Page 77 of Always a Roommate
I knocked rapidly and waited, my heart lodged in my throat. Sweat prickled my fingertips, and I rubbed them together, trying to calm myself.
No one came.
I knocked again. “Rae!”
Then, I remembered what day it was. Saturday.
I didn’t know what time the wedding was set to start, but everyone in Gulf City knew where it would take place. The only nice venue that could accommodate so many people and was secure.
The Beach Club.
I tapped my steering wheel as I sat in traffic. There was an accident up ahead, and my patience had flown out the window with my good sense.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, waiting to inch down the road before the flow started moving again.
Two security guards stood at the entrance to The Beach Club, one on either side of the road. They motioned for me to stop and roll down my window.
“ID,” the one on the left said, leaning down to peer in at me.
I fished out my ID, and he scanned the list I assumed was all the wedding invitees.
“I’m not on your list,” I said.
“Then, you need to turn around, sir. Today is a private event.”
“You don’t understand, I need to get in there. The wedding planner, Rae, I need to see her.”
The man handed me back the ID. “Only guests allowed on the premises today. No exceptions.”
I collapsed back in my seat and turned around like they told me to.
It occurred to me I could wait until after the reception to talk to Rae, but letting the entire evening go by without telling her how I truly felt was incomprehensible.
There had to be another way.
An idea came to me, and I drove toward the Hut, leaving my truck in the parking lot. If I couldn’t get in through the front door, there was always the beach access.
Blue afternoon skies greeted me as I stepped onto the sand. I had on a pair of cargo shorts and a t-shirt, not exactly wedding attire, but that didn’t matter. Not today.
Trudging toward The Beach Club private area, I noted another two guards patrolling the grounds. Getting by them would be the hard part.
Someone had left a surfboard on the sand, probably as they went out swimming, so I pulled off my shirt and tucked the board under my arm, as if I was just another surfer sneaking onto the private beach to use the facilities.
“Hey,” one of the guards, a woman this time, called as I walked by her. “You can’t be here.” Making a decision I was sure would haunt me, I dropped the board and ran across the beach, stopping when I reached the lower deck and heard the thunder of many footsteps on the stairs coming from the upper level of the club.
The first person reached the bottom and froze.
Two security guards appeared behind me, their chests heaving from exhaustion.
“We’re sorry, Mr. Stone. This man slipped by us.” One of them grabbed my arm. “We’ll detain him.”
Drew, standing there in his designer suit consisting of black pants, a white shirt, a pink jacket, and a bow tie, furrowed his brow. “Shane?”
“You know this man, Mr. Stone?” the guard holding me asked.
Drew nodded. “Let him go.” The rest of the wedding party descended the stairs behind him. “We were doing pictures before the reception and wanted some on the beach.” He looked me up and down. “I take it you’re not here because you were dying to come to the wedding of the century?”
“Of course he isn’t.” Lola pushed her way forward. “You’re here for Rae, aren’t you?”
