Ride to Restoration (Ride Series Book 2) (33 page)

Chapter
64

L
ong
into my second Bloody Mary, I remembered how much I enjoyed it when a plan
finally comes together. I was cautiously optimistic that Major and I, with
enough creativity and cash, could make tomorrow night one for the ages. My to
do list was growing, shrinking, evolving moment by moment as I flipped from one
location to another before settling on the spot where I found myself yesterday.

The
beach at Pirate
’
s Cove was significantly less crowded than here. Besides, I
heard Aunt Catfish calling me back for seconds. This time she told me to bring
friends.

Major
cajoled me to the boardwalk where he sniffed and smelled every signpost, fire
hydrant and bench leg within a two-mile radius. After that early afternoon
fiasco, I ordered in. He munched on lamb and rice with a side of green beans,
while I snacked on fish and chips, sipped on Smart Water and for good measure,
chased it with my last Sam. Sleep came quickly.

Thanks to a cold, wet nose nuzzling
my face, C-Day was here, beginning at 5:05, long before the rooster crowed,
even longer before the sun peaked its head above the far off horizon. Major and
I trudged south along the surf until the darkness gave way to day. “It’s Candi
Day, Major!” I shouted. “I can’t wait.”

But
... wait I did until 8 AM for the local shops to open. Five gallons of fresh
pink and red rose petals was not that absurd to the second florist on my list,
thanks to the three hundred dollars I offered to make my request come true.
Securing the fab
’
50s band, now that was a little tougher, but nothing that
two large wouldn
’
t cure. The crooner soloist and their illustrious leader
cost equally as much.
Sinatra impersonators must be in high demand around
here.
All I
’
ve got to say is for what he
’
s charging me he
’
d better sound like Frank,
look like Dean and move like Sammy Davis Jr.

Thankfully,
the bakery had the brownies at the ready for less than ten bucks a dozen.
Finally,
something cheap ... excuse me affordable.
After much searching, PetSmart
had the twin
‘
milk
’
bottle
carrying backpack for Major to wear since alcohol and glass were prohibited on
the beach. I was missing something. Surely it would come to me during my last
two stops in an otherwise, uneventful day.

I texted Giovanni:

Pirate
’
s Cove, 3000 block, Hwy. A1A, 6
PM. Don
’
t be late!
Send Candi straight through lobby to beach. Thx

I paid in advance for the cycle
rentals at the largest Harley Davidson store on earth and secured a place to
store our vehicles. I took immediate advantage, unloading my bike and dropping
the trailer in the secure lot. Which reminded me, I needed a long distance
shipper. Thanks to the guys at HD, I found one out of Ft. Myers. My last stop
was the airport where I brought two open-ended first class tickets out of
Southwest Florida International — plus one pampered dog seat — to
an island in country, as well as to one north of the border.

By
3 p.m. I was finished and it was back to the Plaza and their business center
where I booked two rooms in two different locations for the next three days,
beginning tomorrow. The route I
’
d chosen took us up Highway A1A to Jacksonville, before
heading northeast to Savannah, Georgia. The D.O.G. would have to stay behind.
Historic B&Bs are not pet friendly. The beach condos weren
’
t either, no matter what I
was willing to pay. It didn
’
t matter
…
the
Plaza has a critically acclaimed kennel on-site and that
’
s where Major would reside
while I was gone.

Probably
for the best,
I
thought.
He was going to have to ride behind Gio anyway.
By my logic,
Gio was a wreck waiting to happen in his thigh to ankle cast. One accident
behind us was one too many already.
I wish no ill will on anyone. Oops, that
’
s not entirely true. Joseph
is another story in his twisted, distorted self.

Slinging
my daypack over my shoulder it was time.
“
Come on Major, let
’
s do this. It
’
s Candi day.
”
An hour before show time, I arrived to find a fairly
deserted beach. Beginning just to the right of the stairs leading across the
beach at Pirate
’
s Cove, I scattered rose petals two feet wide across ankle
deep sand for the next fifty yards. At the end I made my heart, a big one,
almost six feet in diameter with a dozen brownies in its center. To the left I
made a smiley face using red solo cups turned upside down for the eyes and
mouth and a 32-oz. bottle of Smart Water planted upright, three feet away in
the sand ... representing ... well ... ME. Off to my right was a boardwalk to a
private residence that by all indications was unoccupied tonight. It was there
I planned to position the band and
‘
Frank
’
just out of Candi
’
s line of sight.

My phone vibrated ... A text from Giovanni.

“Ciao, D ... Lost ... Daytona.”

Of course you are.
I replied:

Not
in Daytona now. Go south on Highway A1A to Daytona Beach Shores. Pirates Cove
Hotel.

Gio fired back:

Ahh
... see soon.

Men, what was I thinking?
They, we, don
’
t
ever stop and ask for directions. Gio was a hell of a man in some areas ... as
in, hung like a horse ... slighted in others
 
... Maybe he tries to think
with it. ... Guess I should have sent him a map with a naked woman on top with
an X to mark the spot.

Chapter
65

A
t
5:30, I was staring at a five-piece band, plus one guy wandering aimlessly in
circles beach side —he was either looking for direction, for me, or both.

“
Gentlemen,
”
I
called out, closing the distance between us,
“
I
’
m D. Glad you could make it.
I
’
ll
show you where to set up. Follow me.
”
Walking the ensemble across the hard packed sand to keep
from disturbing my rose-petaled path, I set them in place on the private
boardwalk and settled up immediately in cash.
“
Are you familiar with the
song I requested?
”

“
We are,
”
responded
‘
Mr.
Sinatra,
’
“
just give us the word.
”

“
Gladly. Candi may arrive a few minutes late.
 
Seems the Crazy Italian Stallion with
her has absolutely no sense of direction except when it comes to his dick.
Horse-hung, good as gold
—
the envy of all mankind.
”
They laughed.

I
strapped the backpack on Major and inserted two milk bottles into their
holders. Just for good measure, I tied the bandana from my bike around his
neck. At 5:55, give or take a few minutes, I walked him to the steps and hooked
his lead to the handrail.
“
Sit,
”
I
commanded, (in reality I just advised)
“
Candi will be along soon.
”
Scattering the last of my rose petals around him before
tying them into the trail, I walked back to the band, feeling my phone vibrate
as I reached the steps.

I
got Gio
’
s
text that said
“
here.
”

Turning
to the band, I nodded,
“
Let the music begin.
”
Uncasing their instruments
—
salt spray plays havoc on reeds and brass
—
they warmed up briefly, before breaking into my long
anticipated song, Frank Sinatra
’
s, Stranger
’
s in the Night.

A
solitary figure appeared poolside, gazing over the railing and into the ocean
’
s waves. Dressed in dark
skinny jeans and a white billowy silk blouse, I watched her reaction when the
dog she spotted at the foot of the steps suddenly seemed familiar.

Ah,
Atlantic Ocean I
’
ve missed you,
I breathed, looking out upon
the waves crashing effortlessly on the shore.
Music, do I hear music? Yes,
someone, somewhere is playing Sinatra.
Moving to the top of the steps
leading to the beach, I spotted a beautiful service dog waiting patiently for
his owner.
He looks like Major. No, it couldn
’
t be. I never saw Major wear
a pack like that. If only ... silly me, you
’
ve been in the car with Gio
too long, listening to his wrong turn by wrong turn directions.
Stepping out of my shoes
and onto the sand, I froze. Hanging around the neck of the Major look-alike was
a sign that read,
“
Follow Me.
”
Red
and pink rose petals surrounded him, except where his tail wagging furiously
had brushed them away. They didn
’
t stop there. A trail of red and pink rose petals led
directly toward the music
’
s source.

Speechless,
with tears welling in my eyes, I unhooked the labradoodle's leash and using
both hands patted my chest. Only Major would know what to do next. White sand
launched out of nowhere into my face and hair, followed by two massive paws
firmly planted on my chest.
“
Major,
”
I
cried,
“
it
is you. I am so happy ... so happy!
”
I hugged him repeatedly. The bandana tied around his neck
looked and smelled vaguely familiar
…
like D.
“
Go find daddy!
”

Major
dropped to the ground, turned and bounded off across the rose-petaled path
before stopping and waiting for me to catch up. My eyes clouded with tears with
my shoes in my left hand, I ran straight to the sound of the music and the
words bellowing from someone who sounded much like old blue eyes...

Strangers in the night
exchanging glances

Wondering in the night

What were the chances we
’
d be sharing love

Before the night was through
…

I
stopped and inhaled the lyrics, recited the lyrics, sung the lyrics before
continuing on...

Ever since that night we
’
ve been together

Lovers at first sight, in love forever

It turned out so right for
strangers in the night

The music was vibrant and live. It
’
s the little things you pick
up on when overwhelmed with emotion. That, and the fact that I could see
musicians gathered on the walkway when I reached the end of the rose colored
path. Before me was a giant heart with a basket of ... brownies.
That
’
s why Major was carrying
milk. I get it.
Off to my left was Mr. Smiley face, defined with pronounced facial features
made from red solo cups and one very distinct appendage I
’
d recognize anywhere.

As
the music faded it was my cue,
“
D, where
’
s Major? Better still, where are you?
”

Stepping
from behind a fragrant, blooming clump of Oleander with Major leading the way,
“
Hi, Candi, surprised?
”

“
Of course, you surprised me, Major most of all. I thought
my mind was playing tricks on me ... that is until he hugged me and copped a
feel. Then I knew ... he
’
s ... he
’
s so like you.
”
My tears would not stop flowing. My make-up a disaster zone.
This is not how I wanted D to see me after all this time.
I wiped the
Sephora, mixed with salt, sand and tears from my face.
“
D, I must look a mess. I
’
m sorry.
”

“
Hush ... You look wonderful Candi
—
for a raccoon.
”
I chuckled.
“
I
’
ve missed you.
”

Turning
to the band,
“
Gentlemen, thank you for coming and sharing this homecoming
with us. I must say you performed admirably. Candi loves Sinatra and I
’
m becoming quite a fan
myself.
”

Packing
up, I watched them exit up the walkway opposite the way they came. Very
considerate. I appreciated them for not ruining the ambiance we
’
d worked so hard to create.

Focusing
on Candi,
“
I
’
m glad you decided to come along, baby. I couldn
’
t bear the thought of you
riding bitch behind Gio when you could be riding with me.
”
I glowed.

“
D, did you set this whole thing up? I mean, one minute Gio
and Mile were going to South Beach and the next thing I knew he wanted to come
here. You did, didn
’
t you?
”

“
Major mostly, he missed you.
”

“
I missed him ... I really, positively, absolutely ...
missed you.
”

“
Thank you. Means a lot. Help me gather our stuff. I see Gio
and Mile ogling us over the rail.
”