Down and Out in Flamingo Beach (15 page)

Although most of it was a blur, Joya made it through the wedding. She vaguely remembered the choir singing and the old pastor droning on about mutual respect and the ability to compromise. Finally he pronounced the couple husband and wife. And somehow she managed to remain dry-eyed.

“Yeah, we did it!” Chere screamed, kissing her husband every two seconds as she boogied down the aisle. And boogie she did, as only Chere could do, ostrich feathers fluttering.

The cocktail hour followed—an outdoor candlelight event. The Flamingo Beach Spa and Resort had followed the bride's instructions to the letter.

“Emilie's supposed to be here,” Joya said, looking around for her friend.

“Isn't that her over there?” Derek pointed to a corner of the patio where a small group of people had gathered.

Yep, there was Emilie in the middle of them. She stood next to a white man Joya didn't know, smiling and tilting her head up to hear what he was saying.

“Who are those people?” she asked Derek.

“The white guy, Rowan James, is a developer. I don't know the others.”

Joya caught Emilie's eye. Her friend broke away from the group and rushed toward her, garnering the attention of several men. In her emerald-green dress with the sparkling silver stones and plunging neckline, she stood out like a beacon and her high heels had her towering over most of the guests.

“Your girlfriend's one stylish white woman,” Derek said, giving a low whistle.

“Emilie's not white. She's a light-skinned Black woman who doesn't even try to pass.”

“Well she had me fooled.”

“You wouldn't be the first. Emilie gets to hear some interesting comments and all those awful Negro jokes.”

“What are you two grinning at?” Emilie interrupted, her manicured fingers curled around a glass of champagne.

“You. I was just telling Derek that you are frequently mistaken for white.”

“Oh that!” She made a face. “Hi Derek, remember me? Emilie Woodward?”

“Great dress,” he said, cradling Emilie's hand in his and smiling at her as if she was the wedding cake.

Emilie twirled on her crystal-clear stilettos. “Isn't it, though? And worth every dollar that I paid. Come let me introduce you to my date. He's a developer and fairly new to town. He's putting up those townhouses on the south side. The Resort has been talking to him about the undeveloped land on the other side of the golf course.”

Derek twined his fingers through Joya's and began following Emilie. Emilie was sure to quiz Joya about her relationship with Derek later, and that was okay because Joya intended to ask Emilie what was she doing out with Rowan as soon as she got the chance.

C
ocktails over with, the wedding guests moved indoors to a banquet room. A dividing wall separated dining from dancing and a rhythm-and-blues band was tuning up on the other side. Joya looked up at the gigantic lit chandelier and the sconces on the walls and thought it all a bit too ornate for her taste. She wished they'd stayed outside.

“We should go find out where we're sitting,” she said, ignoring the looks she was getting as she and Derek walked hand-in-hand.

“You're sitting with us,” Emilie said firmly, waving a fistful of place cards she'd picked up from somewhere and leading the way to the lace-covered tables. The centerpieces were bride and bridegroom bears dressed in top hats and veils. The cuddly couples held clusters of helium balloons in their paws.

Waiters and waitresses were carrying huge trays of ribs, pork chops and steak. And off to the side, serving tables held bowls of salads, candied yams, collard greens and peas. There were hams, lobsters, chicken, various kinds of fish and just about any food imaginable. And that was before dessert.

Emilie must have manipulated the seating arrangements so that Emilie and Rowan and Tre and Jen, who'd successfully gotten out of sitting with the wedding party, sat across from Derek and Joya. At the far end were two women no one knew. Joya guessed them to be relatives of Chere's because they bore quite a strong resemblance to her.

As a barbershop quartet roamed, guests dined to the a cappella tunes. Champagne flowed and speeches were endless. Overall, a festive, happy crowd came to celebrate with the bride and groom.

Ian Pendergrass, the owner of the
Flamingo Beach Chronicle
was now toasting the couple. It had been rumored that he and Chere had once had something going, and that he gave her the job at the
Chronicle
. Chere had become an up-and-coming real-estate agent but still held onto her old job.

Playing to the crowd, Ian held his champagne glass up to the light and began his speech.

“It's indeed a pleasure to be here to celebrate the nuptials of Quentin Abraham and Chere Adams. Doesn't the new Mrs. Abraham make a beautiful bride?” Applause broke out at his statement. “She is as lovely on the inside as she is on the outside. The groom is a very lucky man. Isn't that right, gentlemen?”

Another round of applause followed, this time coming primarily from the men.

Chere placed an arm around her husband and laid a big one on him. Mouths must be running fast and furiously. While the people of Flamingo Beach might have come to celebrate with Chere and Quen, they weren't above talking about them. After all, heavyset Chere had snatched up one of the Beach's most eligible bachelors and good men were scarce.

Dinner out of the way, a three-tiered wedding cake complete with sparklers was wheeled in and served. The divider was opened up and the lead singer of the band belted a Barry White tune inviting everyone to join the bride and groom in their first dance. Then began some serious grinding.

“Want to join them?” Derek asked, standing and extending a hand to Joya.

She slid easily into his embrace, but had to stand on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck. He pulled her gently against him until she felt every lean delicious inch of him. The smell of his heady cologne and the champagne she'd drunk worked its magic. She was floating.

Being with Derek was beginning to feel right. He had so many of the qualities she admired in a man. He was good-looking, kind, intelligent and a good lover. A damn good lover, she reminded herself. So how come she couldn't get past his lack of ambition? A laid-back attitude didn't pay bills. But tonight she was willing to forget his shortcomings.

The slow dance ended and a livelier tune came on. The band brought in from Pelican Island began playing the Electric Slide and got the remaining guests up and moving. Even after the song ended, Rowan and Emilie remained on the floor. Emilie was up for a major grilling later.

Girlfriend came bounding toward her. “Come with me to the ladies' room,” she said, taking Joya's arm. “We'll use the one downstairs in the lobby to avoid a line.”

“Okay.”

They'd completed their business and were standing at the mirror retouching their makeup when Emilie asked, “What's the deal with you and Derek?”

“What's with you and Rowan?”

Emilie calmly finished applying her lipstick and tossed the tube back in her purse. She pressed her lips together. “Rowan's my date.”

“Derek's my date.”

“Smart ass. What I want to know is if you've slept with him yet?”

“MYOB,” Joya warned, wagging a finger.

“Don't tell me to mind my own business. You're the one who said you didn't want to get involved with a blue-collar worker and changed your mind.”

“Derek's working on Gran's store and we happen to get along,” Joya said tightly. “That's it. He's not what I would call relationship material.”

“You stupid, stupid girls. You don't know a good thing when it comes along,” a woman's accented voice said from behind them. “That man is one helluva catch.”

Camille Lewis stood washing her hands in a nearby sink. She was the last person they'd expected to see. She hadn't been at the wedding, which wasn't a surprise since Chere despised Camille and made no secret of it.

The gossip dried her hands on a monogrammed towel and eyed their outfits.

“What's the reception like? Tacky like the bride? Winston and I weren't invited, but we decided to have dinner here so that we could check out the place.”

Just as Joya had thought: Camille, who hated to be left out of anything, was there to spy.

“Everything's been lovely and we're having a good time,” she answered, eager to end the conversation and return to the reception. She picked up her purse.

“Derek was who you were talking about, right?” Camille asked, getting in her face. “Did you know he left a good engineering job to come back and work construction? What a waste of two master's degrees.”

Her words stopped Joya from pushing by her. “What are you talking about?”

“Derek has advanced degrees in engineering and architecture. He was a senior engineer for some big company in the midwest. That boy had a wife, house, luxury automobile, the whole nine yards. He's not your average construction beefcake.”

Joya's mouth hung open as Camille droned on, talking about how much money Derek used to make. Emilie quickly stepped in to take control.

“We need to go,” she said.

But Camille was only warming up. She made no attempt to get out of Joya's face.

“That boy's parents were so poor they moved up north to live with relatives. He worked hard and made something of himself, and now he's thrown it all in to come back and fix up that dilapidated house his great-grandmother owns. He thinks it's going to improve the value, but I'm not sure Belle wants to sell.”

Talk about being dumb. All the telltale signs were there. Derek was polished and knew how to interact with all kinds of people. He had definite leadership skills.

“You could find worse relationship material,” Camille said snidely. “I got to get back to Winston.”

Emilie had Joya by the elbow, easing her from the room. She was in a daze, struggling to process this new information. It was she who hadn't realized her full potential. She had that undergraduate degree in speech therapy that she'd done nothing with. Derek was the one with the two advanced degrees who'd made something of himself. Could she trust what Camille had said?

“Bye, Camille,” Emilie said, firmly.

As they were leaving a bathroom stall pushed open. Sheena, one of the bridesmaids emerged. She emptied a purse filled with cosmetics on the counter and found her blush.

“Upstairs was a little too crowded for my liking,” she said, picking up a mascara wand. “Know what I mean?”

“Yep,” Emilie acknowledged, whisking Joya away.

Derek was talking to Rowan when the women returned. The men stood and pulled out the women's chairs. Joya managed a vacant smile as a zillion thoughts raced through her head.

“Is everything okay?” Derek asked, frowning. He must be picking up something from her body language.

“What? Oh, yes, fine.” Joya struggled to regroup. She'd already started looking at Derek in a different light. Did that make her superficial? She'd thought he wasn't what she wanted. Now she wasn't so sure.

Somehow she managed to get through the next hour, answering when she was spoken to, dancing when she was asked.

Sheena came over to ask Derek to dance and ended up making a public spectacle on the floor. Joya pretended it didn't annoy her, but she was relieved when Derek proposed they called it a night. They said their goodbyes and dutifully stopped by the bride and groom's table to hand them their gifts. To Joya's surprise Chere threw her arms around her and hugged her close.

“Thanks for coming, girl,” she said in a loud whisper. “Don't let Sheena move in on Derek. She's my friend but she's a snake.”

“Chere!” Quen admonished, indulgently.

“You know what I say is the truth. She tried hitting on you, didn't she?”

“Enjoy your honeymoon in the Bahamas,” Joya said tactfully. Quen had his hands full.

“Thanks, I'm glad you came.” He surprised her by hugging her. “We'll be in touch when we get back.”

Outside, Derek said, “You're sure you're okay? You seem a little uncomfortable.”

“It's been a tough night.”

“Want to find some place quiet for a nightcap? I'm a good listener.”

“I want to go home.” Joya could tell by the way his lips pressed together he was disappointed by her answer. “You can come up for a drink.”

The invitation made him brighten considerably.

Although her head was still spinning, she did not want to be alone. There was something about Derek that was quietly reassuring. He was steady and would be a good sounding board.

She waited until they were on the balcony of her apartment, sipping on cognac and enjoying the night, to say something. Derek was staring out onto the deserted boardwalk and had an arm draped loosely around her.

“Thanks for agreeing to come with me,” she said, “It was a nice wedding.”

“And you held up remarkably well. Thanks for being the perfect date.” He kissed her right on the lips.

A small flutter began somewhere in her stomach and made her heart jump, even her toes tingled. She was dying to ask him if Camille had the skinny on him, but she didn't want him to think she'd been gossiping. “How long before the renovations at the store are done?”

“In another week or so. How's my quilt coming?”

“Getting there. I've been concentrating on it every chance I get. It's a joint effort so we're all working on individual blocks.”

Derek drew her even closer. “You
are
coming to Nana's party, right?”

“Gran's coming.”

“And you're not?” He looked at her as if he were disappointed, as if her being there would make or break his day. “You're the one recreating Belle's life on cloth. I can't believe you'd let an old lady down. Wouldn't you want to see her expression when she unwraps her gift?”

The initial flutter disappeared. She'd hoped Derek was asking, because he wanted her there.

“I may come for a while,” she said, less than enthusiastically.

Derek nibbled on her earlobe. “Come for a long while. Stay for the whole party. Be my date.”

The invitation left her heady. Breathless. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Derek moved his head slightly and their lips connected. Joya was instantly on fire. A second kiss followed, and soon they were kissing with an intensity fueled by passion and way too much champagne.

The glasses of cognac were set on the patio table as they continued to embrace. One of Derek's hands caressed Joya's bare back, kneading her flesh, the other cupped her buttocks. When he brought her up against him he was already erect.

“We should go inside,” Joya said, slipping out of the circle of his arms.

“Okay.”

“I want you to spend the night,” she said boldly, as Derek nibbled her bare shoulder and jiggled her zipper up and down.

“Okay.”

“Is that all you can say? We're giving the town an X-rated show so it's not okay?”

She crooked a finger at him and Derek followed her inside and down the long hallway. Thank God she'd picked up the room before leaving for the wedding. She'd also turned on the air conditioner, making it nice and cool, and the linens were fresh.

Derek was already shedding his clothing. He'd left a trail behind him and now he stood bare-chested. She ran her hand across his hard chest, weaving her fingers through the coarse mat of hair covering his pectorals. She felt the muscles jump under her hand and tweaked a nipple.