Under The Boardwalk

For seven long years she had worked hard to forget him, to learn to hate him, and now it was more important than ever that she hang on to those negative emotions.

She carried her cup of coffee into the small living room and flopped down on the sofa. Thoughtfully she sipped her coffee as her gaze found the picture on the end table. Johnny. She wondered where he was, what he was doing at this moment. Their marriage had lasted only ten months, but they’d parted as they had begun, as friends. Marrying him had been her second mistake. The first had been falling in love and trusting Grey.

“Hey, Nikki.”

“Come on in,” Nikki yelled in the direction of the front door, smiling as Bridget stepped inside.

“Good morning,” Bridget exclaimed before sailing into the kitchen. She returned a moment later with a cup of coffee cradled between her hands.

Nikki smiled indulgently at her friend. “I thought Lars told you to stay away from caffeine,” she commented.

Bridget waved her hands in dismissal. “Oh, him. I think he believes that too much coffee might stunt my growth. I keep telling him it’s too late.” She grinned like a mischievous child. She took a sip from the mug, then settled back on the sofa. “So, are you ready for the tour today?”

Nikki grimaced. “I’ve just been sitting here thinking about packing my bags and catching the first train out of town.”

“You should have known that as president of the Boardwalk League, you’d be chosen to deal with Grey.” She smiled sympathetically. “Honey, we need somebody who’s on our side to be with him when he looks over the area. I know it will be difficult, but surely you can be civil to the man, show him around and not jeopardize the future of the boardwalk because of your past.”

Nikki nodded wearily. Yes, she knew it was necessary to keep the past firmly buried and focus on the issue at hand—the survival of the board walk. That had to take precedence over her own pain, her own sense of enormous betrayal. The survival of this area had to transcend her own personal torment.

Yesterday at the meeting with the people of the boardwalk, she’d known with a sinking heart that she would be chosen as the one to work with Grey. She’d called him the night before to arrange to give him a tour this morning. No wonder she’d suffered strange dreams about him, she thought suddenly. The dreams had probably been induced by her dread of seeing him yet again, of having to have anything at all to do with him.

“If I’m lucky, he’ll take care of the business here, then return to his life in New York City.”

“With his father dead, don’t you think he’ll probably stay here?” Bridget asked.

“I hope not,” she replied fervently. But what if he did remain in Oceanview? How was she ever going to cope with seeing him all the time? To survive, she’d have to hang on to her anger and her bitterness. She couldn’t afford to think about the stirrings of desire, the passion he’d always evoked in her with a mere glance, a simple touch. Those emotions were dangerous, unwanted…the emotions of a fool.

“Nikki, if he wanted it, couldn’t you give him another chance?” Bridget asked gently.

“Never,” she replied flatly. “He’ll never again have a place in my life. He negated that right when he sent me that envelope full of money for an abortion.”

“He was young,” Bridget said.

“And so was I,” Nikki retorted. “Young and pregnant and alone.” Again a deep ache pierced through her, momentarily taking her breath away. “Everyone told me I was a fool, that boardwalk girls had always been easy prey for the town boys. I thought what we had was different….” She shook her head. “I’d be a fool to ever allow Grey to get past my defenses again,” she said softly. “And my mama didn’t raise no fool.” Now, if she could just remember that when she was once again face-to-face with Grey.

Grey walked down the beach toward the huge sign that read: Land’s End, The Biggest Little Boardwalk in New Jersey. The boardwalk at Land’s End, which stretched for only one mile, couldn’t begin to compete with its bigger, more famous seven-mile sister in Atlantic City. However, there was a time when Land’s End had been a very popular tourist attraction. Built in the early 1900s, the boardwalk had enjoyed relative success until the last decade.

Grey had heard the stories many times, of how his grandfather had owned the land and had allowed a passing carnival to set up along the boardwalk. The carny people had liked the permanency of the place and had worked out a deal to remain there year-round.

It was Grey’s father who had parceled out the land and had renters sign leases. All of the original carny people were gone, but some of their descendents were here, along with others who had come seeking someplace to call their very own.

Grey stared up at the huge sign, noting how weathered and faded the lettering had become with the passing of time. He walked beneath it, seeing indications that the boardwalk was beginning to show signs of life. An old man pulled up an awning on one of the concession stands, and a portly woman swept the walkway in front of her darts booth. He looked at his wristwatch. It was just after ten o’clock. In two hours, all the booths and galleries, rides and sideshows would officially open to the public.

In the harsh light of day there was little of the magical-kingdom aura. The sunshine glared off the peeling, faded paint of the buildings. The faint scent of decayed fish and kelp rode the breeze. Even the wood of the boardwalk looked old, cracked by the heat of the sun, buckled with age in many places. He wondered if Nikki, too, would lose her magical aura in the harsh light of the day.

Other than his brief visit two nights ago, it had been seven years since he had been to the board walk, but his feet remembered and moved him in the direction of old habits.

He found himself in front of his favorite pizza place, the scent of spicy sauce and warm crust carrying on the salty breeze. The sign in front read: Short Stuff’s Pizzeria.

Without conscious thought he moved around the side of the building to the back door. When he opened it, the door creaked just as it used to. Smiling in memory, he stepped into the dimness of the back room. The place wasn’t empty. There were about eight kids sitting at an old picnic table, eating from a platter of pizza that sat in the middle of the table. Some things never change, he thought.

For a moment, he felt as if he’d stepped backward in time. He sat down at a small table near where the kids sat and allowed the ambience to overtake him.

This is where he’d come every day for lunch, to see Nikki and eat his fill of Bridget’s “mistakes.” He closed his eyes, remembering the anticipation that each afternoon he’d run across the hot sand of the beach to come here, eager to see Nikki, hold her in his arms, steal a kiss from her in the small kitchen of the restaurant. He’d grab her by the waist and pull her up against him, unashamed of his aching desire for her. Those kisses…she tasted of pepperoni and tomato sauce, and her hair smelled of doughy crust.

“Hmm, you taste so good,” he’d whisper in her ear, then he’d lean down to explore her lips again.

“You taste better.” She would laugh, and with the tip of her tongue she would trace the contours of his mouth while she teasingly pressed her body intimately against his.

She’d loved to tease him, but he hadn’t minded. He’d known instinctively that the promises she made with her eyes and caresses would eventually be fulfilled. He’d never doubted that at night, when the shadows deepened beneath the boardwalk, they’d meet and follow through on the teasing promises they’d made to each other during the light of day.

He forced his attention back to the present, and realized that coming here had been a mistake. The scent of the pizza, the kid’s laughter, the warmth of the room, all combined to bring back memories Grey didn’t want to entertain.

He could still remember his rage when two months after he’d gone to college, his father had brought the news clipping announcing her wedding. Grey had fallen apart, and he now realized that even after all this time, he still hadn’t completely pulled himself together.

Yes, this was a mistake, coming to this pizza place where the memories were as pungent as the scent of garlic and oregano. He stood up to leave, and at that moment Nikki entered the room from the kitchen, carrying a platter of pizza slices.

She saw him immediately and for a moment she froze, like a frightened deer caught in the brilliant beams of a car’s headlight. He saw the color rise in her cheeks, saw her large hazel eyes darken in some indefinable emotion and he wondered if she remembered those summer days when Bridget’s kitchen had served as one of their trysting places where they had both learned about the hypnotic power of love and sex. He felt a heaviness begin in his loins, the stirrings of a desire he now found repugnant.

Memories slammed into Nikki’s head, memories she had repressed for a very long time.

“Hurry Grey, kiss me before Bridget comes back in.”

“I don’t want to kiss you in a hurry. I want to kiss you slowly, thoroughly.” She’d giggled, but raised her lips once again, seeking the heat of his.

“Tonight,” she’d promised, arching her back as his hands pressed her lower body closer against him.

“Nikki, don’t move like that against me or I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

“I like it when you aren’t responsible for your actions.”

His eyes had been dark and dangerous and she had loved it, loved him.

Even now, she felt her breasts responding to the vividness of her memories, her nipples tightening and surging against her T-shirt. She jerked her gaze away from him, appalled at her body’s traitorous weakness, her mind’s lapse of sanity.

“Here we are, kids,” she said, forcing a lighthearted tone as she set the pizza on the table. She was conscious of Grey’s gaze still on her. She steeled herself against the onslaught of emotions and walked over to where he sat at the small table.

“I thought we were meeting at the theater in an hour,” she said.

“I just wanted to see if Bridget still ran her soup kitchen for the kids.”

“Every day, although you know she’d kick you in the shin if she heard you refer to it as a soup kitchen. Bridget maintains she’s merely getting rid of all the ‘mistakes’ she can’t serve to paying customers.”

Grey nodded, a ghost of a smile moving a corner of his mouth. “If Bridget really made as many mistakes as she says she does, she’d have been out of business a long time ago.”

“You know Bridget feeds a lot of hungry children…some of whom won’t get another meal until tomorrow morning when they return here.” Nikki leaned forward, focusing on the issue at hand and trying to ignore the way his familiar scent surrounded her. “Grey, these kids come from broken homes, they have alcoholic or drug-dependent parents. Bridget not only gives them a hot meal, she also gives them a sympathetic ear, friendly support, a reason to go on fighting to make something of themselves.”

“Nikki, you don’t have to convince me about the good Bridget does here. Have you forgotten that I was one of Bridget’s waifs?”

She straightened her shoulders defensively. “No, I haven’t forgotten that. I just want to make sure you haven’t. The people on the boardwalk were good to you. They didn’t care who your family was or what your problems were. They accepted you without reservation.”

“That’s true,” he agreed, his tone suddenly weary.

“Then how can you think of closing us down?” she asked with a touch of anger.

“Nikki, I can’t make a business decision based on the fact that some people were nice to me years ago. I have to make a decision based on my head, not my heart.”

At that moment, Bridget entered from the kitchen. “What’s this? A new boy on the boardwalk?” Her face beamed a smile as she approached Grey and Nikki. “Greyson Blakemore…all grown-up and looking mighty fine.”

“Hello, Bridget, you’re looking ravishing yourself,” Grey said, returning a smile to the little woman who immediately joined him at the table.

“I heard you were back. It’s about time you returned to your roots. What kept you away for so long?” Bridget asked.

Grey shrugged, his answer lost as Nikki fled into the kitchen. Once there, she leaned against the stainless steel refrigerator door, remembering his arms wrapped around her, the two of them lying in the sand. “Forever,” he’d whispered in her ear and she’d believed him. Damn him for his lies. Damn him for making her think their love could overcome the differences in their backgrounds…anything the world threw at them. Damn him for making forever so very brief.

“Nikki?” Bridget entered the kitchen. “Grey says he’s ready for his tour whenever you are. He’ll wait for you outside.”

Nikki sighed. “I might as well get it over with,” she said more to herself than to Bridget. After taking a deep breath, she walked through the back room and out into the sunshine. “Where to first?” she asked without preamble.

He pulled a handful of papers out of his pocket. “Before he died, my father had been receiving complaints about safety violations. I thought we’d check those out first.”

“I can’t imagine what kind of violations there would be concerning safety. Sure, things need painting, but safety has always been a priority here.”

He handed her one of the papers, a letter written complaining about the hazardous condition of the Ferris wheel. She scanned the contents quickly. “You can’t take this seriously,” she scoffed. “Whoever sent it didn’t even sign it. Probably one of the townspeople who didn’t win a stuffed animal and wrote this in a snit.”

“Still, I intend to take it seriously,” he returned evenly. “Nikki, if there’s any chance of keeping the boardwalk open, I’m going to have to see what kinds of obstacles we’re facing, what kind of financial backing it will take to make Land’s End more profitable. So, we take these things one at a time and check them out, okay?”

Minutes later as Pete Ely, the Ferris wheel owner, showed Grey the documentation of recent safety inspections, Nikki studied Grey, trying to attain some objectivity. It had been easier to maintain distance when she’d seen him before, when he’d been dressed in his tailored suit and expensive dress shirt. But today, wearing a pair of worn dungarees and a short-sleeved sports shirt, he was uncomfortably like the Grey of her youth, the Grey she had loved with a passion that had been all-ending. But the man of her past had made his choices. He chose to end his responsibility to her with an envelope of money. Blakemores didn’t get involved with boardwalk brats—how many times had she been warned of that? Still, she’d been certain in her heart that Grey wasn’t like the other Blakemores. She’d been wrong.

She wished he’d married. Perhaps if he was married, she wouldn’t be feeling the insidious stirrings of temptation. Every time she looked into the dark depths of his eyes, she saw an image of a serpent, whispering that it was safe to taste the juicy apple. But she’d already tasted the meat of the fruit, and she’d discovered that it bore bitter seeds.

“Well, I guess this takes care of that particular issue,” Grey said, frowning as he looked up at the Ferris wheel. “Although it certainly could use a fresh coat of paint.”

“Everything around here could use a fresh coat of paint,” Nikki replied. “We went to your father several months ago and asked if he would be willing to lower the rent for a few months so we could use the extra money to make some improvements, but he refused.”

“Point taken,” he replied as he moved in the direction of the carousel. Nikki lagged behind, dreading to go to the place where it had all begun so many years ago.

His footsteps slowed as he approached the ancient merry-go-round and she wondered if he, too, was entertaining thoughts from the past.

She watched as he stepped up on the carousel’s platform, his feet moving him toward the huge silver steed they’d fought over. He placed a hand on the saddle that had once been such a brilliant blue, but was now worn to the paleness of distant dreams. “It hardly seems worth fighting over now, does it?” He smiled wistfully and ran his hand lightly down the horse’s flank. “In my mind, it was always bigger, brighter.”

“I guess when you look back, you always remember things as being much better than they really were,” she said pointedly.

“Who’s running the equipment now?” he asked, removing his hand from the horse as dark shutters slid into place over his eyes.

“Walt Simon.”

“Walt Simon? He must be a hundred years old by now.”

Nikki couldn’t hide a small smile. Everyone was surprised by Walt’s longevity and eternally youthful spirit. At that moment, Walt himself walked out from behind the ticket booth, his keen blue eyes immediately spying Nikki and Grey.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he exclaimed, moving toward them with the peculiar gait of age and arthritis. He held out his hand to Grey, who clasped it and shook it vigorously. “Well, I’ll be double damned.” He grinned, a toothless smile that transformed his grizzled, weathered face into that of an innocent child. “I knew you wouldn’t stay away forever. You and Nikki were my very best customers for a lot of summers. First ones on when I opened and the last ones to ride before I’d close up. Remember?”

“I remember,” Grey said, smiling tightly as he dropped the old man’s hand.

“Yes, sir,” Walt said with a wistful smile that fully displayed his toothless gums. “Those were the days. The walkways were filled with people, and I’d have lines of kiddies waiting to ride the fellas.” Walt frowned suddenly. “I don’t get lines anymore.” He looked at Grey anxiously. “Have you come back to help us? Have you come to breathe life back into Land’s End?”

“He doesn’t know whether to breathe life into it or suck the last of its life out of it,” Nikki explained.

“Suck the…you mean close us down?” Walt looked at Grey incredulously. “But, you wouldn’t do that, would you, Grey?”

Grey grimaced. “Walt, I’m trying to make a sound business decision.”

“Grey has taken over the Blakemore family business interests,” Nikki interjected.

“But you never were like the rest of those people,” Walt protested. “Your family always made business decisions, but you always made heart decisions.” He gazed at Grey in sadness. “I don’t understand nothing anymore.” He ran a gnarled hand through his thin, gray hair. “I’ve fought the Blakemores for the past fifty years. I always thought you’d be different…somehow better.”

Nikki noted the slight flush of color that suffused Grey’s face as he stiffened his back. “There’s nothing to understand, Walt. I have obligations and priorities. I am a Blakemore.”

And don’t ever forget it, Nikki mentally added. There was a time when she had forgotten, but she had paid the price and now would never make that mistake again.

“You know, if you decide to close us down and move us off, we won’t make it easy for you,” Walt observed. He grinned like a mischievous boy. “Me and the fellas—” he gestured to the carousel horses “—we can be pretty damn stubborn when we set our minds to it.”

Grey’s eyes glinted with a touch of admiration at Walt’s distinct challenge.

From the carousel they moved on, Grey surveying the condition of the wooden walkways, making notes about everything he saw.

Nikki found herself seeing the area through his eyes, and what she saw made her despair. So much was required, so much needed to be done. Nobody wanted to come to a tourist area that smelled of hopelessness.

What they needed was somebody who cared, somebody who would risk making an investment in the area. Grey’s father, Thomas Blakemore, hadn’t cared. He’d only wanted to collect the rent money due him each month.

Did Grey care? She didn’t know anymore. She didn’t know him anymore. He’d once cared deeply, passionately for this area and its people. She watched him as he studied Jim’s guns at the shooting gallery. Could she somehow tap into those old feelings he’d once had for the boardwalk? For the sake of her friends, she hoped so. But she wasn’t sure if it was possible. After all, he’d also once cared deeply and passionately for her, but that feeling had died a swift and permanent death.

“I don’t know, Nikki,” he said moments later as he moved to where she stood looking out over the water. “It doesn’t look good.” He carefully folded the notes he’d made and placed them into his pocket, knowing he’d spend half the night viewing and reviewing, analyzing and reanalyzing his observations. “I see a lot on the minus side of the balance sheet and not many pluses.”

“There’s one thing you won’t find written down on your reports…the enchantment. Grey, have you forgotten the enchantment of Land’s End? Have you forgotten how this place embraced you, captivated you, make you feel welcome and safe?”

Unconsciously, she reached out and grabbed his forearm. “Grey, you used to say there was magic here. It’s still here, it’s just become tarnished with age, smeared by too much wear and too little care.” She released her hold on him and moved away, the breeze moving her long hair back from her features, the sun creating fires in the dark strands. “We have dreams, Grey. All of us here on the boardwalk, and you hold them in your hands.”

He watched her with narrowed eyes, trying not to see the way the gentle wind molded her T-shirt against her firm, upthrust breasts, trying not to notice the length of her tanned, shapely legs beneath her shorts.

“Dreams are for kids,” he replied brusquely, tearing his gaze away from her and back to the water.

“That’s not true,” she protested. “Dreams are for everyone who has hope, including those here at Land’s End that don’t have money, or have physical handicaps or whatever. The one commodity they have in abundance is hope.” She reached out to grab his arm. “Grey, please don’t take that hope away from us. Give us a chance to tell you our dreams before you make the decision to destroy this place.”

Grey ran his hand through his hair, needing to think, but not knowing what to think. Her words reminded him of what this place had once meant to him. He moved away from her, again looking out to the water as if the answers were all there in the waves.

He also realized something else. Despite the fact that she’d betrayed him, married another and gone on with her life, he still wanted her. He wanted her with a passion that was mindless, careless and insane.

What he didn’t know was if this, too, was merely a lingering emotion from the past, a memory too powerful to dispel. Would making love to her now be the overwhelming experience he remembered it to be, or had he colored their union with sensations intensified through the haze of time?

The memory was a strange kind of thing, easily given to exaggeration and glorification. Grey had made love with other women since Nikki, but never had he reached the same feeling of completeness he had with her. Had that merely been an illusion?

“Grey?”

“All right,” he said, suddenly knowing what he wanted. He gazed at her, wanting to fall into the shadows of her eyes, wanting to replay the past, make their ending different this time. “If you want me to save the boardwalk, you have to show me the magic again.”

She stared at him and he could see the tumultuous emotions in her eyes. Like storm clouds in an early spring sky, they rolled and thundered, but beneath their turbulence, he saw something else, a spark of desire that flamed momentarily, then was quickly doused. She raised her chin and eyed him proudly and he was reminded once again of that first time he’d seen her. Looking back, he wondered if it wasn’t then, that very first time, that he’d fallen in love with her.

She’d been so alien, so exotic-looking compared to the other girls he knew from school. She’d been barefoot, her legs sporting a deep tan that didn’t quite cover the bruised kneecaps and skinned shins.

She looked like a homeless waif, and yet there was the glory of freedom in her eyes, a self-awareness that he found fascinating. She was like an entity from another planet and he wanted to possess her, contain her spirit and learn from it.