1

JACKSON TOOK A GLASS of champagne and stood near the door, surveying the room. The glittering crowd parted and then slid back together in a wide pattern that reminded him of a kaleidoscope.

He hated these kinds of things and would have refused to go if the party had not been for one of his best friends, Ashton, and Ashton’s girlfriend, Laura.

The crowd was made up of most of the city’s wealthy young professionals, all brought together by Dawson, Ashton’s former foster brother and self-made billionaire. The apartment was Dawson’s as well, and Jackson gave the place a quick once over. Coming in at a stunning seven or eight-thousand square feet, the penthouse apartment sat at the top of the most exclusive building in the city, and the long floor-to-ceiling windows gave off views of the night and the city, the long skyline accentuated by the twinkle and glow of a million bulbs.

He shifted on his feet, trying not to look out of place even though he felt that way. Nobody took much notice of him, and he was glad for that even as he was irritated by it.

He was richer than many gathered there thanks to an app he had worked on with Ashton and the video game platform he had created recently, a platform he had sold for so much money that the number still staggered his brain every time he thought about it.

He regretted selling the platform, in truth, but he had been unable to resist the idea of all that money – or the idea that the buyer had been able to take it into a global market in a way he, himself, could never have done. The truth was he would have made a great deal less if he had not sold it, but now that it was gone and the frenetic joy of creating something was too, he was bored and restless, and not even the large amount of money he had could make him feel any more content.

Or at ease with the people in that room.

Jackson had grown up in a rough neighborhood. He had been the kid who wore used clothes and ate free lunch. It had never occurred to him that one day he would be standing in a luxury high-rise, watching people with more money than they knew what to do with scarfing down expensive wine and snacks and congratulating other rich people for being smart enough to get rich.

“Hey, bro.” Ashton appeared at his side, and Jackson grinned at him. He and Ashton went way back. They had gotten arrested together, been each other’s wingmen in every bar in the city, and they had made millions together. Through it all they had managed to stay friends – and not just friends, but friends who respected each other.

“Hey, yourself. It’s quite the shindig, isn’t it?”

Ashton grimaced. “It’s Dawson, so first class all the way. I keep wondering when they are going to figure out I don’t really belong here and chuck me out of the nearest window or something.”

“Probably right after they hurl me through it. But be grateful for that. You will have less flying glass to worry about.”

Ashton laughed and dug an elbow into the taut span of Jackson’s waist. “Yeah. I hate to sound ungrateful. I was just hoping that, for once, Dawson would just do a barbecue or something, you know?”

Jackson did know. Dawson had never had to leave the nitty gritty behind, because he had never really had it in him. Oh, he was tough and he was a fighter, too, but Dawson had always had one eye out on the horizon, looking for any break that would get him off the streets that they had all grown up on like he knew somehow that they were never meant for him.

“Before you and Laura head out of town you should stop by my place. We’ll throw some pig on the smoker and crack open some beers.”

Ashton nodded, “Cool. I will. How’s the new house?”

“Great.” It was great. It was also way too big and way too empty. “I even managed to not throw that crazy decorator Dawson had sent over out on his ass.”

Ashton’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. “Say what?”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “I needed furniture. I had no idea that would entail having to look at swatches and paint samples.”

Ashton burst into laughter. “You hired a decorator?’

Jackson gave him a withering glare. “No, I told Dawson I needed furniture, and he sent that guy over. I said thank you and refused to sign on the dotted line to have the guy do whatever it was he was talking about. I went to the store and bought some furniture myself, thank you very much.”

Ashton sucked in air, and said, “Wow.”

“That’s what I said, too.”

Ashton said, “Well at least you can afford a house, right? I remember when we could barely afford rent at that crappy little pay by the week place we lived in.”

“Those were good times.” They had been. They had both been so young and stupid – barely eighteen – and working for a pittance at a lawn care company. The days had been hot and long, and they’d often had to sweat out the beer and liquor they had drank the night before, or work through a blistering hangover that would not let them go from its vicious grip.

“The best, man.” Ashton spotted Laura and added, “But I think these are good times, too.”

“Yeah, they are.”

Ashton wandered off to speak to Laura. People drifted around but Jackson didn’t want to talk to any of them. He had just spotted Laura’s friend, Hope, and he stood watching her for a moment.

Hope was gorgeous. She was also cold enough to freeze a man’s balls off from a hundred paces away. He sipped the dry champagne, wishing it were whiskey, then set the glass aside.

He’d met Hope a few times, and he had always felt a serious interest in her. She never seemed to notice he was flirting though, or if she did she was not at all interested in him.

She was by herself now, standing near a small potted plant on a tall and graceful table. Well then. They were both alone, so why not go start up a conversation with her?

He strolled over and said, “Hey there, Hope.”