Page 5 of The Photograph

3

DES

Every time I push through the doors of the battered building Williams Security inhabits downtown on Water Street, it’s like coming home. I don’t know how Jo managed to wangle a spot in this place, but I love being in this small tatty 1920s building surrounded by gleaming skyscrapers with Wall Street around the corner. Like we’re nibbling away at the foundations of these financial institutions, and they will eventually collapse all around us.

When I head up the stairs on Monday morning, the door gives when I shoulder it. Someone is already in, and a buzz races through me: Who’s here so early? When James pops his head out of the kitchen at one end of the high-ceilinged office and smiles at me and waves, my face breaks into an irrepressible grin. He’s the third corner of the triangle that runs this company: Jo heads it up, and he and I run around like headless chickens making it all work. He wasn’t here on Friday when I came in, and I haven’t seen him in person for nearly three months. The joy of no longer living out of a suitcase and being back at my desk in this glorious city almost flattens me as I head into the kitchen. James waves a cup at me, and I nod.

Once he’s pressed the button on the machine, I can’t resist wrapping my arms around him.

“So good to see you, man.”

“Likewise,” he mumbles, hugging me back before pulling back with a grin. “Zoom calls are not the same, and the office has been insufferably quiet since you left.” He steps away and picks his coffee up from the counter, lifting it to his mouth. “When did you arrive back?”

“Friday. Early o’clock.”

By rights, I should be exhausted. Too many late nights and I’ve only been home for a few days. I’m running on adrenaline.

“Happy to be back?” he says. “Lots of plans for partying?”

I laugh and run my hands over my hair. That date last night was awkward, and I don’t do awkward. Usually, I can overcome any difficulty by charming the pants off someone, often literally. What was up with that Alex guy? New York is so full of weirdos sometimes. I had a restless night in bed on my own, and that’s so goddamn unusual for me.

“Yeah, it’s fantastic to be back.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and he laughs.

“Back on the scene so soon, Des?”

James is well versed in both my clubbing and my dating life, or, more honestly, my hookup life.

I nod. “I had an odd date last night, though.”

His eyes brighten behind his glasses. “Already?”

“I swear this guy just wanted to take the whole thing slow.” And that whole odd conversation about whether I did exclusive. Maybe I gave him the wrong impression. Being exclusive is important to me if I’m in a relationship, but that kind of commitment is a long way from Grindr.

He snorts. “Didn’t he pick up from your pre-hookup communication that slow isn’t exactly your middle name?”

“No! He didn’t, and I’m not sure why he met up with me TBH.”

“Was he cute?”

Damn, he was. Lovely dark hair, artistic fingers, whatevertheyare, and that long straight nose.

“He was gorgeous. In any other circumstance …”

My phone vibrates in my pocket again.

“No go?” James asks.

I wrinkle my nose. “It’s hard to see how we’d be compatible. He was very clear about it, and that was refreshing, but he said he liked to build the anticipation, whatever that means.”

James raises his eyebrows. “Are you going to see him again?”

I shake my head, sweeping my arm around. “Probably not. Who’s got time for …?”

My pocket buzzes again, and he laughs.

“Lots of notifications, Dessy,” he says, shaking his head. “Goddammit, I’ve missed that buzzing phone and all your wild pictures. I think I live vicariously through you.”

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