Chapter 13 Ava
AVA
It took two days for the red-hot anger I felt to cool into something else—guilt and embarrassment.
The way I had snapped at Lincoln at dinner kept replaying in my head.
It wouldn’t stop. The entire scene popped up to haunt me at all times of the day.
He must have thought I was pathetic, still hurt and pining over him after so many years. I was, but he didn’t need to know.
God, maybe I was pathetic.
I groaned as I stared at the club ahead of me.
I had to stop thinking about all things Lincoln because I had work to do.
Not Jaden-work, something else. His feature was shaping up to be a nice profile piece.
It was insightful, balanced, and amazing.
There was no way my editor wouldn’t love it.
So, I figured I had a little time to look into something else.
I could practically smell a bigger story in the works.
One that might very well cement my place as an investigative journalist.
Allan couldn’t know what I was up to until I had solid proof. He’d laugh me back to the gossip and entertainment column if I didn’t. Tonight, I was going to get that proof. Sienna, Lincoln’s assistant, who was turning out to be an ally, told me about a party tonight.
The singer, Phoenix Sky, was performing at a club event. It was invite-only. Super exclusive. I gazed at the neon sign over the club’s entrance with determination. I was going to sneak into the said event.
Was I crazy? Possibly.
But I was going to get that damn story. Sliding out of my rental, I tugged at the hem of my dress, wishing it wasn’t missing a few inches.
The backless creation clung to me like a second skin, and the neckline plunged all the way to hell.
The sky-high heels I paired with the dress weren't made for investigative work, but at least I’d blend in with the crowd.
As I approached the entrance of the club and saw what the other ladies waiting in line were wearing—close to nothing—I knew my outfit was a good choice.
Eying the line and the security at the door checking IDs, I knew the front door wasn’t my way in.
I saw an alley to the left of the building, half hidden behind a dumpster and a stack of crates. No one saw me slip into the darkness.
There didn’t seem to be any cameras back there—I hoped there weren’t. My heels clicked against the concrete as I searched for a way inside. There was a door ahead. My heart beat with anticipation.
“Please be unlocked,” I whispered. If it was locked, my night of reconnaissance might be over before it even started. To my disappointment, when I yanked on the door, it didn’t budge.
“Dammit.”
Blowing out a breath and deflating against the wall, I was ready to kiss my chance of getting close to Phoenix Sky goodbye.
However, a few seconds later, the gods of nosy journalists smiled on me.
Someone opened the door to push a crate with empty bottles outside.
The person didn’t see me because I was pressed against the wall, hidden in the shadows.
Right before the door closed, I stuck my purse out, stopping the lock from clicking into place.
Taking a deep breath, I slipped inside. The hallway was narrow and dimly lit.
To my right, a door hung open to what looked like an employee lounge.
There were folding chairs, a vending machine, and a couple of staff members scrolling on their phones.
No one looked up, so I kept going until I passed the kitchen.
Everyone was so busy, no one noticed the scantily clad woman skulking around. I kept my head high, trying not to project an intruder vibe. I almost collided with a server carrying a tray of shrimp cocktails.
I froze, convinced that I was busted. A tall man in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled to the elbows looked at me with confusion.
“Are you lost?” he asked, his gaze flickering over my outfit.
“Um… totally.” I almost winced at my attempt to sound… LA. Was that even a thing? “I was… looking for a place to have a smoke.”
“No smoking here.”
“Right… I’ll just head back to the party then.”
He stepped aside and pointed to a door. “That way.”
“Thanks.” I headed in the direction he’d pointed. I practically sprinted through the door before he somehow figured out I wasn’t supposed to be there.
Just as I let out a relieved sigh, I looked up and…
the first phase of my mission was accomplished.
I was in. The atrium of the club boomed with a fast-paced rhythm.
It screamed luxury in the most obnoxious way.
This was no ordinary club scene like the one I was used to as a college student in Massachusetts.
The crystal chandeliers and black marble floors were made for a rich crowd.
The entire room was one big VIP section with velvet booths.
As I moved to blend in with the crowd, I almost choked on expensive cologne and perfume. I glimpsed bottles of liquor that cost more than my rent, for goodness’s sake. “I’m definitely not in Springfield anymore,” I murmured.
Everywhere I turned, I saw faces I recognized. Actors, musicians, models… the other unrecognizable guests were important people, too, because they were invited. I had to remind myself not to stare, or it would be obvious I wasn’t one of them.
At the bar, I ordered water with a twist of lime just to keep my hands busy and blend in.
Ten minutes in, I had already caught minor celebs doing things they probably shouldn’t be doing.
Like one passing a blunt to another under a napkin—nothing scandalous or newsworthy.
I was starting to think I snuck in for nothing when I heard the DJ announcing the guest performer.
“Ladies and gentlemen… and those in between…”
I snorted my amusement at that. Some characters weren’t easily identifiable.
For instance, the person perched on a piano, wearing a chaotic masterpiece of mesh, sequins, and faux fur.
The person’s face was covered by a gimp mask with mouse ears.
There was no telling who was under there… The eccentricities of Hollywood.
“... the one and only, Phoenix Sky!”
The crowd erupted in cheers.
The woman sauntered out wearing a skin-tight, glittery bodysuit.
She looked every bit the superstar. She started the show, an energetic pop sequence with lively choreography that left me out of breath just watching.
The entire club seemed to be dancing along with her.
She looked so young and full of promise.
My grip on my glass tightened. A part of me hoped I had everything all wrong. Maybe she wasn’t into anything shady.
At the end of the show, Phoenix bowed and then disappeared behind the curtain with her dancers. I inched to the door I saw a few big shots disappear through. That had to lead backstage. If I could get the chance to speak with Phoenix for just a minute…
I managed to slip back there unseen, since everyone was still wrapped up in the excitement of the dazzling performance, looking at their phones to rewatch the clips they’d captured.
In the back area, the music was muffled, and the scent of perfume wasn’t so suffocating.
Except for the faint tinge of marijuana, I could breathe again.
I followed the sound of another hum of music—not as upbeat as the one inside the club.
Laughter and conversation filtered through an ajar door, pulling me closer.
I leaned in and peered inside. It was an open space, but this backstage party looked way different from the one going on outside… and not in a good way.
The room was dimly lit, but not too dark, so I saw who was lounging on the couch and what they were doing. Through the haze of smoke floating in the air, I saw…
Drugs.
Not just little packets of weed, but tiny plastic baggies with white powder and pills.
There was a girl in a corner who looked too out of it to consent to the guy being a bit too handsy with her.
I spotted another man—who I was sure I’d seen on TV in something—leaning close to another, handing him a wad of cash.
My stomach twisted when I saw that footballer—the one Jaden said played for another team.
He was in the middle of accepting a suspicious packet from someone.
Gulping, I lifted my phone, just high enough to stay out of sight and took a photo.
I managed to get another one with a few more faces before I made eye contact with a man in a suit, sitting on a couch.
His eyes narrowed on me.
Crap. I knew I was busted. One good look at me and anyone would know I didn't belong here. He snapped his fingers at someone who looked like a bouncer-type. Immediately, I spun around and hightailed it to the door. I didn’t get very far before I collided with something hard that appeared right in front of me.
It turned out to be a huge guy with arms big enough to squash me like a bug.
I turned around only to bump into his twin.
Dammit.
I was caged in by security, and I was so screwed.
Fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered overhead, mocking me. Never in a million years did I picture myself sitting in a jail cell. Mom and Dad would have flown into a tizzy if they could see me. Ethan would probably have a heart attack—he acted more like my father than elder brother.
I shuffled on the cold metal bench, as if I could ever get comfortable here. The entire cell smelled like cheap perfume and regret. I let out a sigh.
A raspy voice penetrated my haze of misery. “Your first time, huh?”
I glanced up at one of the women I was wedged between. She wore a leopard-print bodysuit and a platinum wig that defied physics.
“In lock-up?” I nodded. “Yes.”
“I can tell,” the other woman said.
I looked to my right. That woman wore leather pants, a rhinestone bra with a leather jacket that had Daddy’s Problem scrawled on the front.
“Did you just start in the game?” she asked.
My eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t follow.”
She chuckled, giving me a once-over. “Did you just start working the corner?” she drawled.
“What corner…?” My eyes widened. Oh, dear God. “No. No. I’m not a sex worker. Not that I’m judging.”
Platinum Wig smirked. “Then what are you doing here?”
Leaning back against the wall, I sighed heavily. “I was chasing a story.”
Both women giggled. My lips twisted into a wry smile. Of course, they thought I was full of shit.
“Girl, me too,” Daddy’s Problem said. “Except my story involved tequila, a married man driving a Lamborghini, and the cops. The boys in blue sure know how to ruin a party.”
Platinum Wig laughed uproariously, and despite my frustration, I did too.
The cell echoed with the sound of giggles.
It felt good to find amusement in something.
Earlier, I thought the worst that would happen was getting thrown out of the club on my ass.
When I found myself in the back of a patrol car, I almost cried.
I had tried to play an overzealous Phoenix Sky fan, sneaking backstage for a photo, but no one budged. The punishment didn’t fit the crime, in my opinion. Jail for crashing a party? Talk about overkill. That only heightened my suspicion that I was on to something big.
As my laughter died down, I said, “You know what the worst part about tonight is?”
“Oh, you mean jail isn't rock bottom?” Daddy’s Problem quipped.
I snorted. “How about having to call your ex to bail you out?”
The ladies gasped and shook their heads.
Platinum Wig clutched her chest. “Honey, I’d rather do my time in here.”
Groaning, I leaned my head back against the wall. That phone call to Lincoln was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do. But he was the only one I knew in LA who would come get me from jail.
“I’m never going to live this down,” I said.
The ladies gave me sympathetic looks. They made my time in lockup bearable with hilarious conversation until an officer appeared.
“Montgomery, you’re free to go.”
I stood up with a long, relieved exhale. “Ladies, good luck.”
My cellmates and I exchanged goodbyes, then I was on my way to freedom… and to face Lincoln. It was like walking to the guillotine.