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When we pulled up in front of the white art deco, high-rise apartment building where Gabriel and I would be staying, Phoenix said, “Wow, this is nice.”
It really was. We climbed out of the SUV, and while our friends helped us unload our luggage, I asked Phoenix, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us?”
“I’m sure. I moved my reservation to a cute bed and breakfast for the next three weeks, and I’m looking forward to it.” Phoenix put my duffle bag on the sidewalk and told me, “Will has to be on-set at nine tomorrow morning for a meeting with the director, so I’m picking him up at his hotel at eight-thirty. I know you’re not scheduled until ten, but if you want a ride and don’t mind going in early, I can swing by and pick you up first. My B and B is just a few blocks from here.”
“That’d be great. I’d love some time to get set up and check out the new location.”
We thanked Phoenix for the ride, and after we all said goodnight and our friends drove off, Gabriel sent a text. Then he told me, “I just messaged Roger, and he’ll be right down. He said he was airing out the apartment, since it’s been closed up for the last month.”
I didn’t know why that name made me picture a skinny little nerd, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. A tall guy whose dark suit barely contained his giant shoulders, chest, and arms stepped out of the building after a minute, and Gabriel exclaimed, “There he is!”
I asked, “What exactly does he do for your friends?”
“He’s Alastair’s former bodyguard and their head of security.”
Before I could ask why his friends needed either of those things, Gabriel rushed to meet him. Roger grabbed him in a hug and said, “’Ello gorgeous,” as he lifted him off his feet. Gabriel and I were the same height, and since he looked tiny compared to this guy, I knew right away I was going to suffer by comparison.
Even so, I tried to stand tall as Gabriel led his ex-boyfriend over to me and said, “Roger Foster, meet Riley Palma.” Close up, I realized this guy only had about three inches on me, but he also had the mass of a small planet.
Roger crushed my hand as he shook it and said, with a thick British accent, “Pleasure to meet you, mate.” Even though his tone was friendly, I couldn’t help but notice he sized me up carefully. That was probably his bodyguard training coming into play.
Between the three of us, we managed to get all the luggage inside and onto the elevator in one trip. Gabriel punched in a code to access our floor, and when I glanced at him, he explained, “I lived here for a while.”
Once we reached the apartment, Roger unlocked the door, then handed Gabriel a set of keys. We dropped our stuff in the foyer, and I wandered into the living room and muttered, “Holy shit.”
The massive apartment was like something out of a movie with its open and modern layout, expensive-looking artwork, and elegant furnishings. Instead of lingering and taking it in, I went straight to the open glass door at the far side of the living room and stepped out onto the wide balcony. The view of San Francisco’s iconic skyline took my breath away.
Gabriel joined me a few moments later and said, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
He stood right beside me and leaned against the railing as I muttered, “There are no words.”
“It’s funny that you went right to this. The balcony was always my favorite spot when I lived here.”
“I can see why.” San Francisco was notoriously expensive, and an apartment like this would be, what? A million dollars? Probably a lot more. I just had to ask, “How can your friends afford a place like this?” How could anyone afford it?
“Alastair’s family is loaded. They own a department store in London, along with several manufacturing facilities. That probably makes him sound like he’s spoiled, but he works hard to run the family business, and his husband Sawyer runs a very successful chain of coffee houses.”
“Wait. Is Sawyer’s last name MacNeil?” When Gabriel nodded, I said, “A Sawyer MacNeil’s opened in West Hollywood last year, and it’s one of my favorite hangouts. How on earth do you know these people?”
“I met Sawyer back before the coffee houses and the rich husband. We hit it off right away, since we have a lot in common. He did burlesque with me for a while, and we used to visit thrift shops together looking for costumes and vintage lingerie.”
“And now he’s a coffee mogul.”
“Basically.”
I asked, “Has the money changed him?”
“Not at all. He’s always been a genuinely kind person, and so is Alastair.” He grinned and added, “Well, Sawyer has changed in one way. He buys his lingerie in Paris now, instead of the thrift store. Can’t say I blame him.”
