Bones knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again, harder this time.
The door swung open.
Nothing could have prepared me for the person who answered.
CHAPTER FIVE
Markie
AFTER LUNCH WITH the nice guys at the pizzeria, I took a cab to my sister's last known address. Ariana had sent me pictures of the place, but the photos didn't do it justice. In person it looked more like a high-end resort than an apartment complex. As I walked past the landscaped common area and swimming pool toward the manager's office, I wondered how much the rent was. No doubt way more than I could pay. How could she afford it?
Well, apparently, she couldn't. Ariana had moved out months ago.
It took begging, pleading, showing her texts, and my license to convince the apartment manager I wasn't a stalker or a bounty hunter, and was legitimately worried about my sister, but he finally caved and gave me her forwarding address. This time the cabbie deposited me in front of a dilapidated building without landscaping or swimming pools. The manager had never heard of Ariana Davis, and since I wasn't interested in renting an apartment, she promptly showed me to the door and went back to her soap opera. Disheartened and unsure of what to do next, I wheeled my luggage to the curb and sat down beside the apartment mailbox.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through our correspondence, searching for clues about where she could be. She'd mentioned a waitressing job, but didn't specify the name of the restaurant. I googled Las Vegas restaurants and the number of them was somewhere north of infinity. But out of other options, I started making calls. While I sat there, trying one restaurant after the next, the sun set, and costumed adults and children emerged from apartments, trick-or-treat bags in hand.
I'd forgotten about Halloween. As if it wasn't going to be difficult enough to find Ariana, I would now have masks, wigs, and other disguises to contend with. Feeling frustrated and a little overwhelmed but unwilling to give up, I dialed restaurant number forty-two on the list.
While I was waiting for someone to answer, my sister almost walked over me.
"What the fuck?" Ariana asked, glaring at me as she fought to keep both her phone and her body from hitting the ground. "What kind of stupid idiot sits right in front of the--" Her gaze met mine, and she froze.
"The kind with a sister who isn't returning calls or texts?" I asked.
"Markie?" She stared at me like she couldn't believe her eyes.
Not quite the reception I'd been going for, but that didn't matter. My little sister was alive and well. Relief washed over me, stripping away weeks of worry and stress. I stood and wrapped her in a hug. She smelled like pot and fruity shampoo. I pushed her an arm's length away and looked her over. She'd dyed her golden-brown hair almost black and she wore short shorts, revealing knobby knees and skinny legs. She must have lost twenty pounds since the last time I saw her, and my sister had never had twenty to spare. The dark circles around her bloodshot eyes were natural, not from smudged eyeliner like I'd originally thought. She looked older. Much older. Like five years had passed since I'd last seen her.
"Are you okay? Why didn't you answer any of my calls or texts?" I asked.
Her eyes cut to the side and she shrugged. "Yeah, about that... I forgot to pay the bill and my phone got shut off."
"Your phone got shut off?"
My gaze cut to the phone in her hand... the one she'd been studying as she practically ran me over. As an aspiring singer, Ariana lived and breathed by the phone, waiting for "the call" that would give her her big break and launch her career into super stardom. No way would she forget to pay her bill and leave it off for weeks. If my baby sister needed money, she'd be selling plasma or a kidney before she let her phone go. Yet the state of this apartment building compared to her last one led me to believe there were cash flow issues.
"The phone doesn't have service. It's on the building's Wi-Fi," she said.
Which meant she had plenty of options for reaching me, and had chosen not to.
"Ari, if you need money, all you have to do is ask."
"Thanks, but I don't need your money." She walked past me to get to the mailbox.
I stared after her, wondering what was going on. Sure, she'd been mad at me when I left for Africa with no plans to return, but we'd worked that out over several lengthy international calls. I had the phone bills to prove it.
I ducked my head and tried again. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong. I know you can take care of yourself."
When she turned back around, she wore an apologetic smile. Grabbing my hands, she said, "I'm sorry, too. It's just such a shock to see you. I didn't know if I'd ever see... I can't believe you're here. How long are you staying?"
Her hands trembled in mine. No, not trembled; shook. In fact, her entire body shook.
"I don't know yet. Ari, are you okay?"
