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I push the cold metallic button and take a deep breath.
“Here we go,” says one of the men from the group. “Rooftop, here we come.”
I am not getting into the conversation. My mind is already playing host to a very handsome, tall man. I wonder what he saw in me. I know people call me pretty, but I never pouted at him or made the right moves. Sylvia and Edith are both beautiful, and clearly, he must have seen how Edith was talking to him. Why has he zeroed in on me?
The elevator ascends towards the rooftop, and we rise above the palm trees that appeared so tall when we were sitting underneath them. The ocean looks even more beautiful, the expanse of it coming into view all at once under the shimmer of the moon.
I receive a squeeze in my hand.
Edith whispers in my ear, “just have fun…”
I somehow needed that. I squeeze her hand to thank her.
The elevator door has opened, and we are on the magnificent garden rooftop. All around us is the sky, Hawaiian clouds bathed in silver moonlight, and the shimmering ocean. On the roof, a whole buffet with bronze containers lit and wafting the smoke of deliciously cooked seafood. The whole place is a garden, a carefully manicured garden, with lime green grass glowing under the soft orange glow of night lights tastefully placed within the large leaves of potted plants. On one end is a full bar and restaurant with tables and, to my shock, an open play area with gambling tables and dealers in white tuxedos. Everywhere, servers and staff cater to every need of the super-rich. And in the center of it all, stretching from one end to the other edge of the roof, is the magnificent Infinity pool glowing luminously, and inviting.
As we get out of the elevator, security guards and a receptionist greet us.
A woman approaches me.
“I was invited. I am Brooke,” I say, showing her the card.
“Oh Miss Brooke, you are expected,” she says. “And is this your party?” She says looking at Sylvia, and Edith and their glamorous new friends who we have known for 45 seconds.
“Yes, party of Brooke,” says Edith with growing confidence.
“Please come this way,” says the receptionist, removing the velvet rope. “Please put your palm on this scanner and enjoy the evening.” She points to a kiosk that holds a hand shaped screen for four fingers and a thumb.
There is a murmur of excitement. I am the first one to scan my hand, which turns the screen green, and I am followed by Sylvia, Edith and our new friends, who thankfully also have respectable results. One person from that group remarks, “Alright! We are the party of Brooke!”
Suddenly, I have become the popular heroine. I am sure they have invites but they are probably thinking I am some bigshot.
“Now how cool was that!” shouts Sylvia.
“My God! This place is a dream, Brooke! And to think that you were thinking of not coming here at all.”
“That would have been tragic.” That undeniably British, syrupy voice can only belong to one man. He is wearing swimming trunks and the white cotton shirt barely covers his muscular chest. His deep blue eyes are welcoming, full of play, and I am dizzy with excitement, like a young teenager on her first date.
“We came here with Brooke in case you were an ax murderer,” says Edith in her blunt style.
“Yeah,” is the only word Sylvia can add. His chest and chiseled abs are having a silencing effect.
“Very considerate of both of you,” he says, continuing the craziness.
He has a sense of humor.
I like that!
He can handle my lunatic friends.
I love that!
The insane conversation was interrupted by one of the women Sylvia had befriended on our way up in the elevator.
“Hey, join us. We are going into the pool!”
Edith and Sylvia stare at me like kids who want to go out and play.
“You good?” asks Sylvia, embarrassing me further.
