2. Ava
2
Ava
H arsh light burned through the uncovered windows, searing my overtired retinas. The coffee maker gurgled and hissed as it fed water through the pump and dribbled through the filter filled with Folgers coffee grounds, fresh from the supermarket last week.
I lifted my head and groaned, my belly pressed into the mattress as my long, dark brown bangs fell into my face.
It's morning already?
Rolling off of the bed, I rubbed my weary eyes, my clothes stiff and scratchy against my dingy skin.
Morning?
My feet hit the floor as I glanced at the clock.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I dashed across the small studio, tossing open drawers and cabinets, finding something decent to wear. Smelling one, I threw it over my shoulder and picked another—a pristine quarter-sleeve, button-up blouse in pure white paired with snug dark, navy-blue jeans, the hems tight around my ankles.
With lightning speed, I whisked my fingers through my hair, filled a travel mug with dark, steaming coffee, and bolted out the front door. My scraping high heels echoed against the rugged cement stairs as I hurried to my car, my bag slipping from my shoulders in the frenzy.
Whitney's going to kill me.
Traffic thinned out later in the morning, the freeway stretch clearing enough to make it downtown in twenty minutes. I pulled into a spot, killed the engine, and hurried inside.
I dropped into my computer chair at my desk, my coffee sloshing inside my mug as I set my things down.
Leaning forward, I sipped my coffee, the bitterness weighing heavy on my tongue.
"Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine?" Aria Jenkins leaned against my cubicle wall with a smile on her plum-colored lips.
Air puffed out of my nose as I gave her a subtle shake of my head. "You wouldn't believe the night I had."
"Oh yeah? New crime drama series out?" She tapped her finger to her chin. "Oh, I know." Aria snapped her fingers. "Did they bring back French Toast Pop-Tarts?"
Is my life that underdeveloped?
I rolled my eyes.
My possessions amounted to little more than a collection of bills, an array of streaming services, and a towering stack of unread books. Yet, within the confines of this building, none of that mattered.
I made a difference in people’s lives and it was okay I didn't have much of one.
"There may be a new story I'm working on." I shrugged a shoulder and took another sip of my hot coffee.
She leaned closer, her long, wavy black hair swishing forward. "Well." She rolled her wrist, urging me on. "Don't leave me in suspense."
"Look." I signed into my computer and pulled up the email. "I got this last night."
She squinted her eyes as she skimmed the words, then widened and glanced at me. "Did you go?"
"Absolutely." I nodded. "The police raided a house and tore it to shreds." A dry chuckle escaped me. "And then, I talked to my contact that was there, and he says there's been an uptick in busts with this new drug. Coincidence… I think not."
"That sounds like the makings of something good." Aria perked up and rolled her chair to my desk. "Tell me more."
My fingers flew over my keyboard, searching forums and the dark web for anything mentioning the drug while taking notes on my legal pad and filling her in on my newborn story. "So, we're looking at a hallucinogen."
Aria tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Like LSD?"
"Stronger? I think..." I pointed to a post with a cheetah as the profile picture. "This person says the hallucinations are realistic and stimulate all of the senses." I pointed to another and jotted down the information. "This one says it lasted for two hours and was the best trip he'd ever had aside from the panic attacks afterward."
This isn't a starter drug, that's for sure.
Aria let loose a laugh, then stifled it as she looked around. "Sorry. This guy thought he was a glass of orange juice and was taken to the emergency room by ambulance."
"Imagine trying to drink yourself to cure that hangover." My shoulders shook as I chuckled. "Where are they getting it?"
"Ask one of the users."
I leaned back in my seat. "The jails might have a few. I could ask around there—see if they could give me a first-hand account."
"Great." She wheeled her chair back from the desk, her hand falling into her lap. "So, what's your angle?"
"I'm not entirely sure yet." I shrugged with a slight wince. "I guess the first thing is, where did this drug come from? And how did it get here?" I underlined the drug's name in my notebook.
"Maybe your story isn't necessarily about the drug, but who's tipping off the police and why?"
"But that's easy." I shrugged again. "It's gotta be a vigilante or someone who lives nearby."
Aria cocked her head. "I think if your tipper wanted you to know about a new drug, they would have said that." She crossed her legs and sighed. "No, I think you're missing the bigger picture here." She rocked her seat back and forth. "Think of it this way: a drug is a trend—a shiny toy that people try out for novelty. They'll forget about it in a month, right?" She clicked as she chewed on her cheek. "How many raids did you say had been this week?" Aria flicked her hair over her shoulder, her brows scrunching.
My gaze dropped to my notes. "Three."
Is the tip about the raids?
Drugs don't make headline news unless it's causing swaths of deaths.
Did someone die?
Maybe she's right.
"Three drug raids in lil' ol' Riverfield?" She pushed her chair out of my cubicle.
"And twenty arrests…"
I snagged my coffee off the desk and took a sip as she spun a full circle as though it'd help her process her thoughts. "Well, if you want to work on this story, no matter which direction you go, you know what you have to do."
Her chair stopped in the direction of Whitney's office, and I groaned.
A wide smile breached her lips. "I'm just glad it's you today and not me."
I tilted my head back, squinting my eyes against the fluorescents up above.
Stories had to be true to the spirit of our loyal community, and time wouldn't be wasted on anything else. Ambitious stories were welcomed but vetted down to the minute details before approval. The reputation of the newspaper was at the forefront of everyone's mind when they wrote, and Whitney wouldn't allow lazy or irrelevant stories to skid past her.
She wanted cold, hard facts and passion .
"Better go; she has meetings all day after ten-thirty."
I sucked in a full breath, my belly churning. "Okay. I'm going, I'm going."
Aria shoved her chair back with her feet, pushing herself into her own cubicle. "Godspeed."
I took a quick sip of my cooling coffee, a hint of amusement curling at the edges of my lips, before grabbing my notepad and heading to Whitney's office at the back of the floor.
A rap of my knuckles against the door brought an abrupt halt to the rhythmic clacking of the keyboard within.
"Come in."
I pushed the door open and stepped into her office as she removed her thin-framed, circular glasses and placed them on her desk.
Her black and gray locs swayed around her shoulders as she leaned forward and braced her elbows on the desk, her gold bracelets dangling around her wrists. "I hope you have something good for me today."
Me too.
I walked toward her desk, the natural light from the tall windows blinding my approach.
Incense sticks burned on the corner of her desk, sending a dancing smoke streaming into the air and filling the space with a calming scent.
And then there was the green stress ball tucked beneath the computer monitor that she would grab when someone frustrated her.
I smiled as I stopped at her desk."I do."
Whitney lifted her eyebrows. "Go on."
My heart and lungs squeezed tight as though a rubber band wrapped around it, her eyes piercing me.
I took a deep breath. "There's a new street drug called NeuraZene spreading throughout the town. Hospitalizations and arrests have spiked lately."
Whitney eyed me, her brow rising higher.
"Um… I wanted to do a piece on its hallucinogenic effects and the rapid rise in its popularity. I think it's concerning, given all the hospitalizations while using it."
Whitney hummed. "There's some sort of drug crisis every time I turn around." She shrugged. "What makes this one so interesting?"
" Thee uh… the anonymous tips to the police, for one."
Whitney sighed and leaned back in her chair. "You should have led with that, Ava. Give me more."
A smile quirked the corner of my lips as I glanced at my notepad with doodles, notes, and underlines. "I wanted to follow up with the police and see if they have an idea of who could be tipping them off." I hung the notepad by my side. "There's something weird going on here. I can feel it.”
"Okay."
I frowned. "That's it?"
"Well, you haven't let me down yet." She nodded and stuck her round glasses back on her face, perching them on her nose. "I'll give you a week to prove it's worth pursuing."
My heart fluttered, and an involuntary smile percolated. "Thank you."
Her fingers touched her keyboard as she looked at me over her glasses. "Yep. Tick tock ." She tapped her wrist. "Better get moving."
" Uh ." I made a half-turn. "Right." I spun a one-eighty on my heels, rushing out of her office before she could change her mind, and screamed inside my head.
Finally.
Something to look forward to.
Rushing towards my desk, I stopped at Aria's and squealed with pinched lips and wide eyes. "I got it."
She removed her headphones from one ear. "You did?" Her brows pulled together.
"Well, not entirely. She said I had a week to make it sound convincing, but…that's a win, right?"
"To Whitney it is. Good job." She plopped her headphone back over her ear, and I rushed back to my desk, dropped into my seat, and filed a Freedom of Information request.