Social Neighbor (The Social Series Book 1) (5 page)

Flor

Fresh Air

I
couldn’t take it anymore. That’s what I knew for an absolute fact as I listened to his music blaring through the walls that morning. I dragged myself to work in a foul mood and that was no way to start my day. Especially not with everything that had been going on at work. My weekend went by entirely too fast but the work week hadn’t followed suit. It dragged by painfully slow and it was no wonder why. The tension in the office was palpable. No one knew what to make of the big change coming to the magazine and none of us were inclined to discuss it much. I had taken the opportunity to blabber on to my mom about it. She did the thing moms do—she reassured me and put a positive spin on it every chance she got. God love her for it.

The only perk about today was that it was Friday and I had a date with Matt. He’d been extra attentive and encouraging lately, and it wasn’t just because my job was in jeopardy or that my books were at a stand still or that our neighbor had a special knack for pissing me off.

He knew exactly how hard this time of year always was on me, and I loved him even more for holding my hand through it without ever mentioning a word about the past or why this time of year sucked for me.

My cell phone chirped, notifying me of a new text. I swiped the screen and smiled at the picture message Matt sent me. It was a picture of my favorite bottle of wine with a text beneath it.

Matty: Pregame. Get your pretty ass home so we can be ready early. <3

Me: K. :) On my way.

I slipped my flats on under my desk and gathered my things, looking forward to the weekend off with Matt.

“Where are we going tonight? Want to go to the lounge and relax?” I asked before downing the rest of my wine, thinking that the jazz lounge with low lighting and a relaxed atmosphere sounded just right.

“I’m in a dancing mood. How about that new place I was telling you about. Cal said it was pretty cool.”
Cal
. The most recent “friend” of Matt’s. I hadn’t asked him much about what was developing or not developing between them, but for now his social media relationship status was still “single.”

“I heard it’s still a madhouse every night because it’s only been open for a few weeks.”

“True. We could check out both of them.”

“Okay, let’s do that. Do we have enough cash?” I asked, both of us taking inventory of the contents of our wallets. “I have eighty-six.”

“I have the two-hundred I withdrew at lunch today. We’re good. Let’s go.”

If Matt weren’t gay, I’d marry him. He’s a thoughtful, fun loving man who truly had my heart. I’d do anything for him and I knew for certain he felt the same about me.

Despite it being a Friday night, the lounge was dull. Too dull. We stayed long enough to order a drink each and then we headed in the direction of the new club on 45th that Matt had been itching to check out. He’d said it was called Club Four-19.

Just as I suspected, it was a madhouse, but the line to get in wasn’t horrible. Matt and I leaned against the gray brick exterior of the building, inching closer to the entrance as club goers were let in.

A black SUV came to a stop right in front, drawing my attention as Matt fussed with his hair distractedly.

“Holy. Shit,” I breathed, instantly recognizing Goliath, Mr. Stone. He unfolded his large frame from the passenger side of the SUV and began making his way to the entrance.

He was wearing a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing the hollow at the base of his neck. His face was clean-shaven, displaying a sharp jawline matching the rest of his features perfectly.

“What’s wrong with you?” Matt whispered, leaning in close.

“Goliath.” It was all I could force out as I watched him shamelessly making the short walk from the curb to the front door of Club Four-19. His gaze swung right and landed on me standing there in line looking like an idiot with my mouth slightly open.

The lighting where I stood wasn’t the brightest, but I was certain he’d seen me. I
felt
that he saw me.

I could have been imagining things, but something passed between us and I could have sworn that his eyes squinted marginally before he kept on going, eventually disappearing into the club and its pulsing music.

Did he recognize me too?

“Do you know him?”

“What? No. Well, kind of. He’s the guy from the gallery last week. The benefactor that I pretended to know…” I trailed off, not knowing how else to summarize the Goliath and our brief encounter. Both of them. I’d chosen not to tell Matt about seeing him at Indigo because he would have asked why I didn’t insist on staying at the club that night, and I’d be forced to remind him that I’d left because he got a text from Cal. He clearly had something developing with Cal. I had nothing developing with the Goliath.

“Well, he’s definitely a goliath. A
hot
goliath,” Matt rectified on a mumble, looking after where he had disappeared into the building.

“He smelled great too,” I confessed, smiling mischievously. Matt snort-laughed in response, earning my elbow to his ribcage.

“This line needs to move like five minutes ago. I need a drink.” Matt rocked up on his tiptoes to see above the line in front of us.

“Yeah. I need to pee.”

“We’re getting closer,” he announced while I dug tinted lip gloss from the wristlet hanging on my arm. I told myself that I was merely reapplying. That was the trouble with lip gloss. It never stayed on very long. I wasn’t reapplying because a certain man just breezed into the same club I was about to be in too.

No. That had nothing to do with it.

I could feel the slight blush rise to my cheeks as I lied to myself. The likelihood that I would see him in a packed multilevel club was slim.

But still…

A bald black man wearing a suit and an ear piece at the front of the line leaned in and said something to the other door attendant then stepped out and scanned the line.

Please don’t shut the doors now
.

His dark eyes seemed to land on me and I looked to Matt confused as he made his way right for us.

“Follow me, please,” he ordered in a deep voice.

Matt shrugged and slipped his arm around my waist as the attendant lifted the velvet rope for us. We followed him through the doors into the club, and I was instantly taken by the atmosphere. It wasn’t your typical strobe lights, thumping music, sticky floors and humid must heavy with about a thousand different perfumes and colognes.

The air in here felt fresh and light. The floors weren’t sticky with grime and spilled drinks. The music was clear and loud. The lighting was spectacular. Cosmic. I tilted my head up to gaze at the soaring ceiling above the large dance floor on the main level. Pinpoint blue-white lights seemed to hang suspended against a pitch-black backdrop. The tiny lights all gave off varying intensities of light.

The night sky.

The walls were lined with crushed-velvet-upholstered booths designed for comfort; the lighting made the color of the upholstery a mystery. They could have been dark blue, dark purple or even black, but the wall above the booths made it impossible to tell for sure. Above each booth was a huge backlit image of nebulas in every vibrant color. Blue, green, purple, pink, orange, gold…

This place was remarkable. Opulent.

“Whoa,” I said, leaning close to Matt’s ear.

“Whoa is right. No wonder Cal wouldn’t shut up about this place.”

“This way,” the door attendant said over his shoulder. He led us around the perimeter of the dance floor and up a wide split staircase leading to a second level that overlooked the first level.

Our escort came to a halt at a booth at the far side of the loft slash balcony level and waved his arm outward, motioning for us to sit.

“Thanks,” Matt nodded at our escort as he took his leave.

“Who are you hooking up with these days?” I demanded incredulously.

“This isn’t me!” Matt put his hands up in surrender and shrugged.

“Does Cal know the manager or something?”

“No. I mean, he didn’t say anything like that.”

“Hmm,” I hummed, trying to figure out who we had to thank for our good fortune.

“Maybe we have been confused with someone else. Let’s just roll with it!” Matt laughed boisterously.

“Compliments of the house,” a scantily clad but beautiful Asian waitress said as she deposited two shots with limes on the small cocktail table in front of us.

“Excuse me!” I called after her as she began to leave. “Who sent these?”

“The owner, of course.”

“Of course,” I said, nodding and smiling. The moment she turned to walk away my eyes bugged out of my head at Matt. He brought one of the shot glasses to his nose and sniffed, looking amazed.

“Patrón!” he exclaimed happily. He was happy and I was most definitely getting a little freaked out. A montage of things that my mother would say about this situation swirled through my mind and, with some effort, I shoved them away.

“Cheers,” Matt sing-songed, holding his free shot of Patrón up to me. I shook my head and lifted mine for our ceremonial toast.

Clink! Clink!

Like usual, I held my breath as the tequila scorched its way to the pit of my belly. My stomach protested the alcohol for a moment, churning queasily then settled. I bit into the flesh of the lime; bitter juice flooded my mouth, replacing the taste of the tequila with citrus. I smiled broadly at Matt with the lime still held between my teeth and nearly choked when my eyes landed on the Goliath approaching our booth.

“Oh god,” I mumbled, glancing down at the table, looking desperately for a napkin to deposit my spent lime on.

He didn’t say anything, just looked down at me from his impossibly high point of view.

“Hi.” It was weak and feeble and insulting considering what was clearly generosity provided by him, but it was all I could force out.

“Hi,” he said in a low voice, a smile spreading across his mouth, displaying a gorgeous mouthful of teeth.

Of course he has a beautiful smile.

“I trust you’re enjoying yourself so far?”

“I—we are. Yes, we are—having a good time, that is. Thank you.”

“Hi. I’m Mathew Fisher,” Matt announced, thrusting his hand out to Goliath. “Flor said you were a goliath and she was right!”

“Goliath?” he asked, looking from Matt to me with one smooth, arched brow.

“Ah, well, yes.” Heat rose to my cheeks adding to the already rosy tinge the Patrón put there.

“And you are?”

“You can call me Goliath, I guess.”

An awkward silence ensued and Matt didn’t miss a beat when he slid out of his seat saying that he needed to use the bathroom.

Oh god.

I was unsure if I would thank Matt later or strangle him for his disappearing act.

“May I?”

“Yes, of course. It’s your club.”

“Yes, it is. Like it?” he asked, looking out over the space below us with a hint of pride in his dark eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” I admitted, looking at him closely despite suddenly feeling very shy.

Goliath’s jaw clenched and his eyes squinted a bit, making me feel as though he could see right through me. The air in the club no longer felt light and airy. It felt heavy and warm, suffocating, all-consuming—all in the best way possible.

“Want to get some air?” he asked finally, breaking the silence. I gave him a guarded look, communicating that walking out of the building with a stranger was breaking all the rules. “Don’t worry. We can wait for your friend. We will only be going upstairs.”

“Oh. Um. Okay.” The waitress reappeared and took away the empty shot glasses on the table, giving me a brief distraction from the dominating presence across the booth from me. “So, you’re a business man then?” I asked once she’d disappeared again.

“Yes. I own a few establishments here in Manhattan. What do you do?”

“I’m a writer—well, kind of. I work for Social She. I write the Contents section,” I said dismissively, not wanting to elaborate.

Goliath nodded, seeming to be sincerely interested, which was flattering.

“What’s your name?”

“Florence Randall. Yours?”

“Graham Stone.” Memories of seeing the name Stone on a box outside my neighbor’s door rushed back in, and I cocked my head at him.

“You don’t sell insurance in Queens, do you?”

“No. I can’t say that I’ve ever been involved in the insurance business.”

“Probably a smart move on your part. I think you’re doing okay here,” I said, nodding my head as my eyes admired our surroundings.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He flashed that gorgeous smile once more and my belly warmed again, but not because of the tequila in my system. Something told me that this goliath was going to end up being equally, if not more intoxicating, than my favorite tequila. I’d hoped that I was right.

“Where do you live?” I probed on.

“The upper eastside.”

“Oh.”

I had wanted to say, “Of course you do! You’re obviously loaded! I know the type.” But I’d bit my tongue.

“What’d I miss?” Matt asked, gliding back over to the booth. I made a mental note to thank him later. Being caught in Graham’s presence alone for too long felt heady and unnerving all at once.