Golden Boy

T E N

By the time we made it out of the Columbus Circle station, the sun had shifted behind the buildings, indicating that it was already past its peak. That was the thing about daylight saving—it made every day feel like it was ending by 4 pm. It was only a little past 12 pm, which meant we had about three hours to kill before we had to be back for the order. 

We backtracked all the way to the parking garage and I was still amazed by how all of the workers ignored us when we waltzed into their establishment and drove away in Bev's car. Traffic picked up downtown since it was Saturday. It took us twenty minutes to reach our next destination, which was an apartment building in the west village. It was one of those high rise luxury buildings with a doorman and valet—the kind that required a minimum income of 7-figures.  

"Who are we visiting?" I probed. 

"A friend," Bev responded, giving me no more information. It was hard not feeling like a burden with these two even though it was never my idea to join them. 

We had to sign in at the desk and it wasn't until the security guard called the tenant, were we allowed to go upstairs. The building reminded me of a really expensive hotel, the kind where everything was made of glass and breakable. Even the elevator felt luxurious. Bev pressed the top floor button that required a passcode to go along with it. On the 50th floor, the elevator doors opened straight into someone's living room. 

I stepped into the apartment of my dreams. 20-foot ceilings, an open kitchen concept with a massive island, floor to ceiling windows that made you feel like you were in the clouds. I was immediately jealous of anyone who got to live here. 

The guys stepped off the elevator and walked into the living room, making themselves comfortable on the couch. I walked through the apartment much slower, taking in all of the decorative art pieces. Everything was modern chic and felt like it came straight out of Vogue magazine. I could tell it was a woman's apartment by the decor pieces. The clean, crisp patterns and the neutral colors with a touch of a baby pink, was the exact aesthic that I was obsessed with and everything in this apartment fit in that box. 

"Maggie! Are you gonna come greet us anytime soon? Or do you normally let just anyone into your apartment?" Jace yelled out, settling deeper into the white couch and putting his feet up on the wooden coffee table. Bev perched on his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. I stood next to the windows gazing at life passing down on the street, mesmerized by the fast pace of NYC.

"How about you start calling before your visits, that way I can be ready. You can not expect me to always be presentable and available for you at your beck and call, Jace." 

I shifted from the window to see a gorgeous young woman, maybe a little older than us, with bright platinum shoulder-length hair and striking blue eyes that I could feel piercing me from the distance between us. She looked like the kind of person who lived in this apartment. 

She floated to where Jace and Bev sat and they both sprung up to hug her in greeting. I noticed how Jace's demeanor shifted with Maggie. An element of his Golden Boy persona peaked through—the charming, carefree easy to be around Jace was back, but I could tell it wasn't an act like before. He was relaxed in her presence to the point where his contagious smile was present and thriving. Even Bev's usual tense and strict nature eased up. They all sunk into the plush couch catching up like old friends did.

Maggie turned to me, acknowledging my presence for the first time. "What's your name, sweetheart?" She eyed me down, a frown forming on her lips. I was already intimated by her and its been two minutes. 

"Elliot," I offered moving to perch on the arm of the couch that faced her. 

"Mags, this is who we mentioned to you before," said Jace, the smile wiping away from his face.