The Men Next Door

Ch 1 - Campbell

A plume of steam twisted above the simmer pot on my stovetop like some sort of contortionist. The smell — citrus and cinnamon — simultaneously beckoned in autumn and made me feel like an imposter. I'd never experienced the dreary season in a place with crisp leaves and brisk mornings, but at least the rain on the pavement outside felt familiar. I'd spent the last few years fighting off Florida thunderstorms, after all.

Moving from The Sunshine State to Manhattan in October was a shock to my sun-centric system, and my childhood in Santa Barbara hadn't helped prepare me for the chill in the air. But I was ready for something unfamiliar, and the color-changing trees outside were evidence that I was moving in the right direction.

Or maybe it was the wrong direction.

But at least it was movement.

The change of scenery was inspired by a new job — among other things that were better off staying buried in the hot sand off the shore of the Atlantic — and I was happy with the terms of my offer. I could work from home, I got a ton of vacation time, and the pay was pretty damn good. The requirement to live within 50 miles of a company headquarters was less thrilling, but the all-expenses-paid move to New York still seemed like a no-brainer.

Until I arrived, that is.

With the sounds of a million other people seeping in through my apartment's thin window panes, the city suddenly seemed as daunting as the buildings were tall. I didn't know a single person in Manhattan. I was just a drop in the bucket — the ocean, even. And making friends was hard enough as an adult, let alone when I wasn't forced to hole up with my new coworkers for eight hours a day.

What if I just wasn't cut out for life in the northeast?

I shook my head and walked over to turn off the burner, giving myself a small pep talk along the way. I'd always thrived in change, my big decisions had always worked out for me, and there was no reason to believe that this was any different.

I was as independent as they come.

I was going to be just fine alone.

And if I did decide that I needed some company, maybe Manhattan was where I'd finally meet my match. The odds had to be better here than in Florida. More residents and less retirees had to count for something, right?

Right.

You've got this.

Once I was certain the stove's flame was out — the old gas appliance hadn't earned my trust yet, and I checked three times just to be sure — I made my way to the front door. My tower of packed cardboard boxes threatened to become an avalanche along the way, and I did my best to restabilize the precarious pile before I went any farther.

Could I have unstacked everything right then? Sure. But that was a problem for future Campbell. Current Campbell had a moving truck rental to return.

The boxy excuse for a vehicle wasn't going to drive itself, no matter how much I wanted it to, so I stepped into the fifth floor hallway and reached for the dimly-lit arrow between the high-rise's dual elevators.

My hand didn't make it that far before both sets of doors slid open in front of me.

"Hi, I don't think we've met," two deep voices called out, one from my left and the other from my right.

I flitted my eyes between the two men, almost expecting them to be twins based on their uncanny arrival time and identical greeting. But as far as I could tell, they weren't related at all. One looked around my age, with tousled brown hair and warm amber eyes; the other appeared to be a little older than us, with inviting green eyes, inky black hair, and a well-manicured beard to match.