Prologue
I am panting and flooded with adrenaline. My fists are clenched while I scan my surroundings to look for any signs of trouble…any moresigns of trouble aside from the three unconscious people at my feet. I close my eyes briefly while I try to slow my breathing. I hear a noise and see two men and a woman at the end of the alley. In my brief glance I am able to read their body language. The man in the middle has his head cocked to the side appraising the situation. The small woman beside him has a smug grin on her face. The man on the end appears to be clenching his jaw, and I cannot determine if it's anger or disgust that I see. I lower my head and close my eyes and try to come up with an explanation for my surroundings, and when I open my eyes they're gone. Not one to ever ignore when opportunity knocks, I grab my backpack and its contents from the alley and head for the opposite opening to see if I can catch the light rail train I hear approaching the stop nearby. I need distance from this situation and I need it quickly.
Back at my apartment I am doing a mental re-cap of the day's events, and making sure that I have everything in order. I dump out my backpack and realize that my wallet is not with me. It must have come out in the alley and in my haste I missed it. Not sure how it could be missed considering it's the only really girly item I own…a cheesy Hello Kitty vinyl wallet. It was selected only for its sheer pink and obnoxiousness. How else was I going to keep myself from losing my wallet? Make it scream at me with kitties and hearts and hair bows, that's how. And now that kitty could be talking to someone else. Luckily I keep it light, but there is a credit card in there, so I start with making sure that some lowlife doesn't spend all my money on tobacco and porn. Forgetful, yes, but responsible to a fault. As I look through the bills for the 800 #, my cell phone rings. It's not a number I recognize, but considering my day, I figure it's a better idea to face it head on.
"Hello?"
"Yes, may I please speak to Isabella Swan?" Ugh, this must be someone selling something, as no one but my grandmother or a solicitor calls me that.
"Yes it is, may I ask who this is?"
"You may ask. And, because you've showed me manners, I will grant your request. I name is Aro, and for the time being that is all you need to know." Who does this guy think he is? The guys I ran into in the alley earlier were not this well-spoken.
"Aro, is it? Can I ask how you got this number?" I am really starting to freak out, and I am not liking the formal tone…it's too formal, which almost always means that the person is not as nice as the words would have you believe.
"Yes, you may, Isabella. You see, I witnessed something this afternoon. I assure you I stumbled across the situation quite by happenstance, and actually thought you might need some help. When I came back to see if any help was needed, everyone was gone, but there was this bright pink wallet that caught my eye. I am a good Samaritan, and what should I find but the ID for the young girl I thought might need some assistance. The wallet threw me for a loop, to be sure, but from the looks of what I saw, the "kitty" has claws. I would like to meet you some place public, Miss Swan, to give you your property back and discuss a proposition with you. I know where you live, and I don't say that as a threat, but merely as a means to show you that I would like you to trust me enough to meet me. How does 5:00 pm tomorrow at the Dragonfish café?" Shit, he really does know where I live.
"Yes, that would be fine. Did I see you this afternoon?" Please say no, please say no, and please don't be the guy who looked like he wanted to kill me.
"Yes," he chuckles lightly, "I didn't intend for you to see me. At least now you know who to expect tomorrow at 5. Until then Miss Swan."
He is one of those that end a call when he's done talking and doesn't wait for a response. I really hate that guy. I didn't even get to tell him how much I hate being called Isabella. It makes me feel like I am a child who is being scolded for leaving her bike in the driveway. I am far too keyed up right now. Having my Saturday afternoon freed up now that I know where my wallet is, I change my clothes and head to my favorite gym/boxing club to see if I can work out some of the tension from the day's events. JaKe's gym is just down the street, and is owned by one of my best friends Jason Kemper (he named it). As I am grabbing my iPod and my gym bag, I cannot help but replay the day's events and wonder how stuff like this seems to happen to me. I suppose every story needs a beginning.
