Sex on Flamingo Beach by Marcia King-Gamble

have a seat.” She indicated a comfortable armchair upholstered in coral and mint, then took a card from an acrylic holder and handed it to Emilie. “Tre Monroe and his wife, the columnist, called asking me to see you. They said you had an interesting opportunity worth listening to.”
    â€œI do.”
    Emilie laid out her plan and watched Isabella’s eyes grow huge.
    â€œBut the jam has always been on the beach for as long as it’s been around. Families come to picnic and listen to the tunes. It’s an inexpensive way to begin their weekend and unwind. How can the resort possibly accommodate that sizeable crowd?”
    Emilie had given that question some consideration.
    â€œWhat I’d like to do is put some organization to the event. In nice weather we’d hold the auditions around the pool, or on the boardwalk out back of the hotel. We’d make sure we had the right amplifiers so that those on the beach could still hear the performers. It would really be no different from what’s happening now. Most people aren’t able to see the entertainers, just hear them.”
    â€œTrue, but it’s always been a community event. Changing the location may send the message that we’re trying to make it more exclusive and shut out the local people.”
    â€œHow much money is the event bringing into the community?” Emilie asked bluntly.
    Isabella cleared her throat. “None that I know of. That wasn’t the initial purpose. It was supposed to be a gathering of people from the community getting together to play music and have fun.”
    â€œAnd like everything else, things changed. The jam’s growing and you’ve got private vendors hawking everything from fish tacos to T-shirts that say Jam Flamingo Beach, and not a penny is given back to the community.”
    â€œWould you be looking to sell tickets then?”
    â€œNot initially. The hotel will make its money from the food and beverage sales and from the rooms booked. We’d only sell tickets when it gets down to the finals and we promote our celebrity judges. Some profits would go back to the city.”
    The thought of money made Isabella perk up.
    â€œI like your idea. But it’s really not my decision to make. I’d have to bring this up before the rest of the town council, and then we’d have to get buy in from the residents.”
    Emilie stuck out her hand. “How about I check in with you in a week or so?”
    â€œYes, do that. It will give me time to put out feelers and there’s a city council meeting coming up. Meanwhile you should talk to Larry Moorehouse. He was the one who got the jam session started. He’s still involved and very influential.”
    â€œThanks for the tip. I’ll be back in touch.”
    Emilie left feeling more optimistic. Isabella had given her several things to think about. In a town this size, you needed the residents on your side. She’d contact the Moorehouse guy and point out the advantages of moving the locale, and she’d call Tre Monroe. Maybe he could book her on his show. He was the kind of personality known for introducing controversial topics and right now two very controversial topics were the building of the casino and Flamingo Beach losing its community feel.
    To sell her concept she would have to come up with a way to communicate to the townsfolk that this change could actually bring the community together. Now how to do that? Maybe there was a way to get Miriam Young, the Flip-flop Momma, who’d lost the election to Mayor Rabinowitz, on her side. It had been common knowledge the election had been stolen from her.
    Miriam was fairly new to Flamingo Beach and open-minded. It had taken the residents some time to embrace her. But the midforties single parent, known for her flip-flop wearing and plain speaking, had won the locals over. She could also spot an opportunity a mile away. Miriam’s style was entirely