to take the long route out. He passed Joya’s table and slowed down.

  “How’s your grandmother?” he asked.

  Joya used a napkin to wipe her mouth. “She came out of the operation just fine. How are you, Preston, Derek?”

  How was he? His body was telling him he was very happy to see her. He just hoped she couldn’t tell.

  “Great. Preston and I were just discussing starting work on your place. Does next Monday sound good to you?”

  “The sooner the better. Business is picking up and by the time the centennial celebrations roll around it should be even better. Granny’s store needs to be a showplace by then.”

  “You two should talk,” Preston said. “Derek, you stop by later with the paperwork and work out the details about what needs doing.”

  Damn Preston. He’d just put him in a spot, one that it would be hard to wiggle out of. He would kill him when he got him outside.

  “I’ll come by right before closing time,” Derek said since he had no choice.

  “Tomorrow might be better,” Joya said, those huge gray eyes clouding over. “I’m leaving early today. I’m going to the hospital to check on Gran.”

  “Saturday will work just as well. Won’t it, Derek?”

  “Sure will.”

  Outside, Preston said to Derek, “What’s with you? Here’s this fine woman who’s single, smart and in shape, and you drag your feet. Man, I’d be jumping all over her.”

  Derek snorted. “I have my priorities, and I don’t want to get off track. Nana’s house comes first. Until it gets fixed, and I have my own construction company up and running, romance has to wait.”

  “Who’s talking romance?” Preston lobbed back. “I’m talking getting laid.”

  “Plenty of that around for the taking. If I were looking for an activity partner I’d be all over Sheena Grace.”

  Preston threw his hands in the air. “Whatever.”

  They headed into the Vintage Place. Derek didn’t think Preston would give up, but for now the conversation had been tabled.

  For the rest of the day, he concentrated on Chet’s leaking skylights and water-stained ceiling. At the end of the day most of what needed to be done was done. Derek assigned three men to come in during the weekend to take care of the baseboards, complete the painting and replace the lighting fixtures. Then on Monday the crew would be ready to take on Joya’s Quilts.

  “I’m going home,” Derek said to Preston when his boss asked him to a happy hour. There was a bathroom at Belle’s that needed his attention. The tub, washbasin and fixtures needed replacing. He planned to stop at the hardware store first before joining Nana Belle for supper. Repairing that house had become his second job.

  On a Friday evening, Harry’s Hardware wasn’t too crowded. Derek was able to pick up the items he needed and get out of there in record time.

  This time Belle heard him before he could put his key in the lock.

  “That you, hon?” she called in her croaky smoker’s
voice.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “We’ve been holding mail for you,” her aide Mari said. “The mailman made us sign for it.”

  Mari was no lightweight. Derek could hear the floorboards creaking as she left Nana Belle’s room and made her way out.

  Derek had had all of his mail forwarded to him from Chicago. For the most part it was all junk, but if a signature was required it had to be important.

  Mari waved an official-looking white envelope at him. Derek took it from her, glanced at the sender’s address, frowned and set it on the coffee table to be dealt with later. He couldn’t imagine what his old company wanted with him.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?” Mari nudged. “Belle and I have been wondering what’s so important that it would require a signature.”

  “I’ll get to it later. How did my favorite lady do today?”

  “She’s been smoking non-stop but that’s nothing new.”

  “Has she eaten?”

  “I got her to swallow maybe a couple of tablespoons of grits and she did drink a nutritional milkshake.”

  “She’ll need to eat dinner. I’m counting on you.”

  “Stop talking about me,” Nana croaked from her back room. “I’m still alive. If you have something to say you might as well say it to my face.”

  “Okay, I’m on my way,” Derek said, heading down the hallway.

  The one thing he’d learned was that it didn’t pay to back off when Nana became nasty or challenging. Best to face her head-on or she would just continue to bully you until she got her way.

  As he got closer to Nana’s room the acrid smell of stale tobacco smoke lodged in his throat. Although his stomach turned, Derek tried not to gag.

  “How’s the most beautiful woman in the world?” he asked, planting a kiss on one of Nana’s sunken cheeks while trying not to inhale that nasty cigarette smell that clung to her clothes.

  “One step away from death. What’s going on down the boardwalk? There’s been all kinds of equipment going back and forth.”

  Derek explained what he’d heard.

  “Shopping mall. Did you say shopping mall? Why does Flamingo Beach need a shopping mall? We’ve survived almost one hundred years without it, so why do we need one now?”

  “A lot of the town’s folks are asking that same question, Nana. Miriam Young, the ‘Flip-flop Momma,’ who Solomon Rabinowitz stole the votes from in the last election, started a petition. There’s a town meeting planned.”

  “I want to go,” Belle surprised him by saying. “This isn’t the first time some developer came in proposing to change this town, and it won’t be the last. When’s this meeting?”

  Derek and Mari exchanged glances. This was the first time in months Nana Belle had expressed an interest in leaving the house. Normally the little sun porch at the side of her room was as far as she went. She was content to sit there for hours, staring at the action on the boardwalk and taking naps in between.

  “We’ll see, Nana,” Derek said, trying to pacify her. “Let’s have dinner before I go to work.”

  Mari left them to get Belle’s tray and to bring Derek his dinner.

  “Humph!” Belle said, lighting up yet another cigarette and blowing a smoke ring. “Who’d you say sent you that letter?”

  “My old employer. I haven’t opened it yet.”

  She exhaled again, creating another ring. “They want you to come back to work?”

  “I don’t think so. Last I knew they were still laying off.”

  The company that Derek had worked for as an engineer had been cutting back like crazy. They’d laid off hundreds of people. He would probably have been one of the last to go, but he’d seen it as a great opportunity to do something different. Derek had volunteered to take a severance package, money he could use to start up his own business.

  Mari was back with Nana’s tray. She’d put Derek’s plate on it. “Where shall I put this?” she asked.

  “Give it to me.”

  Mari handed his plate to him. The utensils that were folded into a napkin were put on the nightstand.

  “You say the blessing, Nana,” Derek said, bowing his head and closing his eyes.

  Belle recited the words that were a tradition, as she had done for almost one hundred years. Derek silently added his own thanks. In the whole crazy scheme of things he had a lot to be grateful for. Life had been good.

  Three hours later, he’d pulled most of the bathroom apart. Deciding to throw in the towel, so to speak, Derek poured himself a beer and took the letter to the back porch to read it. Nana was already asleep and Mari, patient soul that she was, was relaxing in the privacy of her room.

  Derek’s whole body hurt. He sat on the glider enjoying the darkness, legs stretched out in front of him. After taking a slug of beer, he set the bottle on the table next to him.

  For some insane reason Joya Hamill kept popping into his mind, and he couldn’t seem to shake her. The crazy thing was he kept remembering their kiss and the feel of her slender body pressed against his. She’d responded to his kiss with passion and not like some dead fish. And he kept wondering what it would be like to sleep with her, though there was fat chance of that ever happening. Joya was not for him.

  Derek finally rose to flip the light on. The mosquitoes buzzing around the lit bulb and the noise of waves crashing against the pilings were all too familiar. These were the sounds he’d gotten used to. While certainly not big city sounds they were soothing in their own way. They helped him get to sleep at night.

  He removed the crumpled envelope from his pocket and tapped it against his knee. His instincts told him the contents could change his life. Better just get it over with and open the thing and find out.

  Derek tore one end open and removed an official-looking piece of paper bearing the company logo. For years he’d gotten used to seeing Norcross and McPhinney and never once given it another thought. But now—his jaw muscles working, Derek quickly scanned the letter.

  Dear Derek:

  I tried reaching you but your phone number was disconnected. Since you left no forwarding number I’ve decided to write. We’ve made some changes at Norcross and McPhinney. I’m now the vice president of your old department.

  I need a committed, loyal team as we move forward. Someone with your experience in project management would certainly be welcomed back. You are well regarded and perhaps you would consider coming aboard as a consultant. Get back to me and we’ll talk.

  Best,

  John Eldridge

  Vice President Operations

  John, his buddy and probably the only person in his old company who knew how truly committed he’d been to their cause. John knew how much time and sacrifice he’d put into the organization. It had cost him his wife and the life that Derek had grown used to. Now John was in a position to offer him work. Consultants were generously paid.

  An offer like this one was not something a smart man dismissed without some consideration. He would give it some thought.

  It was a world of meetings and politics. A world that required proper dress, where jeans were worn only on Fridays, and traffic-filled highways created their own stress.

  John had mentioned consulting. Maybe he could consult from right here. It was done all the time.

  Technology made anything possible.

  Chapter 10

  Joya finished writing her resignation letter and set down her pen. She was emotionally drained and a little bit scared. But it was done with. Over. Now all she needed to do was go to the post office and send the letter certified mail. The thought that she was now officially unemployed made her lightheaded and dizzy. She’d just severed her ties with Los Angeles and left her future to chance.

  She couldn’t really blame L.A. International for taking such a firm stand. She’d been away from her job for six months and then she’d asked to have her leave extended. There were other flight attendants who’d applied for leaves of absence and had been turned down.


  While it was a tough decision, it was the only one she could make. Family mattered more than any job, and she planned on being with her grandmother through the recuperation process. Joya had no intention of abandoning her namesake when she needed her most.

  Still, there was something frightening about no longer having a job to go back to. It had been a while since she’d drawn a check from L.A. International, but it was still comforting to know that she could if she returned to L.A. Another flight attendant had moved into her condo and was paying her rent. He could be talked into taking over the lease permanently since it was such a good deal.

  Earlier, Joya had broken the news to Molly Williams that her quilt wasn’t quite ready. That was, of course, a big fat lie. To compensate Molly for the delay, Joya had had to adjust the price by twenty percent. And then Lionel and Greg came by with no news. They hadn’t had one single lead. She’d told them about the shredded quilt and that had been duly noted. They’d left to talk to Portia and see if she knew something she wasn’t saying.

  When midday rolled around she was ecstatic. Derek still hadn’t shown up but, determined to enjoy her weekend she closed the store anyway. He could talk to her on Monday.

  Now she left the dining room to throw open the French doors and get an unobstructed view of the ocean. Still feeling off, she pressed her forehead against the glass and reflected. Here she was at thirty-three, single with no viable prospects in sight. Others were buying houses and planning families and she was homeless and without a job.

  She was feeling sorry for herself, she decided. Enough already. What she needed to do was get out where there was life. The sun was still high in the sky and the umbrellas still sheltered people. She’d mail her letter on Monday. Maybe she could coax Emilie into taking a bike ride down the boardwalk with her.

  Joya picked up the phone and punched in Emilie’s number.

  “I was just thinking about calling you,” Emilie said, sounding as if she’d been napping.

  “Feel like taking a bike ride on the boardwalk?” Joya asked.

  “I’d rather roller-skate, better exercise and we won’t have to worry about parking bikes someplace.”