Down And Out In Flamingo Beach

He continued into the dining area, removed his shirt and began to put up drywall. He thought that if he could make the house a showpiece in time for the centennial celebrations then Nana should be able to sell it and realize a good profit. He also thought about having her party at the house. Derek anticipated another huge fight with regard to selling her house, but the old lady could use the money for whatever she desired. She did not need to be leaving her house or hard-earned money to ungrateful relatives.

But try telling Belle that. It would take some doing, but Derek was determined to make his grandmother see things his way.

Over at Flamingo Beach General, Granny J was kicking up a considerable fuss.

“What do you mean you’re not going to discharge me, young man?” she screamed at the doctor.

A patient Dr. Benjamin reached out a comforting hand to stroke Granny J’s arm. “I’m not entirely satisfied with the results of your EKG. I’d like to run another test just to be sure.”

“I want out. Now! There’s nothing wrong with my heart.”

Dr. Benjamin, used to dealing with recalcitrant elderly people, consulted his chart. Joya stepped in, taking Granny J’s plump hand that was slapping the bed sheets in frustration as if it were Benjamin’s cheek. Joya squeezed her grandmother’s hand and spoke soothingly.

“It’s only one more day. One day with your feet up isn’t going to kill you.”

“But one more meal in this place will,” Granny J, who loved her food, mumbled. With age, her appetite hadn’t slowed down one bit.

“May I speak to you privately?” Dr. Benjamin asked Joya, inclining his head to indicate that he wanted to talk outside of the room and not in her grandmother’s hearing.

Granny J tugged her hand from Joya’s hold and folded both arms across her chest.

“Whatever you have to say can be said in front of me. I’m not dead yet.”

To Dr. Benjamin’s credit he didn’t lift so much as an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’ll be dying anytime soon, Mrs. Hamill, at least not from the sounds of you.”

Joya stifled a grin. She liked the handsome doctor’s way of handling the difficult old lady. He wasn’t talking down to her. Dr. Benjamin was solidly built and had probably played football during college. He had a thick neck and broad shoulders.

It was his smile Joya liked. That smile could melt an icicle. The doctor wore his glasses on a chain around his neck, and he occasionally put them on to squint at the chart. Joya noticed there was no ring on his left hand or a tan line that said at one time there might have been.

She remembered the nurse yesterday saying there was a girlfriend, and she supposed that would be the case. All the good ones were already taken. She’d lost a good one because of her own stupidity. Now Chere Adams would benefit from Joya’s lack of patience and foresight.

Dr. Benjamin was waiting outside. She couldn’t keep him.

“I’ll be right back, Grandma,” Joya said.

Granny J’s plump hand covered her heart. “Lordie child, I must be dying. You never ever call me Grandma.”

It was Joya’s cue to leave before Granny J really got rolling. She made a hasty escape, her high heels tapping loudly on the white-tiled floor.

Outside she asked, “What did you want to talk to me about, Dr. Benjamin? Is Granny J’s condition something I should be worried about?”

In the room she’d put on a good face, but now that she was no longer under Granny J’s scrutiny, panic began to overtake her. Joya looked carefully at the doctor, hoping to get a hint of what he was really thinking.

“There may be some blocked arteries, all the evidence is there. I’ve ordered another EKG just to be sure.”

“What!” The walls in the hallway wavered around her.

Dr. Benjamin, incredibly in tune, squeezed Joya’s shoulder. “Take deep breaths. For a woman your grandmother’s age she’s in good shape. If the second EKG confirms what I believe, it should be a relatively simple procedure. She’ll be up, around and as good as new in no time.”

“Must be those damn pork rinds,” Joya muttered, resorting to humor because tears were clouding her vision. It was easy for the doctor to say “simple procedure,” it wasn’t his grandmother.

“We’ll wait until the results are back and we’ll talk again and come up with a plan.”

Translation: Granny J could easily be in the hospital for another few days. Gran would hate that.

Joya nodded and Dr. Benjamin squeezed her shoulder again. He was becoming a little too touchy, especially since he allegedly had a girlfriend. Joya wondered what was up with that.

“It might not have a thing to do with pork rinds,” he said gently, smiling at her.

Since visiting hours were almost over, she ducked back into the room to see if Granny J needed anything.

“I told you to bring my quilting,” the elderly woman grumbled. “I promised Elda I’d have that quilt done for her in a couple of weeks. Did that man ask you on a date?”

“What man?”

Joya knew exactly whom Granny J meant but decided to play with her.

“Dr. Ben. You’ve always wanted to marry a doctor.”

“No, he did not and I never said I wanted to marry a doctor.”

True, she’d hoped for security and had wanted to marry someone established. He didn’t necessarily have to be a pretty boy. Granny J had warned Joya there was a lot more to marriage than a physical attraction. She’d been right. Quen was bright and one helluva lover, but he’d been underemployed. She’d seen his potential but had grown sick and tired of waiting for him to see it. Who would have thought he’d have moved from his interest in personal training to become a nutritionist? Now she had no one but herself to blame for losing a good man.

“Dr Ben has a girlfriend,” Joya reminded her grandmother, not wanting to think about Quen. “When I come by tomorrow, you and I have something to talk about.”

“Girlfriends come and girlfriends go. This isn’t a wife we’re talking about.” Granny’s forehead wrinkled. “What do you and I need to talk about?”

As Joya debated how to answer the question, images of a body that looked as if it might be carved from granite flashed before her eyes. Those faded, tattered jeans were molded over some pretty intimate places. And who could forget those hard biceps and that chiseled face with eyes that burned into you?

Derek Morse was the type of guy you didn’t easily forget. Much as Joya wanted to dismiss the erotic vision of him that had surfaced, it kept coming back to her. A construction worker was not part of her plans.

An hour later, Joya sat at the bar of the Pink Flamingo waiting for her friend Emilie Woodward to show up. Mojito in hand, she stared up at the ceiling of the thatched tiki bar. Pink flamingos of various sizes fluttered from above. They were both cute and tacky and at the very least made for a good conversational topic.

Emilie was the Director of Leisure Sales for the Flamingo Beach Resort and Spa. She too lived in one of the condominiums at 411 Flamingo Place.

Where the heck was Emilie? Joya remembered she was habitually late and always blamed it on her job. Clients were running behind or simply didn’t show up. Deals seemed to get screwed up at the last minute.

Emilie was relatively new to town and had been glad to meet Joya, who was around the same age. Joya liked that Emilie had no preconceived notions about her. Her friends in Flamingo Beach were pitifully few. Most had sided with Quen when the marriage had ended because they felt he’d got the crappy end of the deal. He was still paying her alimony.

While Joya sipped on her mojito she thought about how she and Emilie had met. Both of them had been huffing and puffing on a treadmill when they’d struck up a conversation. They’d found out they were both single and living in the same building. Hooking up seemed the obvious thing to do.

Conversation came easily. Who better to commiserate with about the poor pickings on the beach than another single woman? Joya had given up on finding the kind of man she was looking for in Flamingo Beach. It was only a matter of time before she’d have to return to Los Angeles and her flight attendant’s job. Her leave of absence couldn’t go on forever.

“Sorry I’m late,” Emilie said, rushing in, wearing a dress with a plunging neckline and wide skirt. Green ferns were splashed across the beige material and matched her open-toed mules.

Several men swiveled on their stools to see who’d arrived. Emily’s long red hair was pulled off her face and held back by beige combs. Physically, she and Joya were complete opposites. Whereas Emilie was tall, Joya was petite. Emilie was also so light-skinned that she was often mistaken for white. She had enormous boobs, swimmer’s shoulders and the kind of face few people forgot.

She could have been a cover model for a men’s magazine; she knew exactly the effect she had on men and made it work for her. She’d been living with a lawyer in South Jersey, hoping to marry him. But he’d left for work one day then forgotten to come home. Emilie later learned he’d moved in with one of his paralegals.

Skirt rustling, Emilie swung herself onto the vacant stool Joya had been saving. Joya couldn’t help feeling underdressed and like Plain Jane next to her. Joya had barely made it back to the condo to take a quick shower and toss on a denim mini-skirt and spaghetti-strap shirt. Thank goodness she’d worn her signature high heels or she would have been a total frump.

“A cosmopolitan, please” Emilie said, smiling at the bartender before turning her attention back to Joya. “What’s new with you, hon? How’s your grandmother?”

Earlier, Joya had told Emilie about Granny J being hospitalized. Now she told her what Dr. Benjamin had said.

“Let’s hope it’s nothing serious. Doc is very good at what he does and I quite like him. He recommended me to friends. They’ve since bought time shares.”

“I heard he had a girlfriend,” Joya ventured.

Emilie looked at Joya through shuttered green eyes. “It’s a long-distance thing I hear. I don’t think the doctor wants a woman underfoot 24/7.”

“What’s with Derek Morse?” Joya asked before she could stop herself.

“Not sure I know him.”

“He’s a construction worker. Doesn’t everyone know everyone in this town?”

“Not me. I’m new, but if he’s hot I’d like to meet him.”

“He’s hot in an obvious way.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Most women would probably think Derek rocked.

“Maybe I need to be introduced to this Derek Morse,” Emilie said loudly.

A deep male voice came from behind them, making both women turn.

“Anything you ladies want to know about Derek Morse you can always ask me.”

A hulk of a man wreathed in gold chains was almost on top of them. Not waiting for an invitation to enter the conversation—he just spoke up.

Joya was mortified at having been caught talking about Derek. She quickly recovered and smiled animatedly at the stranger.

“I’m thinking about having Derek Morse do some work for me. What do you know about him?” she asked.

“In that case you’ll be wanting to speak with Preston Shore. He’s the contractor Derek works for and my old partner. I sold my part of the firm to him. I’m Vince by the way.”

He stuck out a large paw and the women shook it.

“I think I’ll join you,” Vince said sliding onto the vacant seat next to Emilie. “You look thirsty, ladies, let me buy you a drink.”

“This one is about all I can handle,” Joya said after thanking him.

“I’ll have another.” Emilie pointed to her half-empty glass. Joya wondered why she was being so accommodating. She probably saw client potential in Vince.

Vince signaled to the bartender to bring a refresher. “Still interested in hearing about Derek?” he asked.

Just the sound of the construction worker’s name created a warming effect. It must be the drink.

“Of course I am,” Emilie said, leaning in close to Vince and batting her eyelashes.

“Well, he’s only been back in town a couple of months. We think he lost his job in Chicago. He moved in with his great-grandmother Belle Carter.”

“His great-grandmother?” Emilie scrunched up her nose. “What grown man lives with his great-grandmother?”

Vince sucked on his lower lip. “Derek’s somewhere around thirty-five. He and Belle have always been close. She owns an old run-down house set back a bit from the boardwalk. There’s plenty of room so that they don’t interfere with each other.”

Joya listened carefully as Vince spoke until two businessmen strolled into the bar wearing expensive suits and power ties. She found her attention wandering.

“Derek’s one of these guys who doesn’t stay with a job for any length of time,” Vince added.

Joya’s attention shifted to the businessmen who’d found a seat. She’d heard enough to confirm that Derek Morse was an irresponsible drifter.

Not that that came as a big surprise.

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