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“Where the fuck are we going?” I ask when he loops around and avoids the main street that would take us closer to civilization and further from the creepy warehouse district that screams of my murder scene.
My question goes unanswered as we delve further into the manufacturing park, the factories getting more prevalent with each passing block.
We come up to the end of the road, the deadened street stopping us with warning signs to turn around and my heart kicks up twenty notches.
“Fin,” It’s more of a warning than a question as he engages the window to roll down and peeks his head out of the car.
“You’re fine, priss.” His fingers fly over a keypad previously hidden by the brush and a gate swings wide, moving the greenery to the side for us to pass.
“What the fuck, Fin?!” I ratchet up in my seat, taking in my surroundings, logging all information I can so I know how the fuck to get away on foot. “Where the fuck are we?!”
I’m screeching at this point, whipping about in the seat fully prepared to see the torture chairs littering the yard and the bouncer sized douches readying to hold me down and rip out my fingernails.
“Aria.” I can hear the annoyance more than I can see it on Fin’s sighing frame as he leans back in the seat and fucking stares at me like I’m the one with thirteen heads.
He rolls his eyes and tugs the keys loose from the ignition, pushing the door open with his shoulder and stepping out.
“Fin, I swear to god—” My words cut off with his slam of the fucking door.
I growl in frustration and slam my body into my own door to release its hold on me.
“You are a fucking dickhole.” I slam the car door and stomp my feet as I walk, following Fin’s glorious and annoying ass up the concrete stairs.
“And you’re fucking annoying.” He pushes open the large entrance to the house, disappears inside with only the jingle of keys smacking a countertop announcing his presence.
I pad in after him like it’s my sole purpose on this earth to annoy the fucking shit out of him.
The house is pitch black inside, pausing me in my tirade to make Fin’s life miserable when the heavy wood snicks shut behind me.
Blinding white light surrounds me and I groan, reaching up to shield my eyes from the onslaught.
“See? No fucking torture chamber.”
I blink.
And I fucking blink.
Tall ceilings, exposed red brick encases a living area bigger than the entire building my shop is part of and filled with plush leather sofas.
Yes … Sofassss
As in fucking plural couches.
Strategically lining the walls as to not cover too much of the surface are different memorabilia protected by heavy frames and thick cases. The first one to my right is a poster from As Above’sfirst world tour, signed by each member of the band and then a few more names.
Like Leo’s.
Then there’s a guitar affixed to the wall and surrounded by a glass case that allows you to see almost every angle of the mangled instrument.
“Wow.” It’s all I can say as I wonder about the room, taking in everything about As Above that I can see from this level. The rest of it expands way above the second story, well beyond my sight constraints.
The only break in the brick and memorabilia is a bar open to the kitchen on the first level, a balcony opened above that on the second floor.
Fin stands on the kitchen side of the bar, a whiskey tumbler in his hand and a look on his face that I want to slap the fuck off of him.
“You done fangirling?” I flip him off with an eye roll and sidle up to him on my side of the bar.
“Fuck off,” I respond and steal the drink right out of his hand. I shoot the amber and set the glass down with a gesture that suggests another round.
