Chapter 2: Meet Public

It was with relief that I left Horace's. I was already suffering from a pounding headache from that meeting, sprung on me with zero warning this sunny and humid August morning.

It was now well past time for me to get started on my routine chores for the day. Every morning, I go to Paco's Fish Market for the fresh catch of the day, BreadBasket SuperStore for the meats and other groceries, and the Farmers' Market for my vegetables. Due to the size of our little backwater, BreadBasket also does wholesaling, although they're pricier than the wholesaler the next county over. It's the savings on gas from not having to commute there that makes up for the price difference.

I hauled my butt into the Resort's classic old 1930's pickup, emblazoned with the Barracuda Beach logo on the doors. The truck is a fully-restored antique that dates back to the early 1930's. Both an advertising feature and great fun to drive, my uncle bought it about 30 years ago, back when he was having a burst of nostalgia for his own youth.

Before starting the engine, I hauled out my cell phone. I assured first Paco, then the BreadBasket's owner Sandy and finally a few of the farmers at the Market that I was indeed on my way, only slightly delayed by the astonishing developments of this morning.

As I made my way around the massive metropolis that is Manatee Bay, I soon learnt that word had gotten around town. You ever play the game of "telephone" when you were a kid? You start with a line of kids, and the first one whispers something into the ear of the second, who whispers it into the third, and so on. By the time it reaches the end, the sentence has morphed into something unrecognizable – and frequently unintelligible. It's a great way to find out which kid(s) has/have profound hearing loss. The adults of Manatee Bay are into this big time, only you would call it "gossip". It would also appear that profound hearing loss is something of an epidemic among the adults of Manatee Bay.

My first stop was at BreadBasket, as I'd be hitting my stops in reverse order of criticality of freshness. I'd hit Paco last, as the old pickup doesn't have a refrigeration section. The manager of BreadBasket, Sandy, was waiting for me, one of her stock boys by her side. I knew and liked this stock boy: Harold was 64, eking out his pension. Like most older folks, he was diligent about his job and had an encyclopedic memory as to both every item the BreadBasket offered and where in its cavernous interior the item would be found.

"So," she challenged me, "what's this I hear about you giving nude swimming lessons on the public beach?"

"Excuse me?"

"Sally overheard you in the restaurant, and she told Anne, who runs the hair salon. Anne told-"

I cut her off at that point. "I get the idea. No, I'm not giving swimming lessons at the public beach, much less in the nude. Why do you ask? Do you need swimming lessons?"

"From a handsome man like you, any time." She winked flirtatiously.

"Well, if you want swimming lessons, you'll have to come to Barracuda Beach. See you there, say tonight, at eight? Bring your birthday suit!"

It was cute watching her blush and backpedal. Poor Harold struggled to avoid snickering as he took my purchase requisition.

Finally she spluttered to a stop. "One day, I'm going to surprise you by actually taking you up on your offer!"

"I look forward to the day when you have the self-confidence to go nude in our resort," I replied gallantly. "I can assure you that whatever part of your corpus you dislike, the members are not only forgiving, but likely won't consider it off-putting in the slightest."

"I have a bit of a pooch from having kids," she fretted, patting her stomach.

"My wife has had two kids. And she's been diligently trying to work off that little 'pooch' of hers, as you put it, since the birth of our first. You won't be alone."

"I'm not going yet. In the mean time, Harold, how's that list coming?"

Harold already had completed the shopping list. I signed for it and was on my way.

At the Farmers' Market, Josie had my order ready to go – and was on the phone. "Uh-huh, I'll ask. Mr. Nude Universe just showed up." Putting the cell phone back in its holder around her waist, she indicated the order that my chef had phoned in. "Yer late!"

"Unavoidably detained," I explained shortly.

"Yeah, I heard. They tell me ya'll are gonna give every kid in Manatee Bay High School a towel with yer resort's logo on it."

I blinked. "News to me. Nice idea, but probably not. That would be a tad expensive. The souvenir towels I sell run me about $12 each, before the logo." I then had a thought. "If you want one, I can bring one over tomorrow. Put it on your wash line and your neighbours will be thinking naughty thoughts about you!"

Fortunately, Josie has a sense of humour, and just laughed at the suggestion.

Phillip helped me put the day's fruits and vegetables purchase into the back of the truck.

"Those nude town council meetings promise to be fun," Phillip prognosticated.