South Beach Sizzle
I am super sorry that I haven't updated this story in while but I've been very busy with school.
Disclaimer see chapter 1. In the next chapter or two Hermione sees in to Harry for the first time. Remember that this fic is AU (alternate Universe) so Hermione has never met Harry before. YES this story is based on the book South Beach Sizzle by Suzanne Weyn & Diana Gonzalez.
Here's chapter 3
The cab left Hermione off at the corner of Sixth Street and Ocean Drive in front of a large white stucco building with deep blue awnings over it's many windows. She paid, climbed out, and stood, looking in every direction at the bright, busy world of South Beach.
On the other side of the wide street was a gorgeous sand beach leading to the Atlantic Ocean. It seemed so strange that all she'd have to do was cross the street, pass a sidewalk and a line of low twisting trees, and she be at the beach. In New York City, going to the beach in the summer meant getting on a train or bus, fidgeting restlessly in horrible crowds or traffic jams, and then scrambling for a sliver of red-hot sand to lay your blanket on.
But here- Poof! - cross the street and you were at beach paradise. How great is that! She thought.
Turning, she noticed the cornerstone in the hotel's white stucco. It read: Built in 1923. Stepping back to see the entire block, she realized that a lot of the hotels, cafes, shops, and restaurants looked as if they had been built in the 1920's and 1930's. She'd read about South Beaches historic Art Deco District in a pamphlet on the trip down.
A woman walked past her dressed I a tiny bikini with a long scarf wrapped around her hips. She turned into a shop a little farther down. Hermione had seen many unusual things in New York City- in fact, she saw them on a daily basis- but she couldn't imagine someone just strolling by in a bathing suit- not even a tank suit, never mind the smallest possible bikini!
She suddenly felt way overdressed in her black Capri pants and long-sleeved, oversize white shirt. Although this was what she always wore- she had a winter version that included long pants and a white hooded sweatshirt- it just wasn't right for South Beach.
Two arms wrapped around her from behind, and she jumped. "Save me!" Ron wailed, hugging her tight. "I've fallen into the clutches of crazy people. My young and beautiful life is now a living hell!"
"Tell me about it," she sympathized. "You want to see crazy people? The party at my father's place never ends. Even when he goes to the nightclub where he bartends, his friends stay behind and keep partying. I haven't slept in days! And I've been living on potato chips and guacamole dip breakfast, lunch, and dinner. That's all he has in the house."
"I'd rather be stuck with party animals than a military moron," Ron insisted empathically. "It's like I've been abducted into the army!"
"You mean inducted," she corrected him.
"No! I mean abducted- as in kidnapped by an alien life force from Mars."
"Yes, defiantly Mars. Wasn't Mars the Roman god of war or something? Well, that house reminds me of some weird all-military planet. And if you think Uncle Billius was bizarre, wait until you meet Aunt Helen! She just nods and agrees with Uncle Frank like some wife from Stepford."
"Well, I'm really glad to see you, any way," she said. "Isn't it amazing here?"
"Mad awesome," he agreed. "And look at all of these great restaurants. I'm bound to get a job in one of them."
They crossed over to the beach. Taking off their shoes, they walked down to the waters edge. As they stood with their feet in the surf, Ron suddenly grabbed Hermione wrist. "Look out. Pterodactyl attack!" He shielded his head with his arms as four winged creatures swooped toward them, skimming the water in their search for fish.
"They're pelicans!" Hermione said, giving him a playful shove. "Didn't you see Finding Nemo?"
Ron stared at the birds as they flew off, and flashed Hermione a grin. "They look different in person. And they don't have Australian accents either!"
"Are you sure? I thought that I heard one of them say, 'G'day mate,' as he flew by," she said.
They walked along the shoreline, stopping to check out a sand sculpture contest along the way. Someone had built a detailed huge castle that won second place. The winner was a mermaid lying on her side. Hermione estimated that the sculpture was nearly 80 feet long.
After and hour they left the beach and walked down Ocean Drive, just looking at all of the shops and restaurants. It was lunchtime, and crowds were filling the outside porches and open-air cafes. A waiter walked past them carrying a platter of clams and shrimp. Ron stopped to inhale the spices, garlic, and butter. "I'm suddenly starving," he said. "Lets find someplace to eat."
"Someplace cheap," Hermione added.
"Not to worry," Ron said. "I delivered the car and got paid." He took out his wallet and pulled out $300. "I'm filthy rich."
"That's good, but maybe you should hang onto the money until you get a job," Hermione suggested. "Who knows how long it's going to have to last?"
"You're right, but just let me treat you to lunch," he insisted "You sorta earned it by taking the ride with me. Besides your showing signs of guacamole-and-chip syndrome."
"Oh yeah?" Hermione said with a laugh. "How can you tell?"
"Well I didn't want to make you self-conscious about it," he replied, "but to tell you the truth, you look a little green and you're making a crunching sound as you walk. And there's a distinct odor of avocado in the air when ever you near."
"Ew! Sounds very unattractive," Hermione said. "What should I do?"
"There's only one cure: grilled shrimp and some kind of drink with pineapple in it. I'm fairly sure that we'll find that around here somewhere."
They tuned up a street called Espanola Way and admired the Spanish-style stucco buildings. They came to The Clay Hotel, at the corner of Espanola Way and Washington Street. They sat at an outdoor table shaded by a deep blue umbrella and ordered lunch.
"This is the life," Hermione said as she sipped a pina-colda-flavored smoothie. "Wouldn't it be great if we could just stay here and never go back?"
"Please… don't tempt me," Ron agreed, breathing deeply and looking up at the clear blue sky.
After lunch, they walked around the side streets of South Beach. They poked around in shops that sold clothing, art, books and gifts.
They bought postcards to send to their friends and family at home. They stopped at another café, ordered lattes, and wrote out their cards. "Today's been the first good time I've had since I got here," Hermione said, looking up from her postcard. "I so, so, so don't want to go back to my father's place."
"Tell me about it," Ron agreed.
They finished their cards and continued their stroll around the back streets. As they walked, Hermione felt herself becoming depressed. This summer was going to be a total bust. She'd be stuck with a bunch of middle-aged, party-hearty left overs from the 1970's. She'd have nothing to do until she started school in September. They turned a corner and a sign in front of a small restaurant caused them to stop short:
FURNISHED APARTMENT FOR RENT.
INQUIRE WITHIN.
Hermione and Ron stared at each other.
From the look on his suddenly bright eyes, Hermione knew that he was thinking the same thing. "Is it too crazy?" Hermione asked.
"It couldn't hurt to take a look." He pointed out.
Pulling open a glass door, they stepped into the dimly lit restaurant. They walked past a desk with a cash register and went down 2 steps to a room with about 10 tables. The tables were set with white clothes and napkins that set off vivid blue plate. But the place seemed empty.
"Hello?" Ron called.
"Hola," a woman called back in a rich alto –pitched voice. "!Un momento por favor!" A swinging kitchen door at the far wall of the room swung open wide, and a heavy-set woman in her sixties walked out. Her brisk stride put a jiggle in her wide curves and caused her full head of dyed red umber hair to bounce.
He nearly black eyes sparkeled, and she smiled warmly at them. "We aren't quite ready to serve supper yet, but I can find you a little something to eat. You like tapas? 'Tapas' means 'little dishes.' Mexicans serve tapas to, but I do them the Cuban way. !Muy bien! You will love them."
"It sounds delicious," Hermione said, "But we really came to ask about the apartment. Could we see it?"
"Si, of couse!" She took off the white apron she'd been wearing over a purple pantsuit. "Come with me."
They followed her through the kitchen and up a set of stairs at the very back of it. "This is a three story building. There are two floors of apartments above the restaurant," she explained as they climbed the dark, narrow stairs. The empty apartment is on the second floor."
They came out to a green carpeted hallway. The walls were an ocean blue, like so much else Hermione had seen at South Beach. She liked it. It was certainly better than the beige-brown hallway walls of her NYC apartment building. Ron had named that color Aprtment-Complex Brown.
The woman unlocked a door, and they stepped into a small apartment painted a bright lime green. A tiny kitchen of dazzling white cabinets and appliances shred the same space with the living room. "It's nicely furnished," the woman said, pointing to to a rattan love seat covered in a bright tropical-patterned fabric. A glass-top coffee table sat in front of it. A small round table with wicker chairs shared the room with everything else.
They stepped into the bedroom, which was painted the same lime green. It had a double bed with a wicker head board, a small white dresser, and a side table. "There's only one bedroom?" Ron asked.
The woman raised a questioning eyebrow. "How many do you need?"
"Two would be nice," he answered.
The woman studied them with a puzzled expression, and then she shrugged. "The couch pulls out."
Hermione and Ron looked at each other. It would be cramped. But it was furnished- and it would be theirs.
"What do you think?" Ron asked Hermione.
Hermione it her lip. This was so nuts but … "I really want it," she dared to say.
"Me too," he agreed. "Let's do it.
Ron took out the $278 that was left over from lunch, and Hermione scraped together all of the money she had, including the emergencfy $50 bill that her mother had safety pinned inside of her bad ans the change from the botton of her bad.
It wasn't enough.
"Not to worry said Ron. He asked the woman for the directions to the nearest ATM. Luckily there was one at a pharmacy just several buildings away.
He pulled a Visa Buxx card from his wallet. "My uncle Tony gave this to me when we graduated," he said, keying in hispin number. "I never even looked to see how mush was on this card."
"You never looked?" Hermione asked incredulously.
"I wanted it to be a suprisefor someday when I really needed money," he said punching the buttons.
"Only you would think that it was fun not to know how much money you has recived," she commented.
"Sweet!" he cried as the amount came up. "Ome thousand big ones!"
"What a generous gift!" Hermione commented.
"Uncle Tony is loaded," Ron said. "And yes, it is massivly generous. I should have sent him a nicer thank you card." He took most of the money out of the account, and they rushed back to the apartment, where the woman was sitting on the couch waiting for them.
"Since you gave me cash I can wait a few weeks for the first month's rent," the woman said counting out the dollars. "My name is CeCe Caracas. I own the restaurant downstairs and I'm you new landlady. Glad to have you."
Hermione was so excited, she felt as if she could hardly breathe. "Oh-that's-so-great!" she managed to say.
CeCe smiled. "I am glad that you are glad. I will be right back. I must get an application form."
The moment that she left, Ron and Hermione grabbed eachother, hopping around the room the room, giddy with joy. "My uncle will be relived to be rid of me," Ron said after they stopped.
"I think my father will be happy too," Hermione said. Her words caused a pang of sadness. Her dream of getting to know her father had certainly been a wash out. He wasn't a bad guy, she supposed … he just wasn't someone who should have ever become a father.
She took out her cell phone and called him. A shiver of excitement ran down her spine. "I should at least tell him I've done this," she said.
No one picked up, and the voicemail came on. "You've reached Ruben Cruz. I'll be away for a couple of days, enjoying myself in sunny Puerto Rico. Call me again later. Hermione, honey, got a chence to hop on a cruse ship. See ya in a few days. There's guacamole and chips in the fridge."
Hermione clicked off. "He's not at home, butn I'm fairly positive that he'll be just fine with this."
CeCe Caracas returned with the form and a pe. She sat with them at the table while they filled it out together. After about two minutes, someone knocked on the aprtment door, which had been left ajar.
They turned towards the door, but before any of them could say a word, a very old man burst in. he was completely bald and wore thick glasses, a large striped shirt, and baggy Bermuda shorts. He set down the large boom box he had been carrying and switched on.
"Don't worry," Mrs. Caracas assured them in a whisper loud enough to be heard over the music. "It's just dear Mr. Smedlinsky; he lives in an apartment up stairs."
Hermione and Ron stared, goggle-eyed with astononishment, as the began to dance. The tune was very fast and sounded German or Eastern European. The man despite his age, did a very livelyu dance, which involved hopping, kicking, and slapping his knees, head and even his scrawny butt. His arms flew wildly from his side with complete abandon.
Mrs. Caracas went over to the boom box and hit the 'Off' button.
"No! No!" he protested. He took buissiness cards from and handed one to both Ron and Hermione. "You learn to dance from Mr. Smedilinsky. I teach."
Hermione read the card:
JEZY SMEDILINSK I TEACH YOU DANCERHUMBA, HIP-HOP, TWIST,
CHA-CHA, POLKA, SLAP DANCE
"Mr. Smedilinsky, no one wants dancing lessons right now. Grasias pero no," CeCe Caracas said. "Besides, usually you give you slap dancing demonstation down on the beach at this time. You wioll be late."
With a quick glance at his wrist-watch, Mr. Smedilinsk snapped up his boom box and hurried out the door. Mrs. Caracas closed it firmlyu behing him. "Poor man," she said. "He got involved with a young cage dancer from one of the clubs, and one day she hopped on a Greyhound with his life savings. He was retired, but after she left he had to find work. So now he give dance lessond."
"What a sad story," Hermione said.
"Life is unpredictable," CeCe comented with a knowing nod.
Ron finished filoling out the application form for the two of them and handed it to CeCe. She looked it over. "Your last name is Granger," she said to Hermione. "Did you ever here the great Cuban singer Cecilia Granger?"
"No." Helen Granger, the actress, was the only famous Granger that Hermione knew of.
"Too bad," CeCe said. "What a talent! I knew her when I was younger, back in Cuba." She stood with her legs wide. "!Azucar" she shouted, makibng her full hairdo wobble.
Ron and Hermione looked at each other, not sure what to make of this call.
"Cecilia Granger was famous for shouting that," CeCe Caracas explained. "Sje had 22 gold albums by the time she died in 2003. !Azucar! It means sugar."
She went back to reading the application. "You forgot to fill in the part that tells me where you work."
Ron and Hermione looked at eachother nervously. What would they say? Would they lose the apartment if they admitted that they didn't have jobs?
"Not working?" Mrs. Caracas asked, picking up on their anxiety.
Hermione grimaced and shook her head. "We just got here and we haven't had the chance to-"
"!Muy bueno!" Mrs. Caracas cried, grinning widely. "You're hired!"
hermione and Ron stared at her, not understanding.
"I need a waitress and a cook. You need a job. If you can wait tables or cook, you're hired!" CeCe told Hermione.
"I can only cook a little, and I've never waited tables before," Hermione admitted. "Ron's worked in restauraunts before, though."
Ron wiggled uncomfortably. "I'm only a prep chef. I only know how to cut and chop and stuff."
"You'll learn the rest," said Mrs. Caracas.
"I don't know," Ron said hesitanly. "I need a job, but I … uh … was thinking of something more…"
"You are holding out for a more higher class job," she said understanding his hesitance.
"Yeah. Since I can't afford chef school, I was hoping to learn at a real four-star type place," Ron said.
"I understand," the woman said. "Okay, you have a few days to find a job. But if you dn't find one, I will find you one- right here, with me." She wirrled around to Hermione. "And you can easily wait tables," she said.
"I can?" Hermione questioned. The idea was a little intimidating, but how hard could it be? And it was true that she needed cash, and fast . "Okay," she a greed. "Wow! Just abn hour ago I never expected to be living and waiting tables here in South Beach."
Mrs. Caracas wrappewd them in a radiant smile. "As I always say: Life is unpredictacble. I say it because it's true.
Well that's chappy 3. hope you liked it. Sorryt it took me so long to update.
REVIEW. Follow the arrow.
\
\
\
\
\
\
\
\
\
\
V
