Andy appeared, dressed and ready to go. “You want to drive the Jeep?” he asked, holding up the keys.
“Absolutely.” She took in the trash and grabbed a jacket she’d left in the closet.
On the way out to Andy’s rental, she saw Cory dump the bottle discreetly in the gray garbage can at the curb.
Aimee sped down the beach on a bright red fat tire bicycle, screaming at the top of her lungs. She tried to stay out front of Cory and Andy but didn’t take as many chances as they did, as they wound around beachgoers and other obstacles.
The motor was pegged to five miles an hour which, while not very fast on the road, seemed like jet speed on the beach. The boys were reckless, swerving to avoid people, umbrellas, beach chairs, and a small group of teenagers, who chased them every time they zipped by.
On a couple of occasions when they got too close to some beachgoer and weren’t sure they’d clear, Andy or Cory would just dump the bike, sacrificing themselves.
Aimee wasn’t able to ride without the assist, so she maintained just enough tension to make it a good workout, without imploding her quads.
Several hours later, her ribs hurt; she had laughed so hard. The sunlight on her face and then on her back as they traveled up and down the beach felt wonderful. They maintained a five mile loop until her legs began to burn.
She stopped and Cory told her to continue to a large wooden bench a few yards north. Once she arrived, she noticed a beach access bridge with a large bench big enough for all three of them planted in the sand. The bikes were carefully laid on their sides as they caught their breath and talked to several groups of kids or curious onlookers who traveled the bridge for the day’s adventure.
Cory volunteered to take the access toward Gulf Boulevard on an ice cream mission. Andy agreed to accompany him while Aimee stayed behind to guard the bicycles.
She sat still and just observed, letting her mind relax. There was something about Sunset Beach that settled her insides. The white noise from the turning waves, calling of sea birds, and the squeal of little children transported her back to her childhood and much happier days.
Mounted on the wall in her kitchen was a wooden plaque she bought in one of the local beach decor shops. It read, The beach fixes everything.
Sitting alone in the afternoon sun, she completely agreed.
The panoramic view in front of her was at least ten miles wide in both directions, where beachgoers looked hardly bigger than a grain of sand.
Maybe it was the salty air or the gentle wind in her face. She felt healthy, alive, freed from the pain of watching her mother lose her battle and her will for life. Everything important was in front of her, as if the past had been wiped away.
The bright orange sun was falling and would mate with the horizon in an hour. She could feel the rays warm her heart. All she came here for was distraction. Instead, what she got was her life back. She began to unthaw.
In a silent homage to the goddess of the sun and a God she knew loved her despite her flaws, she said a prayer. She was grateful, and like a mermaid who had emerged from the ocean for a life on land, she was firmly walking on two feet toward a bright future.
Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sight of the scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough on a waffle cone nearly the quarter the size of her head. Rivulets of vanilla ice cream had already traveled down the outside of the cone and over the fingers of her handsome Navy SEAL.
Cory was now kneeling in front of her presenting the cone.
“Holy cow, Cory. This is huge!” she said.
Andy appeared next to him. He handed her several paper towels and gave the rest to Cory. He had a ring of chocolate around his mouth and a small spot at the tip of his nose.
“I tasted yours, Aimee,” Andy said. “Feel free, I mean, if you can’t finish it, I’d be happy to oblige.”
“If you value your life, you’ll stay out of my ice cream, Andy.” She was rewarded with a bright, wide smile and a wink.
“Cory’s warned me about you. And based on what I saw you doing with that bicycle, I can see you are a competitor.”
“Oh, but she is so wicked when she plays cards,” said Cory. He put his hand up to his mouth, forming a megaphone, and whispered, “She cheats.”
“I do not!”
But Cory wasn’t paying any attention to her. He was prattling on about all the card and Monopoly games she’d won.
“Not fair! I call foul!” she said. “I’m a fighter because I don’t like to lose.”
Both men howled, Andy falling to the ground as if he’d been stabbed. He nearly lost his double scoop.
Minutes later, she handed the rest of her cone to Andy, who accepted it gleefully. She washed her hands in the drinking fountain beside the bench, drying them on her jeans.
The sky was turning a deeper shade of blue. It had been forecasted for rain, so large billowy clouds had sprung up while they rested. As the sun dropped into the water, the clouds turned from white to various shades of purples, peaches and occasionally golden yellows.
Several groups of people had gathered on the beach to watch the sunset. Everyone was caught up in their own private thoughts, observing the death of one day and preparing for another behind it.
“Come on. Let’s get home before it’s too dark,” Cory said. “And we have to get the bikes back to the shop before closing time at eight.”
She walked between the two of them. It felt good to run this morning. Felt good to get to know Andy a little. The exercise on the bike was invigorating. She’d sleep well tonight.
“Anyone up for oysters?” Cory shouted. “We should go to JJ’s. The drinks are half off until seven, and they make the best jambalaya in all of Florida!”
Chapter 5
The parking lot was so full that the spillover also filled the church parking lot next door. Aimee trolled the row upon row of trucks, SUVs, golf carts, small camper RVs, and sedans. There were license plates from several eastern seaboard states, as well as several from Texas, Tennessee, and North Carolina.
“I think I see one over there next to the white truck,” said Andy.
It was obvious that if they made it into the space, nobody would be able to open their doors to get out.
“I’m going to give myself more space,” said Aimee. “I don’t need another door ding. And there’s got to be someplace along the street, as long as you guys don’t mind walking a bit. Or I could drop you off and find a spot then meet you inside.”
“Are you nuts?” Cory squinted his eyes and looked at her disapprovingly. Andy completely agreed.
“Yeah. You’re stuck with us, Aimee,” he told her.
Just as she was going to head out to find another spot, a huge four-door truck with tires nearly the size of a small airplane began to leave. The windows were blackened, and it had a custom paint job with a non-stock chrome grill and fancy custom lights that practically required sunglasses. But Andy still recognized it as a Ford.
Centered in the middle of all the crisscrossing chrome and extra lighting was a set of horns about twelve inches in length, mounted wisely upside down with the tips pointing to the ground for obvious reasons.
Across the blackened windshield in oversized scripted letters was the name, Phyllis.
All in white.
“Holy moly, Phyllis. How the hell do you get inside that cab, sweetheart?” Cory whistled and shook his head in disbelief.
The monster truck slowly wound through the aisles of haphazard and unmarked parking spaces. When Aimee turned off the ignition, Andy heard the blast of a special carburetor system, and the squeal of those oversize tires making a huge statement. A cloud of gray smoke trailed behind without any chance of catching up.
Inside, the place was packed. Long tables with benches were set up in the middle of the room. Tables for two rimmed the outside. He’d expected they’d have to wait, but they were shown to the end of a picnic table they were to share with a party of four, two couples.
Up fro
nt, he saw a raised dais, with microphones, drums, and equipment set up for a small band.
“We’re going to have entertainment tonight?” Andy asked, his voice slightly elevated.
Cory craned to sneak a look up front and then turned back to their group. “We got the Flamingo Cowboys tonight. What the hell kind of band is that?”
Aimee shrugged her shoulders. “The only flamingos I’ve seen with cowboy hats are cartoons.”
“Probably a local band,” said Andy.
They ordered three bowls of jambalaya, and then Cory ordered a dozen barbecued oysters.
“And to drink?” the waitress asked.
Cory scanned a chalkboard she pointed to and picked a local IPA. “We’ll have a pitcher.”
“Three glasses then?”
Aimee pointed to a picture on the menu of an oversized margarita glass filled with pink icy liquid. A long pink and white striped straw had a pinkish orange paper flamingo attached to it.
“I’ll have that.”
“JJ Margarita special then. Just one?”
Cory and Andy looked at each other, and Andy spoke first. “Actually, make that two.”
“Cory raised his forefinger, and asked for a sixteen ounce, instead of the pitcher.
Andy was having a hard time hearing anybody so he scanned the crowd. He didn’t expect to see anyone he knew, but he’d been trained to assess any new environment. He noticed a rear door next to the kitchen entrance. Over his head, he saw at least six cameras attached to a ceiling grid that panned the crowd.
Narrow stairs lead to a short landing and a door beyond, indicating there was a small office or observation room above the kitchen. He figured it was where all the recording equipment and security detail was located, because he didn’t see anyone of authority downstairs.
Cory had been searching as well. The two nodded.
The margaritas arrived, twice the size of what they looked like on the menu. Cory held his mug up, and they toasted.
“To Sunset Beach. To good friends and happy memories.”
All three of them pulled on their drinks.
“Oh, I like this!” Aimee said. “Cory, you got to try mine.”
Andy completely agreed. The drink was luscious and went down like fresh fruit juice.
Cory shook his head and waved her off.
“I think it’s grapefruit and definitely pineapple, but I’m not sure,” Andy said. “It has some Cointreau in it, too, and something else. Very smooth. I approve.”
Aimee raised her glass, and all three of them toasted again.
“Out with the old and in with the new,” she shouted.
“It isn’t New Year’s, Aimee,” Cory spat back.
“It kind of feels that way to me, though. I’ll just get a two-month start on it. Is that okay?”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Cory rubbed his thumb across her lips. “You can have Valentine’s Day every day if you want it.”
Andy watched Aimee blush and tried not to stare.
A table of young ladies were drinking just behind them. Andy knew immediately it was a bachelorette party. His internal radar flew into high alert. He turned when he caught two of the girls whispering and pointing in his direction.
Dammit.
Cory ordered another beer when they got their oysters and the stew. The hot sizzling barbecue and garlic butter was fantastic, and all dozen of the things were gone in a matter of seconds.
The jambalaya was to die for. It was spicy hot but not so much as to shatter his taste buds. It contained jumbo shrimp, crawdads, oysters, clams with their shells, and muscles, all in a brown okra gumbo. It went perfectly with the margarita. But he found himself closing his eyes when he drank, since the pink was distracting and didn’t match what he tasted.
The band started playing, which made any kind of discussion impossible. He also knew that tomorrow on his morning run, his ears would be ringing.
Cory turned around on the bench so he could watch the band. A very tiny dance floor was located just in front of the stage. Cory grabbed Aimee’s hand and pulled her through the sea of tables to join several other couples.
He watched Cory and Aimee move together. She was a good dancer, but Andy could tell Cory didn’t know the first thing about leading. The combination Country and Latin beat was catchy, and before long, he noticed he’d been tapping his feet, as well as his fingers, on the table top.
The rest of the dance crowd were older couples, silver-haired snowbirds probably, drinking and dancing on a Wednesday night, which was likely something they never did at home. He liked the fact that the whole room of people had come from so many different places. Some were recent refugees to Florida, bailing from other high-priced areas of the country. Others were just here on vacation, escaping a blustery fall somewhere.
Aimee had told him she came for distraction. And that was probably true for all three of them.
The second set began, which was a slow dance. The older couples resumed their positions, probably used to dancing with each other for decades. But Cory and Aimee were clowning around, laughing, as Cory held her and then dipped her low to the ground and up again. They danced in a bear hug but as close as they could get. He watched her face as she leaned into Cory’s shoulder and closed her beautiful lavender eyes in a daydream.
He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up to find a very pretty, well-endowed redhead staring down at him.
“Care to dance?” she asked.
“Sure.”
On their way to the dance floor, he heard clapping and laughter. Someone yelled out, “Go for Ginger!”
She stepped right up into him, her chest forming a pillow between them. He slipped his arm around her waist, directing her to an open space in the dance area, and she followed perfectly.
“Where are you from?” her orange lips asked in a soft Southern drawl.
“California. And you?”
“We are all from here. Well, almost all of us. But we all grew up here and have been friends since grammar school.”
“Ah!” he said as he looked down on her. She smiled sweetly, a little shy, but she was comfortable around men, and he liked that. She was easy to like and perhaps easy to talk to. As he gave a fleeting glance to the cleavage helped with some kind of a push-up bra, he thought probably she would be easy to fuck too.
But that wasn’t really a serious thought. He could be the guy she was dared to ask, and he knew how to be a gentleman, so he would politely do his duty, help her look like a princess, and would return her to her friends.
He caught Aimee staring at him, and then she quickly glanced away. When Cory turned her around, he gave Andy a wide-eyed all-knowing smile.
“So how long are you going to be in Florida?” she asked.
“Two weeks. I have to get back to work.”
“I see. Well, that means you’d be here this weekend. Would you come if I invited you to my best friend’s wedding?”
He knew exactly what to say next. It was a standard answer whenever he got into situations he needed to exit cleanly. “I kind of have someone back home. I’m out here to visit my buddy.” He nodded in Cory’s direction.
She turned, looking at Cory and Aimee dancing. “I think he’s local. Is he?”
Andy didn’t want to speak for Cory, so he lied for him instead. “No, he’s up in Virginia. He’s just down here for some workman’s comp time. Did you catch his purple cast?”
“Oh!”
Her eyes had drifted to Aimee. “Well then, I’m going to have to ask Gretchen if it’s okay to invite all three of you. It’s going to be a fun party. My friend is marrying Anson Moore III. You know, the Moore’s who breed racehorses?”
“I’m afraid you know way more about that than I do.” He paused and then tried to soften the turn down. “We have lots of plans to go fishing and do all kinds of things while we’re here, so I’m afraid our days are pretty full. But thank you anyway.”
She appeared to take it well. “All right.”
Her sweet voice washed over him, and he could feel himself get hard. He decided to just experience it, instead of trying to turn it off.
He was getting used to his arm around her waist, used to the way she blended her fingers with his, used to her subtle floral scent and the way her nipples felt brushing against his chest.
She was his for the taking. She’d be soft and loving. She’d make him feel good about himself. He’d enjoy watching her shatter beneath him. He knew he could satisfy her, and he wouldn’t wake up the next day and feel dirty. But it wasn’t what he was looking for.
It suddenly struck him how odd this was. The old Andy would never pass up the chance to spend a little fun time with a pretty girl.
Maybe I’m just getting old. Is this what I have to look forward to?
And then the music was over.
She held his hand, dragging him over to the table with her friends. Each time he tried to sneak a look at Cory, he was laughing. He knew there would be jokes at his expense tomorrow about getting ensnared, and fondled, even mildly felt up on his second day in Florida. He knew Cory would tell him that the girls here were beautiful. And they were.
As Ginger introduced him to the female side of the wedding party, he made a point of being courteous but not giving anyone too much attention over anybody else. He declined their invitation to join them for drinks.
“No, ladies,” Ginger began. “He’s here visiting his friend and his friend’s girlfriend. Kaitlyn, honey, do I have your permission to invite them to the wedding?”
The bride wore a tiny white veil with miniature wedding rings, baby pacifiers, and several other flesh-colored charms he didn’t recognize stitched into the veil. She looked ridiculous.
Kaitlyn, the bride, examined him as if he was a piece of meat at an auction house. She was cold as hell, but her eyes lit up when she said, “On one condition. I got to have one dance.”
She opened her purse, leaned across the table and handed him an invitation to the wedding and reception. It was in two days. That’s when he recognized the flesh-colored shapes sewn to her veil. They were penises.
“Obviously, you don’t have to RSVP. The more the merrier,” she said, the little penises bobbing with the movement of her head. Her smile was picture-perfect. Her eyes came alive when he took the invitation and stuck it in his jacket pocket.
SEALed At Sunset Page 5
