Drake’s a hardcore fan of any and every sport in existence. He can rattle off the stats of every player on any of the teams that are based in New York City.
I admire his commitment to cheer on his heroes.
I don’t have the time to devote to parking my ass anywhere for three hours straight unless I’m actively working.
Glancing to the left, I spot the touch screen on the wall that controls virtually everything in the apartment. There’s anotherone in the hallway, and a third installed in the main bedroom. The system is the brainchild of Drake.
He had sent me mockups when it was in the development stage. I told him I didn’t want to step into the already overcrowded space, but he was insistent on pursuing it as a personal passion project.
Scratching a brow, I study the screen.
Lights. I only want to turn on the goddamn lights in this room.
The panel is set on a timer, but there has to be a way to override that.
I punch one button, and loud classical music fills the room.
Fuck.
I tap that button to silence it before I push the button next to it.
The blinds that cover the massive windows overlooking Madison Ave open to reveal a breathtaking view of dusk settling over Manhattan.
I ignore that and yell at the damn thing, hoping that Drake followed through with his intention to integrate voice activation into the system. “Lights! Turn on the fucking lights!”
Warm light fills the space.
Shaking my head, I look around.
Everything is exactly as I left it a few hours ago when I headed to the Lower East Side. Cabbott Mobile’s New York office is housed there.
I stopped in this morning to a lukewarm reception from the employees.
When I revisited this afternoon, it was a different story. I garnered a few smiles and greetings from the people who take home a paycheck signed by me.
I don’t know what the hell I was expecting, but I spotted only two familiar faces as I toured the offices. Drake has followed my lead and cleared out the dead weight.
I keep the California office staffed with people who are not only talented but also ambitious. They need to prove daily that they deserve to work side-by-side with me.
I toss my keys and phone on a wooden table in the foyer. It’s not a piece I purchased, but whoever bought it has good taste.
I strip off my suit jacket before I fold it over the back of the gray leather couch that’s been here for as long as I can remember.
Nothing in this apartment resembles the house I live in back in California.
At one time, I thought I’d be happy calling this place home. Now, I feel like I’ve been dumped into the middle of someone else’s life.
I have.
This is Drake’s life, although that’s about to change.
His marriage is the first step toward the future he’s always wanted.
I’m doing what I can to keep him moving in that direction.
I make quick work of the buttons on my shirt before I slide it off and toss it onto the jacket.
My belt is next. With a tug, it’s free and on the couch too.
