Page 67 of Sweet Heat at Bayside
“Roast beef with horseradish, tomato, watercress, arugula—all the things you love.”
“Thank you. I appreciate all that you’re doing today. Do we have enough food?”
She peered in the direction of the catering tent. “We do. It’s two now and you’re closing down at six thirty, right?”
“That’s the plan, but I honestly can’t see us kicking people out. I don’t mind paying more to keep from running out of food.”
“We won’t run out,” she said as Rick joined them. “Serena expected this big of a crowd. I’ve got to get back to the tent. Rick, make sure he finishes that sandwich, will you?”
“Killer turnout, bro,” Rick said as she walked away. “How are you holding up?”
“I have no idea,” Drake said honestly. “I think I’m in a state of shock. I wish Serena were here to see it all. She must not have told me everything she did for advertising, because we’ve never had a turnout like this.”
“She loves you, Drake. You know that, right? She said as much in the card she left me when she moved.”
“She leftyoua card, too?”
“She left one for me and one for Dean,” Rick said. “I figured she left you one, too. She thanked us for being good bosses and said she appreciated everything we did for her. But in mine, she also said not to let you get so wrapped up in life that you forget your first love—music.”
Drake shook his head. “Like I could ever forget that?”
“That’s the point, man. I was thinking about why she’d tell me that, and then it dawned on me. Remember when we first opened the resort, how busy we all were with the renovations and all the paperwork and crap that went into getting it off the ground?”
“Man, that was a crazy time.” There had been months of digging through paperwork, hiring contractors, meeting with attorneys and insurance professionals to make sure they understood the ins and outs of the business and liabilities. Serena had been with them in the trenches. In fact, she’d been the one to suggest meeting with insurance reps to find out what theydidn’tknow.
“Then you remember how she used to traipse up to your apartment and grab your guitar in the middle of all the stuff we were dealing with.”
The memory brought a wide grin and a wave of longing. “I remember. We’d be complaining about how exhausted we were or about whatever mess we were dealing with, and she’d hand me the stupid guitar, sit on her butt, cross her arms like the stubborn, beautiful woman she is, and say she wasn’t going to move until I played.”
“Exactly,” Rick said. “Sheknowsyou. She wanted me to watch out for the most important part of you. And even though she’s not here, she’s still doing it.” He pointed to the back road, where a line of police cars was escorting a black Suburban.
“Holy sh… What’s going on?” Drake pushed his way through the mass of people toward the commotion, but the crowd moved with them, shouting and cheering. Drake grabbed Rick’s arm. “What’s happening, Rick? This ismyopening. I’ve got to know what’s going on.”
“Control freak,” Rick hollered back. “Just go with it. Live in the moment.”
He led Drake around the back of the stage to where their buddy Caden Grant, Evan’s father, who was a police officer, was standing guard alongside several other members of Wellfleet’s finest. The Suburban parked, and a tattooed guy stepped from the vehicle. The crowd went wild, pushing forward and shoving Drake into Rick.
“Holy cow,” Drake said with awe. “Is that who I think it is?”
“Boone Stryker,” Rick confirmed, holding his phone up as he videotaped Drake’s reaction. Boone was the lead guitarist in Strykeforce, Drake’s favorite band. “You can thank your girlfriend for this one. She pulled some major favors with just about everyone connected to him.”
Drake’s chest constricted. He pulled out his phone, then realized Serena was at that stupid company event. “She’s going to miss it!”
“That’s why I’m videoing it!” Rick hollered over the noise of the crowd. “Wow. She really did knock the wind out of you with this one.”
Drake looked into the video camera, his emotions bowling him over. “Baby! What have you done? You should be here!” His gaze coasted over the sea of people, and his heart swelled. “I love you, Supergirl, and I will thank you properly when I see you!”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Rick said with a laugh.
Drake couldn’t shake the awe inside him. “Baby, how did you do this?” he hollered into the video as the crowd pushed him toward the barricades. He’d read in a magazine that Boone and his wife, Trish, an actress, were both on hiatus and spending time with their son. That was just a few weeks ago. How had she managed this? “I wish you were here! Babe, there are no words! Thank you!”
Rick and Drake barreled through the crowd, catching sight of Boone helping his wife out of the vehicle. She carried their little boy, J.R., in her arms. Drake had read that he was six or seven months old now and was named after Boone’s father, Jeremy Rykerts, which Drake remembered because he hoped to one day honor his own father in the same way.
An entourage surrounded Boone and Trish as they made their way up to the stage with the rest of his bandmates. Stagehands were busy setting up equipment and mics.Whoopsand cheers filled the air as Boone stood centerstage, his arm around Trish. Their baby wore a black-and-white onesie and a bandanna around his head.
“Drake!” Caden waved them toward the barricades. He said something to the officer next to him, and then he made his way over to Drake and Rick and told them to come through.
They climbed over the barricade while Caden and several other officers kept the rest of the crowd back.
