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1
JAMIE
It was almost that time again, and I dreaded it. I wondered if anyone else had such an intense disdain for their birthday… Probably not. Not normal people, anyway. The approaching date always casted a shadow over my mood. I’d grown accustomed to the weight of sadness that accompanied the day I was born but my friends hadn’t. They all arrived like they did every year to ensure that I had fun leading up to the big day.
I watched from my penthouse apartment as a sleek black limousine stopped in front of the portico and the liveried chauffeur stepped out. I stood far enough away from the window. Despite my choice of a top-floor apartment, I was afraid of heights. My feet on steady ground usually quelled that fear though.
I took a sip from the glass of Stroh I’d been nursing—the third one since I decided not to go into the office this morning. As my friends came out one by one with travel bags, I snorted my amusement. I bet the limo was Alex’s doing. He was extra like that.
From this far up, they looked like ants, but I could imagine the smiles they each wore… Well, except for Michael, who brooded more than he smiled. We had that in common. I already felt the comfort that being around my four closest friends brought. My cell vibrated, and I pulled it out of my pocket. As I squinted, I saw Lincoln craning his neck to look up at the building as if he knew I was watching, so I knew it was him calling.
“Hey,” I answered.
“Hey, man. We’re here. You’re staring out the window brooding and drinking something strong, aren’t you?”
“That’s exactly what he’s doing,” I heard Spencer say.
My friends knew me well. Still, I lied. “No.”
Lincoln’s snort rang with skepticism. “Uh-huh. We’re on our way up.”
They moved up the sidewalk and disappeared inside. Security already knew to lead them to the private elevator that led to my apartment, so I just waited. Minutes later, the swish of the elevator doors opening announced my visitors. The tiniest smile lifted my lips as I put my glass on the nearest table and headed toward the lobby. Lincoln Ford, former NFL superstar, now sports agent to some of the biggest athletes, rounded the corner first. His green eyes sparkled with excitement when he saw me.
Behind him was Spencer Beaumont, a.k.a the prince… really. His family came from a royal bloodline across the pond, but he went to great lengths to hide it. We started calling him the prince because of the British accent. He dropped his luggage, raked his fingers through his chestnut brown hair, and blew out a breath. “It’s hot enough out there to boil a cuppa on the pavement!”
I guess July in Seattle didn’t get as hot as in Manhattan.
“A what? We’ve been friends for over a decade, and I still don’t know what you’re saying half the time.” Alexander Knight smirked as he addressed Spencer. He was the youngest of us five and such a genius that he started Harvard at seventeen years old. That’s where we all met.
“He means a cup of tea,” Michael Hayes translated. He was richer than Croesus and a professional scowler… as Alex liked to say. Michael dropped his bag next to Spencer’s. When he spotted me, his typical stoney expression softened a little. “Hey, man.”
My smile grew a tad as I stepped forward to engage in a series of “heys” and manly, affectionate pats on the shoulders. “You guys are early,” I said.
“We figured we shouldn’t give you too much time to plunge into brooding,” Alex replied, aiming for the living room.
“That and for once, Mr. Can’t-Keep-It-In-His-Pants over there…” Lincoln pointed to Alex, “wasn’t late picking us up at the airport because he was shacked up with his flavor of the month.”
Chuckling, I grabbed my glass and flopped down onto a sofa. Having company in my otherwise quiet and lonely apartment was already cheering me up. Alex lived in Boston. Since he was the closest to me, he usually reached New York first and picked up the others who flew in from Seattle and Los Angeles.
“Is the football star jealous that a non-athlete has more game with the ladies than he does?” Alex gave Lincoln his signature grin as he got behind the bar and got busy. He was a tech genius and our mixologist.
Lincoln gave him a dirty look but took a seat at the bar to await whatever concoction Alex had learned to make this year. Michael did the same while Spencer moved to the windows to look out. He was the creative type, so he was probably working up a poem or song lyrics in his head about the picturesque view or something. He then turned to us. “So, what are we doing this year?”
“Yeah, we haven’t discussed it,” Michael said. “Maybe Alex can decide. He’s probably familiar with every club and tittie bar on the east coast.”
“I probably am,” Alex drawled as he slid Lincoln a glass filled with golden brown liquid.
“He has no shame,” Spencer remarked.
I stayed quiet and listened as the guys planned a week of keep-Jamie-from-spiraling-into-despair. I was accustomed to having things planned for me. My entire life was mapped out before I was born. James Winchester would fall in line to follow a path that would lead him to take over the family business and one day take a suitable bride to continue the Winchester legacy.
However, my friends planning fun activities wasn’t the same as my father demanding I give in to social expectations. My entire life was about conforming to social expectations, and it got tiring. While a part of me wanted to stay locked in my apartment to suffer in silence, I needed a break from my life. My friends helped me get that reprieve every year.
“Forget getting wasted at clubs,” Lincoln said. “This year, for Jamie’s birthday, we’re going to Hawaii.”
I glanced at him. That was different. “What’s in Hawaii?”
“Other than the sun and gorgeous beaches? Pacific Paradise Resort.”
