11. Ava
11
Ava
I rubbed the tweaked muscle in my neck, my ankle boots thudding against the carpeted floor as I slugged back to my desk with my fifth cup of coffee.
Aria lingered by the entrance to my cubicle, a smile on her cherry-red lips.
"Don't you have work to do?"
She stepped aside, allowing me to pass. "Promise me you won't be mad?"
I quirked a brow as I sat, placing my cup down. "When you start a conversation off like that, you're expecting the worst outcome. So come out with it. What did you do?"
Aria glanced toward Whitney's office with the slightest eye movement, then back to me. "I'm going freelance."
"Yeah, okay." I snorted.
The smile fell from Aria's face as her brows pulled down, her lips pressed together. "I'm serious, Ava. I miss dipping into my own stories without the constraints of a beat. It's time for me to dive into those long-form pieces I've been itching to write."
"Did something happen with Whitney?" I leaned forward and grabbed her hands. "This is completely out of the blue."
She shook her head. "Whitney is… Whitney. She's unhappy but supportive—wishes me the best." She laughed. "Of course she had to throw in the 'you won't find a better place to work than here' shtick."
"But I don't understand…" I frowned, shaking my head. "Why now?"
Aria shrugged. "I've watched what you've had to go through in order to write this piece. We shouldn't need permission to sink our teeth into whatever calls us."
"What does Henry say about this?"
Her head dipped down, and she stared at her toes.
Oh no.
"We aren't on the best of terms right now—"
"Aria. What do you mean? Why have you been hiding this?"
Her gaze snapped back up, and her hands left mine. "I haven't been. It's just been chaotic with you tracking down your story and me finishing up mine." She puffed out a breath of air and swiped her hair over her shoulder. "I mean, you've thought of going freelance. We've talked about it before."
"I know, but this seems so sudden."
"I've got another week. I can help you in any way you want. Whitney has me covering Obituaries while Monica is out on sick leave. Plus, I'm not doing anything significant until I set up my office at home."
"But it's already set up." I frowned.
"I'm expanding my desk, adding a few more screens and a place to rest without bothering Henry on late nights."
"Okay, back to you, not on the best of terms…what's that about?"
Aria tucked her hand into the pocket of her red trousers and gave a slight head shake. "We disagree on what’s a priority, is all." She swiped her other hand in between us. "But enough about that. Tell me where you’re at."
I bit into my lip and tilted my head towards my computer screen. "I'm currently looking into raves on the dark web."
"What for?"
"Well, my lead told me that…" I sat upright, swiping my gaze across the office floor, then ducked back into my cubicle. "He told me that the government supplies drugs to dealers."
She let out a sharp, sarcastic breath.
"My thoughts exactly." I held up my finger, my voice a mere whisper. "Except, the people writing on the forums said they saw one of their dealers talking to a guy who was 'clearly a G-Man'."
"G-Man?” She shook her head. “God, these kids, and their slang."
I smiled and turned back to my computer, my mouse moving over the highlighted text. "See here. They said he was short with a military-style haircut, and he stood with his hands around his waist area like the Secret Service does behind the President."
"That could be literally anyone."
"Well, yes. But I wouldn't have thought anything of it if my source hadn't said something about them being around the scenes." I sighed.
It can't be a coincidence.
"I mean, it wouldn't be the first time the government has supplied drugs to the inner city youth or helped distribute it in general."
I cocked my head. "That's what he said."
"He?"
My stomach tilted, and a burst of adrenaline rushed through my veins. "My source. He said nearly the same thing." I moved my mouse across my screen and pulled up the files I'd scoured the internet archives to find. "So I did some digging into the cases he sighted, and he was right."
I pointed toward the computer screen. "Ricky Donnell Ross was a major drug dealer in LA during the eighties. He was allegedly moving millions of dollars worth of cocaine every day." I pulled up another page as Aria grabbed her chair at her cubicle and sat, leaning in. "At the same time, the US was involved in covert operations involving the Contra rebels in Nicaragua who were fighting against the Sandinista Government."
"This is a fascinating history lesson, but what does that have to do with any of this?"
"Watch. Once you see the cases connect, you'll understand." I slipped over to my notes, my finger dragging along the line until I found the right one. "The Contras needed funding for their rebellion, so they supposedly turned to drug trafficking. And that's where 'Freeway' Ricky comes in. He was arrested and claimed that the Nicaraguan Contra supplied him."
"Okay, but was it proven?"
"There were investigations by the DOJ and the CIA IG. They both confirmed that individuals were involved with the CIA-backed Contras and had ties to cocaine trafficking. But they couldn't confirm that the CIA was directly facilitating the drug trade."
"See. It's just a conspiracy theory."
"What about the Iran-Contra Affair? That's proven. And then there's Operation Fast and Furious."
"I've heard about that one, but that's the ATF allowing known criminals to purchase weapons."
"Yes, but in doing so, they inadvertently armed the drug cartels, giving them weapons to commit atrocious crimes. See where I'm going here?"
She shrugged, sat back in her chair, and puffed out a lengthy breath. "I mean, I do, but now I’m starting to think it's not in your best interest to continue."
"What? Why?"
"This is dangerous territory."
"Isn't that what we're here for? To expose the lies and hold people accountable."
"Yeah, Ava. But out of all of those cases, was anyone in the US government held accountable?"
I frowned, flicked my gaze back to my computer screen, and then hung my head. "No."
A wave of nausea slammed into my solar plexus, causing a heaviness to settle in my chest. I hunched my shoulders and tucked my chin down, my hands wringing in my lap.
Dammit.
What was I to do now?
There's no way I couldn’t finish this story.
"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, Ava. I don't want you to get hurt."
"No, no. I get it." I bobbed my head and swallowed hard.
If I couldn't get whoever was responsible for distributing it, then at least I would make the public aware of the new drug. It would give them a fighting chance.
"Listen, there’s a rave tonight. I was planning to get a sample of this drug there. Did you want to tag along?"
"Seriously, it's Thursday?" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "God, I sound so old. I haven't been to one of those since high school."
"You didn't go while in college?" I laughed, the heavy reality of the tanking story falling away.
She bobbed her head to the side. "On second thought, I did... once, but it wasn't anything like the movies…or high school, for that matter. I went home early and fell asleep."
"Ouch."
"Yeah. So… sure. I'll go with you. Send me the details."
"You got it."
"I'm going to regret this in the morning. I know it." She stood from her chair and dragged it back to her desk. "It's five o'clock. I'm heading home to get ready."
"It takes you that long?"
"Shut up. Sometimes, these things start early. I wanna be prepared."
"I'll call you." Smirking, I turned back to my computer and clicked on the tab that held a college girl, Julia, who'd OD'd on NZene last week, her profile showcasing her harrowing experience.
She attended the local college as a marketing major and had plenty of photos and videos of her dancing and drinking with her friends. The next set of pictures was of someone laying photographic evidence of her overdose with her on the floor, foaming at the mouth, an EMT kneeling above her, and an array of blue and red lights strobing above in a still photo.
How scared she must have been?
I checked another profile outside of her friend's group, their photos ranging from crying about a hangover to the rave they'd crashed the night before with wild hallucinations.
According to the photo's metadata, they weren't in the same location as Julia, but the setup was the same.
Is it the same person putting these on?
Does he have something to do with the drug distribution?
How many local rave organizers could there possibly be?
I flipped through account after connected account and filed through countless pictures, sending a wild, unnatural yearning to join in through my system.
Would Nate be into this?
Maybe he'd want to go?
Nah, probably not.
My cursor paused on the photo of a man standing behind the DJ booth, his hand in the air, his other pinning a headset to one ear.
I've seen him before.
Scouring backward through a portion of the photos, I found him again, each time standing at the DJ booth with a bunch of dancing people beside him.
Different parties…same DJ.
Holy shit.
"DJ Kabier put on an amazing night. As always."
"No better DJ than DJ Kabier," another profile said.
"DJ Kabier… Okay." I downloaded the picture and did a reverse image search through the search engine.
I glanced at the time as I hit the fourth page filled with results.
Eight-oh-five.
I still have time.
Sixth picture down and third in was a picture of a man matching the DJ's description, minus the flashing lights, dark background, and bare chest.
It was a candid photo of one James McDeen, standing beside the stone water fountain in the middle of Riverfield University's campus, his arm around a beautiful blonde-haired girl with a flashy septum piercing.
Bingo.
An hour later, my bag in hand, along with the location of the next party, I rushed out the door and to my car, my phone pressed to my ear.
"Ava, I expected a phone call hours ago."
"Yeah, I know. I needed to send off a few emails to local and state officials for an interview. I'm hoping the Mayor can give me some insight." I pulled my car door open and slipped inside, dropping my bag into the passenger.
She huffed out a sigh. "Henry went to bed early, so give me the address, and I'll meet you there."
I rattled off the location as I pulled out of the parking garage and made my way home. "I don't even know what to wear to these things."
"Do you want me to come over and help you pick it out?"
I shook my head as I pulled into my parking space, giving the surrounding area a once-over before climbing out. "No, that's fine. Give me the gist of it."
" Um…anything slutty, uncomfortable, or showing skin will usually do the trick."
" Grrreeaat ." Rolling my eyes, I locked my car and hustled to my apartment, the door still locked and intact. "Anything else I should be aware of?"
" Nah, not really. Have fun. I'll meet you there in thirty. Think you can glam up that quick?"
"Please, do you remember that interview I had with Governor Williams?"
"Yeah, the one where he got flustered on the hot seat?"
"That's the one. I slept through my alarm that day and had five minutes to get ready. This is a piece of cake."
Aria laughed as I stepped into my apartment and locked the door behind me, then flicked on the lights.
Everything's in its place….
Including the IRS audit letter…
"Okay, well, since you've got a handle on it. I'll let you get dressed. See you soon."
I tore my eyes away from the letter."Bye." Dropping my laptop bag in its customary place on my couch, I tossed my keys in the bowl and dipped into my closet.
Shit.
I tossed aside half of my closet until the perfect dress brushed against the back of my hand.
It was the kind of dress that stopped hearts and shattered glass.
I slipped into it, sequins cold against my skin. Each one caught the light, creating a dazzling display against the wall.
The plunging neckline dared anyone to meet my gaze and not look away. Tan fabric clung to my curves, accentuating every line, every dip, and every rise, revealing enough to start their imagination. Long, sheer sleeves adorned with more sequins ended at the dangerous hemline, stopping mid-thigh.
I dragged my fingers through my hair, slapped on some matte red lip stain, and in twenty minutes, I had a smoky eye with a deep plum undertone, eyeliner, and false lashes. Foregoing the contour and highlight, I applied a semi-coverage foundation and defined my brows.
Slipping on my gold stilettos, I fluffed my hair in the mirror, gave myself a once over, and dashed as fast as one could in four-and-a-half-inch heels out the door, my clutch and keys in hand.
What the hell am I doing?
Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into a dark parking lot on the east side of town, the meat district.
"God, it took you long enough." Aria walked around the back of my car and froze in her tracks. "Holy shit. You clean up well."
I snorted.
"And then you do that. The magic is lost."
Laughter bubbled between us as I locked my car and interlaced my arm through hers. "Okay, what's the game plan here?"
"Well, it's your story. You tell me?"
I rubbed my finger against the edge of my lips as if my stain could budge. "I need to find a dealer, so let's keep an eye out for that. But in the meantime, we can have some fun."
"Define fun? We do have work tomorrow."
Scoffing, I raised a brow. "You mean I have work tomorrow? You are on the easy train for two weeks."
"True, but still."
Faint thumping bass caught my next words in my throat.
"Do you hear that?"
"MmmHmm."
I dug out my phone and confirmed the address where a tall, thick, ebony man stood, his back to a rusted door without a handle—his suit and tie slick and pressed.
"Hey, is this where we go for the party?"
He nodded, his hands at his sides as though waiting for an altercation with a slight sway side-to-side.
"Can we go inside?" I raised a brow and tilted my head.
"If you can find the way."
Find the way?
"What do you mean?" Aria dug her phone out of her pocket and turned on the flashlight, waving it over the surface of the door.
"I light up the night but am not the moon. I pulse with the beat and fill the room. What am I?"
My mind spun, and Aria jumped up and down. "Oh, I know. A strobe light."
The man gave a curt nod and pointed towards a broken light on the ground, the black casing surrounding it the size of a pizza pie sheet. "Good."
"This is fun." Aria put her phone back into her pocket.
"Is it?" I lifted a brow, not so sure. "I came here to dance, not play an escape room game."
Aria pushed against the door. "Can we go in now? We answered correctly."
"Finish the puzzle first."
I rolled my eyes. "Alright, how much to just let us in?"
The man remained steady, his lips sealed shut.
"Come on, this is fun."
I leaned into Aria as she dragged me towards the strobe light. "I have work to do. I don't have time for this."
"Oh, lighten up. It's not the end of the world. Here." She stooped and fiddled with the light. "Help me find the next clue."
"How do you even know it's over here and he's not messing with us?"
She glanced up at me as I stood over her. "Because the last answer was strobe light, duh. That means the next clue is around here somewhere." Her hands moved around the light as she looked back down. "Haven't you ever done a scavenger hunt before?"
"No."
"Oh gosh. I rule these things. Henry likes to challenge his mind, so we go into the extreme escape rooms. We finish those things in record time." Her hands moved towards the back and froze. " Ah-ha."
"What? Did you find something?"
"A button."
A small drawer shot out on the black casing with a small palm-sized keyboard.
"What the hell are we supposed to do with that?"
"I create a bond that transcends time…"
I jumped and squealed as the doorman spoke.
"I bring strangers together, yet I'm not physical. I am the heart of the party, though I have no pulse. What am I?"
"Oh my God. How the f—"
" Shhh. Let me think." Aria's lips moved as she repeated the riddle. "Yet I'm not physical. Oh, I know." Her eyes lit up, and she typed L-O-V-E into the keyboard.
Love?
"Now what?" A shiver raced up my spine as I glanced around the warehouse devoid of people. A lone high-pitched laugh echoed down the road.
How is this possible when a bunch of people are trying to get in?
Is this for the stragglers who are late?
From the corner of my eye, a black blur moved across the alleyway, causing my stomach to drop as I spun toward the motion.
"Did you see that?" I tilted my head and took a step toward the street.
"See what?"
"I saw something."
"No. Hang on." She stood and turned towards the doorman. "That must be it. What now?"
"Answer the question correctly."
My feet stopped moving, and I tossed my head back and groaned.
A woman and two men stumbled around the corner, their shadows stretching up the walls from the street lamp behind them, and stepped up to the door. Her sequined dress shimmered much like mine, yet she was three sizes smaller, and her legs were as long as hockey sticks.
Was it their shadows?
She stood between the two men, her arms wrapped around their shoulders as she laughed. They walked her to the doorman and showed him an ID.
The doorman nodded, and the door swung open, allowing the crazy music to flow out into the surrounding space.
"This is fucking awesome." The throuple walked inside, and the door closed automatically behind them.
"What the hell? Why can they—"
"It's the ID, Ava. They must be college students or something." She grabbed my arm and turned me towards her. "Relax. This will go faster if you help me."
I puffed out a breath through pursed lips.
I hate puzzles.
Give me true crime and a story. I'll be happy to follow the clues, but riddles…I'd rather gouge my ears out and never hear another thing again…
My brows furrowed.
"Try vibe."
Aria typed in the four-letter word, then shook her head. "Nope."
"Come on," I groaned.
"What transcends time and brings strangers together?"
Well, I'll remember this moment forever...
"Rave?"
Her pointer finger pecked at the keys. "Nope."
"Okay, I'll find another way to get what I need."
"Don't give up."
A group of college-aged girls flashed their IDs, and the door sprung open, allowing the music to blast me again with its rhythmic deep bass.
"Oh my God. I'm so dumb."
The door closed, and the music disappeared.
"What?"
"The answer. Music."
"Music?"
"Yeah, it transcends time. We're still listening to crap from the eighteen hundreds. It brings a group of strangers together, and every person is focused on it. 'The heart of the party'."
"I'll give it a go."
Her fingers moved over the keyboard, and a vibration slammed through my nerves.
If this isn't it, what else could it be?
She hit the enter key, and the door popped open.
My shoulders sagged as she stood up and bounced on her heels with a squeak.
Her hand wrapped around mine, and before I could say a word, she pulled me through the door and into the strobing, dark room where the bass hit me in the chest, taking my breath away.