Opening scene: Introduces protagonist, setting and tone.
-----
“No one just gives someone a plane,” Reeva said, trying to catch rogue strands of her nightsky hair. It was windy, and slightly cool for an October day in Florida. Josie shrugged and repositioned her drink atop the poured concrete bar. When she tilted her head just right, the olives atop her bloody mary resembled strange inner tubes floating in the Daytona Beach waves.
“Especially that plane,” Reeva added in a suggestive tone, flashing her head-cheerleader smile – the one she and Josie shared. A broad line of square teeth shifted subtly inward, cheeks pushed up, opening tiny canyons alongside her glass-bottle green eyes. She was a red-lipped cheshire cat offering a welcome dare. Men reacted to this as if she were a mythological creature, born of heaven and hell, all black winged and silver tongued. Josie was immune.
As if clued into the conversation, the cover band belted a Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers rendition across the open air deck.
I’m learning to fly.
But I ain't got wings.
Coming down … is the hardest thing.
The wind competed for earspace, pushing waves harder onto the shore with each gust, whipping flaps of the wood deck's blue, liquor-branded umbrellas in changing directions. It reminded Josie of the establishment's grit. Storms, named and unnamed, had ripped the roof off the Checkered Past at least five times in the past 20 years yet, like her, it was still standing.
Despite Reeva’s disbelief, Thomas Marquee had recently given Josie a plane. A somewhat rare, badass World War II era seaplane to be more specific.
“Are you sleeping with him?” Reeva pressed, taking a sip of her 12-year Yamazaki, poured neat. When Reeva began drinking Scotch neat at the same place they once flashed fake IDs and hoped for pina coladas, Josie couldn’t remember. Who drinks Scotch neat at a beach bar anyway? It was a Corona and margarita joint, not a high class steakhouse. Half the time this place didn’t even have Patron, but nowadays Reeva’s order never varied and somehow her Yamazaki was always in stock. Probably because she was the only one who drank it.
The women last saw one another four years ago, but the innate sibling need to annoy had not dissipated. Instead of answering immediately, Josie took a long sip of her drink, letting the cocktail’s tomatoey-spice-burn roll into her belly. Why she ordered a bloody mary she couldn’t quite say – she didn’t even like them. They just looked fun. Celery leaves and olives waving like peacock plumes as bartenders handed them across the counter. A paloma with a splash of pineapple was Josie’s go-to day drinking cocktail. Sweet & salty. Why mess with a perfectly good standby. But she did.
“Well?” Reeva pushed for an answer.
“Does it matter?” Josie retorted, happy to have irritated her sister.
If Josie had been talking to anyone else, she would have been afraid of judgment. Reeva, however, went through men the same way she went through red lipstick. Quickly.
Josie let the question hang in the air a few moments longer, pulling one of the olives from her garnish and popping playfully into her mouth. The issue with Reeva’s question wasn’t that she had asked it, or that Josie was afraid to answer. It was that she had phrased it incorrectly. Reeva should have asked, “Have you been sleeping with him?” The answer to that was affirmative. Yes. Josie had been sleeping with Thomas Marquee. She was not, however, currently sleeping with him. Some might say a difference without a distinction. Josie disagreed, and answered accordingly.
“No. I’m not sleeping with him.”
Thomas had left St. Lucia three months earlier and gone back home. Somewhere in Portugal. Or maybe it was Brazil. Somewhere Portuguese was spoken. A return to the life from which he took a momentary reprieve. Their reasons for escape were different, but he and Josie had an innate understanding from the moment they met. So when he left, there was no teary-eyed goodbye. There were no explanations. He knew she didn’t need them.
The note on the kitchen counter of the small condo she had been renting was short. Blue Post-It note short:
You’ll be with me always. Fly forward.
- T
Next to it were keys to the Widgeon and the plane’s title.
Josie had considered staying in St. Lucia, serving tourists tropical drinks and taking them on seaplane tours around the island. The family dream, however, tugged at her heart.
Now, an extra plane courtesy of Thomas Marquee, along with Josie’s settlement money, created a legit opportunity to continue building the flight-based bed and breakfast they had half-jokingly talked about for as long as Josie could remember.
So she left St. Lucia’s reprieve and headed back to Daytona Beach Shores with promises in her heart.
I will do better. I will be strong. I won’t move on, but I will move forward. Fly forward.
Reeva shot a look over the rim of her glass and Josie could tell she wasn’t convinced that the relationship with Thomas was purely platonic. Surely there was more to the story, she knew her sister was thinking. Afterall, no one just gives someone a plane. Josie just smiled, plucked the last olive from its perch atop her drink and hummed along to the band:
Well, some say life will beat you down
Break your heart, steal your crown
So I've started out for God-knows-where
I guess I'll know when I get there.
Opening scene: Introduces protagonist, setting and tone. ----- “No one just gives someone a plane,” Reeva said, trying to catch rogue strands of her nightsky hair. It was windy, and slightly cool for an October day in Florida. Josie shrugged and repositioned her drink atop the poured concrete bar. When she tilted her head just right, the olives atop her bloody mary resembled strange inner tubes floating in the Daytona Beach waves. “Especially that plane,” Reeva added in a suggestive tone, flashing her head-cheerleader smile – the one she and Josie shared. A broad line of square teeth shifted subtly inward, cheeks pushed up, opening tiny canyons alongside her glass-bottle green eyes. She was a red-lipped cheshire cat offering a welcome dare. Men reacted to this as if she were a mythological creature, born of heaven and hell, all black winged and silver tongued. Josie was immune. As if clued into the conversation, the cover band belted a Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers rendition across the open air deck. I’m learning to fly. But I ain't got wings. Coming down … is the hardest thing. The wind competed for earspace, pushing waves harder onto the shore with each gust, whipping flaps of the wood deck's blue, liquor-branded umbrellas in changing directions. It reminded Josie of the establishment's grit. Storms, named and unnamed, had ripped the roof off the Checkered Past at least five times in the past 20 years yet, like her, it was still standing. Despite Reeva’s disbelief, Thomas Marquee had recently given Josie a plane. A somewhat rare, badass World War II era seaplane to be more specific. “Are you sleeping with him?” Reeva pressed, taking a sip of her 12-year Yamazaki, poured neat. When Reeva began drinking Scotch neat at the same place they once flashed fake IDs and hoped for pina coladas, Josie couldn’t remember. Who drinks Scotch neat at a beach bar anyway? It was a Corona and margarita joint, not a high class steakhouse. Half the time this place didn’t even have Patron, but nowadays Reeva’s order never varied and somehow her Yamazaki was always in stock. Probably because she was the only one who drank it. The women last saw one another four years ago, but the innate sibling need to annoy had not dissipated. Instead of answering immediately, Josie took a long sip of her drink, letting the cocktail’s tomatoey-spice-burn roll into her belly. Why she ordered a bloody mary she couldn’t quite say – she didn’t even like them. They just looked fun. Celery leaves and olives waving like peacock plumes as bartenders handed them across the counter. A paloma with a splash of pineapple was Josie’s go-to day drinking cocktail. Sweet & salty. Why mess with a perfectly good standby. But she did. “Well?” Reeva pushed for an answer. “Does it matter?” Josie retorted, happy to have irritated her sister. If Josie had been talking to anyone else, she would have been afraid of judgment. Reeva, however, went through men the same way she went through red lipstick. Quickly. Josie let the question hang in the air a few moments longer, pulling one of the olives from her garnish and popping playfully into her mouth. The issue with Reeva’s question wasn’t that she had asked it, or that Josie was afraid to answer. It was that she had phrased it incorrectly. Reeva should have asked, “Have you been sleeping with him?” The answer to that was affirmative. Yes. Josie had been sleeping with Thomas Marquee. She was not, however, currently sleeping with him. Some might say a difference without a distinction. Josie disagreed, and answered accordingly. “No. I’m not sleeping with him.” Thomas had left St. Lucia three months earlier and gone back home. Somewhere in Portugal. Or maybe it was Brazil. Somewhere Portuguese was spoken. A return to the life from which he took a momentary reprieve. Their reasons for escape were different, but he and Josie had an innate understanding from the moment they met. So when he left, there was no teary-eyed goodbye. There were no explanations. He knew she didn’t need them. The note on the kitchen counter of the small condo she had been renting was short. Blue Post-It note short: You’ll be with me always. Fly forward. - T Next to it were keys to the Widgeon and the plane’s title. Josie had considered staying in St. Lucia, serving tourists tropical drinks and taking them on seaplane tours around the island. The family dream, however, tugged at her heart. Now, an extra plane courtesy of Thomas Marquee, along with Josie’s settlement money, created a legit opportunity to continue building the flight-based bed and breakfast they had half-jokingly talked about for as long as Josie could remember. So she left St. Lucia’s reprieve and headed back to Daytona Beach Shores with promises in her heart. I will do better. I will be strong. I won’t move on, but I will move forward. Fly forward. Reeva shot a look over the rim of her glass and Josie could tell she wasn’t convinced that the relationship with Thomas was purely platonic. Surely there was more to the story, she knew her sister was thinking. Afterall, no one just gives someone a plane. Josie just smiled, plucked the last olive from its perch atop her drink and hummed along to the band: Well, some say life will beat you down Break your heart, steal your crown So I've started out for God-knows-where I guess I'll know when I get there.