Out of the Frying Pan - Part 4

She jumped onto the back of that Harley and clung to Jerome like frosting on cake

Courtesy of Flyland Designs

Hot damn! Haylene and Marla are back and romance is in the air! This is Part 4. Click to read PART 1 , 2 , 3 or 5

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Haylene jumped onto the back of Jerome’s old Harley shovelhead looking so confident no one would guess it was her first time on a motorcycle. She was on the far side of forty now, and not as slender as she once was, but she was knees-up dazzling perched there on the pillion in her bright red jacket and skinny jeans, her long platinum hair spilling out from under her helmet.

She had met Jerome just last month at the Sailfish Lounge in Opalachee, while passing through on the way from Somewhere to Somewhere Else. Jerome was a wrestler of large four-legged reptiles at the Loxahoochie Alligator Farm and Haylene had found him irresistible. He drew her into his muscular embrace like a magnet. The two of them had a fiery little two-night dalliance at the Miramar Motel and, since then, their cellphones had been transmitting hot, smoldering texts back and forth every night. So, when Jerome finally got a three-day weekend off work, he found himself speeding up the I-95, and a few hours later, he catapulted himself right into Haylene’s bed just as the clock struck eleven.

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As the early morning light poured through the large east windows of Haylene’s spacious kitchen, Marla, her young housemate, stood at the sink looking out at the swimming pool in the back yard, and noticed how the pale sunshine turned it into a large blue bowl of diamonds. She knew that Haylene and Jerome wanted to get an early start on the day, despite the athletic extravaganza that took place in her boudoir last night, but Marla cooked breakfast for them anyway. “Here you go,” she said, putting their plates on the table. “Sausage, eggs, cro-sants and coffee. That’ll restore you two love birds and get y’all on your way.”

Haylene was packing up a few things in a bright pink duffle bag and said, “I don’t know where we’re goin’, Marla, sweetheart, and I am scared to death of that motorcycle, but we’ll be back Monday night, so don’t you worry about anything. And just call me if there is any trouble, you hear?” She pressed an envelope into Marla’s hand. “Now here is $2,000, and that should take care of anything you need while I’m gone.”

“$2,000? Jeeze, Haylene! Exactly how much fun do you think I am going to have in three days? Besides, I’m working now. You don’t need to keep giving me money. I mean, I thank you, I really do, but I’m doing just fine. You two get on out of here now, have a good time, and try to stay out of trouble. I don’t want to be posting bail … again!”

Haylene was probably the wealthiest widow in Florida and couldn’t seem to spend her fortune fast enough. She’d been happily looking after Marla since the day she picked her up hitch-hiking on the highway south of Tallahassee. Marla was 21 and broke and on the run from her poppa in Tennessee. Haylene was not so young, and definitely not broke, and she had a palatial beach house all to herself since her husband passed on. But both were mavericks and both newly liberated. They became fast friends from that very first moment. “You just go and buy somethin’ real nice, honey,” she said. “Get those little red snakeskin boots you been wantin’!”

Marla stood on the porch now, watching them leave. They both waved as Jerome revved up the Harley and peeled out down the quiet cul-de-sac. Haylene was clinging to his back like frosting on cake, arms tight around his leather flanks. She squeaked out “Aaaaaaack!” and he was a happy man, showing off for her. And for the neighbors as well, apparently.

Marla let the cleaning ladies in the front door and then went out back to give instructions to Haylene’s pool boy and gardener. Then she sat down with a cup of coffee and began to plan her day. First she was going to Maxine’s House of Beauty for a hair cut and a manicure. And maybe she’d go on over to the Ocean Drive boutiques and do a little shopping. Maybe have a nice lunch at the Riverside. Under an umbrella. With champagne. 

Marla had settled into Haylene’s home last month and managed to find work right away at a large gift shop on the beach front. She was one of three young women whose job it was to keep the store neat, the shelves stocked, and the tourists finding treasure they absolutely could not live without. The place was always packed with day-trippers looking for striped beach towels, straw hats, t-shirts, little boxes covered with fluorescent seashells. There were Trump bobble-heads in the window, miniature porcelain sea turtles, small neon palm trees, and stacks of coffee mugs with different sayings on them like I’M WEARING MY SMARTY PANTS TODAY and WTF and MAGAA (Make America Great Again. Again). All souvenirs of a trip to Vero Beach, and nearly all of them made in China.

Marla liked her new job, all except for Jake, the obnoxious son of the woman who owned the store. He hung around the place like a bad smell. Stood behind the counter like he owned the shop, which he didn’t, and acting like the girls worked for him, which they didn’t. Caroline told her he was about as useful as teats on a bull. Terrie said he gave her the willies. He followed Marla around every day like a hound. Yesterday, he’d walked past her and grabbed her behind. She jumped ten feet into the air and glared at him. He just winked and invited her to a party..

“Come with me, Marla. It’s a party. You could use a little fun, girl.”

“What kind of party is that, Jake?”

“You know – a party – drinking, music, dancing, whatever you want!”

“Who’s coming.”

“Just you and me, babe.”

“Kiss my go-to-hell, Jake. Never going to happen. Never! ” and she walked off with her feather duster.

Later, he came slithering up beside her and flung his arm around her shoulders, casually leaning in. She looked right into his eyes and said, very calmly, “Jake, take your hands off a me or I swear I will stab you in the heart with this pink flamingo letter-opener. Then I will wipe it off and put a price tag on it.”

“Aw, come on Marla, come out with me. You stab me, you’ll go to prison.” He tried to pinch her cheek but she slapped him off.

“It’d be worth it, Jake, just to see you die right here on your momma’s parquet floor. Please. Leave. Me. Alone.”

He backed away, laughing, but she knew he wouldn’t give up. His combination of good looks, big ego and stupidity was pitiful. He’d never get the message.

But she wasn’t going to think about that today! It was her day off and she was sitting in an outdoor café, admiring her newly painted lavender fingernails and her new bright red boots. She was trying to decide whether to get the butterfly shrimp or the clam pasta, when she looked up from the menu and noticed a young man with a beard. He chained his bicycle to the railing, walked into the café carrying a basket of little cactus plants and began setting one on the center of each table.

He nodded to Marla and smiled. “Hi. How y’all doing? I work at the little nursery a half a block down,” he said. “I am just delivering these plants today. Which one do you want for your table?” She chose one with little red flowers and he set it right in front of her.  “I was thinking of having lunch while I was here – treat myself, you know, but looks like all the tables are taken.”

Marla was surprised to hear herself saying, “Well … I got three extra chairs right here, pick one and set yourself down ... if you like, I mean. I don’t mind.”

He finished setting out his potted plants and came back to join her. “Thanks, he said, “I’m Rennie, by the way,” offering his hand. “I like your red boots.” Marla blushed. They talked easily all through lunch and he asked her a hundred questions about herself. Marla was amused that he wanted to listen to her story. When they left the café together, they exchanged phone numbers, saying they should get together for dinner after work one evening. Marla liked the sound of that. He was sweeter than cherry pie, and she hadn’t had any male attention for a long time. None that was welcome anyway.

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On Sunday evening, about eight, Marla was closing up the shop alone, the other women had already gone home. She finished closing out the register, turned off the lights, and was locking up, when Jake pushed his way in, his breath perfumed with Eau de Jack Daniels. He closed the door behind him, threw his arms around Marla, pressing her up against the wall and forcefully kissing her. “C’mon, Marla. Give me some sugar.”

She slapped at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Jake? Let me go, you moron.”

He was enraged. “Why don’t you like me?  All the girls like me? I’m nice looking and wear expensive clothes? I have money? What’s wrong with you?”  He grabbed her again and began to pull her toward the back office. Marla managed to get a hand on a tall solid poly-resin pelican and she whacked him on the side of the head with it. He staggered and went down on his knees.

“You ever try that again, Jake, and I’ll report you to the police for assault, THEN I’ll tell your momma how you been harassing us girls. And I am not kidding.” She gave him one good hard kick in the only place she could reach, and went out, slamming the door, leaving him in the dark, groaning and gasping for breath under a rack of sweatshirts.

She drove down to the beach parking lot and just sat there, shaking, madder than a hornet. “I like my job, dammit!” she said to the moon. “but I am done taking crap from men who think they have power over me just because I am a woman!” Marla had survived living alone with her mean, drunken poppa for four years. And if she could do that, this jerk surely wasn’t going to get in her way.

She was sitting, staring out at the sea when her phone buzzed … a text …from Rennie!

Five minutes later … a phone call from Haylene.

“Hey, Honey-bun! How y’all doin’? I been missin’ you!”

“I miss you too Haylene. What are you and Jerome up to tonight?”

“Recuperatin’,” she snorted. “Two days of non-stop action, if you know what I mean. How about you, Marla? Are you doin’ fine there without me?” she laughed.

“Yes, Haylene, I am. I am sitting here in the car watching the ocean, and I am doing just fine.”