Chapter One – Addison
“…feel me explode!”
The song ended as I pulled up to the stoplight on the outskirts of Dulles Airport in Washington D.C. If finally landing back in the United States wasn’t enough of a reason to celebrate being on home turf, hearing my favorite band and song on the radio the moment I turned on the ignition to her long-stay parked car would have done it. Not only was I a huge fan of Edge of Black, but they were also good friends of my father and uncle.
It helped that they were currently touring together and I could see the band in the background every once in a while when my dad and mom would video call me. I tried not to fan-girl whenever I was around them, but it was hard not to. Mom told me she had the same reaction to a couple of boy bands when she was younger. Except she hadn’t grown up watching the bands play backstage as I had or vacationed with literal rock stars.
As I waited at the stoplight, I glanced down at the shirt I snagged from the last tour featuring my dad’s band Exoneration and Edge of Black. It was from three years ago because I’d been out on a project the last few years, but it still looked brand new. I’d cropped the black shirt and paired it with my favorite pair of oversized jeans, courtesy of my mom, a world-renowned fashion designer.
I was admiring the faces of the five band members when a horn sounded behind me and I realized that the light had turned green. Pressing my foot on the gas, the car accelerated at an abysmal speed, which caused the driver behind me to swerve into the other lane to move around me.
Money had been prevalent in my household, both parents being celebrities of sorts, but they always taught me and my brother Ryan to be responsible and work hard for what we wanted. There were never any handouts. I bought the aging Honda Civic when I graduated high school, using the money I earned working at my aunt's bakery after school and on the weekends.
Bessie, as I named my car, was a bit rough around the edges, but I made sure to keep up with maintenance so that she could get me from point A to point B without trouble. Usually that meant traveling across the country for my job. A job that I was now taking a leave of absence from.
With a heavy sigh, I drove the one hour and thirty minutes from the airport to my apartment in Fredericksburg that I shared with a roommate. We studied photography at Wellington University in Massachusetts and became instant friends our freshman year. Katy was like the sister I never had and she fit in so well with my cousins. We liked to joke that she was an honorary family member.
I parked the car in my assigned spot, grateful no one’s overnight visitor had used the opening in my absence. It had happened one too many times. Glancing up at the three-story building, my stomach clenched. Was this where I was destined to live forever? I’d thought naively that in college, I’d meet the man of my dreams, we’d settle into our jobs, and by the time we were twenty-four, we’d be walking down the aisle. Now at twenty-four, almost twenty-five, I knew that it was a silly fairytale. It also had nothing to do with my age and everything to do with the fact I hadn’t met a single guy that interested me in college. I fooled around with a few, not wanting to remain a virgin forever, but there was no one I was serious about. How could I be when everyone knew who my parents were? There was always that fear of someone using me to get to my parents.
Hell, that was why my boss had hired me in the first place, hoping I’d bring in some juicy photos of my family members to sell to the gossip rags. He quickly learned that I was better at my job than he had given me credit for and after certain threats by my family lawyer, he never mentioned it again.
Stepping out of the car, I moved to the back and popped the trunk, hefting my large suitcase and duffle from the back.
It took about ten minutes to haul my things up to the third-floor apartment where Katy was waiting anxiously for my arrival.
“You’re back!” she called out as she jumped from the couch, spilling popcorn in her haste. That was something I would have to clean up later because Katy wasn’t always the cleanest of roommates. I dropped my luggage at the door and opened my arms to my best friend as she launched herself at me.
“How was the trip?”
“Long. I’m definitely glad that I’m home.”
“Me too. Dinner always tastes better when you cook it.”
I laughed because, along with being messy, Katy wasn’t the best of cooks. Unless it could be heated up in a microwave, she wasn’t to go anywhere near the stove. Our first week in the apartment, she managed to set a pot of water on fire. To this day I still wasn’t sure how she’d managed that. But Katy made up for what she lacked in culinary skills with design. That woman could find a ratty desk on the side of the road that looked as if it had been run over a few times and she could turn it into a beautiful masterpiece. And not just that, but she knew exactly how to style their apartment. Anytime I walked in the door, the living space took my breath away. It should be featured in a magazine.
“Do you need help unpacking?”
“Naw, I’m just going to throw it all in the laundry and catch a nap. You know I never sleep well in hotels.”
“I can order Chinese for dinner. Steak and veggies?”
“You know it.”
“Alright. You rest up, and then I want to hear all about your assignment.”
Moving toward the kitchen, I opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, chugged the contents, then made my way back to my luggage and dragged it to my bedroom.
The building was modern, so the bedrooms were large and each had its own bathroom. The closet in my room was a bit larger, but since my mother sent me new designs frequently, I needed the space.
Opening the suitcase, I took out all my camera equipment and toiletries, then grabbed the canvas laundry bag I had shoved inside. I learned early never to pack more than I needed on an assignment. Quite frequently, I went days without the chance to change my clothes. Luckily I had spent time in Europe over the last three weeks, so I didn’t run into the same problems I had when I was commissioned to photograph the damage poachers had left across the African Savannah.
As I tossed the dirty clothes into the washing machine in our hallway laundry room, I tried to forget about the assignment I’d just returned from. Knowing that I was set up to fail left an acidic feeling in the pit of my stomach and I knew popping a couple of antacids wasn’t going to fix it.
After starting the machine, I made my way back to my room, shoved the now empty suitcase under my bed, and dove under the sheets on my bed. I didn’t even care that I was still wearing the same clothes I’d worn on the plane. I needed to fall into a dark abyss where my mind could shut off.
Two hours later, I stumbled into the living area while towel drying my hair. I wished I’d been able to get better sleep, but the events of the last couple of weeks kept playing around in my head.
“Oh, perfect timing,” Katy said as she came out of her bedroom. “Dinner will be here shortly.” As I draped the damp towel on the back of the dining chair, my friend cocked her head to the side and looked me over. “Something’s wrong.”