Aria (The Aria Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  “My head hurts,” I mumbled.

  People kept touching me and I tried, again, to move my arm but with no success. I suddenly realized that I couldn’t move at all. I panicked momentarily, tugging with all my strength against the restraints. The staff barked in response, urging me to remain still. They explained that I had a neck collar on and was strapped to a board. “Just a precaution,” they said.

  “Does that hurt, Nya?” the doctor asked, feeling my ribs. “Yes,” I breathed, wishing she would stop. Someone removed the breathing mask from my face and the unpleasant smell hit me next. It was a mixture of alcohol, dirt and blood. I heard loud groaning sounds and realized they were coming from me. The dull pain I was feeling in my head began to grow in intensity.

  “My head hurts,” I mumbled again.

  “I know it does,” was all they said.

  “Where’s Sam?” I asked but no one seemed to know anything about her or Matt.

  It was at that moment I realized I was naked. The staff had politely covered me with a warm blanket but every time someone pulled it back to do something, I felt a cold draft shoot under the fabric. I was too exhausted to care.

  Eventually, the poking and prodding came to an end and the chaos in the room seemed to slowly subside. I had clearly gone from one of the most important patients to one of the least but I knew that was a good thing. My doctor ordered Xrays and a CT scan. Still no word about Matt.

  When I returned from radiology, a nurse came in and asked me if there was someone they should call.

  “Sam,” I said. “They said she was here.”

  “Sam? Is that the black girl in the denim jacket? Big earrings, scarf?” she asked me.

  “Yes.”

  “She’s your friend? I saw her earlier, I’ll find her,” she reassured me. “What about your family?”

  “She is my family,” I mumbled, wanting desperately to sleep, but there was no sleep to be had. The nurse found Sam and I could hear her muffled crying before I even laid eyes on her. She stepped into view, her face strained and her mascara slightly blurred under her eyes.

  “Oh my God,” she said, leaning over and hugging my rigid body.

  “Hey…I’m ok,” I said, not quite believing myself. “Stop crying.”

  “Shutup, I’ll cry if I want to,” she argued. “Are you all right?”

  “I think so. My head really hurts. What happened? They said I got hit on the head or something.”

  Sam dropped her hand from her mouth. “You don’t know?”

  “Know what?” I asked, suddenly alarmed.

  “Oh my...,” she closed her eyes and rubbed her temple as if she had told this story a hundred times. “Do you remember Matt? Drinking with Matt, remember that?”

  “Yes,” I answered with slight irritation. Just spit it out.

  “Fine, well I guess you guys went outside for some reason, behind the bar, and got attacked.”

  “By who?”

  “Nobody knows. Nya, why did you go outside?!”

  “Don’t get mad at me...”

  “I’m not mad, Nya….I’m just confused.” She paused for a moment, her head in her hands and stepped out of view. She was confused? I was the one with the swiss cheese brain and all the holes in my memory. I knew she had more to tell me but was either too tired to remember or didn’t want to continue. She took a deep breath and stepped back into my line of sight. “Ok… I’m sorry for being so blunt but I don’t know how else to say it, so here it goes. Sweetie, Matt died. He was killed. For some reason, they killed him.” Her words hung in the air as if time had immediately frozen. I blinked several times in disbelief, uncertain I had heard her correctly.

  “He’s dead?” I muttered dumbly. She only nodded. I tried to make sense of what she was saying but my stupid brain wasn’t working fast enough. I was dumbfounded…the impact of her words barely registering in my foggy head. I felt my unsettled stomach churn as the realization of what could have happened began to surface. Despite the fact that I didn’t know him didn’t make the situation less frightening either. I suddenly began to realize how lucky I must have been.

  My doctor suddenly appeared in the doorway and asked how I was feeling. I barely managed to mumble something about my head, still stunned by Sam’s words. She ordered some Tylenol and began to give me a full report on my status. I hardly heard her. She said I had a concussion but it was nothing serious and I would be free to go home in a few hours. My ribs weren’t broken, just badly bruised and I would need some sutures for the large cut on my forehead. She removed the c-collar and unbuckled me from the backboard. She and Sam carried on their conversation about my recovery as if I wasn’t in the room. She must have seen how out of it I was.

  I desperately wanted to ask Sam more questions but I never got the chance. The police had arrived and needed to talk with me. I remember that two officers walked into the room, one after the other. The first was a shorter, stout man with dirty blond hair and a push broom mustache. He wore glasses and a gray suit and was carrying a laptop. He politely introduced himself as Detective Mulroney and asked how I was feeling. I answered that I was fine, just eager to go home. The second cop was in uniform, tall, with dark hair and a tan, weathered face. Albrecht was engraved neatly across the badge on his chest. He said little, was polite, and stood against the wall with both hands on his belt.

  The detective started slowly. He wanted to know how I knew Matt Kramer, what our relationship entailed. When I told him we had only met that night, he stopped with all the questions. He proceeded to inform me that Matt had a long history of criminal activity and arrests. Nothing terribly violent but white-collar stuff and drug trafficking. “Nice,” I heard Sam mutter. The detective continued.

  “We think that Matt was confronted by someone he was doing business with and obviously something went terribly wrong. It could have been drugs or some other kind of criminal dispute. It sounds as if you just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.” The detective shrugged to put my mind at ease but it wasn’t working. There was nothing frivolous about any of it. It was obvious to everyone in the room that I had been darn lucky tonight.

  “Can you tell us anything about the men who attacked you and Kramer?” The detective asked next. “What did they look like?”

  I furrowed my brow but nothing came to mind. I remembered the bar and I remembered afterward, but strangely, I couldn’t recall anything about the attack itself. The middle was one, big, dark void.

  “I..I don’t know,” I nearly choked out. My hand went to my temple, there was no hiding the frustration in my tone.

  “It’s ok,” the detective soothed. “It’ll come. Can you tell me what happened just before that?”

  I told the detective that Matt had become increasingly distracted and appeared uncomfortable. It had surprised me since our conversation had been so casual and fluid. Eventually, he had excused himself altogether and said he needed to step outside to talk with a friend. I went out later when he hadn’t returned.

  “How long before you went out to check on him?”

  “About fifteen minutes,” I said.

  “What happened when you came outside?”

  Again, I reached for my temple. The entire episode was cloudy, blurred from the alcohol that evening and I felt my face grow immediately hot. I wanted to explain myself, explain that I usually didn’t drink so much but I didn’t. In their line of work, was the mention of alcohol consumption and violence of any big surprise? I apologized for my soggy memory.

  “They were arguing,” I finally said, blinking in surprise. “Arguing…,” I trailed off again.

  “It’s ok,” the detective said again. “Who are ‘they’?”

  “Matt,” I said, but immediately shook my head. “I don’t know who the other guy was. He was to the side, in the shadows. I only saw Matt but he seemed upset that I was there. He told me to go back inside.” My eyes flicked to officer Albrecht. He was listening intently, his head cocked to one side, waiting for
any shred of information that might help him. I felt defeated. I leaned my head back against the pillow and closed my eyes. They were so heavy all of a sudden. I tried to focus, wading through the endless sea of my foggy memory but came up with very little. The night seemed to last forever. I pictured the crowd laughing and dancing and felt the pounding music in my chest. I remembered the dim lighting, the sultry smell of sweat and booze and heard the incessant hum of background chatter. It overloaded one’s senses. I recalled meeting Matt, our conversation, a few moments on the dance floor, spilling my drink on someone’s shoes…I was disgusted. Not a thing I remembered was going to help these men find Matt’s killer. I told the detective as much of it as I could.

  When I finished, I took a large breath and opened my eyes. Detective Mulroney continued to tap away at his laptop. The second officer was no longer staring at me but was looking around the room as if he’d heard this story a million times before. His arms were folded and as he finished his survey of my room, brought his eyes on mine. He was polite but seemed as frustrated as I was. He offered a small smile to hide his annoyance.

  The detective looked up at me. “Tell me again about the argument they were having,” he said.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know what they were arguing about.”

  He stared at me and, for the first time, a wave of sympathy seemed to pass across his face. “You know what, it doesn’t matter right now. We can talk more later. Besides, with the waitress’ description, we might be able to find these guys.” He began to tap at his laptop again. I pushed myself up on one elbow.

  “Wait, what waitress?”

  He stopped typing and peered at me over the rim of his glasses. “The gal at the club. One of the employees. She was getting ready to throw out some trash when she heard the arguing outside. Said she cracked the door, saw the fight and called 911. She gave us a pretty good description of the attackers.”

  “What waitress?” I asked again, feeling the confusion roll back in. I pushed myself up even further.

  “Uh,” he glanced at his computer and brought his eyes back to me. “Laurie Carpenter. You know her?”

  “No,” I mumbled under my breath. The detective told me not to worry about it and that we’d talk more tomorrow. He asked if I could come to the station and give a statement and urged me to contact him if I needed anything. Obviously, I was of no use tonight. He gathered his things, handed me his business card and wished me a speedy recovery. The second officer said a polite thank you and smiled as they left the room.

  As they departed, I could feel the last remnants of energy slowly drain from me. I turned my head to look at Sam and it felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds.

  “How’d I do?” I asked her, feeling my nose burn as my eyes filled with tears.

  “Awesome,” she said to me, smiling through her own teary face. “You were awesome.”

  I was released from the hospital that day with instructions to rest and keep my activities to a minimum. Not something that would come easy for me but I promised to do my best. We pulled out of the parking lot at noon and I begged Sam to hit a drive through. I got the usual lecture about grease and saturated fats but ordered the biggest burger on the menu. I finished it before we got home.

  As we exited the freeway, we headed west toward the coast and I rolled down the window to let the ocean air fill the car. I never tired of the smell. The salty odor filled my senses and brought an unknowing smile to my tired face. It always reminded me of feeling calm, tranquil, at peace. It was, in essence, like being home.

  We lived on Seal Beach, a small strip of land nestled between the city of Long Beach and the Pacific Ocean. It was on this strip of beach that I grew up, in my grandmother’s home, living a simple life with her and my mother. My mother was a flight attendant and was gone part of the time, splitting her life between the west coast of California and the Orient. She was often gone for days at a time but, being close to my grandmother, made her absence more bearable. I never knew my father.

  When I was nine, my mother died from cancer. With the love and support of my endearing grandmother, we weathered the storm together. My grandmother had been more of a parent figure to me than anyone had ever been and it was her untimely death a year ago that set my recent life in motion.

  I had known Sam since I was five. We attended grade school together and never really stopped being friends. She had moved in after my grandmother had died, partly to be supportive and partly because she was chomping at the bit to leave the nest. Her parents were driving her to the brink of insanity, she had said, and the timing had been perfect for us both. She was my closest friend, my confidant and, as I had told the ER nurse, she was my family.

  Sam made the left onto Beach Street and my neighborhood came into view. The homes on this street lined the beach, with the front of the houses facing west and the back of them facing the street. Most of them had very little parking, if any, and only a few had an actual garage. Navigating the small, narrow streets toward the beach was not always easy but it was now January and the usual influx of cars and foot traffic was at a minimum.

  Sam pulled into the driveway with care and parked neatly in the small garage. We climbed out of the car and Sam tried to help me but I waved her off. She had to laugh as I tried to glamorously stand up in my borrowed hospital garb. I grabbed my things, my purse and a plastic bag from the hospital that read ‘patient belongings’ on it.

  It was warmer than usual inside the house from having been locked up all morning and it actually felt pretty good. The hospital had been surprisingly cold. I walked into the kitchen, setting my stuff down on the counter and was immediately greeted by Nico, our orphaned family pet. He was the quintessential mutt, a brown and tan mess of tangled fur and energy. He wasn’t a small dog but wasn’t terribly large either. He whined and whimpered until I bent down to pet him. He licked my face ferociously as if he knew the very condition I was in and desperately needed to return me to life.

  “Thank you,” I said, shutting my eyes to avoid the moist onslaught. I gently pushed him down and stood up but had to grab the counter for support when he nearly tripped me. He weaved in and out of my legs so quickly I could barely make an escape.

  Sam called him to the front door and let him out. “He’s peed in here somewhere I just know it,” she muttered, closing the door behind him. I watched as she sniffed around the small living room and left to go investigate upstairs.

  Despite the expensive real estate, the homes along Seal Beach were surprisingly small. Most were two stories with the kitchen and living room on the bottom and the sleeping quarters on the top. Mine was one of the few that had a third level, a small room that my grandmother lovingly referred to as the crow’s nest. For years, it was a small sitting area where she liked to read and draw. It had a small balcony that faced the ocean and she would spend many mornings there, sipping her tea and watching the people. I had to admit, it was one of my favorite places in the house too. You could people watch for hours without having to actually interact with anyone. It was a perfect place to be a fly on the wall and just observe. And if you didn’t want to watch the people anymore, you could watch the waves roll in and the boats go by. Seal Beach wasn’t the largest beach around but it still was a hub for activity both in and out of the water. It was a people watching paradise.

  The downstairs was one large room with a kitchen at one end and my living room at the other. Along one side of the room was a small staircase that led to the second level. The front of the home faced the ocean but the sand dunes were too high to see much of anything from the first level. People didn’t really complain about it; the dunes were necessary. Seal Beach was notorious for flooding.

  I climbed the steps to the second floor and felt my muscles ache with the strain. My heart began to pound inside my chest with a deep, melodious thud. I felt as if I had been in bed for days instead of just hours. I made my way past Sam’s room to my own bedroom and immediately went over to the rumpled bed. I just wanted
to lie down for a few minutes but, once I did, I couldn’t resist the soft comfort that it provided. I removed my hospital socks, shoved my feet deep between the sheets and pulled the covers over me. Just a few minutes, I told myself, just a few…

  When I awoke, it was after five o’clock and the phone was ringing. It was Sam calling to check on me. She had left sometime earlier to go grocery shopping and was asking what I wanted for dinner. I told her I didn’t care and wasn’t hungry. She dismissed my comment and started talking about a frozen lasagna. When she began reading the ingredients list, I politely excused myself and told her I needed to lie down. I didn’t mention that I’d already slept the afternoon away.

  I took a brief shower, just long enough to wash the dried blood from my hair and the bar stink from my body. I plucked my favorite sweats off the floor and rummaged through my dresser until I found a t-shirt I liked. I then pulled a throw around my shoulders and went downstairs. As I looked out the front window, I could already see the fog rolling in. The recent weather had been unusually cold and it was not uncommon to see fog crowding out the sun in the early evening.

  I glanced around the small room and grimaced to myself. It was in serious need of some housekeeping. There were numerous dishes piled in the sink, an open box of cereal still sat on the counter and a stack of junk mail littered the table. In my haste to leave the house last night, I had unceremoniously dumped a pile of laundry on the couch in order to find a clean pair of jeans. Jeans…

  I grabbed my belongings bag from the hospital and dumped the contents on the loveseat. The jeans I had worn last night were one of my favorite pairs and I wanted to inspect them for any damage. I reached into the bag and gasped as I pulled out the purple remains of Sam’s blousy top. I stared at the tattered pieces, realizing with horror that the paramedics or ER staff must have cut it off of me. I wondered briefly if Sam had seen it yet. It was filthy too, covered in dirt and blood. There would have been no salvaging it anyway. I tossed it onto the floor and reached into the bag, pulling out my jeans and underwear. To my disappointment, they weren’t in much better shape. I wondered why the staff had bothered to save them at all.