Page 69 of Beached Wedding

I tried talking them into getting something to eat at one of the restaurants, but they had picked their way through the baskets of snacks all afternoon. None of us was genuinely hungry. Even so, I didn’t relish being around a bunch of corporate toads getting hammered as they waited for the ska-reggae-punk band to start. The DJ was warming them up with eighties classics and the whole bar was singing with Journey’s, “Don’t stop…be-leee-ving…”

Whitney called Fliss and yelled over the music, “Tell Grandma the DJ is playing her housecleaning soundtrack. Tell her to come dance to it for a change.”

Izzy laughed gustily, but I only managed a weak smile.

Whitney begged Fliss to babysit Ryan so the grownups could come to the bar. Mom wasn’t interested and promised to stay with Fliss and Ryan. Eddie and Sandy appreciated her invitation when she called their room, but declined.

Oliver turned up ten minutes later. He had a bruise on his cheek where Ryan had accidentally clipped him with a paddle while they had kayaked. He went straight to the dancefloor with Whitney.

“Comeon,” Izzy insisted, clapping her hands over her head as she tried to drag me after them, singing, “Girls just wanna have fu-un...”

“I’ll watch the drinks,” I insisted. “Go.” I hated that I was being such a wet blanket. This was their vacation and they wanted to enjoy it. It wasn’t their fault I’d been rejected twice in one week.

My stomach felt like it was rotting. My head was pounding and my heart was aching. My self-esteem wasn’t even on the floor. It had been swept from the unfinished basement into the garbage bin and taken by the diesel truck to be shoveled into an incinerator.

But I wouldn’t cry. I refused to cry.

This too shall pass, I assured myself, and tried to think of where I would go if not Sydney or Pine Grove.

The high-top table joggled slightly. A middle-aged man with the glow of double-shot screwdrivers leaned on it.Oh, God.

“Can I join you for a drink?” The music had switched to Livin’ on a Prayer.

“I’ve had two men treat me like shit back to back. You’re risking your life by even speaking to me.”

He drew back. “How about I buy you a drink and leave you alone?”

“My hero. Make it a soda with lime.”

He nodded and walked to the bar, leaving me thinking maybe I should have given him a chance.

Someone else sat down. I went from affronted to excited as I recognized Fox, then back to affronted as he eyed the array of drinks on the table.

“They’re not all mine.” I sipped the blue-vomit special that I’d barely touched. It was so sweet it was making me gag.

“Soda with lime,” he said as a server came by with the water the other guy had ordered for me.

“How did you know where we were?” I asked.

“I called the villa. I moved my things to my own room.” He slid a keycard toward me. When I widened my eyes, he said, “That’s the spare for yours.”

My wobbling heart tumbled to its hands and knees, getting skinned afresh.

“Thanks.” I plucked it from him and stuffed it into the pocket on my miniskirt. “Why didn’t you save a few bucks and share Izzy’s room?”

“Don’t do that.”

I reached to sip my water. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Yeah, I do. I’m your friend and I care about you. I get to tell you when you’re hurting both of us.”

“Right.Friends.” The word scraped a layer off the back of my throat. My eyes lost focus. Or filled with tears. Why did this have to be so horrible?

Human League cried,Don’t You Want Me, Baby…

“Oh, my gawd.” I choked on a laugh of sheer torture.

His water arrived.

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