Page 46 of No Surrender
“Assuming the world hasn’t imploded, I’m supposed to meet him at the Train Depot, tour the site, grab dinner, and come back in time to do my ghost tour tonight,” Simon replied.
“Then you’d better be going. It’s later than you think,” Pete replied, holding up his phone to reveal the time.
“Shit. You’re right. See you in a bit.” Simon grabbed his jacket and headed out. He remembered to pause to check for reporters or Judd and let out a sigh of relief when the boardwalk appeared to be clear of stalkers.
Simon picked Vic up from the block behind the police department, where he’d managed to evade the reporters.
“You doin’ okay?” Simon asked as Vic slumped in his seat and closed his eyes.
“Peachy.” Vic sounded dead tired. “Just a long fuckin’ day.”
“I can postpone—”
Vic shook his head without bothering to open his eyes. “No. There will always be something. And with the way most places book up, if we put off making a choice, we could be waiting ten years to get hitched.”
Simon reached over and placed a hand on Vic’s thigh. “We can do the vows anywhere, anytime. What we’re looking for is the reception venue.”
Vic snorted. “You think my mother is going to do without seeing us walk down some sort of aisle? Think again. Just because we can’t have a High Mass does not mean Mama D’Amato is going to be done out of a proper wedding for her son.”
Simon laughed. “Glad we have our priorities straight.”
“Probably the only ‘straight’ thing about this wedding,” Vic joked.
“I mean, I’m sure we could rent out Aloha Cowboy if we asked nicely,” Simon teased back. The iconic gay bar had been a storied part of the Grand Strand’s history, and showing up there at least once was a rite of passage, even if the club scene didn’t appeal to either Simon or Vic.
Vic groaned. “Yeah, I can see explaining to my eighty-five-year-old great-aunt—SisterMaria Antonia—why the bar area is named ‘The Wet Spot.’”
Simon chuckled. “On the other hand, it would pretty much guarantee my parents won’t try to crash the party. Having a roving photographer posting party photos online of the guests would do more to keep my mother away than all the hex bags in the Lowcountry.”
Vic had already experienced Gloria Kincaide at her worst when she had tried to manipulate Simon into returning to the university and his ex-fiancé. While his mother made a show of accepting her gay son, she had also always urged Simon to “look as straight as possible.”
“Really? I might reconsider, despite my auntie nun,” Vic teased.
“We could make sure the bartenders wear their ‘formal’ leather,” Simon continued. “The party favors might be memorable.”
Vic opened one eye and glared at him. “You’re doing this so I’ll agree to anything else, right?”
Simon managed a look of complete innocence as exaggerated as it was fake. “Just presenting options.”
Vic flipped him off and closed his eyes again.
“Later, if you’re good.” Simon laughed.
He parked in front of the old brick building and paused to take a closer look. The rectangular depot still had the roof overhang that gave it a distinctly ‘train station’ profile. Although tracks remained in front, the trains had stopped running years ago.
Vic stepped up beside him. “What do you think?”
“I like that it’s kinda different. Let’s have a look at the inside.”
“You must be Simon and Vic!” A young dark-haired woman with a ponytail and a clipboard hurried out to meet them. “I’m Kara, and I can’t wait to show you around.”
Kara led them toward the entrance. “The Depot was built in 1937, a year before Myrtle Beach officially became a town. The trains stopped running in 1967, and the depot became a warehouse. A community effort brought it back from ruin and raised the money to refurbish it into an event venue.”
With a flourish, Kara rolled back the big bay door. “You’re in luck—we’re setting up for a retirement party, so you can get an idea of how the space can be dressed up.”
“Wow,” Simon murmured. He looked up at the original wooden trusses that had been draped with swags of twinkle lights. Exposed brick walls and a refinished plank floor maintained the historic feel. The interior was one large space, but from the tables set up, Simon could tell they’d have enough room for their guest list.
“We work with all the major caterers in town, as well as the bakeries and DJs,” Kara assured them. “We have a clause in our contracts that forbids discrimination, so I can guarantee you won’t have any ‘cake’ issues.”
