Chapter 13
13
J ace jogged down Main Street. He turned left onto his street, Classified Drive. He chuckled every time he saw the name. The house he'd purchased a couple of years ago was the former Governor's Mansion. It was his vacation home, actually. The governor was shady, involved in too many illegal things, and the house sat empty for years when he slipped out into the night to hide from the FBI.
Jace had remodeled it, via Quinn and an interior designer, and it had been the perfect hideout, as it was hidden behind a forest of palm trees.
He could slip in and out, without anybody even knowing who owned the Governor's Mansion. These days, that was a great feat for a small town. Not easy to do, especially since he owned a visible business.
Jogging up the front steps to his palatial looking home, he unlocked the door and stepped inside the cool air-conditioned home. Twisting the lock behind him, he enjoyed the cool air as it brushed his damp skin. He sauntered toward the kitchen at the back of the house. He made himself a large glass of ice water with electrolyte powder in it, watching the powder disappear as he stirred it.
He drank it down in between breaths, as he waited for his breathing to return to normal
He'd taken to jogging after the lunch hour every day. Unfortunately, it was the hottest part of the day, but he worked late nights and then slept in a bit later in the morning unless he had things on his mind. Then he worked his ass off all day. The last thing he wanted to do after he finished work was jog at one or two in the morning. So this had been his compromise - jog during the hottest part of the day, sweat like a pig, come back and replenish himself, and feel proud that he had gotten the jog in. That's where he was right now in today's journey.
Leaning with his back against the counter, he thought about what he had to do yet today. A new band was playing from the neighboring town at the Sandbar tonight. Thank God he had Mason as his bartender. He was good. He was really good.
To try to keep his mind off the town council and what they would think of his business, which was what was keeping him awake at night, he'd asked Quinn to go with him, as well as the architect Quinn used to design the barracks for him. He'd come and answer questions. Just having those two people as a show of business acumen, he was going to do alright. That should have been enough to relieve his anxieties, but this was a big deal for him.
Slugging down the last of his electrolyte water, he trudged up the steps to his bedroom. He started the warm, not hot, water in the shower and began pulling out clean clothing for this evening at the Sandbar.
Jumping in the shower and letting the water cool his body, he closed his eyes and willed the water to wash away his anxieties. He was doing a good thing here. He was running a good business. Flashes of Margo shot through his head. What was it about her? Was it because she didn't like him, and he had this need to make everybody like him? Was that it?
Well, he wasn't gonna get tangled up in that. Why should he feel insecure about anything?
He finished his shower and dressed for the evening in a pair of khaki shorts, one of his bright-colored Hawaiian shirts, and his favorite brown leather sandals.
He jogged down the steps, stepped out of the front door, locked it behind him, and then sneaked through the palm trees to Sunset Beach Road, directly in front of Sarge's Sandbar.
The weather was beginning to cool, though it still needed to come down a little bit. As he stepped into the bar, Mason was behind it, putting clean glasses away and setting up for the night. The Margarita fountain was full and ready to go. The Sandbar punch dispenser was filled and mixing their signature drink. The garnishes were cut - orange slices, lemons, limes, pineapple, and the cherry container was full.
"Are you all set, Mason?" He looked over what still needed to be completed.
"Yep, getting there. The band is setting up outside."
"Good." He grinned and clapped his hands together. "Okay, let's get this party started."
Mason chuckled, and Jace stepped outside to check the tables. Teresa, his longtime server, was straightening up chairs and raking the sand under the tables. He watched her work for a few moments and thought Quinn was right; having floating decks on the sand would be much better.
He was gonna do that for sure. It would also eliminate the sand coming into the bar every day.
People started filing in and taking a seat at their chosen table. The band began sound checks, and he happily set up Grace and Hanna's table. They had asked him to reserve their favorite table, and he was pleased to do it. He set up a special little centerpiece for them, a little bouquet he had delivered earlier in the day.
His friends supported him in everything he did and he wanted to support them as well. He kept himself busy until the band began playing, and the tables filled.
Hanna and Grace arrived, and he took them to their table. "Here you go, ladies. And just for you, special flowers."
"Oh!" Hanna exclaimed.
Grace grinned and leaned down to smell the flowers. When she stood up, she glanced around and saw none of the other tables had flowers.
"You are very thoughtful."
"It’s my pleasure. What can I get for you?"
Grace smiled. "I'd like a glass of that red wine you have that I enjoy so much."
He nodded and chuckled. "A Merlot for Grace. And what can I get for you, Hanna?"
She smiled. "I'll take a Moscato, please."
He hustled to the bar to fill their orders.
When he delivered their drinks, Hanna said, "I invited Margo and her sister Carley here. They're going to sit with us tonight. I hope that's not a problem."
He froze slightly at Margo's name, but put a smile on his face. "Not a problem for me."
His heart beat a little faster when she mentioned Margo, and he hoped she was in a good mood. He didn't want to have another word match with her tonight. Certainly not while Hanna and Grace were here.
He began greeting guests, filling drink orders, and running around when he saw the tall redhead come in by herself. She sat at a table on the opposite side of the beach from where his friends’ wives were. But he couldn't help but notice that she was watching him everywhere he went.
After a while, it became distracting. A feeling of unease crawled through him. Taking a deep breath, he made his way over to her table. "Hello there. What can I get you to drink?"
She smiled and shrugged her shoulders again. The word fake popped into his head. She was fake.
"I'll take..." She pursed her lips in a pouty fashion, "What is your special?"
"We have our Sandbar Punch which is a rum punch."
"That's what I want. The Sandbar Punch."
"Will do, coming right up." He sauntered back to the bar, stopping at tables along the way to say hello or check on drinks.
He ordered the Sandbar Punch from Mason, which was nothing more than adding ice to a glass, pouring the punch from the large dispenser, and adding the garnishes that were already made up.
He took a couple more drink orders while Mason prepared the Sandbar Punch then went back to get it.
He set the tropical drink in front of her. "Do you want to start a tab or pay right away?"
She smiled, lifted her right shoulder, and tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the table. "I'll pay you right away." She tugged on the bottom of his shirt and winked.
He took her money and hustled to the bar to make the change. When he returned with her change, he set it on the table and hurried to Hanna and Grace's table across the beach. As he approached, he saw Margo and her sister had arrived. And he smiled as brightly as he could. "Evening, ladies. Can I get you something to drink?"
Carley smiled. "I'd like that special drink with the pineapple in it."
He grinned. "That's our special, the Sandbar Punch."
Carley nodded. "I want one of those."
He chuckled and turned his eyes to Margo. She smiled, though it didn't look genuine, and he tried not to let that throw him. "I'd like a glass of Moscato, please."
"You got it, coming right up."
He hustled back to the bar to place their orders with Mason. Theresa was inside, waiting for an order to be filled. "Hey, can you take care of the redhead at table twenty-two?"
She smiled. "Sure. Is she a little handsy?"
"Did you notice?"
"Oh yeah. I noticed. She's been watching you. When she isn't glaring at table six, that is."
He took a deep breath. Table six was Grace and Hanna's table. Hopefully, the redhead wasn't going to start something with either of them.
He hustled out to the table with their order. "Here you go, ladies."
He set their drinks in front of them and turned when a hand grabbed his shirt and spun him around. He was face to face with the redhead, and she had her arms wrapped around his neck. She was shimmying her body against his to the rhythm of the song the band was playing. He froze.
"Hey, I have to get to work."
"You can't have one sexy dance?" She purred.
"Ah, no. I have work to do."
He pulled his head back to look into her eyes. "What is going on here?"
"I just wanted to dance with you. You're so handsome."
Her voice was low as she channeled her Marilyn Monroe impersonation. A couple of the male clients whistled and yelled. "Got yourself a live one now, Jace."
No. He didn't want this reputation at all. He didn't want the Town Council to think this was some sort of sleazy joint where he picked up women.
Another man he'd seen in here before brushed past to go to a table. Jace grabbed the redhead's arms, lifted them off his shoulders, and put her arms on the other man's shoulders. "There you go, dance with him. He needs to dance a little."
The man laughed. "Well, thank you!"
Jace whisked by Hanna and Grace's table and grabbed his tray without stopping and hustled back to the safety of the bar.
He wasn't going to let anybody, certainly not a stranger, ruin his chances with the Town Council. Absolutely not.