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“Who is he?”
“That, my friend, is the elusive Graham Hoffman.”
5
As soon as the doors close on Claire’s Nissan Maxima, I turn to her in a hurry. “How do you know that man?” I ask. “What did you say his name was? Graham?”
“How doyouknow him?” she counters, while starting the ignition. She puts the car in reverse and backs out of the parking spot—nearly hitting the parked car behind her.
“Use your mirrors, woman!”
“Which ones?”
“Any of them!”
“No, they are distracting.”
My eyes snap over to look at her. Is she for real? “Remind me why I let you drive?”
“Because you know I’m the way better driver. Now quit changing the subject and answer the question.”
“He’s the mystery man I met outside at the mansion. He was a lot friendlier that night, though. Tonight, he acted like he didn’t even know me.”
“That man is trouble, Angie. Trouble.”
“He practically told me the same thing,” I admit.
“Then listen. I don’t know him well. But I’ve heard about him from some of the other girls in the agency. You do not need that type of drama in your life. And drama follows that man.”
“Is he connected with anything Tracy was saying?”
“No, that girl just likes to rile everyone up for no reason other than she is bored. It’s as if she walks around acting a fool in case someone is scouting out contestants for the latest reality show.”
“Well, I don’t need to worry about him, right? It is the man that chooses which girls to date from the database, not the other way around. And if tonight was any indication, I’m pretty sure Graham will be avoiding me like the plague.”
“Maybe it’s better that way,” she says with a shrug.
“Yeah,” I agree. It probably is better that way. I really do not need drama in my life right now. I need to focus. But what I really need is a reason to write.
“That was my first time coming face-to-face with him,” Claire admits. “I have only heard about him. And I would have remembered his smug face at the mixer events. He mustn’t typically go to them.”
“Well, it’s as if I met a completely different person tonight.”
“Let’s put this behind us and enjoy the rest of our evening,” Claire suggests. “It’s Monday night after all.”
She parks the car in front of our townhouse, and we both hop out. The air feels considerably colder. I look up at the night sky and see nothing but hazy gray. I miss being away from all of the light pollution. I miss the stars.
Claire opens the door, and we make our way upstairs. Relieved to be home, I change into more comfortable clothes and freshen up.
At 7:30 p.m., the doorbell rings. I run downstairs and open the door to find Blake standing on the platform with a paper bag in hand. We haven’t seen each other since last semester, as most students go home instead of continuing to work like Claire and I have always done.
“The party has arrived!” he announces, enveloping me into his signature bear hug. I show him into the kitchen area where the food trays are being set up. He slips past me and unloads all the makings for cocktails onto the counter.
“Looking regal in the gray sweats, Angie. I’m a fan.”
I ruffle his black, professionally dyed hair, earning an exaggerated sigh. If only I was his type. What a catch! But, like most too-good-looking men, he bats for the other team. Most of the campus’s broad squad have tried to turn him, as if it is an elective class.
Claire joins us in the kitchen just as the doorbell rings again. Pattering across the hardwood, I open the door, allowing Zander and Resa inside.
