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As we got closer and closer to the beach, the shopping centers and residential homes morphed into towering hotels and boutique storefronts. I could see the building we were headed to on the horizon. It was recently dubbed the gem of the Miami skyline, since it had been a brand-new building created by Fredrico Escala, a world-renowned architect and visual artist.
The building spiraled around itself, with balconies that all had private and breathtaking views of the city and ocean below it. It was a mostly glass facade, but something else that made it stand out was the blast of green foliage that grew up through the building’s exterior. And it wasn’t just potted plants either. There were full-grown trees growing thirty floors aboveground. And the rooftop deck also featured a beautiful garden next to a world-class pool.
We parked our cars a street away and walked over to the towering green structure. Fox was talking about how he met the hacker as we checked in at the concierge desk inside of the opulent lobby, all polished white marble and trimmed gold highlights throughout, with three palm trees thriving in the center.
I tried listening to Fox, but now that I was out of the confines of my car and in his orbit, all I could think was holy shit, I really wanted this man.
“Right this way,” the security guard said after we were checked in. He led us to the elevator bays. There, he pressed his key card to a pad on the wall and the elevator door opened. We stepped inside and he pressed the floor we were heading to.
“Penthouse?” I said, a little surprised.
“She hit it big trading Bitcoins.”
“Got it.”
I tried not to think about how good Fox smelled, but, well, I was failing.
The elevator door opened up directly into a warmly decorated foyer. There was a large Andy Warhol hung up on the wall behind a black leather love seat, and a golden side table holding an interesting statue of what appeared to be a dog standing on human legs.
“Hey, guys.”
Standing in between a pair of polished wooden doors that led into the rest of the penthouse was Ayana, smiling with a dewy bottle of beer in her hand. She was wearing an oversized black T-shirt with a Captain America shield on the front, with a leather belt cinched at her waist. She was tall, her Afro adding a couple of inches to her height. If she weren’t a hacker, I was sure Ayana could walk some kind of fashion show and do just fine, although she definitely didn’t strike me as the heels type.
“Ayana, you’re looking great today.” Fox stepped forward, Ayana coming in with her arms outstretched for a hug. “As always.”
“Nice save there, Fox.”
She looked at me, light brown eyes assessing me from head to toe. “And this? Your new partner? Hi there. Ayana.” She held out a slender hand.
“Jonah,” I said, matching her smile, shaking her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Jonah. Last time Fox came here, I told him he needed a partner. Just felt it about him. Didn’t think he’d find one of the finest in the bunch.”
I chuckled, surprised by the compliment. It was a trend throughout most of my life, when people would call me cute or handsome, and I’d look in the mirror sometime after and never see what they saw. Made me weird around compliments, never sure how to handle them.
“You two have some seriously strong energy going on. Like there is a pull between you two,” Ayana said, stepping back and looking between me and Fox, a hand to her neck. “I see it clear as day. Not saying you two need to get down or anything. But there’s something going on. Just saying.”
I was about to say “yeah, I know,” but I swallowed the words instead. Fox, too, was silent.
Ayana arched a knowing brow and laughed. “All right, I get it. Come in, come.”
She turned, taking a sip from her beer as she led us through the doors and into her penthouse proper.
Instantly, I was impressed. The place looked like a homey art museum, with floor-to-ceiling windows all around the living room that allowed for an awe-inspiring view of Miami Beach, the calm expanse of blue ocean contrasting with the concrete blast of the city encroaching on it.
There was sparse furnishing, but what was there felt meaningful and also looked comfortable. The couch was a slate leather that was chunky and screamed out a constant invitation to take a nap on it, while the slick, modern black stone coffee table in front of it looked more expensive than my car.
“Welcome, boys. Make yourselves at home.”
Ayana walked over to the concrete island that separated a kitchen that would make any professional chef weep tears of joy. There was a steel bucket on the center of the island, a bottle of champagne sitting tilted in the center. She set her beer down, grabbed the champagne bottle, tilted away from us, and a loud fizzy pop followed soon after.
