Griffin’s place was on the Upper East Side. The entrance had a set of large glass doors. Beside them stood an elderly doorman in a blue and gold uniform.
“Hey, Herbert,” Griffin said, pausing as the man opened the door.
Herbert tipped his hat and held open the door. “Sir.”
“Thank you,” I said, following Griffin inside.
“You’re welcome, miss,” Herbert responded with a smile.
We went through the opulent lobby to the elevators where we rode up in silence. I didn’t know why Griffin was quiet, but I felt a giddy nervousness.
“It’s this way,” he said, taking my hand.
There was only one door on the entire floor. “Aren’t you fancy,” I said, surprised.
“Oh yeah, I’m super fancy,” he said, though his face remained somber as he unlocked the door and held it open.