Before I could even open my mouth to respond, the line went dead. I stared at my cell for a moment, bemused. “Okay…” Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who wanted to avoid all things Lincoln Ford. Shrugging off my brother’s cagey response, I got my mind back in the game. I wanted to leave early since I had no idea where I was going.
I let out a low whistle as I gazed at the houses flying past through the car window.
“Lifestyle of the rich and famous,” I muttered. The Uber driver let out an amused grunt. As we wound into Thousand Oaks, the houses seemed to grow larger and more extravagant. Springfield had nice neighborhoods—I didn’t exactly grow up in a shack—but nothing like this. I tried my best not to lean forward and press my nose against the window like an awestruck tourist.
The Uber slowed in front of what looked less like a house and more like an estate. The gates were open, so we drove straight up.
“This is it,” the driver announced.
When I stepped outside, I was sure I was in the right place. There were dozens of vehicles parked in the driveway, and the heavy bass from a sound system shook the very earth. My stomach fluttered as I strolled up the walkway.
I didn’t even make it to the front door before two men stepped into my path. Both were broad-shouldered, overly muscular, and dressed in full black. Their arms were practically bursting out of the sleeves of their T-shirts. I was taken aback by the security. Since this wasn’t a club, I hadn’t been expectingbouncers.
One of them extended a hand. “ID.”
I frowned. I was under the impression that this wasn’t a big, important event. Maybe Allan got the information wrong. I glanced down at my simple outfit. If so, I was severely underdressed. “Excuse me? I thought?—”
“ID and bag check,” burly number two said.
“Bag check?” I scoffed. “I’m not sneaking in contraband, I’m here to cover?—”
“Everyone gets searched,” number one cut me off, still with his hand outstretched.
Sighing with resignation, I fetched my ID from my purse. I understood the ID check. A celebrity athlete had to be careful of who was in his space, I guess. But then why throw a house party? While number one checked my ID, I opened my bag for number two.
“She’s got a recording device,” number two announced.
“Well, yeah, I’m a journ?—”
“You’re not getting in,” one said.
“But I?—”
“We got strict instructions. Get a move on, ma’am.”
I scoffed. “Instructions from Jaden? I’m here to see him. He’s expecting me. If you’d let him know I’m here…”
“Not from Jaden.”
I paused and stared at number two. “Then who?”
The men were tight-lipped. They just peered down at me with intimidating scowls.
I gritted my teeth as I geared up to argue. I’d be damned if these two stood in the way of my first big project, no matter how muscular they were. But then I remembered the woman I’d talked with to confirm my presence at the party.
I pulled up Sienna’s number and called her.
“Hi,” she chirped. “Ava, right?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m in a bit of a pickle. Two overgrown guys won’t let me into Jaden’s party.”
That earned me glares from one and two.
Sienna chuckled. “I’m sorry about that. Put them on. I’d deal with it.”
Handing the phone to number one, I watched his expression soften. Whatever she said had him nodding.
“Oh, yeah, of course,” he said. “We didn’t know.”
