Chapter 1
Saturday morning, August 7th, 2021
Day 1.
7:32 AM.
The soft patter of Quinn Black’s alarm clock woke him from the dream.
“Holy crap.”
Quinn wished the dream would last forever. He slumped off the mattress and fumbled against the cold metallic bed frame before he found his footing.
Layers of dirty clothes covered the floor in a jungle of disarray, hiding a humble yet otherwise respectable bachelor pad.
That summed up his life: an otherwise respectable bachelor hidden by the clutter of his life.
The next ten minutes blurred together, but Quinn managed to reach his car fully clothed, wrinkled but in one piece. Quinn was able to skate by in an ill-fitting black suit that needed to be dry cleaned because he was a “relatively young” professional. He glanced at the window’s reflection and felt as disheveled on the inside as he looked on the outside. His chestnut, brown hair appeared combed, but a few out-of-place strands spoke the truth.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Quinn muttered to himself as he stared at his neighbor’s expensive new candy-apple colored Beemer. It rested just far enough in front of Quinn’s narrow driveway to block a clean exit from his garage.
Quinn stood dazed until the adrenaline racing through his veins forced him to move forward.
“Taxi!” he shouted as a yellow checkered car approached.
The taxi drove past him. The passenger’s rear window silhouette shrunk as the taxi grew more distant. Quinn sighed.
Why did this city have to ban Uber? he thought.
The traffic slowed. Quinn’s heart throttled against his rib cage. A bead of sweat trickled from his brow and disappeared into the blades of grass crouching over his feet. Quinn checked the time.
Quinn had left the disorganized jungle of his room for the urban jungle of New York. He was often lonely in the crowds, but the familiarity of the concrete, buildings, and people offered him a kind of safety and security only the city gave him.
Moments later, another taxi approached: an unkempt forty-year-old classic. The driver slammed on the brakes, throwing him forward. It reminded Quinn of one of those vintage crash-test dummy commercials. His heart sank.
Quinn opened the door and pulled out his phone. The screen turned black. He shook his head and took another deep breath. “You don’t happen to have a phone I could borrow, do you?”
The short, portly driver nodded.
Quinn dialed a number. “Good morning. Robert’s and Son’s. How can I help you?”“Meredith, this is Quinn. May I speak to Logan?”“One moment, please.”Meredith wasn’t Quinn’s favorite executive assistant, but he was always polite to her. The glimmer in her eyes and the tilt in her head convinced him she gossiped about him behind his back. She always wore a dark pantsuit and slightly teased her blonde hair, which hinted at her Jersey background, even though she did her best to suppress it.
All Quinn knew about Meredith was that she had a son who was Quinn’s age, mid-thirties, but Quinn never understood why Logan had hired her. He tried not to think about her. The morning was already bad enough.
“Logan, it’s Quinn. I’ll be a few minutes late. I’ve got an issue in my driveway, so I had to catch a taxi. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Fugget about it,” Logan said in his thick, New York accent.
Logan was the kind of boss every employee wanted: kind, understanding, and brilliant with people. He was only a few years older than Quinn but was the most effective networker he had ever seen.
The first time Quinn saw Logan in action, he was inspired. He made the bold move to work free as an intern. Logan said no at first, but Quinn persisted. That impressed him, so he hired Quinn a few weeks later.
At that time in Quinn’s life, Logan was everything Quinn wanted to be. Logan had money and style. People fawned over his subtle, half-Japanese, half-Italian features as much as his power. Every suit Quinn bought for work, he modeled after Logan and asked himself if Logan would wear it.
Quinn hung up. The cell phone tumbled from his hand and onto the car floor. He reached for it. Just then, the taxi drove over a monster pothole. The front tire fell into the abyss and lost contact with the pavement. His face grimaced, and his brown hair rocked forward from the impact.
Quinn’s stomach sank just like it had when he used to ride rollercoasters as a kid. The front tire hit the bottom of the hole, followed by the rear. The driver’s tummy jiggled as they halted to a complete stop. Quinn’s head smacked into the seat in front of him. Quinn instinctively grabbed the back of his neck. “Drop me off at the corner,” Quinn said.
The driver slammed on his brakes. Quinn grimaced. He felt around his empty pockets. A wave of nausea washed over him. Quinn patted himself down. His wallet was gone.
More beads of sweat trickled down Quinn’s pale face. The driver stared at Quinn, expressionless. Quinn flinched. The driver shook his head.
“This is going to sound bad.”
The driver squinted. Blood pulsated through Quinn’s veins.
“No. No,” the driver said.
“Wait. I can explain…”
Moments later, the driver signaled to a nearby police officer, wearing the familiar blue NYPD uniform with the badge number 732. Quinn’s heart jumped. The officer tapped the window.
“Officer Channing,” a faint, fuzzy voice spoke over his walkie.
“Can you step out of the car, sir?” Officer Channing said.
Quinn’s stomach turned. His pulse raced, and then he took a deep breath.
“Officer, I can explain. My wallet must’ve fallen out of my pocket, maybe when I hopped into the taxi. I have cash in my office. If you let me get it, I can pay for the fare. I can call my boss, Logan. He’s in that building.”
The building stood quiet. A cloud of vapor that rose from its stoic foundation and muted the shiny exterior glass.
“He can vouch for me,” Quinn said.
Quinn’s heart hammered in his chest while Officer Channing ran Quinn’s social security number through his computer.
“Look. He’s right over there,” Quinn said as he pointed at Logan who was wearing a stylish pin-striped suit and motioned for Logan to come over once they caught each other’s eyes.
After the signal changed, Logan hurried across the street, a tall, lanky figure dressed in black that was hard to miss in the crowd.
Quinn’s underwhelming life had preoccupied his thoughts over the past week. Maybe that’s why he had dreamed about her. Cameron’s perfect lips took shape in his mind.
Back then, Quinn thought he had all the answers, except when it came to people. If someone asked him anything about the card game Magic, it was impossible to shut him up, but put him in front of a girl, and his face heated up like a sauna while his stomach did belly flips.
The first time they met, Cameron smiled at him. They sat on the pier and dangled their feet in the lake. Her white summer dress and the bow she tied around the back of it accentuated her feminine features. Her angelic, auburn hair absorbed the light from the water. Quinn felt awkward by comparison in a plain t-shirt and khaki shorts.
Cameron spoke first. Butterflies swarmed around Quinn’s insides. All he could do was stare.
“How long have you lived here?” Cameron asked.
“A while. My dad moved us here when I was five, so like nine or ten years ago, I think,” Quinn replied.