To get in, they first had to navigate the massive throng outside Breakers. Because the nightclub was set apart from the rest of the resort at the edge of that cliff, there was no protection from the whipping winds or the raucous crowd outside.
Rather than continue to battle through people inside the ropes to the bouncer, they changed tactics and went to a side entrance, where Ryan banged on the door. Eventually a dishwasher opened it, looking put out.
“LAPD,” Ryan said, flashing his badge. “Official police business—let us in please.”
The dishwasher seemed a little skeptical when he caught sight of Kat in her cocktail dress, but said nothing and held the door open for them. They passed through the kitchen, wending their way past the staff and glass racks, until they reached the swinging doors that led to the club proper. The heavy bass from the music was making Jessie’s chest vibrate.
“Ready?” Ryan shouted so as to be heard over the noise. “Everyone put in your ear buds and we’ll start a group call to stay in touch. Let’s find The Cove entrance as fast as we can. The longer we’re up here, the more people are likely to recognize Jessie, and the harder it will be to do our job.”
Jessie knew he wasn’t blaming her but it felt a little that way. She said nothing. When Ryan was focused on a mission, in this case finding and questioning Matt Darcy, he got a bit single-minded and social graces took a backseat. It was part of what made him such a great detective, but it was occasionally off-putting in a romantic partner. Of course, she could often be the same way so she was in no position to complain.
Once the call connected and they could all hear each other, they stepped through the kitchen doors and into the kaleidoscopic “Willy Wonka on psychedelics” world that was Breakers. The music, EDM from about a decade ago, was like a heavy aural blanket thrown over Jessie’s head. The place looked like it had been designed by a toddler version of Jackson Pollock, with paint splashes all over the walls and the floor, occasionally interspersed with what looked to be a child’s drawings of imaginary sea creatures. Disco balls shot rays of light everywhere and images of crashing waves were projected on the already busy walls, making it seem like the waves themselves were vomiting up entire boxes of crayons. It was incredibly disorienting and Jessie felt mildly nauseated.
The three of them split up. Jessie immediately hurried away from the lights of the dance floor. The decision was two-fold. First, she feared she was on the verge of a migraine. Secondly, she doubted the entrance to The Cove would be in such a visible, highly populated area. As she moved, she could hear Ryan talking through her ear buds but it was hard to make out everything he was saying—something about going to the bar.
She finally steered through the revelers, reaching the edge of the dance floor, where she had a better view. The club seemed to have all kinds of hallways, leading to side rooms and alcoves. She started down the hallway closest to her, hoping to get lucky.
But as she peeked into different nooks, all she found were people sitting or standing at tables, drinking and shouting to be heard over the music. She circled the entire club without seeing any room that screamed “entrance to secret, exclusive club here.”
“I’m not having any luck,” she heard Ryan bellow through her earpiece.
“Me either,” Kat added.
“I’m coming up empty so far too,” Jessie informed them.
“I think we should reach out to Hugo Cosgrove,” Ryan suggested. “Maybe he can just have someone help us.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” she shouted back. “We’ll probably need his help to get in anyway. I’d rather not use our LAPD bona fides as a cudgel to get in. That might draw more attention than we want.”
“Hold on,” Ryan said. “I’ll try to loop him into the call and then bring you guys back on. Putting you on hold briefly.”
While she waited, Jessie decided it was good time for a bathroom break, where it might be quieter and she could give her unsettled nervous system a little reprieve from the visual and aural assault it was facing. She found the restrooms and her heart immediately sank.
As usual, while the line for the men’s room was non-existent, the one for the ladies’ room extended out the door and well down the hallway.
“Do you know if there’s another restroom?” she asked the last woman in line, a blonde who was swaying slightly.
“There’s one on the other side of the club,” the blonde slurred,” but that line is even longer than this one.”
Jessie sighed and resigned herself to a long wait. She leaned against the wall, willing herself not to feel ill. But after a few seconds with nothing to focus on but her upset stomach, she gave up and started moving again.
Just down the hall, in a darkened recess set back a little, she notice a black curtain, and had a resurgence of hope. Maybe she’d found the secret entrance to The Cove. But once she pulled it back, she saw that it was just a gender neutral restroom.
Though she was disappointed, she still would have been all over if it didn’t have an “out of order” sign on it. Then again, as unsettled as she felt, she considered taking advantage of it anyway. After all, if the toilet was already broken, what harm was there in throwing up in the bowl?
As she debated the social ethics of that choice, another question entered her head. Why was there a curtain hiding a gender neutral restroom? There was no need for that kind of discretion these days now that bathrooms like this were ubiquitous.
Maybe there’s another reason for the curtain.
It occurred to her that an out-of-order restroom was something folks would want to steer well clear of. It was also exactly the kind of place no one would think might be the entrance to a secret club. But if party-goers saw multiple people entering the restroom despite the sign, they might get curious. That would explain the curtain.
Jessie glanced around to see if anyone was looking her way. Nobody was paying any attention to the ashen-skinned, thirty-year-old in non-club attire, so she ducked behind the curtain. She tugged on the door handle but it was locked, which made perfect sense if it was actually out of order.
Of course it also made sense if management didn’t want just anyone traipsing into a place intended for VIPs. She knocked on the door and waited. Nothing happened, which wasn’t a shock if it really was out of order. Still, she knocked again, louder this time.
“Find another bathroom,” a gruff male voice said, “maintenance is working on this one.”
Though the reply was reasonable, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d stumbled onto something.
“Please,” she pleaded, “I feel like I’m going to throw up. I just need someplace quiet to regroup. The ladies’ room line is so long.”
Though she still didn’t feel great, her curiosity was temporarily pushing her physical discomfort to the backseat.
“Go outside,” the man instructed.
Jessie was almost certain the guy was covering.
“Hey guys, are you hearing this?” she whispered into her ear bud.
“I think Ryan’s still trying to reach Hugo,” Kat answered. “But I am. You’re using your ‘I think I found something’ voice. What’s up?”
“I think I found something,” Jessie replied. “Why don’t you come on over? I’m on the west side of the club, just beyond the ladies’ room. There’s an out-of-order gender neutral bathroom hidden behind a curtain that’s making my Spidey-sense tingle big time.”