Chapter One
The sun shined in through my windows, piercing through my eyelids and pulling me from my slumber. No need for an alarm clock when you live in an east-facing loft with giant windows all down the outside wall.
My eyes slowly opened for the first time of the day and my radio clock laughed in my face from the nightstand. Up at six-thirty on a Saturday; it was a cruel joke.
I used every bit of energy that I had to pull myself to a sitting position in my full size bed. The covers were laying on the floor somewhere, the pillows at my feet, and the sheet ripped off. It must have been a good night's sleep.
I placed my feet down on the cold, black and white checkered tile that covered the entire floor of my loft. I slipped my feet into a pair of flip-flops that I had set next to my bed, and then I stood up from my refuge for the night.
Boy, was I a sight for sore eyes? Brown, torn up flip flops with a pair of blue boxers on that said "Take it Easy" on them, and you can't forget my black tank-top with a hole in the right shoulder blade.
I was half way through by narrow, but long loft when there was a knocking at my door. The sound was a light rapping, but it seemed borderline urgent.
Looking at the refrigerator, picturing the bacon on the other side of the door, I had a challenge on my hands. Tend to the growling and empty stomach, or answer the door?
The knocking sounded again, but this time it sounded more persistent. The bacon could wait, but not for long.
I reached out for the doorknob and unlocked it, leaving the chain on the door. I opened it to its full extent and looked out into the hall through the small crack.
My eyes took in as much as they could in the small amount of time before one of us would break the silence. A woman, and a pretty one at that, stood on the other side. Her blue eyes darted over to me through the cracks and I knew right then and there that this one was trouble. No woman could look that innocent and not have something dark hidden behind those eyes. The look was piercing and warm, touching you in the heart.
Her blonde hair was wavy and done up nice, framing her innocent face perfectly. A few locks of gold fell down into her face, demanding that she push it back behind her ear.
My eyes trailed down to her red, lipstick covered, moist lips, and continued down to her body. She wore a red dress that came down to her knees, showing off the perfection of her legs. The dress clung tight to her body in all the right places, showing her curves off like that of a hand made vase. My eyes stayed on her cleavage for just a little too long, but hey, I'm only a man.
"Are you James Young?" She spoke softly, but her tone carried purpose.
"That's me. Something I can help you with?" I ran my fingers through my short, dark brown hair, looking back at her with my equally dark eyes. The night before probably showed in my eyes, but I did my best to hide it.
She blinked a few times with those thick lashes, looked down at her feet, pulled the hair out of her eyes with a flick of her finger, and looked back up at me while biting her lip softly. Her eyes looked deep into mine, almost as if she were seeing something in the loft behind me. Oh yeah, this one was trouble all right.
"Its Saturday. I'm not open for business on Saturdays, especially at six-thirty in the morning." I started to close the door.
"Please, Mr. Young. I need your help." She laid it all out there in one sentence. I should have shut the door and cooked myself some bacon. I should have told the dame to get lost. But hey, who was I to turn away a pretty face in need?
I paused with the door half open, not being able to see her anymore, but I knew that she was still there. I slowly pushed the door closed and released the chain from its latch.
"Come on in", I too could lay it all out there in one sentence. "Make yourself at home while I get dressed."
I turned my back to the door and started making my way back to the area of my loft that I considered the bedroom, even though there weren't really any rooms. Past my dinning table and refrigerator, through the "living room" that held a couch and a television on a coffee table in front of it, down to my bed.
I could hear the door open with a creak and then the gentle tap of heels on the tile of my floor. With my back still turned to her I started sifting through the blankets and sheets that lay on the ground, looking for the clothes that I'd worn the night before. I pulled out a pair of black slacks and a white collared shirt with the necktie still loose around its neck; both were wrinkled.
I took my time getting dressed, black slacks and matching shoes, a white collared shirt with the sleeves folded up once, and a black necktie that was done loosely and in a messy manner.
I turned back around and made my way to where the dame stood, next to my dinning table.
"Pull up a seat." I offered as I sat down in the wooden chair that sat before the table.
"I'd rather stand", she answered. "I'm going to be direct Mr. Young."
"Call me James, and while we're on the subject, what should I call you?"
"I'm Nicole Silva, and I'm looking for someone", she said.
"Isn't everyone?" A little private detective humor there. I can't say that I've ever gotten a laugh off of that line, but it doesn't hurt to keep trying, right?
"It's an old friend of mine; her name is Ada Wong." She kept a simple, yet effective poker face as she spoke. I knew in my heart that I should turn it down, that there was something wrong about this case, about this woman, but what can I say? I needed the money.
"Well Ms. Silva, I can tell you giving you an estimate on a case like this isn't easy. If she lives out of town, or even state for that matter, it'll be more expensive, and sometimes people find that their curiosity isn't worth the price that I ask." I tried to shoot her straight, almost hoping that she'd decide against it.
"I know where she what city and state she's in."
"Then what good am I to you?" I didn't bother in trying to hide the confusion.
"Los Angeles is a big city, and I can't seem to pin her. And on top of that I'll need to you follow her for a while and take some photos, take notes, do whatever it is that you private eyes do."
"Well, if she lives here in L.A. it wont be too bad, but it all depends on how much time you want me to spend on this case."
"The idea, James, is that I want you to give me daily reports for as long as it takes. My offer is two thousand a day until you find what it is that I want."
My eyes must have pulled a loony toons moment because that was more than tripled what I was going to ask for. Two thousand dollars a day for an undetermined amount of time, tracking someone that lived in the city. Something that my dad had always tried to teach me was that something that looks too good to be true usually are, but you can't blame a man for being optimistic.
I started to say something when she cut me off.
"And, if you present me with the information that I am looking for, I'll offer at ten thousand-dollar bonus." She added.
That was all it took. I knew that something was wrong with this picture as soon as the figures started to jump up to the five digits.
"There's a catch here. What is the information that you are looking for?"
"That is not something that I want you to know. You just report back to me with everything you get on her and I'll know if you find it or not."
I didn't like the sound of it, not one bit. Ms. Silva seemed like the type that likes to play the innocent girl until the perfect moment and then she'd break out with her true self and put a knife deep into your back. But hey, I knew a thing or two about how to handle myself. My street smarts are the best of anyone I've ever met and I've been in a lot of sticky situations before, but I always prevailed. Who's to say that I couldn't handle this case?
"Well Ms. Silva, you've got yourself a private detective."
She smiled big and it was a heartwarming expression. It was the type of face you'd expect to see on a Christmas caroler or on a serpent that is gently persuading you to bite into a juicy apple.
I knew that I couldn't trust her, and that her pretty face was probably the best lie should could probably tell, but money is money, and I'd just have to see how this one turned out.
Ada Wong, here I come.
