Sex on Flamingo Beach

by Marcia King-Gamble

  “And they came through in a big way. It’s quite the lively group out there.”

  The music now switched to John Legend, an entirely different sound from Barry, but still popular. Emilie made sure security reinforcements were in place. By the time she got back to the ballroom the gigantic doors had been thrown open and people were busily buying raffle tickets. Ida Rubenstein had a bunch wrapped around her neck like a lei.

  At the back of the line was a handsome dark-skinned man with a goatee and aviator glasses whom she’d never seen before. He was exactly the type of man she went for, serious and professional-looking, with pumped-up muscles he kept under wraps. No muscle shirts for this one.

  “Hi, I’m Emilie Woodward, director of leisure sales,” Emilie greeted him, giving him her hand. “You’re going to enjoy the party. There’s something for everyone inside.”

  He smiled back at her, his white teeth a glaring contrast against his ebony skin.

  “Mack Allen. I’m one of the contracted engineers brought in to build the casino. You did say there was something for everyone here so I shouldn’t leave empty-handed.”

  “And neither will I,” a quiet voice said from behind them.

  Emilie recognized that voice. Surely Rowan had better things to do on a Friday night.

  The man with the goatee regarded them curiously. Nodding his head in Rowan’s direction, he moved along. Emilie wanted to strangle Rowan. She’d been enjoying talking to Mack until he showed up.

  “How come you’re here?” she asked Rowan.

  “Isn’t the party open to the public?”

  “It’s open to anyone interested in shopping.”

  “Then you shouldn’t object. Since you’ve previewed the merchandise, anything in particular you fancy?”

  She was saved from an unprofessional response when the commentator’s voice boomed over the intercom, announcing the start of the lingerie auction. Shoppers rushed in scurrying to pick up paddles, and those anxious to see young, shapely models in skimpy attire began pushing and shoving.

  Excusing herself, Emilie went off to find the security guards, who’d promised to remain visible. By the time she returned, the line had whittled down to almost nothing. She stood at the back of the ballroom observing the action. Women were eagerly seeking shopping advice from men only too anxious to give it.

  “Do you think I should get these?” Rowan, who must have been stalking her, asked. He opened up his palm to display a velvet case with two small balls about the size of marbles.

  “What are they?” She was almost afraid to know.

  “Ben Wa balls.”

  “What are they for?”

  Rowan turned an interesting shade of crimson. “You really don’t know?”

  “Sorry, I don’t.”

  “They’re used to—ahem—enhance the female experience.”

  “In that case you don’t need them, do you?”

  The conversation had gotten much too intimate. She was thankful when the fashion show began, and for the next fifteen minutes the male and female models strutted their stuff. During that process she somehow managed to lose Rowan.

  One of the liquor stores had provided free champagne and wine. Waiters and waitresses dressed head to toe in black were now making their way through the crowd with trays held high. They were stopped almost every step of the way. When the bidding began, an enthusiastic, joyful crowd quickly drove the prices up.

  “You were right. There is something here for everyone,” a male voice said close to Emilie’s ear.

  She turned to see the man who’d introduced himself as Mack next to her.

  “Did you buy anything?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’m here more out of curiosity than anything else. Being new to town I figured it was a good way to get acclimated.”

  “Where did you come in from?” she asked, forced to shout to be heard.

  “Connecticut. Why don’t we step outside? We can find someplace quieter to talk.”

  Things seemed to be going well so far and Joya and Keanu were here. She wouldn’t be missed, hopefully.

  Emilie led the way out to the pool.

  “I usually don’t get put up at such nice places,” Mack commented, looking around.

  Emilie signaled to one of the servers. “You’re pleased with your accommodations, then?”

  “Very pleased. The rooms are large and I love the wraparound balconies. From what I can tell this resort has every amenity there is, and some.”

  “I’m getting an iced tea. Would you like one?” Emilie asked Mack as the server approached.

  “Iced tea sounds good right about now.”

  She placed their order while Mack stretched out on the lounge chair and made himself comfortable. He had that chocolate complexion she was attracted to. A thick mat of curly hairs covered muscle and sinew. Emilie could only imagine what his chest was like.

  “How long have you been working here?” Mack asked.

  “From the time the hotel opened. I was brought in from New Jersey.”

  “Really? You must be very good at your job.”

  Emilie sighed. “Sometimes too good. I’ve been transferred more times than I would care to be. Anytime there’s an opening or a hotel in trouble, it’s Emilie who gets dispatched.”

  Mack reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “I know what you mean. As a contractor I always have my bags packed.”

  He was another wandering soul. Another man without roots. She must attract them.

  “How did you hear about the casino job?”

  “Priddy contacted me. I’ve worked on some other jobs and brought them in on time. He mentioned that the developer’s partner has an engineering degree, and he thought the two of us would be a good team together.”

  “Derek Morse?”

  “Yes, that’s him. You know him?”

  Emilie accepted the drink the server handed her and signed the bill. “Actually Derek’s wife and I are good friends.”

  “You must know all the right people in this town then.”

  “I know a few.”

  Mack leaned over and rested his chilled glass of iced tea on her forearm. “Then you’re a good person to introduce me around.”

  “Emilie is much too busy, but I’ll be happy to,” Rowan said, plopping down on the vacant chair on her other side.

  She couldn’t help letting rip another loud sigh. No point in getting into it with him. It would be wasting her time. She was certain this wasn’t a chance encounter. He’d followed her out.

  “Mack Allen, meet Rowan James. Rowan is Derek Morse’s partner. You gentlemen should have quite a bit to talk about.” Emilie rose, taking her iced tea with her. “Sorry, but I have to get back inside and see what’s going on.”

  Before either man could say a word, she headed off.

  On the way, she noticed several guests carrying the signature pink and blue bags that indicated they’d attended the passion party. They were commenting on how lovely the hotel was.

  “Be sure to use the coupon in your bag and come back and stay with us, even if only for a spa day,” Emilie said encouragingly.

  “We will,” two women answered before making their way outdoors.

  She’d insisted that coupons offering a special promotional room rate and a complimentary cocktail be handed out to everyone attending the event. Maybe people would be more tempted to book rooms.

  Tre Monroe and a crew from the radio station were leaving with their equipment.

  “Nice turnout,” Tre called to her as she walked by.

  “Did you get the interviews you needed?”

  “Yup, and some. The guys are going to have to do way too much editing. Most of the women we interviewed didn’t have a problem putting it out there.”

  “Be sure to plug the Flamingo Beach Spa and Resort every chance you get,” Emilie reminded him.

  “I will. You still interested in being on that panel we discussed?”

  “Yes, of course.”

&n
bsp; “Good. I’m thinking the panel would work better on The Tre and Jenna Show. You’ll get a wider audience. MiriamYoung’s agreed to come on and so has Rowan.”

  Two nights a week D’dawg and his wife, Jen, hosted The Tre and Jenna Show. Jen was an advice columnist with her own following, and the husband-and-wife team’s popularity was rapidly growing. That they came from opposing viewpoints made the show even more interesting.

  “I’ll call Larry Moorehouse and talk to him about joining us,” Emilie offered.

  “If you have trouble with Larry send him to me. I’ll call you soon with more details.” Tre headed off, his team of technicians trailing him.

  When Emilie entered the ballroom she noted the crowd had thinned considerably. Now you could even walk and browse the merchandise, unheard of before. A few tables sported Sale signs, which meant the consultants didn’t want to pack the merchandise up and take it home. Those tables were doing a good business.

  Pretending not to be browsing, Emilie cast a discreet eye at the displays and tried not to gape. She’d never seen such an assortment of strap ons and vibrators in her life. They came in all colors, shapes and sizes with names that made her blush.

  “I’d say this was one party that was a roaring success,” Joya said, coming to stand beside her. “See, I even bought Derek a little present.” She carried one of the signature pink and blue bags.

  “Let me guess. It’s one of those erotic party games where the person who selects a card gets to ask for a favor.”

  “No, better than that. Here, take a peek.”

  Emilie stuck her head in the bag and immediately felt her cheeks heat up.

  “Edible chocolate panties! I’d say Derek was in for a wild time tonight.”

  “Buy yourself a pair.”

  “What for? I can’t think of a soul I’d want to share them with.”

  Joya snorted loudly. “I know a certain developer who would be happy to partake.”

  It was Emilie’s turn to snort and quickly change the subject. “I just met a contracted worker Keith Lightfoot brought in. He’s an engineer. The man is hot.”

  “I’ll find out what Derek knows about him. Actually you can ask my hubby yourself because here he comes.”

  “Did I hear my name? Ask me what?” Derek nuzzled his wife’s neck and she waved her little pink and blue bag at him.

  “Save that mushy stuff for later. I bought us dessert,” Joya said, smiling and winking.

  “You did, did you? What did you want to ask me, Emilie?”

  Emilie told Derek about meeting Mack Allen and how he’d mentioned they’d be working together.

  “Can’t say I know the brotha but if you’re interested in him this is going to cause problems.”

  Joya looked at her husband curiously. “Problems? Why’s that?”

  “Rowan’s not going to like having competition. Not one bit.”

  “Rowan’s not in the running. He can’t control who I see,” Emilie muttered, bristling.

  “And on that note, I need to get back to work. Will you help me break down tables, hon?” Joya took her husband’s arm and with a parting wink steered him away.

  Emilie remained dumbfounded. Who did Rowan James think he was? Because she’d agreed to go to Harbour Island with him didn’t mean he owned her. They didn’t even have an understanding.

  She was free to date anyone she chose.

  Chapter 10

  It took a little coaxing to get Larry Moorehouse on board. At first he’d not been keen about moving the location of the jam session. He claimed the residents were used to being on the beach and the event had a certain format that people were comfortable with. But once he’d learned of Tre’s involvement and his promise to tape the show, he quickly changed his tune.

  Emilie had been very persuasive, telling Larry that the changes she suggested were actually better for the community, and that he would get the credit for bringing additional attention to the Beach, not to mention some much-needed income. That had finally done it and he’d wanted in.

  She’d also spoken to her boss, Tom Burke, senior vice president of sales and marketing. He’d felt the publicity would be a good thing for the resort, and he’d wanted everyone to know that the hotel would donate ten percent of any profits back. Larry seemed to like that idea a lot, which was another reason he’d agreed to be at WARP tonight, that and the fact that the broadcast would thrust him even more into the limelight.

  The guests on The Tre and Jenna Show were seated in WARP’s answer to a greenroom. To Emilie’s right was Stephen Priddy, as usual looking smug and confident. Emilie hoped he’d keep the bloopers to a minimum. D’dawg’s audience was a tough one, and they would be all over him like the clingy raspberry polyester suit the mayor was wearing.

  Solomon Rabinowitz had somehow gotten wind of the broadcast and MiriamYoung’s involvement. He’d invited himself on the show. Rowan occupied the spot on the other side of Emilie. She was anxious to see how things played out tonight, given that she was leaving for Harbour Island with him later that week. Hopefully they wouldn’t be at each other’s throat.

  “I’m a little nervous,” Larry Moorehouse admitted, pouring himself a glass of cold water from a pitcher on the table. “Tre’s a buddy of mine, but on the air he can be brutal, and his wife, Jenna, always asks some very direct questions.”

  “You’ll do just fine,” Emilie assured him, hoping that he could sell the idea of moving the jam to the residents and not cave under pressure.

  Tre’s listeners were often passionate and opinionated, and they weren’t the type to pull any punches.

  A student intern stuck his head in the greenroom. “Fifteen minutes to airtime,” he announced, “Let’s get you moved into the studio.”

  Larry Moorehouse was practically gulping air now. The mayor in his ridiculous suit smoothed the fringe around his pate. He was studiously avoiding making eye contact with Miriam Young, who was wearing an attractive pantsuit with her signature flip-flops underneath.

  “You’re pretty cool,” Rowan said into Emilie’s ear as they walked down the hall toward the studio.

  “I’m a good actress. Wait until I’m on the air. But I do believe the jam session needs structure, and with a little pizzazz we could give Idol a run for its money. Plus we’d give tourists and locals something to do on a Saturday night.”

  “And you’ll fill up your hotel, as well,” Rowan said, winking. “You’re always thinking about your hotel.”

  “And you aren’t thinking about the casino and that huge shopping mall? The kinds of high-end stores you’re hoping to attract can only survive if people spend money. We’re both business people.”

  “Touché.” Rowan pushed a lock of blond hair out of his eye and grinned at her.

  Inside the studio they were given earpieces and microphones. Jen and Tre already had headsets on and acknowledged their arrival with a wave.

  A production assistant began a slow countdown, holding up his fingers. “Five, four, three, two, one. You’re on the air live.”

  The lyrics of a popular song served as an introduction and then the husband-and-wife cohosts came on.

  “Good evening, this is Jen St. George. My advice column is known as Dear Jenna. Seated next to me is my better half, Tre Monroe, D’dawg to most of you.”

  Jen was the one who played the straight guy.

  “D’dawg here. How ya’ll doing, Flamingo Beach?” Tre said, taking over. On Wednesdays and Fridays of every week, my lovely lady and I keep it real on The Tre and Jenna Show. Hope you’ll keep tuning in.”

  More music followed before Tre introduced the night’s topic. He invited the panelists to introduce themselves and speak briefly about why they were here. Mayor Rabinowitz, long winded as usual, hogged most of the time, leaving the others barely enough minutes to mumble their names and their pet topics.

  “It’s all about change, baby,” Tre said, whistling softly. “Look at how quickly this town went from a sleepy little village with two motels
to a big-time resort. Flamingo Beach is on the brink of discovery and could easily be the next Las Vegas. Remember those little shacks on Shore Drive that no self-respecting person would live in? Well, now they’re selling for big bucks and the people moving in are calling them historical homes.”

  “Look at Mario’s diner,” Jen said, taking over. “When I first moved here it served grits, dumplings and its trademark spaghetti. Now the place has outdoor dining, sorry, that’s garden terrace seating to you and me.”

  “Yup,” Tre said, laughing. “Old Mario’s gone upscale. And now he has more waitstaff than he has children. Business is booming!”

  “Let’s talk about Flamingo Beach’s five-star resort. You think there’s going to be enough traffic in town to support that plus a casino?” his wife asked. “Which brings us to tonight’s topics. How will all of these changes affect the little man?”

  “Hit us up, baby,” Tre said in the urban drawl he’d perfected for radio. “Give it to us straight. Is this casino a good or bad thing? Lines are open, y’all.”

  Emilie caught Rowan’s eye. She winked at him. He’d just been put in the hot seat and he knew it. Mayor Rabinowitz and Priddy would let him sink.

  The first caller was pro casino. When Tre pushed a little the man admitted it was only because he liked to gamble. Several calls following that were mixed. Most liked the idea of having more jobs available but were worried about their children, and the element that would be drawn to the town.

  “What about the types pf people that come to a casino?” Tre threw out, stirring things up. “Some say gambling draws hookers, pimps and drug addicts like magnets.”

  The next caller suggested that Tre have Rowan, the mayor and Miriam answer that question. Mayor Rabinowitz quickly deferred to Rowan.

  “Your concerns may very well be valid,” Rowan said like a pro. “However, there are no statistics to support an immediate rise in crime whenever a casino is built.”

  “You said immediate, but what about long-term?” Jen asked him.

  “Over an extended period of time, towns with casinos do seem to have higher crime rates, but who is to say the casino is the problem? Whenever there is an influx of people, thefts and vandalism increase.”