Sunshine Hunter

by Maddie Cochere

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  It was seven o’clock. Darby had called earlier and asked me to meet him in the lobby at seven thirty.

  After sprucing up my makeup and brushing out my hair, I chose to wear a pair of white Capri pants with a teal tank top. I finished the look with my new peacock peep-toe shoes. The shoes were super comfortable, but I was walking on air anyway after talking with Mick. How was I going to get through two more days of Florida before heading for home?

  I left my room and took the elevator to the lobby. Darby was chatting with the desk clerk. I walked over to join them.

  “Well, well, well,” Darby said to me. “Imagine my surprise when I arrive here at the front desk, and I find there are keys waiting for me for a Taurus. What, pray tell, happened to the Fusion?”

  Oh my gosh! That was hours ago, and I had completely forgotten about it.

  “Four flat tires. That’s what happened to it.” I told him.

  “Were you speeding again? Were the police chasing you? Did you run over a spike strip they put down to stop you?”

  I knew he was teasing me.

  “No to all of the above,” I said, laughing. I pulled him by his arm off to the side of the desk and out of the clerk’s hearing range. “Someone flattened the tires when I was shopping. It had to be Skinny Guy. Maybe he thought you had the car. I didn’t feel threatened. It was more like someone was being a jerk and wanting to make life miserable.” I pressed the issue with him again. “This really seems like a jilted lover. Or maybe he read one of your articles and you hit a nerve with him.” I was suddenly excited. “That has to be it. What have you been writing about lately? What have you written that would make someone mad enough to want to hurt you?”

  He thought for a moment and said, “Nothing. I really can’t think of anything. I’ve mostly been doing marketing and web writing for Brendan’s Wholesale Grocery. They’re expanding west of the Mississippi, and they’ve kept me busy for the last six months. I’m sorry, Susan, I honestly don’t know what he would want with me.”

  Still puzzled, we left the hotel and made the short drive to Pizza Pete’s. The new rental was roomier and more comfortable than the last car. The windows were up and the air conditioner was on.

  “What did you do today?” I asked.

  “Actually,” he said hesitating for a moment before plunging ahead, “I met Purple Flamingo a day early.”

  “Oh my gosh!” I squealed and shoved him on his arm. “Tell me all about him. Is he good looking? Did you hit it off? Was it love at first sight? Are we still going to watch him dance tomorrow?”

  He was laughing. “Susan, stop. I’ll fill you in on all the details over pizza. Let’s just say it was interesting.”

  “Interesting is never good,” I told him.

  “Well, it might be. We’ll see,” he said. “Did you have fun shopping?”

  “I did. I’ll show you everything later. My shoes are new. Do you like them?” I asked.

  “I do,” he said with a bright smile. “They’re cute.”

  “Anyway,” I said, continuing with my story. “After the flat tires, I had to take a cab back to the hotel, and then another cab to the racquet club, and a green Focus was there, but no Skinny Guy, and I played a Neanderthal who drilled me in the leg with the ball, and by tomorrow it’s going to be a really ugly bruise.” I paused to catch my breath. “And that was my day.”

  “Well, it certainly wasn’t boring,” he said, laughing again as we pulled into the parking lot of Pizza Pete’s.

  The style of the building and the layout of the parking lot indicated this had been a soda stand at one time, probably complete with girls on roller skates to take your order.

  We went inside and chose a table by the window. The decor was diner Italian. It was charming in a cheesy kind of way. A bulletin board featured news articles and photographs from when the Food Network crew had been here filming. We decided to order the pizza that was showcased on the show, the Molto Bene. It was topped with pesto, artichoke hearts, roasted red peppers, tomatoes, spinach and mozzarella. A glass of Chianti for each of us rounded out our order.

  Our wine arrived within minutes, and we both sat back and relaxed. “Ok, let’s have it” I said. “Tell me all about him. Did you guys share your real names?”

  “We did,” he said with a chuckle. “We talked earlier today to confirm our restaurant reservations for tomorrow night. He said he was free this afternoon, so I invited him over to hang out at the pool.” He chuckled again and shook his head. “He’s quite a character. More flamboyant than I’m used to, but he was fun. His real name is John Loudermilk. His friends call him Johnny.”

  “What did you guys do?” I asked with a big smile. I was enjoying Darby’s obvious happiness.

  “Well, it’s always kind of awkward getting to know someone new, but it helped we’ve talked online so much. We lounged at the pool, drank mai tais, and talked for a while. He’s really an intelligent and very interesting person. I enjoyed talking with him about his culinary school experience, and we have a lot of the same interests.” He hung his head, shook it again, and then laughed. “But when a group of Vegas showgirls came out to the pool, he was all Purple Flamingo.”

  “Vegas showgirls?” I asked. “What are a group of Vegas showgirls doing in Florida?”

  “Well, they’re not really from Vegas,” he explained. “They’re six girls who were hired to be Vegas showgirl types for a convention in the hotel this weekend. They’re here early for a couple days of vacation. And Johnny is all about putting on the show. He can turn on the drama queen with the snap of a finger.” He laughed again before continuing with his story. “He corralled those girls into chairs surrounding us, and then they all talked show business - costumes, headdresses, routines, even makeup. The next thing I know, he has all six girls in the pool, and they want me to be the judge and choose the best Esther Williams. When they ended up with a dozen more people in the pool trying to do synchronized swimming, it was too much. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time. I wish you could have seen it. He’s crazy, but I think you’ll like him.”

  “That sounds like it was a blast,” I told him enviously. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

  I was looking forward to tomorrow night. I loved colorful people, and it sounded like Johnny was going to fit the bill nicely.

  Our pizza arrived, and it was delicious. Over dinner, I filled Darby in on my conversation with Mick. He looked at me affectionately, covered my hand with his, and said, “I’m glad you two finally talked. I’ve always liked Mick, and I know things are going to work out for the two of you.”