Confessions of a Twenty-Something City Girl

Double or Nothing

As we approach the estate, I can't help but wonder who this man is. Growing up in Orange County, I've seen my fair share of wealth, but this is next level. As we reach the front door, I'm astonished by the breathtaking, one-of-a-kind entrance. The massive black steelwork is industrial and anchored on a pivot, like a door to Noah's very own castle. He unlocks the door through his phone, and I carefully take in every detail surrounding me.

Stepping inside, elegant touches grace the house; the polished calacatta white and grey marble floor is luxurious and grand as it flows into the effortless chef's kitchen.  A floating staircase of tempered glass, steel, and concrete sits proudly behind an extensive black gloss table holding at least two hundred red roses in onyx vases.

Walls of glass in the living room boast out-of-this-world views of the city below us. Enormous black and white photos glide across the walls. One image, in particular, stands out to me; an iconic shot of Kevin Durant while he was playing for the Golden State Warriors. He's soaring through the air about to dunk a basket over LeBron James. Maybe he is from San Francisco.

"Your place is magnificent," I say in awe. "Should I take my shoes off?" I ask.

"Whatever you'd like. Make yourself at home." He smiles.

"It was kind of a trick question because these heels are killing my feet," I add as I set his coat over a chair, along with my clutch, and start unbuckling the high heels.

"Here, let me help you," he offers as he bends down, his touch slowly starting at my mid-calf, grazing down to my ankle.

"Thanks," I reply, bashfully. Noah begins unbuckling my black suede pumps and helps me step out of them.

"Is that better?" he asks kindly.

"Much," I tug down on my dress to readjust it.

"Follow me," Noah says with a tender smile, reaching for my hand. "I have something to show you."

We walk down the marble corridor, fingers laced. I feel my senses heightening and endorphins running wild from the tequila and his touch. Noah turns and looks at me, offering an inviting smile. "This way," he leads.

We enter a large room with a massive plush platinum rug that feels cozy against my bare feet. Ahead, I see a welcoming sectional and a considerable-sized movie screen on the wall.

"I have a few questions for you," he begins as I sit on the sectional.

"Go on," I respond.

"Can you tell me what you know about this man?" He asks as he picks up the remote and turns on the movie screen. An old poster of The Godfather II with Al Pacino pops up, and I break into roaring laughter.

"Oh my gosh! You are so serious right now!" I say through giggles.

"Dead serious, as a matter of fact," he delivers.

"Alright, that man on the screen is none other than Al Pacino, who happens to be my Godfather. He's originally from New York and has two daughters and one son who are like cousins to me. He's also only one award away from an EGOT. He's already won an Emmy, Oscar, and Tony. Now he just needs a Grammy!" I share proudly.

"Interesting. And how do your parents know Al?" He questions.

"Well, my dad was flying private from Los Angeles to New York as a pilot back in 1989, and Al was on board. There was a brutal snowstorm which caused them to detour to Indianapolis overnight. They grabbed dinner at the hotel, hit it off and the rest is history."

"I see," he says, eyeing me thoughtfully. "Come with me," he adds mysteriously, extending his hand. Intrigued, I take Noah's hand, following him out of the movie room. We weave through the corridor adorned with bouquets of red roses, and pass through the living room and kitchen until we reach folding glass doors. Noah pauses briefly, then slides open the entire glass wall, revealing a seamless transition to an outdoor paradise. Below us, an infinity pool sparkles with the city sprawling beyond. "This way, Kingston," he guides me forward.