Sex On Flamingo Beach. Marcia King-Gamble
been derailed. Flamingo Beach was heartbreak hotel.
The telephone rang inside as it had been doing off and on since she got home. It was close to her bedtime and she was tempted to ignore it, but what if it was the hotel?
“Yes,” she said, somewhat impatiently.
“Miss Woodward, you need to get over here. Now.”
“Who is this?”
“Melody at the front desk. Mr. Schwartz asked me to call you again. We’ve been trying both of your phones for half an hour.”
“What’s the problem?”
A moment of hesitation as the woman debated. “Ma’am, the police are here and Mr. Schwartz wants all management to get over here on the double.”
“I’m on my way.”
In a New Jersey minute she was back in the clothing she’d hastily discarded. Driving like a person possessed, she made it to the hotel in record time. A huge crowd was gathered out front and all four of the town’s police cars had their sirens going. The WARP van was parked down the street, which meant reporters were there. Cameramen from the local television station had zoomed into action.
Realizing it would be an impossible feat to walk into the lobby, Emilie opted for the employee entrance instead. Inside, she was greeted by total chaos. Guests from the singles party milled around and people lay facedown on the floor being handcuffed.
The general manager, Owen Schwartz, was barking orders at security guards who’d been called in for backup. On the fringe of all the activity were the management types she worked with. Judging by their outfits they’d all been at home relaxing before the call came in.
Emilie, spotting a visibly distressed Joya, made her way over to her friend’s side.
“This is a disaster. What the hell happened here?”
Joya wheezed out an exasperated sigh. “I wish I could tell you. Everything seemed to be going well until a woman said she felt woozy and accused one of the men of slipping something into her drink. There was a huge argument and others got involved.”
“Did he really put something in her drink?”
“Who knows, but it set off a chain reaction. Several women claimed they were dizzy and nauseous. And they all claimed to have had only one drink. There was a lot of finger-pointing and name-calling.”
“I bet. How did things get to the point that the police became involved?”
“In the midst of all the screaming a man came to the front desk claiming there were people doing drugs in the mens’ room. Melody from the front desk called her boss at home, who insisted she call the police. By the time Greg and Lionel got here with backup, the drug users panicked and were trying to flush the evidence down the toilet. They were caught climbing out the windows.”
“Must have been some scene,” Emilie said. She looked over at the two policemen who were handcuffing several empty-eyed guests. Joya had introduced her to Greg Santana and his partner, Lionel. They were two very visible members of the small Flamingo Beach police force.
“Guests have started asking for their money back. What should we do?” Joya asked. “Chris, the party organizer, thinks we might both get sued,” she added.
Emilie hadn’t thought of that. The resort didn’t need that kind of press, especially now that a casino that provided guests with another option was being built in town.
“Let me see what Owen wants to do,” she said, heading over to the area where several colleagues were standing around openly gaping at the scene.
Owen Schwartz, spotting Emilie, met her halfway.
“It’s about time you showed up,” he chastised, as if she’d been in some way remiss or lacking in her duties.
Emilie was so surprised by the rebuke that she said nothing for a while, but then, conscious of her colleagues listening, she felt the need to defend herself.
“I got here as soon as I was notified, Owen,” she said, hoping that her irritation didn’t show. “The police seem to have everything well in hand. Is there something specific you’d like me to do or take care of?”
“Yes. I’d like you to work with the guest relations manager and get our guests calmed down. We need to be in control. Put your heads together and come up with some way to appease these people. I’d like to minimize the number of people wanting to check out.”
His gaze drifted to where a line was beginning to form at the front desk. The resort’s harried personnel were doing their best to pacify people and answer the questions being screamed at them.
“Who’s handling the media?” Emilie had the presence of mind to ask.
“Public relations. I want this lobby cleared immediately so we can get back to business as usual. Whose idea was it to have this singles bash, anyway?” Owen looked at her expectantly as if expecting her to fess up. Emilie refused to take the bait. Instead, she decided to take charge of the situation.
“I’ll go and help the folks at the front desk,” Emilie answered, retreating as soon as she decently could. She’d never been a fan of Owen Schwartz. She didn’t care for the way he did business.
For the next couple of hours Emilie worked with the front desk agents and other managers to allay the guests’ fears. And despite offers of free dinners and even a complimentary extra night, several people decided to check out. The lobby, meanwhile, was slowly being cleared. The cops were now leading away the drug dealers and buyers.
As more and more people exited, it became clear that the lobby was trashed. Cleaners were called in on overtime. The few that answered their phones were doing their best to pick up trash and mop the marble floors that were streaked interesting and colorful shades. But it was hard to mask the noxious odor of stale beer, cleansers and fragrances that lingered in the air.
“You look like you need to sit down,” a familiar male voice said when Emilie thought she would just about die from exhaustion.
She looked up to see Rowan regarding her with a look of both curiosity and sympathy. She wondered where he had come from. He couldn’t possibly have been at the singles event?
“I look that bad, huh?”
“You don’t look good. Why is the director of leisure sales working the front desk, anyway?”
“In crises management pitches in wherever they can. Were you here the entire time? Did you witness the nightmare?”
“I had a meeting in the Travelers Palm Room. It got interrupted when your singles party turned into a zoo,” he said.
“My singles party?” She raised an eyebrow.
“All right, the singles party your company hosted.”
Emilie was suddenly conscious of the surrounding employees regarding them with keen interest. Since the line at the desk was almost nonexistent now, there wasn’t much more she could do. She stepped out from behind the barrier and took Rowan by the arm, leading him to a more remote area.
“What happened to the other people attending your meeting?” she asked.
He laughed. “Are you kidding? They hightailed it out of here. No one with a smidgeon of common sense sticks around when drugs are involved, except for my man Derek, who was worried about his wife.”
“You stayed, too. Why?”
Those blue eyes regarded her carefully. “Because I was worried about you. I thought you might be working and could use my help so I pitched in and helped with crowd control.”
“That was nice of you.”
Rowan bowed from the waist, sweeping out his hand. “At your service, ma’am. Always at your service.”
Emilie wasn’t buying it. She doubted