Social Neighbor (The Social Series Book 1)

by J. L. Mac

  Social Neighbor

  Copyright © 2015 J.L. Mac

  ISBN 10: 1-942215-43-6

  ISBN 13: 978-1-942215-43-1

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of the authors’ imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design:

  Robin Harper, Wicked By Design

  Edited by:

  Indie Solutions by Murphy Rae

  Formatted by:

  Champagne Formats

  Images used under license from iStock www.istockphoto.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Also by J.L. Mac

  Dedication

  Preface

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Stay connected with the author

  Vital Sign

  Seven Years of Bad Luck

  WRECKED

  Wreck Me

  Restore Me

  Accept Me

  Reach Me

  Oculus (with L.G. Pace III)

  Vital Sign

  For my love. Thank you for being my favorite book and thank you for letting me read you everyday.

  Graham

  The Balvenie

  I had always assumed that falling off the wagon would feel a lot different… though assigning a specific adjective for exactly what it would feel like remained elusive. A decent word for the occasion completely escaped me, even now, staring at the crystal tumbler in my bruised hand filled with priceless scotch, aged so long it was nothing short of a miracle that it hadn’t simply evaporated altogether.

  I’d given thought to what the moment would feel like about as much as I’d thought about drinking, about staying sober, about Tommy, about Martin, about Flor…

  And still, I had not a single word for the moment. It felt oddly unceremonious to not assign a word for it. Funny the things that take up the prime real estate of your mind when you’ve lost all care.

  The only thing that seemed to fit the occasion was the date. “Tommy,” I whispered his name as though it were a plea. A plea for what? I didn’t know. Forgiveness? Perhaps, but that was something I’d never ask of him or anyone else. Not now.

  I brought the tumbler to my nose and inhaled the richly alcoholic scent of failure, underscored by subtleties of oak and time gone by.

  “The Balvenie, single malt, aged fifty years,” I whispered to myself, leaning back in the plush leather lounge. It was situated in such a way that the reflection in the panoramic windows of my apartment was what my eyes saw, not the view of Manhattan beyond. Just me. A gray figure in a chair with a glass of liquid amber in hand. A shadow. It was fitting because I felt like a shadow of a man—a hollow feeling that I was intent on drowning in the most expensive scotch I could get my hands on. I’d hate myself in the morning but after a glass of The Balvenie, I wouldn’t actually give a shit.

  At least, that’s what I’d hoped.

  Flor

  Home

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I asked without tearing my eyes from the painting in front of me. Matt, my best friend and roommate, stood behind me looking gorgeous in his suit and tie.

  “Yeah. It’s pretty cool. Trippy looking, but cool.”

  “Isn’t it crazy to think that there’s probably an entire world out there? Maybe another earth with creatures just like us.” I smoothed the skirt of my dress and scanned the room that was filled with as much art as they could pack into the space. White walls adorned with all styles of paintings surrounded us. Crisp white lights strategically placed above each work showcased the beauty of every piece.

  “Like some Avatar blue giants or something.”

  “Or something,” I said on a giggle. It was a pity that I couldn’t afford a single canvas. From what I gathered from Matt, this was a benefit and the price tags on the art were consistent with that. Expensive.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m not supposed to believe in aliens and all that stuff. I’m catholic.”

  “You’re also gay,” I stated the obvious.

  “True.” He laughed.

  “Now explain to me again why you’ve dragged me to an astronomy art show benefiting the…who?”

  “The Inner City Children’s Science Organization. A bunch of well-known artists donated their work on the subject matter,” he said, waving his arm out to the gallery around us. “…and the proceeds are going toward The Inner City Children’s Science Organization.”

  “Ah. Yes. Them. So, why are we here again?”

  “Cal is here.”

  “The guy from the party?” I arched one brow. I suspected as much when Matt barged into my bedroom last night, tossed this little black dress on my bed and informed me that I’d be his date to a benefit tonight.

  “Yep.”

  “You don’t like this stuff. Don’t you think he will find it odd to bump in to you here?”

  “Too true, but you are into this stuff, and I am playing the part of the reluctant but dutiful roommate.”

  “I like it but I have zero money to buy any of this art and my knowledge on the subject is pretty limited. Not as limited as yours but still. Limited. As in, fourth grade science limited. How’d you know he’d be here anyway?”

  “Facebook,” he confessed on a whisper.

  “Stalker,” I mumbled.

  “Takes one to know one.” Matt glowered playfully.

  “Whatever. Neither one of us knows more than the average ten year old about astronomy. If we chat, he’s going to know you staged a run-in. And again, we can’t buy anything here.”

  “Use daddy’s credit card.”

  “Not a chance.” I refused to think about that right now, though. I was dressed up for a lovely evening out, stalking my best friend’s crush.

  Super!

  Thinking about my father would ruin my night, and I wanted no part of that.

  “Now, how are we suppose to seem knowledgeable should the need for space-chatter arise?”

  “Hm. When did Pluto’s creds come into question? Isn’t Pluto a legit planet still?” Matt asked with his brow furrowed, looking down at a placard showcasing an article about Pluto’s recent struggle.

  “My point exactly.”

&nbs
p; “There he is.”

  “You’re such a creeper.” I shook my head and fought the smile tilting up the corners of my mouth.

  “Shut up. Here he comes. Act the part, hooker!”

  “You owe me,” I whispered, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

  “That was so sweet of you to buy our tickets to come here tonight. You know how much I love astronomy!” I beamed loud enough for Cal to hear me on his approach. “Oh! Look at this—oh excuse me, Cal! Fancy seeing you here! Matt, it’s Cal. Serendipity.” I shrugged with a smile plastered on my face.

  “Well I guess I’m glad you dragged me along after all.” The flirtatious undertones in Matt’s voice were hard to miss.

  “You guys enjoying the exhibit?” Cal asked a little shyly. He looked charming and professional in his suit and tie. His short, light brown hair complimented his hazel eyes. I could feel the attraction between the two of them, and I decided right then that they’d make a charming couple.

  “I love it.” I sighed, looking around.

  “It’s great. She loves this stuff, so here I am. I had no idea you would be here.”

  “Yeah, I’m the assistant-assistant exhibit coordinator. That just means I mostly bring coffee to my boss.” Cal shrugged sheepishly.

  “Oh, come on! I’m sure you do a lot more than that!” I prodded with another overly sweet smile in place.

  Cal blushed.

  “Well, if you had anything to do with how this place turned out tonight, you’ve done a fantastic job,” Matt said, winning a smile from Cal. I could tell Matt was setting the stage for a private conversation, and I made sure to not miss my cue.

  “Oh, you know what? I think I just saw someone I know. I’ll be back in a few.” I gave a wave in no specific direction and scurried away as though a pressing social matter had just come up.

  I smiled to myself as I walked pretty aimlessly through the rest of the gallery, careful not to stay in Cal and Matt’s line of sight. I’d hoped, for both our sakes, that Matt’s crush on Cal was reciprocal. If it wasn’t, it meant Matt would be a gloomy guy, binging on ice cream and listening to his unrequited love playlist for days until someone else sparked his interest, which never took too long. Still…

  I found myself standing in front of a stunning canvas painting of something out in space, I surmised, though I couldn’t quite figure out what the hazy swirl of watercolors represented. I leaned forward to read the small placard beside the canvas.

  “That’s home.” A deep voice reverberated from beside me like someone had just plucked the bass cord on a cello, the low G note resonating right through me.

  Sexy stranger in G minor.

  A strangled squeak worked its way from my throat and I turned to see a man—no—a goliath standing beside me.

  Wow.

  I swallowed hard and tried to collect my thoughts but it was proving to be difficult standing beside him. My black cocktail dress suddenly felt too tight and not nearly tight enough. Too short and not nearly short enough.

  “Home?” I forced out, abandoning my spiraling thoughts about my dress and how gorgeous the man next to me was, and how much the tone of his voice reminded me of a G note.

  “The Milky Way. Our galaxy,” he explained with a smile, one hand tucked into the pocket of his suit pants.

  He had to be well over six feet tall and at least two hundred pounds. More. His obsidian black hair perfectly imperfect—neither short nor long, neither combed nor unkempt. Just…perfect, resting just at the tops of his ears and the nape of his neck.

  Dark eyes twinkled and blazed as he peered down at me. His height gave me a great point of view of his jawline, his slightly dimpled chin, and long eyelashes that hooded eyes.

  “Oh,” I breathed, feeling more than dumb. “Yeah, I was just trying to see who the artist was.”

  “Rudy Sandoval is his name.” He nodded, motioning his chin toward the small placard with the details on it. “Do you like it?”

  “Yes. It’s remarkable.”

  “Yes, it is.” I looked up just then, noting that his dark gaze was on me and not the canvas. I could see Cal making his way over to me and I panicked. The moment was lost. The heat creeping throughout my body cooled and nerves moved in swiftly.

  “Oh shit. We know each other, okay?”

  “What?”

  “Oh, Cal! Did Matt cut you loose so soon?” I winked. Cal smiled and averted his eyes down before looking at me again.

  “Look at me being rude. Cal, this is a good friend of mine.” I looked up at the colossal man beside me and smiled, hoping he would understand that I needed him to oblige me.

  He shoved his huge hand toward Cal, whose eyes darted from side to side. He extended his hand, looking perplexed. “You and Mr. Stone know each other?”

  “Mmm,” I hummed a neutral sort of sound and snagged a champagne flute from a passing waiter. I scanned the crowd milling about the gallery hoping to see Matt soon.

  Dammit, Matt where are you?

  “Well, why in the world would Matt buy tickets when you know the exhibit benefactor? Did you not have enough complimentary tickets, Mr. Stone?” he asked incredulously, turning his attention back to the goliath.

  Benefactor?

  I kept my eyes averted as I pretended to scan the other people in the gallery, nonchalantly.

  “Hm? Oh,” I said waving my hand dismissively. “Matt’s a gentleman like that and he knows the money is going toward a great cause. That’s just Matty for ya. A real stand up guy.” I smiled again and took a generous gulp of champagne.

  I glanced up at the stranger, noting the twinkle in his eye and the smirk on his face.

  Jesus.

  “Mr. Stone, is there anything I can do for you?” Cal asked, looking up at the man beside me who was at least half a foot taller than Cal.

  Mr. Stone? Where have I heard that name?

  He surveyed the canvas in front of us and squinted his eyes marginally. “Calvin, I think I am going to take this one for myself. It’s…remarkable.”

  Hearing my own choice of words describing the canvas slip from his mouth had heat rising to my cheeks and I fidgeted with the thick bangle on my wrist as a distraction.

  “I just don’t think I will ever be able to forget this one in particular. I’ve got to have it.” My eyes met his gaze straight on, and beyond the twinkle there was also something else, something that felt an awful lot like attraction, want, and intentions rooted in carnal need.

  Holy. Shit.

  Yes! Please! I wanted to pull him to me, rock up on my tiptoes and say something utterly naughty but I would never do something like that. I blamed inexperience, displaced chronic paranoia thanks to my mother, and a self-esteem that could be better. I was neither confident, nor insecure. I supposed the best word to assign would be average.

  “Of course. I’ll let them know to hold it on your behalf.” Calvin nodded.

  “Thank you, Calvin.”

  “Of course, Mr. Stone. It was nice seeing you again, Flor.”

  “You too, Cal.” I nodded.

  I waited until Cal was out of earshot before I dared saying a thing to my new friend. “I’m so sorry,” I mumbled. “My stupid roommate…he…”

  “No need to apologize, Flor.” He shook his head and smiled a devastating smile.

  Oh God.

  His tongue, lips…his entire mouth seemed to curl around my shortened name as if it were something delicious to eat and God how I hated myself for the pathetic flutter it had spawned in my chest.

  “I better go find my friend,” I said, wishing he would insist that I stay. He only nodded his head, one hand back in his pocket, his other curled around a glass tumbler of clear liquid.

  I smiled and bowed my head slightly then took my leave, wishing that I had a great excuse to stay right there with him and a pretty picture that he had called home.

  “Where were you?” I asked, jabbing Matt in the ribs with my index finger once I’d found him. He took my arm in the crook of his an
d we strolled casually toward the exit.

  “Me? Where were you?”

  “Apparently I was home.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I was looking at some painting of our galaxy with a really handsome man who did a good job pretending to be a friend when Cal showed up out of nowhere, but the guy turned out to be the benefactor, so they already knew each other.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. No worries, though. He played along. Did you ask Cal out?”

  “Yep. He gave me his number. I’m going to call him tomorrow to set something up.” Matt smiled triumphantly.

  “Mission accomplished. Let’s go. My feet are killing me and if I’m forced to tell one more lie tonight, I may screw it up and blow this whole thing before it even gets off the ground.”

  “Let’s not do that,” Matt whispered as we waited for a cab.

  Graham

  Sold

  “Sorry I’m late,” Martin said, extending his hand to shake mine.

  “No apology necessary. I’ve been…busy.” I smiled, thinking back to the captivating woman that I’d come across in front of the Sandoval piece. The piece I now owned simply because I knew I’d never forget her.

  “That sounds both promising and dangerous.”

  “Ah, yes, well, if you’d seen the woman, you’d know why.”

  “I’m sure, bud. I’m sure.” Martin squeezed my shoulder and smiled, looking out over the crowd of do-gooders in formalwear.

  “Looks like it’s going to be a great turnout this year. Maybe better than last. Have you been given a head count yet?”

  “No, not yet, but I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m proud of you. Doing all this every year.” He waved his arm out toward the gallery. Waiters floated around the crowded space with trays of champagne for guests. Checkbooks were being whipped out left and right. It was going to be a great benefit this year, and I’d hoped that Martin was right. Perhaps it would be even more successful than last year’s benefit.