Human Nature 3
The Lounge
The lounge was buried three floors below a nameless building in Midtown, a place where the music was always too loud, the lights too low, and the drinks too expensive for anyone who wasn’t somebody. Neon strips glowed along mirrored walls, smoke from a dozen brands of cigarettes and something less legal curling toward the ceiling.
Wall Street’s golden boys had claimed the back corner, a nest of Armani suits and loosened ties. The table was a battlefield of empty glasses, crumpled bills, and stray lines of cocaine glittering in the low light.
Luke sat apart from the worst of it, nursing a drink, his boyish face flushed. He’d been thinking about the ring burning a hole in his pocket all night. Melissa deserved better than this scene, better than him throwing his bonus away on overpriced bourbon and bad decisions.
“You’re quiet tonight, Luke,” one of the traders laughed, shoving another drink toward him. “Don’t tell me you’re actually falling in love.”
Luke managed a weak smile. “Thinking about it.”
Before the table could erupt in mockery, the room shifted. The music didn’t stop, the dancers didn’t falter, but a presence had entered, and everyone felt it.
Gordon Vance strolled into the lounge like he owned it, and maybe he did. His suit was midnight black, perfectly cut, not a speck of lint or rain on him despite the weather outside. His hair gleamed like a raven’s wing under the neon. He didn’t just walk, he glided into the room, drawing everyone to him.