by S. E. Rose
“Pick it out then,” I call back.
I rinse off again, because this place is like a sauna, even in our air-conditioned hotel room, and I start putting on makeup and styling my hair. I turn as Grant walks around the mirror and into the bathroom space holding a slinky, silver dress. This was what our friend, Heidi, had called the “fuck me” outfit.
“Oh no,” I say.
“Oh yes,” he answers.
“Grant.”
“Reagan.”
“Grant, I—”
“Yes. You. Can.”
I groan and take the dress. Grant walks out to the balcony to give me privacy as I change. I finish applying some lipstick and walk out to join him.
He grins and holds me at arm’s length.
“You look ravishing,” he says.
“So do you,” I say as I look him up and down. He’s wearing dark gray trousers, leather shoes to die for, and a button-down light blue shirt with the arms rolled up. He looks sexy as hell, and also very expensive. I’m certain if I asked I’d recognize the name of the designer he’s wearing.
“Shall we?” he asks as he takes my arm in his.
I smile and laugh. “We shall.”
Chapter 7
The club’s music is pumping. I can hear it before we even enter. We’re greeted at the doors by a man who hands us both masquerade masks. We look at him quizzically.
“It’s masquerade night,” he says with a shrug.
Grant turns to me with the biggest grin I’ve ever seen, and I know we are about to get in a whole lot of trouble.
“Grant,” I chastise, not even knowing what he has planned yet.
“Come on,” he says and pulls my arm as we climb down clear glass steps into a giant three-story submerged room.
There’s a bar in each corner of the room and a dance floor. The center of the room has a pool with small stages sticking out of the water, and a waterfall at the far end of it that leads up to a DJ booth. There are a disco ball and laser lights. Everyone is wearing masks. There are small intimate alcoves with booths and small dance floors.
Grant tugs on my hand and pulls me toward one. I look up to see Lee, Maggie, Harrison, Grant, and about a dozen other wedding party guests. Although it’s hard to recognize any of them with the masks on, I only can tell a few people by their hair and one or two still have on their outfits from earlier.
Grant finds us seats on a bench near the main table in the alcove.
“I’ll grab us drinks. What do you want?” Grant yells over the loud music.
“Martini,” I say to him.
He nods and scoots out of the booth. This one is smaller than the main table. Harrison sits down across from me.
“You feeling better?” he asks.
“Yes, thanks,” I reply.
“You sure?” a voice whispers in my ear.
I turn to see Zach looking at me. His eyes are still filled with concern.
“Really, I’m fine now.”
“Did you drink all the water?” he asks.
I nod.
“Good,” he replies.
Grant comes back and hands me a martini in a plastic cup. He shrugs. “Sorry, plastic only down here,” he says.
Harrison laughs. “So uncouth,” he says.
“Yes,” Grant agrees.
I roll my eyes and wonder when Grant will spill the beans. I give him a look, and he shakes his head. OK, not yet. I have a feeling Grant is going to drink a shit ton of liquid courage before he says anything to Harrison.
I feel my foot tapping to the beat as I drink down my martini. Harrison brings us another round and then proceeds to get deep in conversation with Grant about the best nightclubs in New York City. This is totally Grant’s type of topic. He’s always raving about the best nightclubs everywhere he goes. I zone out, nodding occasionally as I scope out the room. A few of the guests are on the dance floor in front of our alcove. They seem to be having fun, and I sort of want to join them.
“You want to dance?” Zach whispers in my ear. His breath caressing my skin. I shiver again.
“Sure,” I say to him.
“We’re going to go dance,” he announces to Harrison and Grant, who all but wave us away.
Zach and I join about ten other people from the wedding party on the dance floor. I get my hands on some vodka concoction and within about twenty minutes, I’m feeling good. I’m losing track of time, but eventually, I notice that Harrison and Grant have joined us on the dance floor. We all dance around. I notice Grant is giving me “the look,” which means he’s ready to come clean or spill the beans or whatever the hell is happening.
“I need to use the restroom,” I scream at them over the pumping techno beat.
“Me too,” Grant says.
Zach and Harrison also chime in with “me toos” and so the four of us meander to the bathrooms. There’s a line for the ladies’ room, and by line, I mean I might get a chance to pee next year. I look over at the men’s room longingly.
Grant rolls his eyes. “Just a minute,” he says. He pops his head in the bathroom and motions for me to come in there.
I walk in a sink area first. I almost run headfirst into Zach, Harrison, and Grant.
I open my mouth to yell at them, but Grant promptly slaps his hand over my mouth. I glare at him for a nanosecond until I hear the voice. It’s Maggie, as in Maggie Payne, as in Lee’s fiancée, as in the bride. And she is wasted and talking very loudly to her friend Clarise. She’s clearly in one stall and Clarise is in the one next to her. Apparently, I wasn’t the only woman to think to use the men’s room. There’s a handicap stall at the end, and we all pile inside.
“So, I need water. I have to appear sober, Clare-bear. Lee has to think I’m preggers or this whole wedding will go to shit,” she whines.
“What’s going to happen when Lee finds out that you’re not preggers? He’ll freak,” Clarise asks.
“Duh, he won’t find out because I’m going to have a miscarriage while he’s on his work trip in a few weeks. It’ll be terribly traumatic and all, but he’ll get over it,” she says.
“How long do you have to stay married to…you know,” Clarise asks.
“Well, the prenup says I get ten percent for every five years of marriage up to thirty-five percent. But come on, Lee is worth like seventy-five million dollars, so I don’t need all of that, just enough to settle up my debts, get myself a condo, and a retirement plan, and then I can go back to Larry,” she says, swooning over whoever Larry is.
“But your parents will freak,” Clarise points out.
There’s a flush of the toilet. And we can’t hear what Maggie says next.
“Oh, that’s smart. Guess it won’t matter then,” Clarise responds. They wash their hands and exit.
“Holy—” I start.
“Shit!” Grant finishes.
“We have to tell Lee,” Harrison says in horror.
“Yes, we do,” Zach agrees.
“But we need some hard evidence first,” Grant says. “Lee’s head over heels for her. He won’t believe it if we just blurt it out.”
Harrison nods his agreement.
“Uh, while we are in here…” Grant starts.
I sigh. “Grant’s gay. I’m his decoy. Neither of us is dating anyone,” I blurt out quickly and then cover my mouth.
Harrison freezes and Zach’s eyes look like they are going to pop out of his head.
“Wait, what?” Harrison asks.
“Likes dick,” I say pointing to Grant. “Also, likes dick,” I add, pointing to myself. “Comprendé?”
“So, you aren’t together?” Zach asks.
We shake our heads.
Grant lets out a deep breath. “This stays in this bathroom, capiche? My grandmother disinherited my sister for marrying an African-American doctor…I repeat…rich, well-educated, handsome-as-fuck doctor. I’d be toast if she finds out. I know this sounds pathetic, but I don’t want to know how the other ninety-nine percent live.” He winces
because even he knows he sounds like a big schmuck.
“Well, it’s not as bad as you’d think,” Zach hisses.
Grant glares at him. “Hey, I’m trying to be honest here. Don’t shoot me for it, OK,” he says with a pouty face.
Zach rolls his eyes and so do I. “OK, so charades time is over, and we have a new game plan and that is to unveil the true Maggie. So, who’s with me?” Grant asks. He puts his hand out in front of us.
I slap mine on top. “I’m in.”
Harrison does the same. “You had me at ‘gay,’” he adds with an amused smirk.
“Oh, fuck it,” Zach says as he slaps his hand on top of Harrison’s.
“OK, Operation Free Lee begins tonight. We all need to work on getting intel, and then tomorrow over breakfast, we’ll debrief,” Grant says like he’s a military general barking commands to his soldiers.
“This is going to be interesting,” Harrison adds as we leave the bathroom after we all pee.
We order more drinks and go back to dancing. We are trying to not be obvious in our watching Maggie, but we keep having to remind each other to stop staring.
“My feet hurt,” I say rubbing them.
“Let’s sit down and have a drink,” Zach suggests.
We take a seat and he goes to get us drinks. Harrison and Grant come back over as well.
“We’re not making any headway here,” Harrison sighs.
“We need proof, but I can’t hear shit on the dance floor and whatever she’s drinking looks like water,” Grant grumbles.
Zach sets four drinks down on the table. “Drink up, ladies. We need to come up with Plan B,” he states.
And so, we spend the next twenty minutes coming up with a new plan. The new plan involves me befriending Maggie and her entourage. I visibly shudder at the thought.
“You owe me,” I mutter as I drink my third vodka tonic since sitting down.
“Pace yourself, my little lushhhh,” Grant says, slurring the last word.
“Right, like you’re one to talk,” I grumble.
Harrison is leaning on Grant and I look around to make sure no one has seen this.
I glance at Zach. “I think it’s time we take this party elsewhere,” I say, motioning toward our drunk friends.
“Agreed,” he says.
“Gentlemen, why don’t we head back to the hotel rooms,” he suggests.
We manage to get Grant and Harrison up and moving. We say our goodbyes to Maggie and her friends.
“Oh, the girls are hitting the spa tomorrow, if you’re interested,” she says while cheek kissing me.
“Oh, that would be fabulous. This sand is killing my pedicure,” I say in my best stuck-up voice.
“OMG! IKR!” she says, slapping my arm. I really just want to toss her ass down on the dance floor, but instead, I give her a sugary smile before practically running back to my gusband.
“Save me,” I squeak in Grant’s arms.
He chuckles, and then hiccups. Oh no, hiccups and Grant is not good. I turn to say goodbye to Lee, letting go of Grant in the process.
I’m about to suggest that we hurry back to the room and tuck my little drunkard in for the night when I suddenly realize that Grant and Harrison are not standing next to Zach and me any longer. I’m momentarily confused until…the splash.
My gaze shoots to the pool in the middle of the room. I walk over to peer at the water. The pool that apparently is for show and not for swimming, unless you are two drunk Americans named Grant and Harrison, is suddenly the center of the club’s attention.
“Oh, shit!” Zach says. It’s not till he speaks that I realize he’s standing next to me.
“Yeah, oh shit is right!” I yell over the pumping music.
Harrison and Grant are splashing each other and dancing in the water. It isn’t helping that the crowd is totally egging them on. They clearly love the attention even in their intoxicated state.
“Houston, we have a problem!” I hear Zach say.
“Huh,” I say, and I look up at him. He’s pointing to the security guards that are making their way down toward the pool.
“Double shit,” I mutter.
“What?” Zach asks.
I shake my head. “Help me,” I say to him.
I walk to the edge of the pool. “Grant, come on,” I say, clapping my thighs like he’s a puppy.
“Come on in!” he says to me. “The waterz amazingggg!” he slurs and pats the surface of the water.
“Grant Taylor Pierce, get your ass over here, now,” I hiss as loudly as I can for him to hear me without announcing who’s in the pool to the entire club.
“You’re soooo boring,” he says. “She’s so boring,” he repeats to Harrison.
“Don’t be such a ninny, come on in!” Harrison says as he raises a glass and then promptly falls backward into the water.
I look up and notice that the wedding party is starting to take note of them. I give Zach a pleading look.
“Hey, guys! I hear there’s an even better pool, come with me,” he calls out.
Harrison stops and frowns. “Better? Than this?!” he asks.
“Oh yeah, way better, come on. It’s totally VIP,” Zach says. He gives me a wink.
“Woot! Woot! VIP, beotches!” Grant calls out as he and Harrison come bounding out of the water.
I see the guards closing in, thankfully we all have our masks on still.
“Zach, security,” I whisper in his ear.
“OK, let’s run for it!” he calls out playfully as Grant and Harrison start slipping and sliding toward the doors that lead out to the back patio area that connects with the paths to the pools and the other buildings on the property.
All four of us are sprinting like our lives depend on it. Grant and Harrison are hooting and hollering and acting like complete messes. I realize I need to get them to be quiet or we are totally screwed.
I stop, and they nearly plow into me.
“Hey, we have to be super quiet so no one else follows us to the VIP pool,” I say to them.
They nod like excited children about to open Christmas gifts.
What follows is a five-minute stumbling walk with drunk whispering, loud, obnoxious drunk whispering, intermittently laced with Zach and me whisper-yelling at them to be quiet. Meanwhile, Zach and I are trying our best to get them back to our hotel rooms.
“Hey, this is our room! Where’s the VIP pool?” Grant whines as we walk toward the doors to our rooms.
Zach looks down at this watch. “Damn, wouldn’t you know, it’s closed. We’ll have to go tomorrow,” he says. Harrison gives a frowny face but then smiles.
“One more drink,” Harrison says pulling us into his room.
“Can I change first?” I ask. “You know, binding party clothes and all.”
“Sure,” Harrison says with a laugh as he starts pouring tequila into shot glasses.
I roll my eyes and walk back to my room. I rinse off in the shower and wash my face. I pull on pajama shorts and a tank top and knot my hair in a loose bun on my head. I’m about to put on my flip-flops and head back over when there’s a knock at the door.
I open it and find Zach standing there. He runs his hand through his hair.
“Uh…is it PG-14 over here?” he asks.
I look at him in confusion.
“I think Harrison and Grant are getting ‘acquainted’ if you know what I mean,” he says.
I shake my head. “Great,” I mumble. “I guess, come on in.”
“Thanks,” he says.
Chapter 8
Zach
Reagan opens the minibar. The minibars here are packed with more alcohol than any normal person could consume in a week, but there’s not much left in hers. She makes some comment under her breath about Grant drinking it all.
“Uh, I…let’s see here…oh, we still have a bottle of Merlot,” she says to me, holding up the one bottle of wine left in the fridge. There’s also two bottles of vodka and a couple of beers. Cl
early, housekeeping didn’t restock today, or maybe Grant was just really thirsty. She shrugs, and I step forward to take the bottle out of her hand.
I pick up the corkscrew sitting on the shelf above the fridge and expertly open the wine bottle.
I grab two glasses and pour the wine into them.
We walk out to the balcony and sit on the chairs.
“Cheers,” I say to her.
We clink glasses.
“What are we celebrating?” she asks me.
“To new friends, devious plans to destroy a wedding, and unexpected spa partners,” I add with a smirk.
She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Salut,” she says and raises her glass before taking a sip as do I. It’s actually not half bad.
“Sooo,” she says, looking out at the ocean. “You’ve known Lee for a long time.”
“I have,” I admit. “We’ve been friends since college. He, Harrison, and I were frat brothers. But we were more than that really. Lee and Harrison come from a different world than me, but they are good people, good friends.”
She nods. “I…come from a different world too,” she says as she takes another drink of her wine.
I look over at the next balcony, my balcony.
“Why do you do it?” I ask her.
“Do what?” she asks.
“Pretend,” I clarify.
She sighs. Her finger runs around the top of her glass. “He’s my best friend. He’s had my back since we met in college, and I know if I ever needed anything, anything at all, he’d get it for me. He’d move mountains, oceans for me. I know he comes off like a jerk sometimes, but under that façade, he has a heart of gold. He just doesn’t show his true self to many people. When Grandma Satan disowned his sister, Beth, I just knew I had to be his decoy. He’s like my brother, I’d do anything for him. I’ve had some relationships over the years, and we just pretend we are ‘off’ when that happens, but if I’m not with anyone, I pretend to be his girlfriend when he has family functions,” she says. I raise an eyebrow at her name for Lee’s grandmother.
She giggles, and it’s a delightful melodic sound. “Well, she is,” Reagan assures me.
I grin. “I believe you. It’s kind of you to do that, but doesn’t your family wonder…” I trail off.