Fireflies, Beachballs, Tiki Torches

Who doesn't like a summer evening beach party? When my cousin, Mark, texted an invite, there wasn't a chance in hell I'd turn it down.

Three years ago, he inherited beach-front property in Pensacola, Florida and the age of 20, when his parents died in a car crash. I had only been to the house once, for the funeral reception. Talk about above my pay grade!

I'm a lowly college girl at Pensacola State. One more year and I'll be a lowly accountant. When I started down that road, I was promised a job with Uncle Ricky's law firm, but with his passing, all I could do was put out resumes and feelers like everyone else.

I texted Mark back, "This is Sandy," and promptly erased it, realizing he knew I was his cousin Sandy. Instead, I said, "I'll be there. Should I bring anything? Oh, and what should I wear?"

He wrote back, "Don't bring anything. It's casual. I know you. Wear something over a swimsuit so you can get in the water. Looking forward to it. L8R."

The evening of the party, I took an Uber, knowing I'd be likely to drink too much. Evidently, many others had the same idea, because although Mark's front yard had eight cars squeezed in, when I entered, there must have been 20 people in his house, drinking, snacking, laughing. Out back, about 40 more people were enjoying the beach.

There was some fun music playing and a large bon fire down by the water, and to the right, partially on Mark's neighbor's property, was a beach volleyball net surrounded by tiki torches.

Mark came up beside me and noticed me watch the beachball bounce back and forth. He whispered, "I sent my neighbors an invite, knowing they're unlikely to come, but less likely to complain about noise or encroachment." He had always been smart. And great at planning. He handed me a mojito and said, "You should join them, but I do want to talk with you, so find me before you leave. Have fun!" He went off to play host.

I headed to the volleyball net, sipping as I went. I paused to watch fireflies wink all around the sand leading to the gulf. They seemed to be promising a memorable night.

Mark had thoughtfully set up a plastic table where people wedged their drink between their two sandals for easy identification. I followed suit.

I called out, "Hi, I'm Sandy. May I join?"

A young lady in a bright, red swimsuit said, "Please. Help us. We're behind 13-18. I'm Rhonda."

It was so fun. We narrowed the lead to 24-25, but the other team scored, ending the game.

Rhonda went to sip her drink and then exclaimed, "Let's just see how long we can keep the ball up."

A guy in blue trunks said, "If we're going to do that, we have to make it more challenging." He grabbed two new beachballs from the sideline. He threw one to a friend and blew up the other.

Soon, we were all laughing and shouting, "Got it," whether accurate or not.

Rhonda said, "I'm going to cool off in the ocean. Being from the Midwest, I'm not used to the humidity yet."

Others came and went. Blue trunks moved next to me and said, "Sandy, right? You must be Mark's cousin. I'm his business partner, Keith."

I stepped off the court and he followed. "Business? What business?"

"Oh, I thought you knew. He and I..."

That's when we heard a scream. People were pointing out at the water. In the moonlight, I saw arms flailing and a flash of red.

"Ronda!" I said, heading to the water. "She doesn't know about riptides." I shed my T-shirt but left my shorts on for faster entry. I swam with sure, strong strokes. Being a former lifeguard was paying off.

As I approached, I could see the panic and fatigue in her eyes. I said, "You're going to be okay, Rhonda. I need you to float on your back, and I'll help you." She flailed. I kept my distance, knowing she might push me under in her state. "Please, calm down. Breathe slowly and float on your back."

We were getting further from shore. Finally, she got on her back, panting. I said, "That's it. Keep breathing. I'm going to help you to shore." I got her in a cross-chest carry and started swimming parallel to shore, knowing how to counteract a riptide. She started kicking and splashing, perhaps thinking she was helping. "Just stay still. I'll do the work." When I felt the current ease off, I angled towards shore.

I was huffing with the effort, but after 20 minutes, I knew I was getting close. Soon, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

Mark said, "I've got her. Thanks Sandy, now get yourself to shore."

It appeared as if everyone from the party had gathered at the neighbor's beach, just beyond the volleyball court. They all applauded and cheered as I staggered towards the breakers. Keith waded out and supported me all the way back to Mark's place. Everyone else stayed behind to cheer Mark on.

Well, except for the handful of people putting out the bonfire with a bucket brigade. Keith explained, "We called 911 for Rhonda, just in case. Mark doesn't want to get in trouble for the fire." We sat down. He looked me in the eyes, "I'm so impressed with you, Sandy."

I shrugged, "Anyone would have..."

"No," he interrupted, "only you did."

We watched Mark carry Rhonda once his feet hit sand. Keith said, "They make a cute couple."

"Oh, I didn't know."

"Yeah, evidently there's a lot Mark hasn't told you, but he did authorize me to fill you in on a job offer."

My eyebrows shot up into my damp hair.

He continued, "Mark said that you were supposed to get a job with his dad. Now that he and I are making good money with the cyber security company we started, I hereby offer you a job as our fulltime accountant. You may need to help Rhonda in the office for a while too. Mark and I hired her as our secretary. That's how we all met. We'll offer you good money and benefits."

I simply stared, slack jawed.

He chuckled. "Is that a 'yes?'"

I said, "Hell, yes!"

Mark carried Rhonda past us. Keith said, "Sandy's onboard."

Mark grunted, "That's great. We'll talk tomorrow."

It was just your average summer evening beach party, but it meant so much more to this lowly college girl,

...as predicted by the fireflies.