The Blue Moon Hotel and Lightning Bolt Lounge

By Toby Joyce

Regina Gallagher enjoyed her life as a successful financial planner. She owned a beautiful LA beach home and had a wonderful relationship with her daughter. Why then, she wondered, as she turned the calendar over to her birthday month, did she feel so restless and unfulfilled? After a life-changing event, Regina finds herself questioning her lifestyle and her work. Sometimes, it only takes a glimpse into another way of life to change everything. As she opens her heart and mind to new experiences, she is surprised when she finds solace and peace in the most unlikely of places. More surprising still is the man who seems to be inextricably tied to her new future, and how much Regina finds herself enjoying that. It appears that the legend of restoring waters in the river along the shore of The Blue Moon Motel and Lightning Bolt Lounge is true after all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press
• Release date: Jan 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781633556881

Book preview

Chapter 1

Her mind was restless as she turned the office chair to look out the floor to ceiling window of her twelfth floor corner office, surveying the city she had lived and worked in for the past twenty-five years. Downtown Los Angeles had been in the process of being revitalized and the change was remarkable. Old historic hotels had been renovated and turned into trendy loft condominiums. Edgy new restaurants were opening on rooftops and in former prohibition basements. People had returned to live and work in the downtown area and it was booming and bustling with humanity.

She stood up and looked out at the layer of smog which hovered just above the skyscrapers. From her view the people below looked like ants scurrying about, all of them in a hurry. She couldn’t hear the siren from up there but she saw the police car with lights flashing, speeding down the street, on route to the latest crime or accident.

Regina Gallagher was a successful financial advisor. Her clients were among the wealthiest and most famous in the Los Angeles area. Top sports athletes, movie producers, actors, musicians, models, high powered agents and attorneys were at her office on a regular basis.

She had followed her own advice and made some wise and lucrative investments which had paid handsomely. Money was not a concern to her.

As she steped closer to the edge of the windowed wall, her eyes gazed over to the 110 freeway. For miles and miles it was a steady stream of bumper to bumper headlights and taillights. The congested traffic suggested that it was around 5:30 in the evening. She glanced at her watch to confirm and she was correct, it was 5:35 to be exact. She smiled to herself, knowing how familiar she had become with the ebb and flow of big city life.

As she waited for her final client of the day, she straightened the jacket of her Calvin Kline suit and sat back down in her office chair. With the click of the mouse and a few keystrokes, she brought up her calendar for the month. There it was in the middle of the month, in the middle of the week, time blocked out two days before and two days after her forty-eighth birthday. That, she was certain, was the reason for her restlessness the past few months.

She had been happy living life in fast-forwards her entire career, but recently she had a yearning to slow it down a bit. That would be in conflict with her profession, since time was money and there were plenty of younger competitors who would be more than happy to work around the clock if it meant increasing their clientele.

Besides, she reminded herself, forty-eight or even forty-nine was too early to retire. What would she do with herself? She wasn’t married, hadn’t been for ten years, so she wouldn’t be traveling with a husband. She wasn’t a grandmother with grandkids to dote over. She would probably eat too much, get fat, and become a mall walker. She amused herself at the absurd thought as she looked at her conditioned body that would rival any thirty-five year old.

The clock on her computer read 6:10pm. Her six o’clock appointment should be arriving in the next ten minutes or so. Twenty minutes late was considered on time in Los Angeles.

Meanwhile she pulled up his portfolio and began studying it. He was doing well with the diversity and the percentage ratio of aggressive and conservative investments. She was going to suggest that a portion be diverted to gold this next quarter. That, she felt, would give him the well-rounded and long-term strategy he was looking for.

At 6:25p.m., her client appeared at the office door, looking every bit the successful television star he was.

Regina stood. They greeted with kiss-kiss on each cheek.

Gina.

Desmond.

Dressed in California chic-casual style he had an apologetic smile on his perfectly geometric, tanned, mid-thirties face. His hair was slightly windblown as if he’d had the top down on his convertible.

Sorry to keep you waiting, I’ve been running late all day.

No problem, she said with a smile and hoped her growling, hungry stomach didn’t give her slight irritation away. After all, technically she worked for him. I understand how it goes; some days are just like that.

She picked up her lap top and they moved over to the small oval table so they could sit side by side and review the graphs and pie charts she had prepared.

The meeting lasted around one half hour, and at the end he agreed to take her advice regarding gold.

I don’t know what I’d do without you, Gina, he said as he squeezed her hand affectionately, you take such good care of me!

It’s my pleasure. Thanks for coming in and have a good evening.

And the same to you, he said as he walked towards the door.

See you next quarter, but call me anytime.

Will do, bye-bye.

She stayed at the door until he rounded the corner that led to the elevator and then quietly closed her office door. Another satisfied customer, she thought. So why was she not feeling very satisfied?

Logging out of the computer, she cleared her desk as it powered down and then she called it a day. After locking her office door, she walked to the elevator and pushed P1 for parking. Since she had been there before seven that morning she had gotten a spot on the first floor instead of the second or third lower floors.

She drove directly to her home in Santa Monica, pulled into the garage and then walked through the doorway which opened to the kitchen. She rewarded herself for safely navigating the commute by pouring a glass of wine and taking it upstairs with her to her bedroom which had a full view of the Pacific Ocean. She opened the French doors to the balcony and stepped onto it. Ah, the fresh air smelled heavenly!

It was then she realized that she had not been outside for at least a week. Her feet had not touched earth for at least a week. She had not felt the sun on her body or the warm breeze against her skin, having gone from her garage at home to the parking garage in her office building. Here she lived in one of the most beautiful places in the world with the most natural beauty, and she spent the vast majority of her time inside concrete buildings, under florescence lights.

Growing up, and in her college days, she had been quite athletic and was outdoors as much as possible. She surfed off the coast of Malibu, she would roller blade down the strand from Santa Monica to Venice, she didn’t think twice about spending the day bicycling forty-six miles from Pacific Palisades to Redondo Beach and back. She loved being outside. Now, she went to the gym four days a week and worked out on machines. That was the most time-efficient way to stay in shape and conditioned, but not near as much fun.

She took off her suit and blouse and hung them up, then removed her jewelry, putting it in her secure jewelry box, hidden from sight. Taking a pair of comfortable stretch pants and a pull over shirt from the dresser, she put them on and exchanged her high heels for her house shoes. It felt good to be home in the surroundings which she had perfected over time to reflect her personal style.

Strategically placed on every wall in every room was an original piece of artwork by her daughter, Gabrielle Gallagher. They were simply signed with her signature GG. Gabby was making quite a name for herself not only in Southern California, but around the country and the world. Gina was very proud of her daughter. The painting on the bedroom wall was an abstract in shades of greens and blues that represented the coastal area that she had lived in for many years.

She took a sip of wine as she sat down on the balcony chair. The sun was set and the silhouettes of the palm trees against the orange sky were breathtaking. As she drank the last swallow of wine she reflected that she had such a good life and couldn’t understand why she didn’t feel as fulfilled as she should.

Closing the French doors, she went downstairs to the kitchen. Everything in it was the best quality money could buy. It had all the newest appliances, the best pots and pans and dishes and cutlery. She enjoyed cooking and entertaining so an efficient kitchen was not just a luxury, it was essential. At least that is what she told herself so she didn’t feel self-indulgent. There was the island in the middle when she could prepare food while guests could casually sit and watch or help while socializing. Her daughter and she had many a fine conversation right there as they discussed Gabrielle’s art connections and Regina’s career. They were both resources to each other. Gina sent clients looking for artwork to Gabby, and Gabby sent art collectors in need of financial advice to Gina.

Looking in the double side-by-side doors of the stainless steel refrigerator, she found the Salmon fillet she was looking for. She pulled it out along with some asparagus spears and a couple of zucchinis, then cut the zucchini into spears and cut the end pieces off the asparagus and set them aside as she prepared the salmon for the broiler. With the salmon grilling, she got a sauté pan and poured a little olive oil in it, heated it and added the vegetables. She turned the salmon over and finished sautéing the vegetables by adding a pinch of sea salt. Then she cut some lemon wedges and arranged them, the asparagus and the zucchini on a plate. The salmon was now beautifully cooked so she took it from the oven and set it in the center of the plate. Pouring another glass of wine, she moved to the casual dining table to admire her masterpiece before eating it, completely satisfied with the nutritious and delicious meal she had prepared.

After cleaning up and putting the dishes in the dishwasher, Regina was just about ready to turn the television on when the telephone rang.

Hello.

Hi, Mom, how are you?

Hi, Honey, I’m doing good, and you?

I have some exciting news! I am finally getting an exhibition at The Happening Gallery in Santa Barbara. I have been waiting for over a year.

That’s fantastic, congratulations!

There’s more. One of my clients has a summer home there and she said that we, you and I, could stay there for a week. The showing is the week of your birthday. I’ll only be able to stay for a day, the day of your birthday which is also the day of the showing, but you can stay the entire week if you like.

Gina started calculating her work schedule in her head and then remembered that she had blocked out the entire week of her birthday. Well that sounds wonderful and it will work out perfectly, thank you.

I’m glad you like the idea, Mom, I was afraid that you wouldn’t take the time off. You deserve to treat yourself.

Thank you, I agree. How’s it going to work?

I’m hiring a couple of art guys I know who have a covered truck. They’ll load, drive, and deliver my pieces to the gallery the evening before the show. Mark and Mary, the owners of the gallery, will receive it and arrange it the way they want it displayed. I am arranging for catering by a local company and of course in Santa Barbara there is no shortage of good wine.

Regina was actually asking about how they were going to co-ordinate the vacation house and realized that she should have been more specific in her question. You’re very organized, and it sounds like you’ve thought of everything. About the vacation house, how is that going to work?

I’ll email the address of the house to you and you can go there on Saturday if you like. Rosemary, the owner, said the key is in the center, above the door in the carport. I’ll be there Wednesday, late morning, and the exhibition is that evening.

Is there anything I can do to help?

Not that I can think of, but thanks for asking. I’m getting these showings down to an art in themselves.

I’m very happy for you and I’m so impressed with your attention to all the details!

Thanks, Mom.

Thank you, sweetie, I’m looking forward to all of it.

Good, I’m glad. I want your birthday to be really nice. Talk with you soon. Bye-bye.

Bye-bye.

Well, this birthday was turning out to be interesting, more than just the usual dinner out. Now there was something special to look forward too. Tomorrow was Tuesday, and she’d leave Saturday morning. Santa Barbara was only about two hours up the coast from Santa Monica.

The rest of the week went along without any major disasters. In the email from Gabby, along with the address, she mentioned that the house had cable television and internet. Gina thought that was rather extravagant for a summer home but Gabby assured her that the owner wasn’t concerned about expenses.

Chapter 2

On Saturday morning she was packed and on her way to what is called the American Riviera.

The drive up the coast was beautiful. Gina pressed the button that opened the moon roof and the inside of her Jaguar XJ became flooded with natural lighting. She pressed another button and the drivers’ side window went down, allowing a fresh ocean breeze to flow in. She had no idea what the house of her destination would be like. She had a feeling of freedom and adventure that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

As the car neared Santa Barbara, the navigation system told her exactly where to turn until she was at the exact address she had programmed into it, which was six miles on the outskirts of town. The outside of the house was modest and not too large. It looked well maintained and obviously had regular lawn and garden care. She pulled into the empty one-car car port.

There was an entrance door to the house from the carport. With just a tad bit of apprehension she stood on her tip-toes and felt for the key on the ledge in the middle. It was exactly where Gabrielle said it would be, so she opened the door to find herself in the laundry room where the washer and dryer were located. She closed the door, locked it and then walked through to the kitchen. The inside of the house was very nice, decorated simply. It was all one level with two bedrooms, one bathroom, and the living room. She smiled as she saw one of her daughters’ works of art hanging in the living room.

She opened the front door to see that there was a good sized porch with a small round table and two matching chairs on it. Going back into the kitchen, the window above the sink looked out onto a small nicely kempt back yard with a picnic table and a small fire pit. All in all, the place was charming and felt cozy and comfortable.

She got her bags out of the car and chose the slightly larger of the two bedrooms for herself. The owner had some clothing in some of the drawers but there was one empty drawer available and half of the closet. It was very generous of the owner, Rosemary, to turn her home over to a stranger for a week. She must have complete trust in Gabrielle.

Gina took her time unpacking, finding a spot for all that she had brought with her. The bathroom was small, but big enough. She found herself enjoying the compactness of the rooms and the slightly dated fixtures and appliances.

This would be her home for the next six to seven days, maybe nine, depending on what she found to occupy her time by herself.

She took out her laptop and made certain there was internet access to her email, which there was but she was going to try not to work while she was there.

It was nearing noon and her stomach was telling her that it was time for lunch. She locked up the house and drove to the local grocery store. She got a few basics like coffee, low fat milk, granola cereal, bread, jam, cheese, wine, pasta, and all the fixings for a tasty sandwich. Within an hour she was enjoying eating a gourmet sandwich she had prepared, which was not only delicious but also nutritious.

She had the rest of the afternoon and the next four days until Gabby arrived on Wednesday morning. She had done some internet research about Santa Barbara, and had read about State Street. It was supposed to be one of the best shopping experiences in the world. She decided to go and see for herself.

She found a parking lot at the end of State Street, and planned on walking up one side and down the other. The first thing that struck her was the semitropical setting with stately palm trees and several babbling fountains. There were shops with legendary designers but also emerging designers in independent boutiques. She found a whimsical, vintage boutique that she ended up spending hours in. There was everything from antique jewelry to mirrors framed in wicker. She bought a small, beautifully carved wood box with a drawer in it along with a pair of earrings for herself and a funky but stylish necklace for Gabrielle. The afternoon turned to evening and the night life was beginning. She hadn’t planned on making a night of it that night, so she decided to head back to the house. She had only just scratched the surface of what State Street had to offer and she planned on exploring more of it while she was on vacation.

Driving the six miles back to the house, she noticed how different the environment looked under the canopy of just the moon and stars. In Los Angeles it was almost impossible to find natural lighting at night, unless you made the two plus hour drive to Palm Springs or the desert towns. This was nice and she liked the feeling of relaxation it gave her.

Gina opened the bottle of white wine, which was chilled nicely by then. She didn’t feel quite at home yet, more as if she was at someone else’s home, but still she went ahead and cooked up a small amount of pasta and sautéed some fresh tomatoes and added some spinach and seasoned it with some California garlic salt and sat down to eat.

It had been a very satisfying day and evening being incognito there and she was enjoying the experience.

She took a shower in the basic bathroom with the shower and tub in one. It rather reminded her of the first house she and her then husband had owned, before Gabby was born. Taking a little stroll down memory lane was fun.

There was no need to set the alarm. Being on vacation meant waking up whenever she woke up. That in itself was a luxury that she seldom was able to take advantage of for the past twenty-five years. She drifted off to sleep feeling safe and secure and somehow nurtured by the environment.

Was that the sound of a song bird outside the bedroom window? What a perfect sound to be awakened by. Not the sound of a siren or a horn honking or even the piercing sound of the alarm clock, for that matter.

She glanced over at the clock on the bed stand it read 7:30 am. She smiled to think that she would have already been in her office for around an hour by then. It felt good to be on a more natural schedule. Although she had to admit that the work a day 4:30am to 6:30pm schedule felt quite natural in Los Angeles. I guess we adapt to our environment, she thought as she laid in the bed.

Ordinarily the minute she woke up she was up and running, no time to linger between the sheets. She usually had a to-do list that was a foot long. That morning, however, she didn’t have a to-do list, so she took a few minutes to look around and allow her senses to be engaged. Not only was she hearing the beautiful melody of the song bird but she noticed how the morning sun shined through the curtains and the warm and welcoming hue it cast upon the wall and on the bed covers. The window was opened a crack and she breathed in the scent of the nearby flowers growing naturally in the back yard.

She put on her bathrobe and slippers and went out to the kitchen which got the morning sun also. The back yard was bathed in the most beautiful color. She pulled the curtain to the window open as far as it would go to be able to see the simple and natural back yard which wasn’t manicured to the enth degree, just nicely landscaped with indignant plants from the region.

As she waited for the coffee to brew, she opened the box of granola and poured it into a bowel and set it on the kitchen table. There was no formal dining room, the table and chairs off the kitchen was the dining room—she liked it. When the coffee was ready she poured a cup and poured milk into her cereal then sat down to a nice simple breakfast. As she ate she considered what she might do with her time that day, Sunday.

She went on line and looked up non-denominational churches in the area. She felt as if she wanted to visit one of the local, laid back, communities this Sunday and she found just what she was looking for in Carpinteria,