Flamingo Place (Mills & Boon Kimani)

by Marcia King-Gamble

  Now Jen understood the loud music, the posturing, the strange hours and the groupies at his door. No, she wasn’t being fair. There had also been a kind, caring side to him, hidden behind all that bluster. She’d even begun to like the man.

  “Life is strange, isn’t it?” Eileen continued with a bemused expression on her face. “Here the two of you are at each other’s…Ouch.”

  “Sorry, awfully clumsy of me.”

  Jen removed her high heel off of Eileen’s instep. She hadn’t meant to step on her colleague’s foot that hard. But at least it had shut her up, and that was Jen’s goal.

  Knowledge was power. Jen now knew of Trestin’s other persona but he still didn’t know she was Dear Jenna. Therefore she had the upper hand. She planned on keeping it that way for as long as possible.

  “So that’s why you kept your career a secret,” she gushed and playfully punched his arm. All the while her insides roiled and a red-hot anger consumed her. He’d lied all along, pretending he didn’t know about the controversy and didn’t listen to the D’Dawg show. He didn’t listen, he was the show. “I can’t believe I live next door to someone famous.”

  Eileen wisely kept her counsel, looking from one to the other. She’d gotten the message loud and clear.

  “I’ve never considered myself famous,” Tre graciously said, “I’m just doing what I’ve always done, entertain people. Some appreciate my unique brand of humor. Some do not.”

  “You do a good job. I love your show and I especially enjoyed the way you poked fun at Dear Jenna. What was it you called her?”

  “Aunt Jemima!” Chere, who’d returned from the bathroom and must have been listening carefully, supplied. If nothing else, she caught on quickly. She was streetwise and smart and hopefully would keep her mouth shut.

  “You’re ‘the dog,’” she said loudly. “Oops! I mean the on-air personality, the man who couldn’t find his mama.”

  Tre nodded. “Yes, as a matter of fact I’m still looking for her.”

  Chere pointed a golden nail in the direction of the ladies’room. “Your mama and that loud senior citizen are in the bathroom. Want me to get them for you?”

  Tre looked exasperated. Jen actually felt sorry for him. During their last dinner he’d alluded to the fact his mother was a handful.

  “Yes, please. It’s bedtime for them. I’ll come with you.” He nodded goodbye to Jen and the Browns and plodded after Chere.

  “You didn’t know he was D’Dawg, did you?” Eileen said when Tre was well out of earshot.

  “No, I didn’t have a clue.”

  Eileen lowered her voice confidentially, “You do realize he’s interested in you.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  Denial was safe. But even as Jen shook her head she remembered his searing kisses and her passionate reaction to them.

  How could something like this have happened? She’d sworn off men, wanted nothing to do with them. Didn’t trust them period, especially after Anderson.

  “What are you going to do about him?” Eileen asked while Barry, her husband, maintained a poker face and offered no comment.

  What was she going to do about Trestin now that she knew who he was? Eventually he would find out she was Dear Jenna. Any comfortable rapport they’d established would quickly come to an end. Meanwhile she could have fun with him. She just had to make sure her heart was protected in the process. A woman could only stand so much hurt.

  “Mother,” Tre said, two days later as they rode in the Porsche. “Is Café Singles the site you posted on?”

  “Why are you asking?” Marva pretended to fumble for something in her purse.

  “No particular reason.”

  He’d decided to take his mother with him to the grand opening of a new car dealership. D’Dawg was the featured celebrity and Miriam Young, “the Flip-Flop Momma,” Mayor Rabinowitz’s competition, was supposed to show up.

  With the election now less than a week away, things were heating up. Today, because it was a weekend, the new Ford dealership expected a record turnout. Marva had wanted to accompany him, claiming she wanted to see him in action doing his disk jockey thing. She was especially fascinated by Miriam Young, the feisty single parent willing to shake up the old boys.

  The convertible’s roof was down and a balmy breeze blew through the interior. Tre, sensing Marva was avoiding conflict, pushed a little.

  “You placed an advertisement on a dating site on my behalf. I asked you to remove it and I want to make sure you did.”

  Marva sniffed. She could turn the waterworks on and off when it was convenient. “I told you I canceled it. Why don’t you believe me?”

  “I’m just trying to avoid any further embarrassing incidents. I have a reputation to maintain, Mother. I can’t afford to come off as desperate and needing my mother to find me a mate.” Tre took his eyes off the road momentarily. “Hopefully I’ve convinced you I’m not gay.”

  Marva cackled. “You did. What’s happening with 5C?”

  “We’ve been out a couple of times.”

  That’s all she needed to know and that was all he planned on telling her.

  “And?”

  “And nothing, Mother. She’s an interesting woman and a beautiful one.”

  “Yes, I picked that up. Even the mouthpiece down the hall thinks so.”

  “Mouthpiece?”

  “Camille Lewis.”

  In the short time she’d been there, Marva sure managed to get around.

  They pulled into a space at the Ford dealership. Tre helped his mother out of the front seat then made sure he got the crate holding the CDs and autographed photos he was going to give away, out of the trunk.

  The radio station’s van was already parked, and Bill, the assistant producer, had set up the wheel of fortune. They would be giving away the CDs, photographs and other promotional items to a few lucky winners. Overhead a large orange blimp floated. The words WARP Celebrates The Opening Of Ferris Ford were embla-zoned in purple. You couldn’t miss the blimp. The orange against a blue sky with puffy white clouds was an eye-catcher.

  “I have to get to work, Mother,” Tre said. “There’s complimentary refreshments over there, plus the local vendors are giving out samples of products. You can even get free newspapers. Both The Tribune and Chronicle are on the premises. Try not to get into trouble.”

  “I want to see the Flip-Flop Momma, hear what she has to say.”

  With a wave of her hand, Marva was off, wending her way toward the area where the vendors and a makeshift stage had been set up. Glad she seemed happy and occupied, Tre headed off to work.

  Bill, his assistant producer, was a red-haired kid with freckles and an optimistic attitude.

  “Hey, Tre,” he greeted. “We’ve already had several women by to see you. I told them you were running late. The box with the drawing for that Fun Ship cruise is full, you might want to empty it.”

  Tre removed the business cards and folded pieces of paper from the box. He stuffed them into an envelope Bill gave him. One of their sponsors, advertising themselves as the most popular cruise line in the world, had donated a cruise for two. That marketing move was driving quite a bit of business.

  Word soon got out D’Dawg was there and people started to drift over. Tre pumped more hands than he cared to count and kissed ladies of every ethnic makeup. As he paused to take a sip of water, his thoughts turned to Jen. He’d been so busy entertaining his mother, and making sure she stayed out of trouble, he’d not followed through on his plans of seduction. The way he felt about her he wasn’t sure seduction was now quite the right word.

  Marva and Jen had somehow managed to meet without him introducing them. But he wanted to see for himself how they interacted. Both were strong personalities in totally different ways. Maybe what he needed to do was take them out for a day in the sun. His boat was moored at the Flamingo Beach public docks but he seldom had time to use it.

  It was an indulgence, just like the Porsche was, but the s
peedboat was something he’d always wanted. Tre had purchased the boat secondhand, reasoning what was the point of living in a waterfront community if you didn’t take advantage of all it had to offer?

  He’d grown up poor in Detroit. He and his mother and brother had barely gotten by. Expensive cars and boats were luxuries seen only on television. Now it felt good to know that his hard work and ambition had paid off and that if he chose to, he could own things that he’d only been able to dream of. This was another reason buying the apartment was so important to him. Few members of his family were home owners.

  “How’s your mother?” a female voice brayed, pulling him out of his meanderings.

  Tre looked up into the smiling face of the haystack he’d encountered the other night at the library. He searched his memory. Chere something-or-other.

  “Chere Adams,” she reminded him.

  “My mother? She’s around somewhere,” he answered, gesturing toward the vendor area. “She wanted to hear Miriam Young.” Dare he ask if her friend accompanied her? No, let her bring it up.

  “So how do I enter this contest?” Chere asked, stabbing a finger at the cruise entry box.

  “Put your business card in. If you don’t have one—” he doubted she did “—write your name on this form.” Tre shoved a slip of paper at her.

  Chere Adams surprised him by removing a couple of business cards from her oversized rattan bag and flipping them into the box.

  “Fix it so I win,” she said shamelessly.

  Tre winked at her. “Sure. But who you going take with you if you win?”

  “My buddy.”

  “Your buddy got a name?”

  Chere smiled provocatively. “She your next door neighbor. By the way, you still on Café Singles?”

  “What?”

  Another knowing smile followed. “Well your photo ain’t posted if that’s what you’re worried about. But I read the profile and it seems pretty obvious to me.”

  He was going to kill his mother, murder her with his bare hands.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tre denied.

  “Sure you do. Your mama wrote to Dear Jenna about you when she thought you were gay.” Busted! The woman was a heck of a lot smarter than he gave her credit for, and downright shrewd, too. “Hmmmm. Wonder if my buddy knows you’re on a dating site? Maybe I should tell her.”

  “Now don’t you do that.”

  “Why not?”

  A flurry of activity behind the Adams woman got his attention. Five or six teenyboppers clutching the pictures Bill was giving out at the entrance, advanced.

  “D’Dawg! Oh, my God!”

  “Tre Monroe. You’re my idol. I love you.”

  “I just want to touch you, D’Dawg.”

  “I want to have your baby.”

  Chere burst out laughing. “Looks like you’re busy. I’ll make room for your fan club. Make sure I win.”

  She clomped off on platform shoes that looked wicked. Tre’s attention now turned to the squealing teenagers who were jumping up and down. The next half an hour passed quickly.

  There were fifteen minutes left before he could pack up. Now the crowd had thinned considerably. Tre spotted his mother toddling toward him. She looked exhausted and was laden down by bags filled with freebies. So far there was still not one word about high blood pressure or out-of-control diabetes.

  Tre pulled out the chair Bill had vacated. “Here, Mother, take a seat.”

  Marva sank into it gratefully. “You want to see what I got? I can’t wait to get back to Detroit and show Mrs. Calhoun how Florida parties.”

  He couldn’t wait, either. “Later, Mother, later. As soon as Bill gets back we’ll take off.”

  Marva wasn’t listening. She pulled a fanny pack out of one of the bags and held it up. “I got this for Ida.”

  “That was thoughtful of you.”

  A T-shirt with a wild beach scene followed. The front of the shirt read Ride The Wave With The Flamingo Beach Chronicle.

  “And this is what that nice girl from 5C gave to me,” Marva chortled. “Now wasn’t that sweet?”

  “Jen gave you the shirt?” Tre asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. “She’s here?”

  “Yes, we were standing together listening to Miriam Young talk about her platform. Afterward she handed it to me.”

  “You get along with 5C?” Tre asked, surprising himself by holding his breath while waiting for her answer.

  “Oh, yes, very much so. I think she’s perfect for you. She’d keep you on your toes. By the way, I smoothed the way for you. I told her you were interested. The ball’s in your court, son. Don’t drop it.”

  Chapter 16

  “Tre asked me to go out on his boat,” Jen said to Chere later that week when they were working at home. There was no point in keeping it a secret. Chere already knew they’d been out a time or two; they’d even been jogging together. The minute Jen stepped foot on Tre’s boat it would be all over town anyway.

  “Interesting,” Chere offered, looking up from the pile of letters she was going through. She wore rhinestone harlequin glasses that made her look like a well-fed cat. “I wonder what he’s up to.”

  “You are suspicious? I’m rubbing off on you.” Jen took that opportunity to stand and stretch. She’d been hunched over a computer for way too long. “And I told him I would provide the eats.”

  “Generous of you. You know he’s on Café Singles?”

  For a beat too long, Jen stared out the window and onto an angry-looking bay. White-crested waves tossed little sailboats around and the sky above was heavy with storm clouds. It was too early for hurricanes but not too early for the afternoon rains that came and went as quickly as they began.

  “Where have I heard the name before?” Jen asked. “What is it anyway?”

  “The most popular site for African-Americans looking to get hooked up.”

  “And you’re on it?”

  Chere smiled enigmatically.

  A wicked idea was beginning to formulate in Jen’s mind. “Log onto the site. Let me take a look.”

  “Jen, you’re up to no good.”

  “I am?”

  She knew her smile was positively wicked. She was enjoying this.

  Chere found Café Singles and quickly entered using a password.

  “As I thought,” Jen said. “You’re already a member.”

  Chere’s smile matched hers. “Well, a girl can’t sit home these days and wait for men to come calling.” She scrolled through a number of profiles then brought up the one she thought was Tre’s. “Here he is.”

  Taking her time, Jen read thoughtfully. “Well, it certainly sounds like him,” she announced after she was through.

  “So what’s next? You got a digital photo?” Chere asked.

  “Sure thing. I have my Dear Jenna photo.”

  Chere’s eyes went wide. “Puh-lease, not that ugly old thing with you wearing that zoot suit.”

  “That’s the one I’m using.”

  With that Chere began laughing so hard she was actually hiccupping. In a joint effort they uploaded the photo. “That boy’s going be mad when he finds out. How you going to sign your e-mail, Aunt Jemima?” Chere dissolved in laughter again, her double chins bobbing.

  “I just might.” Leaning over her assistant’s shoulders, Jen began typing. Before she could change her mind she hit the send button.

  “Let’s get back to work, shall we?” she said, no sooner had Chere hoisted herself off the chair.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I find something to eat in your refrigerator. Just looking at that stack of letters is enough to make me hungry.”

  With that Chere waddled off.

  Now it was wait and see if Marva got her message.

  Sunday turned out to be the perfect day for boating. Tre, after checking in with Jen, asked if she minded taking his mother with her down to the docks. He planned on getting there earlier to make sure the Chris Craft was clean and ready
to go. He’d hired a deckhand to clean the boat thoroughly but without close supervision one never knew.

  Satisfied the work had been completed, Tre stood at the entrance of the public dock waiting for his mother and Jen to arrive. Initially he’d had some trepidation about leaving the two alone but then he’d figured his mother had already been in Jen’s company unsupervised, so whatever damage had been done would have occurred even before.

  While waiting, Tre examined his real reasons for throwing the two together. He’d wanted to see for himself how Marva and Jen got along. He’d been toying with the idea of pursuing 5C, and not just for the seduction he’d initially planned. Almost overnight it had struck him that this was exactly the kind of woman he was looking for. Jen was serious but had a playful side to her. She seemed outgoing and capable of handling herself, yet at the same time vulnerable, and there was an element of mystery that surrounded her. He wanted to unravel that mystery.

  The Miata pulled into a vacant spot. Jen raced from the driver’s side and came around to help his mother out. Jen was dressed for boating, wearing white shorts and a black-and-white T-shirt. A jaunty red sailor hat covered hair that had been pulled back into a ponytail. White sneakers and black socks, the kind with the pom-poms peeking over the back, completed the look.

  His mother, though more covered up, went with the tropical theme. She was wearing a wild-looking thing that he’d seen ladies in Hawaii wear during luaus. Her wide-brimmed hat had colorful flowers that bobbed when she spoke. And she was speaking a mile a minute, as she usually did.

  Tre waved to them as they began approaching the docks. He could see his mother’s expression clearly now and a beaming smile wreathed her face. He exhaled a breath. The two were getting along quite well. He also noticed the picnic basket Jen carried, the one she’d promised to bring.

  Tre greeted his ladies with a kiss on each cheek. His mother wore the heavy fragrance that she always did, and Jen smelled like citrus.

  “Noir is anchored at the far dock,” he announced. “Are you ladies up for the walk?”

  “Sure,” his mother puffed. He noticed she had twined an arm through Jen’s. The two were as thick as thieves.