Tempest Brewing Tropical Storms Part 1 (6 page)

With his face turned into a schoolboy grin
Vincent replied, "No Ma'am, I'm surely not."

So off they went to Virgilio's Martini Bar, a
Duval Street establishment which had some quiet space where people
could sit, have a drink and talk. There was a screen portrait of
Audrey Hepburn that hung above the bar lounge area. She isn't
smiling in the picture but is absolutely stunning with a slightly
pouty, mildly irritated look proclaiming "Enough already -- make
your move."

They sat and drank, she sipped Fireball in Red
Bull, and he drank Stella Artois. And they talked for hours. They
talked about nothing, and everything. They talked about childhood
memories and favorite teachers. First loves lost and hopes for the
future that had been modified over time. Pets they had loved and
lost and what kind of puppy each would choose next time.

What they didn't talk about, or the huge
elephant in the room so to speak, was the current situation between
them. They had in actuality just met, and yet they were comfortable
in each other's company. It felt as if they had known each other
forever, and yet each yearned to learn more about the other. Joy
felt completely safe with this gentle southern giant. She couldn't
exactly put her finger on it, but it just felt right, felt
good.

When Vlad the Russian bartender called his "last
call", Joy was completely surprised. Time really just flew by. She
couldn't believe it was that late. Luckily, Joy didn't have to work
until the dinner shift the next day, so she could sleep in a bit in
the morning. Vincent very sweetly insisted on paying for the cab
ride for her home when she refused his offer to walk her the
several blocks to her apartment.

As she was getting into the cab Vincent asked
gently "Can I see you tomorrow?"

"Yes," was all Joy answered and slipped him a
white cocktail napkin where she had scribbled her cell number on
earlier in the evening, just in case she wanted him to have it. And
she did want him to have it.

It was about 2:30 when Joy let herself into the
apartment. Brian still wasn't there. She didn't find that unusual
or disappointing. She was really relieved she wouldn't have to
discolor the vibrant pleasure she enjoyed tonight. Instead of
dealing with Brian, she fell asleep reviewing some of the funny
things she and Vincent had talked about.

He had jokingly said that he didn't date any
girl until he knew her dental history. "Just joshing," he said. But
Joy had thought at the time that she had perfect teeth, nothing to
worry about there. She fell asleep happy.

The next day there was evidence that Brian had
come home to change clothes, at least. His dirty pants and shirt
lay on the bathroom floor. The toilet seat was up and unflushed. A
note left on the kitchen table was written in childish script said
"Boat sound, out fishin'."

As she picked up his dirty clothes and put them
in the hamper, she thought she smelled that fruity sweet odor
again, only it was very faint. She wondered if he had gotten a new
deodorizer for his ratty old pick-up truck, because it sure needed
something to help with the fishy smell it always held.

Joy had awakened rested and happy that morning.
She didn't immediately identify the source of her content until the
phone rang at about half past ten. Although she didn't recognize
the number showing with its foreign area code, she knew it was
Vincent and she smiled. Her heart rate pounded with excitement and
thrill. She had to force herself to let it ring the second time,
not wanting to appear too desperate or needy to want to talk with
him again.

"What's up Doc?" Joy answered.

"Oh, like I've never heard that one before,"
laughed Vincent. "No, wait. I really never have heard that one.
Most folks don't see Dentists as real doctors anyway, right?"

"Ah, sir, doesn't the "D" in your "M.D." stand
for "Doctor?"" Joy jokingly asked. "Anyway, what is up Doc?"

"Was jus' callin' to remind you of your
appointment with the good doctor at noon today for lunch." Vincent
said, trying to sound like a dutiful secretary making a routine
reminder call.

"Oh, I'm so glad you called," played in Joy. "It
slipped my mind completely. What exactly is the address,
please?"

"201 William's and please dress accordingly,
swimwear will be required." Vincent added, trying to sound
nonchalant.

"Okay, but you are aware that I have to be at
work by 5, right?" Joy adds.

"Yes, well we've booked a three hour appointment
today, so you should have plenty of time. See you at noon?" The
hint of urgency was unmistakable in Vincent's voice.

"We'll see you then," she confirmed.

"Ah, Ma'am, who exactly would 'we' be?" asked
Vincent. "Is that kinda like the Royal "We?" Or you plannin' on
bringin' someone else?"

""Exactly" was all the giggling Joy could let
out. "Seeya." And she hung up.

"You're coming
alone,
ain't cha?" Vincent
asked.
But the line was already dead.

What Joy found at noon astounded her. Even after
living in Key West for as long as she had, she couldn't have put
together a more beautiful, exciting and delicious lunch.

It was impressive, too, because every thought
showed through -- from the choice of wine, flowers, to the meal
itself -- and at such short notice. Joy was awed, impressed,
humbled and just emotional in general at this particular date.

He met her at the marina with a rented 16 foot
Boston Whaler skiff with an impressive outboard. On board was a
selection of great wines and imported beers, soda, juice, bottled
water and lunch.

The flower arrangement, which he immediately
handed to her, was a selection of lilies, daisies, and white
roses.

Lunch had been catered by the chef John at Cafe
Sole. The "picnic" lunch was all packed in woven baskets. It
included tropical baby green salad with a balsamic reduction glaze,
seafood salad seasoned with cilantro and curry mayonnaise on fresh
baguettes, huge prawns boiled and chilled with spicy cocktail sauce
and lemon and a variety of pickled vegetables.

For dessert there were chocolate dipped fruits
of all kinds and creamy cheese cake. Just a light fare for a day on
the water. Joy stared at the boat laden with deliciousness and
noticed a plate of cheeses and fresh fruit on the navigation
console.

Vincent wore a floral swimming trunk and a
sleeveless tank top. Joy couldn't help but noticed his toned,
buffed physique.
He was obviously a gym buff.

Joy had worn a sexy two piece swimsuit which
flattered her amazing athletic and young body. Over the suit she
had worn a lacy, macrame beach dress that gave the impression of
propriety, but hid nothing. She looked as if she had just stepped
off the cover of Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition.

Joy didn't see a guide or captain so innocently
asked "Do you how to drive one of these things?"

Vincent started whistling the theme song from
Gilligan's Island.

"Really?"
Joy asked as she boarded the
skiff.

"I will have you know, my lady," Vincent
pacified, "There are a lot of bodies of water in Georgia and I am
an avid - did I say avid? - I am an avid skier. Got a Lil' John
boat just like this at home in jus' a little lake, barely fifteen
mile across. We're not goin' far, even if it is the damn Gulf of
Mexico or Atlantic Ocean. Always wanted to see France anyway, or
Cuba, come on, you game?"

It was then Joy noticed the tow rope and two
sets of skies stowed aft in the boot. "Gotta have us back by 4,
okay? Figured give us a little leeway."

Vincent turned out to be very skilled in
handling the skiff. They skied, ate, drank, talked, and laughed.
They teased each other and relaxed with each other. They fell out
of casual interest and for Joy, into lust.

They experienced not just physical lust but
emotional lust, the physical attraction of friendship, and trusting
lust. The need to trust is as powerful to the lucky few who get to
experience it as the power of physical lust. For the moment, it
felt like they were the only two people in the entire world, the
only two in existence as far as either was concerned while out on
the water.

As they parted after the perfect day, so Joy
could get ready and get to work, Vincent asked "May I see you when
you're done tonight?"

Joy contemplated the man before her. A man she
had only known a day or two but in many ways felt as if she knew so
much better than Brian. A man she liked so much more than Brian and
respected and trusted. Could she think or say any of those things
about the man with whom she was currently sharing her life?

All of these thoughts flooded her consciousness
and emotions at that moment. A tear once again fell from her eye as
she leaned in to Vincent and whispered, "I don't know if I'm going
home to make sure everything is all right, or to say good-bye. I'm
not sure what will happen between us, Vince, but I do know that I
feel strongly enough about you. And that I can't be with him any
longer. It wouldn't be fair."

With that, she closed the small gap between them
her whispering had created and began to kiss him. She broke the
kiss and fled down the street towards her apartment, now suddenly
in tears.

Vincent stood there, in pleasant disbelief,
smiling from ear to ear, and repeating over and over "Oh my God, Oh
my God---!"

Vincent always knew he would know when it
happened; he had known this since the first eye contact in the
restaurant a mere two days ago, one day, really, only
yesterday.

"I'll be able to tell our grandkids it was love
at first all right" he thought as he went to return the boat
grinning from ear to ear.

Joy had collected herself by the time she
showered and slipped into her uniform. Khaki short shorts, a
tie-dyed tee with the Schooner's logo and white sneakers. A plan
was already forming in her mind and she was rehearsing
conversations she would have to have with Brian. She was running
late and had to skip part of her "getting ready for work" routine.
It didn't really matter; Joy had more important things on her
mind.

When she arrived at work the first person she
saw was Stormy, who was also just coming in. Stormy started
gushing, almost immediately "Look at you girl, all vibrant! You
look sensational, y'must have had a great day. Girl, no makeup at
all and you glow! I'm jealous! Takes me hours to look this good,
and still am no competition to you!"

"Had a late lunch, running late," Joy offered
half apologetically. "Hey, you got any scent? I ran out and didn't
put anything on."

"Sure" replied Stormy, "I always wear the same
thing" she said handing Joy a tiny generic brown jar, "Patchouli
oil."

Bells were all ready firing and whistles blaring
in Joy's mind as she brought the little vial of old fashion
sweetness to her nose. Recognizing the scent immediately started
sending her signs that this was going to be a fight or flight
reaction.

The situation, simply based on identification of
Stormy's scent, initiated the most primitive and basic responses.
She was pissed and ready to fight to the death.

"You fucking bitch!" she seethed, in rage. "And
pretending to be my friend? And pretending to---" her voice trailed
off.

And then Joy experienced a true epiphany. She
stood up and smiled, and then started to laugh. She laughed so hard
tears ran down her cheeks. By now the interaction had become
obvious to others at the bar. AnaMaria, the owner, could recognize
a cat fight brewing from a mile away. She had owned and operated
the Schooner Wharf for many years.

"Everything all right, ladies?" demanded
AnaMaria in her slightly accented English. And she waited.

"Hell no!" exclaimed Joy. "There ain't shit
right! This bitch has been pretending to be my friend and sleeping
with my man."

AnaMaria had been aware of this developing
situation and had wondered why it had taken this long for it to
come out. Hell, she had had sex with Brian herself after the last
Christmas party. The guy was a quite a horn dog.

"You know what? You two-faced bitch! You can
have him," spat Joy and then started laughing a little
manically.

"Yes, a perfect punishment for both of you
lying, cheating, friggin' scumbags. Good luck with him, he's all
yours." And Joy started to walk out of the restaurant.

"What about work?" demanded AnaMaria.

Joy suppressed the impulse to tell her where she
could put "work" and instead said "I don't work with bitches like
her," looking at Stormy.

"When she's gone, call me." And then she walked
away, tears in her eyes.

But they weren't tears of pain or loss, but of
freedom and the realization of why she had been so uneasy lately.
She hated being lied to. She thought there could be no satisfaction
in those that lied to her because she really was too gullible, too
trusting, that it had been too easy. Joy tried to see the best in
everyone; believed in everyone. And now this.

She suddenly stopped and pulled out her cell
phone. "Might as well take care of this right now," she
determinedly thought. She knew Brian couldn't get a signal out on
the water, but a text message would pop up as soon as he was close
enough to shore.

"Just talked to Stormy. I know everything. Get
out. Never contact me again." And she pressed "send." Joy couldn't
believe how good that felt. And she made a silent vow to herself
that she wouldn't, under any circumstance, talk to that bastard
again.