Dark Tales Diaries: Volume Two by London Saint James

Author:London Saint James [James, London Saint]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

PART TWO

One Martini, Two Martini, Three Martini…FLOOR!

Please join me for cocktails.

Where: The Drake Building, Penthouse Suite

When: This Friday

Time: 6:00 p. m.

Host: Kale Drake

Dear Dark Tales,

I read, and re-read the whimsical little card. It had to be delivered to my mailbox by mistake, so I turned around. I’d leave the invite with the concierge, Denny, who was manning the counter today. I knew he’d make sure it got to the correct building tenant.

Curious as to the intended partygoers, I flipped the festive invite over, and stopped dead in my tracks. 204-B was written on the back. The expression on my face probably resembled a round-mouthed trout. Hooked, I stood in the foyer of my building, trying to assure myself this invitation was actually for me.

For a moment, time ceased. I was aware that people were passing me by, but there I was, standing like a statue in tribute to dumfounded. It took a moment, but when my brain kicked into gear, one word kept popping up in my mind.

Why?

Why would real estate mogul, Kale Drake, be inviting me to anything? I didn’t run in his circles of the bold and the beautiful, or the powerful and the rich. His handsome face and million-dollar smile showed up in places like Fortune magazine, or on the local news stations during prominent events such as five-thousand dollar a plate charity dinners, and ribbon cutting ceremonies. I, on the other hand, kept to myself, and spent most of my time working in the archives for the Philadelphia Library. A big event for me was watching a movie, and chowing-down a burger from McDonald’s. The only reason I lived in the "Exclusive” Drake Building was due to my grandmother. When she passed, she left me enough money to purchase my one-bedroom, one-bath condo.

I gathered my wits, and made my way to the elevator. Embarrassed for standing in the middle of the building entry, looking like a cross between a moron and a landed fish. I shouldn’t allow the idea of someone like Kale Drake to send me back to my awkward days of being that self-conscious overweight girl with braces, but I felt out of my league, if I even had a league.

I swiped my tongue over my teeth. No braces. They’d been gone for years. Staring at my distorted reflection bouncing back at me from the polished steel elevator doors, I reconfirmed that I had indeed long passed the fat girl stage. So why did I feel like one?

Overwhelmed, I pressed the button for the second floor, and glared at the numbers on the panel that led up to the penthouse. While I knew exactly who Kale was, as did probably anybody who lived in the building or even most, if not all, of Philadelphia, I’d never actually met him face-to-face.

When the doors to the elevator opened, I stepped in. If there was one thing I did know for sure, the invitation would be the cause of several sleepless nights, trying to decide if I had enough guts to go to the one place I’d never dreamed of going before: The top floor.

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