All Chapters of Champagne Kisses: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

June 7th, 1990The boardwalk creaked under our feet as we made our way along the sandy planks. Small local shops had their doors open to let in the warm ocean air and passing customers. The smell of hotdogs and popcorn drifted by, and music played softly from the inside the shops."I'm starving. You want something to eat? My treat." Dean let go of my hand, eyeing the food stand."Sure. I'll take a hotdog. Thanks!" I flashed him a big grin as he hurried over to the line. I was about to follow him, but something caught my eye.On the edge of the boardwalk, facing out toward the ocean, a street vendor was selling his paintings. They were amazing. The seascapes caught my attention, particularly one of a storm about to roll in. A woman stood silhouetted in the foreground, tiny against the powerful thunderclouds and swelling waves. I could feel the surge of the water, the light fading quickly into the clouds as the storm threatened to overcome her. Despite the storm, she stood strong and re

June 8, 1990- Evening At some point when it started to get dark, Tony and Kim sneaked away and started a small fire down on the beach while the rest of us were on the volleyball court. Tony put some hamburgers on the grill that his aunt kept in the garage, and by the time we were done with the last volleyball game, he had paper plates full of food for us to eat. We opened a bag of potato chips. Tony removed the grill from the fire and began to throw more and more fuel into it, quickly turning it into a bonfire. We cracked open some beers and all began to eat. None of us spoke much, busy eating and simply enjoying the good company. I sat on the sand and watched the fire as the sun finished setting, leaning my head against Dean's shoulder as we munched on potato chips. The waves crashed against the beach below, and soon a cool wind began to blow in from the ocean. Dean graciously slipped my tank top off his neck and let me have it back. It was just the right amount of clothing to be c

June 9th, 1990 The day I was dreading had arrived. Somehow, my week had flown by on silent wings, gliding past on sunshine and happiness. I felt as though I had only just arrived, that I had only just found the starting point. Dean and I were about to begin something wonderful, and it wasn't fair that Dean had to leave. It wasn't fair that we had only had four magical days together, and now he had to leave for the horrors of war. It made my stomach hurt. I sat on his bed, my arms wrapped around my legs, watching him pack. He had the door to the ocean open, and the salty air was making my hair ripple down my back. Despite the Florida sunshine and the warmth of the breeze, I felt cold. Dean carefully packed his dark green rucksack, placing his boots and clothing in the hard canvas with care. His slow, methodical movements were hypnotic, the muscles on his arms flexing and relaxing with an attractive rhythm. Maybe if I watched him long enough, his bag would never fill and he would nev

Two Years Ago I had to turn on the GPS guidance on my phone when I got into town. Everything was different, and even though the bar was still in the same spot, the buildings, and even the beach, were not. I finally found it, maneuvering the rental car into the quiet parking lot. What had once been the hottest disco bar in the small town was now a rundown country bar. Gravel and sand crunched under my feet as I headed up the rickety wooden steps toward the open door. It looked as though they had covered the open air portion of the bar. Bad country music blared out into the parking lot, the dim light from the bar glowing neon yellow and red. Inside, a girl with full tattoo sleeves leaned against the jukebox, feeding it quarters and singing along with the music. I could see where a fight had occurred earlier, a chair in pieces by the door. Several males were in a smoky corner, taking turns around a faded green pool table, but I wasn't there for them. I was there for the long-legged ma

June 20th, 1990 I gripped my sketchbook tightly, making sure for the third time that I still had the designs from the night before. I had no idea what Mrs. Saunders looked like, how far along in her pregnancy she was, or what her build might be. I had sketched out a couple more maternity designs, but without meeting her, I didn't want to create too many, but I needed enough to impress. Mr. Martinez walked calmly in front of me, easily navigating the huge apartment building as we headed toward what he called "Mrs. Saunders' sun-room". The apartment was huge; bigger than what I would consider a house. I had a feeling the oil business, at least for the Saunders and DS Oil and Gas, was doing well. I was trying my very best not to be overwhelmed by everything, and I felt like I was doing a pretty good job. Mr. Martinez and I had arrived by a private plane and then drove straight into the city to the Saunders' household. I couldn't wait to go out and explore the city after my interview.