FOUR
ARIA
“You’re just begging to have your job ripped from you, aren’t ya?”
The sound of Randy’s curt voice hit my ears the second I walked through the front double doors of my workplace. I sighed as my head fell back, not even bothering to cover up my frustration with the place. Hell, I’d only been employed there a couple of days. It wasn’t as if I cared about the place just yet.
Not that they gave a shit about me, anyway.
“I’m talking to you, Aria,” he said as he approached me.
I side-stepped him and walked toward my desk in the middle of the massive room. “I know you are.”
“Where’s your food?”
“Ate it,” I said flatly.
“Did you happen to purchase it at a place called Heist?”
I snickered as I flopped into my chair. “What do you have against one of your journalists chasing a story?”
He swiveled my chair around and placed his hands on the arms of it, effectively blocking me in. “Let me tell you something about how this place works. When I’m here, I’m in charge. That means you do as I say, when I say it, and if you don’t, then you lose your job.”
I grinned. “You gonna fire me for chasing what was probably a great story?”
His eye twitched. “You know what, you’re right. There was probably a situation at Heist. There was probably a great situation at Heist to report on. But you want to know who runs that place?”
“Who?”
“A motorcycle club called the Steel Scorpions. They own sixty percent of the nightclubs in this area, and they always have the situation under control. They’ve operated all of their places with efficiency and ease, and every time something shady happens, they’re on top of it even before the police are. Not even the cops can pin something on them, Aria. So, I’m going to tell you this one more time before I rip your shiny new job away from you: stay away from them and their clubs when it comes to stories or you’re fired.”
I scoffed. “Well, maybe they never get busted because they have people at this station that are paid off to not report about them.”
He slowly rose up, straightening his back. “If you keep pushing this narrative, your career is done. I’ll make sure you aren’t employable anywhere in the state, understood? Learn your place and learn it quickly. It’ll do you a lot of good in your upcoming career years.”
“And if I don’t?”
He started back toward his office. “How about you take a week of unpaid leave? Maybe that’ll change your tune.”
I shot to my feet. “I can’t go a week unpaid. I just moved into—”
He turned around and shrugged as he backtracked toward his office. “Should’ve thought about that before mouthing off, Aria. Have a nice vacation. See you in a week. Maybe by then, you’ll know where you stand with us.”
Anger swelled through me. It ebbed and flowed like the waves of the ocean. My editor’s chuckling hit my ears and I wanted to backhand that motherfucker. I wanted to burn the entire place down. I snatched my things up and logged out of my desktop computer. I tugged my purse strap up my shoulder and flipped off my editor as I walked by his office.
And as I barreled out onto the street, the only thought that crossed my mind was Dad.
I wish I could’ve changed things for you, Daddy.
As I walked home, my mind flew in all sorts of directions. I thought about the phone call I got from the morgue, informing me that my father had been killed in prison. I thought about how I ran off to college, only to lose my mother to her battle with depression and drugs. I even thought about that hot guy from the club with that sassy mouth of his.
“I should’ve gotten his name,” I murmured as I dug my keys out of my purse.
I hated that I thought he was sexy, and I hated even more that the thought of him puckered my nipples. I jammed my key into the wrought iron gate and I unlocked it before slamming it behind me, then started up the stairs to my studio apartment. Six hundred square feet of open space with all of my shit jammed into it. I needed a larger place, and quickly. Most of my furniture wouldn’t fit, so I was spending a hell of a lot more on storage than I would have wished.
And as I charged through my front door after walking up the wooden steps, I tossed my purse onto the small kitchen table that sat to my left.
“I need Nadia,” I whispered to myself.
