The elevator took Alex straight up from the garage to the penthouse at an alarming speed. There were no stops, no interruptions, and the view was spectacular. Alder's building overlooked Central Park in New York City, and at the moment it was the golden hour in late autumn. The trees made a gradient of green to brown with reds, yellows, and oranges in between. He stared at them wide-eyed and watched the earth shrink beneath him. This was what Alder saw every day.
Alex was forced to tear his eyes away from the beautiful scenery as the elevator door opened behind him into the penthouse. The inside view was as grand as the one outside, though in a different way. The architectural style was modern and clean, with stark whites intermingled with dark grays and midnight blues. At once he was ushered into a huge, open living room with chic, rounded furniture, cold, yet comfortable. The millions of dollars worth of artwork all around him were created after nineteen eighty. Alder had set that as a lower limit. He liked cohesion in his houses. Whether they were classic or modern, everything had to fit, and they fit well. The place was beautiful and elegant and cool. It was definitely the outlier among Alder's homes, but Alex liked it the best for its differences. Yet, he strolled into the middle of the living room, ignoring the world around him in favor of a third view.
There were no outer walls in the apartment. Everything was encased in humongous windows with a break every once in a while for the frames. The view of southern Manhattan was as amazing as the one of the park. Alex thought he might even like it more for its chaos and complexity. It made him feel like God looking out over the little people scurrying around in the dirt.
"Alex!" called the cheerful voice of William Alder. Alex spun around to see his host entering from what he knew was the kitchen. He had a broad smile on his face and seemed very much at ease. It was made more apparent by his casual clothes: jeans and a navy sweater. Alex had never seen him wearing anything but a suit. Alder strode up to him and shook his hand with a firm grip. "How've you been?"
"Good," said Alex. "Jesus, I've never seen you in anything but a three-piece."
"I'm in weekend mode," said Alder with a grin. He released Alex's hand and gestured to a steel-grey ottoman that was shaped almost like an egg. "Here, sit down. What can I get you to drink?"
"Whiskey," said Alex. It had always been his favorite.
"Perfect. I just got a new japanese bottle. You're going to love it." Alder went to a liquor service disguised as a sleek black block and revealed a row of expensive bottles. He chose the one with kanji written on it and poured out two glasses of dark whiskey.
"How have you been?" asked Alex. "I didn't get to see you when I was up in Boston last."
Alder gave him his glass and sat in a sofa opposite, crossing his ankle over his knee. His legs were so long they jutted out almost hitting the coffee table. He still had an easy smile on his face. "I've been alright," he said. "Not too busy, thankfully. My mother actually passed in May, so I've been in a bit of a funk until recently."
Alex's face fell. He had not expected Alder to even have a mother, let alone one who had passed away. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said, trying hard to hide the shock from his voice.
Alder waved away his sympathy. "She was eighty-eight and had alzheimer's. I'm glad she went peacefully. What about you? Any new developments? We miss you in New Hampshire, but I've heard you made a killing at Goldman this year."
Alex took a moment to gather his thoughts with a sip of whiskey and was momentarily distracted by the taste. "This is amazing," he observed.
Alder's smile stretched. "I knew you'd like it. I don't usually go for whiskey, but I had it in Kyoto two summers ago on a business trip. Never forgot the name."
"It's one of the best I've ever had," said Alex with a smile before returning to the questions. "Things are good at work, but I'm not too focused on that right now. I might be getting married soon."
He took such pleasure in the way Alder's face fell. "What?"
Alex started to chuckled and hid his smile behind another sip of whiskey. He withdrew his phone and pulled out a picture of his girlfriend, Charlotte. "She's into the whole rape fantasy, and she's a singer. Young artist at the Met." She also happened to look a hell of a lot like Genevieve, though she was older and not quite so beautiful.
Alder took the phone and looked at her, his expression forming an inquisitive frown. "She's pretty," he said after examining the photo for a while. When he handed back the phone, he had resumed his smile. "If it every actually happens I'll pay for the wedding myself. I assume you still want to see Genevieve."
"Yes," said Alex without a moment's hesitation. "If you really don't mind sharing her."
Alder looked as if he'd won a victory in some unspoken contest between them. "Not at all. You made her."
That was significant, especially considering how long Alder had kept the girl. Alex knew what his old boss was usually like. He bought girls and kept them for half a year maybe before selling them off cheap, sometimes even giving them away as gifts. Genevieve was different. They were coming up on almost four years together.
"I've been wondering how she's managed to capture your attention this whole time," said Alex. "I mean, I liked her, but I never expected you to go domestic for her."
Alder cocked his brow, trying to decipher a slight in Alex's words. "What can I say? I'm attached. Even more so now."
Alex didn't understand what he meant by that but let it slide. "How is she doing?"
"She's great," said Alder. "You read about her parents right?"
He nodded. It had been difficult to read, but he remembered the article Alder had forwarded to him. Her father had suffered a heart attack a year and a half ago. That alone wouldn't have killed him, but he had been going down some stairs at the time and broke his neck from the fall. Two months later, her mother had committed suicide by overdose in response to overwhelming grief.
"Ever since then, she and I have reached an understanding," said Alder. He rose from his seat. "Come on, I'll show you."
Alex got up and followed him into the depths of the apartment, bringing his whiskey along. He took another sip, savoring the jolt to his brain. The inner halls were dimmer than the living room but in keeping with the aesthetic of the rest of the apartment. They wound around two corners until they were again on the northern side of the building. Alder opened a door and revealed the blinding sun beyond.
The bedroom was expansive and comfortable. In one corner stood a queen-sized bed with lavender sheets and a white duvet. On the other side was a sitting area with two purple loveseats facing the window-walls and a little coffee table between them. Seated with her back to the door on one of the sofas was a girl with long, dark hair. Genevieve.
