Episode 7: The Great White Wave
Welcome to MOONDAY CAFE a podcast that’s posted every month on the day of the full moon.
MOONDAY CAFE is devoted to the mind-expanding, mind-bending magical power of story.
Southern California has tan skin, blue waves, martini lunches in designer cars, and something nefarious from south of the equator.
Our guide is author, inspired performer, and barefoot cowgirl, Dovey Conlee.
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Episode 7: The Great White Wave
The mid-century apartment Dovey found was a tiny, clever efficiency on Mission Bay near the entrance to the amazing new Sea World. It was not directly on the beach, but living on the bay nearby was just fine for her and she could see brilliantly colored catamarans listing in the shallows from sunup to sunset.
It was very small. It had a full-sized bed, a small coffee-bar/ mini-kitchen, a mini stove, small refrigerator and a cafe table for two. There was one sliding glass door that led to a small patio that held a blue chaise lounge with somewhat matching side table. The small apartment complex had a nice, clear pool with an outdoor fireplace by its edge and next to that fireplace, there was a clean, well-functioning laundry room.
The best amenities inside this new home were a built-in bookcase and a full-sized bath with a bathtub. She signed the lease.
Dovey had personal resources. She had a checking account which she managed since she was 8 years old and she had access to her mother’s estate that was her inheritance.
For a car, it turned out that the hotel clerk did have a cousin that was moving to the east coast and was willing to sell an electric orange, MG Midget Mark III convertible. It had low miles, good tires, the engine checked out and the title was clear. It was a swift transaction and soon the keys were in her hand and the coastal wind was in her hair.
She bought some new blue sheets and some other bedding, two new towels and then from a charity thrift store downtown, she bought some playful, but mismatched dishes, glasses and cookware. After that, she fetched a few groceries and she carried the boxes and bags into her new home and settled in.
Once inside her new space, she pulled out the small travel radio and tuned into sounds of the Beach Boys.
She wasn’t a true California girl, but she was doing her best to be one. By nightfall, she was nestled into her new bed and waiting for the morning.
On the first day of the new job with the brokerage, she wore a smart navy sheath dress, carried a small ostrich handbag tote….common in Texas, but unseen in California, then pulled her hair back into a low pony tail and tied it with a red, one inch, grosgrain ribbon and wore a pair of Legg’s panty hose, then finished the ensemble off with a pair of read leather boots.
When she stepped off the elevator, that world was quiet.
She called out ‘HELLO’ and heard nothing. She checked her watch; she was ahead of time, but now wondering if the job was real or not.
In an instant she heard the service elevator open at the back of the floor and heard men’s voices and the sounds of ladders and tool boxes banging around and craned her head to see 2 men unloading some the tools and some metal studs for the interior finish out. They did no notice her and plugged in a large radio that began to play Mariachi music.
Before she could introduce herself, the passenger elevator opened and Mr. Turner stepped off, calling her name and extending his hand, one again, kindly apologizing that he planned to be there earlier, he just had to handle a pesky encounter with a Police officer that clocked him for speeding in his BMW and a offered him juicy speeding ticket. He shared a word of caution about speeding anywhere in Mission Valley. Dovey noted, and appreciated, the advice.
This was the day that the official construction of the office suites would begin and the morning flew by as Dovey was given a rough orientation of the process and procedures and she was shown the files with all of the marketing and branding that would start soon. Together they went over the floor plan and the pricing list for each office.
The interior designer dropped in to share pictures of artwork that she had selected and time with her proved valuable. They ‘clicked’ and the designer coined a new nick-name for Dovey. She asked if she could call here TEX, which was actually endearing to Dovey and not condescending at all. Texas still had a lure of magic and the designer felt that meeting someone that was born there was like meeting a myth. She was welcoming.
A sandwich lady showed up just before noon with cold drinks and lunch. Office sandwich ladies were the California version of a taco truck, offering desk-side delivery. Dovey had never seen such a way of meeting the needs of mid-rise office workers, but there it was. No need to get in a car and into traffic. A sandwich lady would come to you.
She was thanked by Mr. Turner and waved away. He had plans to take Dovey and the designer to lunch and when that meeting took place, the world opened up. The designer would become one of Dovey’s best friends ever.
Days turned into weeks and weeks galloped into a few months, then the grand opening of the brokerage suites took place for the main commercial realtors in the area.
The caterers arrived and the bar tenders arrived and the musical venues arrived and the concept had become a reality and through every step of the way, Dovey was taught, and she learned, more about the development and the management of an ambitious venture. She was the go-to for the property and met professionals who were very happy to know her, too.
Weekends were filled with adventures, as she discovered more about what southern California had to offer. Innocent trips to Tijuana and Rosarita Beach in Baja, Mexico, sunset sails on friend’s boats, plenty of pool parties, so many fresh experiences were unfolding for her and the California casual lifestyle was becoming all-encompassing and also life-altering. Before she knew it, her social world had exploded.
Lunch dates and dinner dates were becoming frequent. Business was getting mixed with pleasure and disco was the rage. Within a year, Dovey was on the covers and in the columns of the business journals, local tabloids and party pages. It was a life in the fast lane world.
Then, a dangerous man south of the Equator named Pablo Escobar had very big plans for California. In a surge that pushed up from Colombia through Mexico, the great white wave arrived in San Diego first, and then Los Angeles. Cocaine moved through the veins of those cities, through the clubs, the parties, the offices and the title companies. Even meetings in conference rooms of major banks saw the white powder shared like it was a birthday party. In a few short weeks of saturation, the stuff was everywhere. In every level of society, starting at the tippy-tip top.
It was smuggled in the holds of yatchs at the Kona Kai Match Club. It was in the holds of the great fleets of tuna boats that employed the Portuguese fishermen. It was in unmarked vans and produce trucks and beauty shops and butcher shops. The phenomenon historically speaks for itself about the cartel’s unparalleled advancement that took the west coast of this country by complete, but slightly expected, surprise. The DEA had only been formed in the early 70’s, but still, it had no idea, per se, of the cozy deals that Medellin cartel had been making with newly formed inter-city gangs.
Dovey had already sustained through unbelievable odds, but this was like a war had been waged against the flourishing capitalists that had it all, but were willing to self-destruct. The veil of logic was lifted and the sudden wealth in the southern California real estate industry overlapped with the hedonism of flying way, too high.
This world had become terrifying to her and everywhere she turned, it was closing in on her. She was head-hunted by an advertising firm that was impressed with her creativity and refreshing views, but even in that firm, it was inescapable. She had to get out of there and she knew it. That whole world was imploding for many.
Driving over the causeway on the way home one late afternoon after work, she took a turn to go to a park at Pacific Beach to watch the sunset. As that giant orb started to disappear on the horizon, Indian appeared in her peripheral vision to the left. The same place he had always stood on horseback. Once again, she dared not look in that direction, for fear that his presence would dissipate, so she stared at the sun until it fully left the sky, asking herself, asking INDIAN, what she should do.
The technicolor backwash from the sun exploded into the clouds and made the sunset seem gilded. There were so many sea birds. Big ships at sea. Sailboats and catamarans cutting through the vast ocean. Dovey weighed her options.
She knew she wouldn’t go home. There was nothing but heaping piles of smoldering shame from a Stepmother that deliberately wanted her gone and, although her father had been hard and broken hearted for so long, that bond could never truly break, even if it was only held by a thread.
She heard INDIAN whisper…TEX.
Did you say Texas?
OR
Are you calling me TEX? She asked Indian. Nothing.
DID YOU SAY TEXAS? TALK TO ME!
After some silence, she ‘heard’ him say.
THERE. WHERE THE SHOW IS MADE. DALLAS.
She grabbed her purse and dashed back to her little orange car. She threw it in gear and raced to the her apartment, pushing the door open with her elbow just as lightning struck and a squall blew in over the water. The wind whipped with its own message and she knew what she had to do.
She pulled out a yellow legal pad and started the first of a handwritten, 9 page letter to her father that she would address to his office. She updated him about her whereabouts and her plans to return to Texas, on her own, and to move to Dallas. At the end, she added her phone number and asked that if he wanted to call that he not call until he had read the letter a dozen times.
She poured out her soul.
In just a few days, the phone rang when she was at home. It was her father. He wanted to meet her in Dallas.
And the best part, he would be coming alone.
He had missed her.
CONFLICTS OF INTEREST
COZY DEALS
DRIED UP OLD HAGS
SEXLESS WORLD
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN KINDNESS
AND SEDUCTION
SUSTAINED THROUGH UNBELIEVABLE ODDS
LOUIS ARMSTRONG ‘WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD’
JAPANESE TREASURE BOX
STEPMOTHER….IT IS MY DUTY TO BE FAIR
OPPOSITION?
THAT IS ABOUT QUANTITY (OR VOLUME)
OVER QUALITY….IT’S ABOUT ‘NOISE’
LIFESTYLE EXPERT - LOVE-STYLE EXPERT
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