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Then Felicia forced her son into the best man role and insisted on ten groomsmen. Ronnie and Franklin hadn’t wanted to make waves. With such a huge wedding party, they might not even notice we’re missing in the parade of tuxes and balloon dresses.
The back of the building is paved, and security lights help us navigate in the dark. The air is chilly and smells of rain. Yeah, that’s coming. The thunderstorms were supposed to start an hour ago.
Franklin was glad the bad weather held off so that the wedding could get underway before the deluge, but it won’t be long now.
Ensley walks fast, determined to get back in there. I glance over at her. She shoves a chunk of hair aside. Her updo has loosened after nearly falling. She was always trouble, but when I last saw her, she was barely in a training bra.
She’s definitely out of it now. Her chest heaves in the strapless dress as she struggles to keep up with me. The puffy skirt bounces around her knees.
She yelps, and I slow down. “You all right?”
She knocks a pebble off her foot. “Of course I am. I’m Ensley, everyone’s ray of freaking sunshine.” She walks even faster, as if her pace proves the point.
Franklin mentioned this facet of Ensley’s personality. Apparently Ronnie has been coaching Ensley to put a positive spin on everything. But I’m not buying it. Ensley was always a spunky, hardheaded tornado when we were kids. I would never have called hersunshine. But maybe she’s changed. I’m certainly no longer in her circles now that I’m here in Atlanta and she’s still back in Alabama.
We approach a small parking lot filled with neat rows of golf carts. I spot a small awning covering a door that is likely where golfers are given their carts before riding onto the green.
“We’ll try this door,” I say.
“It’s going to be locked.”
“I thought you were this big optimist.”
“That was before I got tossed out on my butt.”
“Did you have a plan for what might happen after you ruined Felicia’s dress?”
Her face draws into a pout. “No.”
“Didn’t you know that poking the Felicia bear was going to go badly for you?”
“Probably.”
“Were you maybe sure you could win her over with your fabulous smile?”
“Go to hell, Drew.”
That’s the Ensley I remember. I approach the door. But before I tug on the handle, I already see Ensley’s right. The golf pro shop is closed up and dark.
“We’ll have to keep going,” I say.
The stone wall is unbroken for a while, not even a window. It might be the ballroom.
I pause, listening. There’s a faint sound of music.
Ensley leans in beside me. “Is that the wedding march?”
“Yeah. See? No point in hurrying.”
She presses her ear to the bricks. “No, it’s just the sit-down music. We can make it!” She speeds up. At the corner, the pavement ends in scraggly grass bordered by a line of trees. She only takes one step before yelping again.
“Jesus, woman.”
“I’m fine. Just stickers. I won’t quit.” She takes two more steps before she’s forced to lean against the wall and pick more grass burrs out of her feet.
“Ready to give up yet?”
Her jaw clenches. “No.” She storms off again, this time refusing to stop for the stickers. “I won’t think about the pain. I’ll focus on the positive, the—”
