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Chapter 1
The L-Line wasn’t very busy that morning, surprising for the time of day, but it was the start of summer vacation. It meant fewer people were commuting into the city for work, which suited Ariel Delgado just fine, as she dreaded the congested trek into town during what should have been rush hour. She adjusted the top button of her coat to keep out the breeze as the initial blast blew up under the fabric when the door opened. After the last step of the staircase, she plunked her foot on the damp pavement and inhaled the light mineral scent of the sidewalk.
The Executive Grounds, a bustling café situated downtown, was only a few blocks away. With a glance at her watch and recognizing the time, Ari hastened her pace to ensure punctuality for her appointment. In her world, nine o’clock meant eight thirty, and if she wasn’t early, she considered herself late. She wasn’t a complete control freak, but she thrived on always having a plan and sticking to it. That was how she approached all her projects and now her life. If only she had embraced this mindset at an earlier age, before a tragic turn of events twisted her world into a frenzy.
There had been ample time to find the perfect job while living at home with her mother until everything changed. A drunk driver ripped her mother—the woman who did everything for her—from her life. The hope of finding the ideal job after that faded fast. Instead, the mounting bills were due and increasing with each passing month. Freelance work for six months just about paid rent. Fortunately, someone showed genuine interest and offered her a once-in-a-lifetime chance at the perfect job.
The executive editor for CityBeats had reached out to her and requested a meeting. It was a reputable local newspaper featuring an array of topics, ranging from pertinent local news to national pieces. A job at CityBeats would be the breakthrough she needed to advance her career. Terry Bradwell didn’t provide details over the phone. Instead, he insisted on a meeting following the release of a story she had written the previous month.
Her piece on transgender youth had earned a prominent placement in the paper and enough money to pay rent. In all honesty, Ari wouldn’t have mustered the courage to submit the article on her own. If it hadn’t been for her best friend, Billie, it might have still been sitting in a drawer.
During her darkest moments, Billie had stood by her side. The support and encouragement she provided was a much-needed boost for Ari to regain her footing. And now, the efforts paid off. CityBeats had reached out to her for additional work, reaffirming her status as a proper journalist.
With the café to her left, Ari expected a congested scene filled with corporate types and executives. However, to her surprise, the tables flanking the entrance were mostly unoccupied, with only a handful of smokers enduring the chilly early summer breeze. As she neared, she waved her hand in front of her face, clearing a fresh path when an obnoxious man exhaled smoke in her direction. Although she longed to confront his impolite behavior, she reminded herself that her potential new boss could be observing from inside. It was paramount that she keep her composure during moments like this.
As Ari entered the café, the delightful aroma of coffee enveloped her senses, accompanied by the invigorating sound of milk being steamed. The inviting ambiance of the café, furnished with mahogany tables and chairs, complemented the gray tiled floors and a tasteful hunter green accent wall behind the counter. As her eyes surveyed her surroundings, a middle-aged man rose from a table nestled in the corner, waving in her direction. It had to be Terry, she thought.
As she approached, he extended his hand. “Hi there. Terry Bradwell. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Hello, Terry. I’m Ariel Delgado, but please call me Ari,” she said, offering a warm smile and a firm handshake.
“Can I get you a coffee or anything?” he asked, gesturing for Ari to take a seat. He was a well-dressed man with a crisp white button-down under his light gray blazer and contrasting plum-colored tie. With his graying temples and Italian loafers, he looked more like the hoity-toity upper class of the city than a working-class newspaper reporter.
“No, thank you. I’m good.” When she let go of his hand, she cast her eyes down to her casual jeans and black Converse that made her feel underdressed for this informal meeting. That was one difference between him and her: she was a twenty-something who cared little for how she dressed and figured if she kept her shoulder-length hair washed and styled, everything was copacetic.
She settled into the comfy armchair while Terry extracted a few papers from his briefcase, then sat across from her, flipping through a few of them. “I have the article you submitted on the lack of local resources and counseling for transgender youth,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he perused the pages. “I must say, I was impressed by the depth and level of detail you unearthed on the subject, in particular, the concerning number of transgender youths experiencing homelessness.”
She nodded, appreciating his comments as she waited for more. None came in the odd silence. “Thank you. I’m very dedicated to my work,” she said. A radiant smile spread across her face, accenting her chubby cheeks with the acknowledgment of her efforts. An editor’s feedback carried a different weight than the knowledge of her article being published.
After taking a sip of his coffee and setting it back on the table, he crossed his legs and leaned back, exuding a sense of superiority found in every white-collared corporate male on the planet. “I wanted to tell you myself that we’ve received an enormous number of compliments and calls from youth centers expressing their desire to help. That speaks volumes about the impact of your article.”
“That’s fantastic!” The positive response was what she had hoped for when she wrote the piece, but his subtle laugh left her feeling a bit displaced. Despite acknowledging her work, his tone insinuated that CityBeats was the reason for the massive support, not her efforts. The prospect of more work or even a full-time position seemed to dwindle with each second of his long, dramatic pause.
Terry leaned forward as he spoke, his voice lowering with each word. “Now that we have that covered, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve requested this meeting instead of conveying all of this over the phone.”
“Well, yes. I am. What do they say? Let’s cut to the chase?”
“I believe you’re the ideal candidate for an assignment I have, given your exceptional investigative skills and fearlessness to immerse yourself in your surroundings.”
“Thank you. To capture the essence of a story, you must see it through the eyes of those who are living it,” Ari said as she stressed the real value of portraying a genuine narrative.
“Exactly!” Terry leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Have you ever heard of Adytum?”
There were two possibilities based on her knowledge of adytums. Unless he meant the innermost sanctuary of an ancient Greek temple, he insinuated the other. CityBeats was notorious for exposing money laundering schemes and uncovering corruption within the city. It was no surprise they wanted juicy details on the rumored sex club, Adytum, lurking in the depths of the city’s streets. That sparked her curiosity. She had known no one who had visited the club, which had become somewhat of an urban legend.
“I’ve heard of it but always dismissed it as nothing more than a myth. You know, like flying off to Neverland,” Ari responded, with a touch of skepticism in her voice and an arch of her eyebrow.
“It’s no myth, Ari. Adytum is, indeed, real. But because of its exclusivity, the inner workings are still a mystery to us. Despite our attempts to gain access, it is impossible to get an invitation.”
“What makes you think I’ll be able to succeed where others have failed? I’m just some random person off the streets.”
Terry shifted in his seat, seeming hesitant to reveal everything all at once. His words stopped and started a few times until a firm grasp of his next statement had brewed. “Well, as I mentioned earlier, your exceptional ability to immerse yourself in a role sets you apart. That’s why I believe you possess the unique qualifications needed for this assignment.”
“And what specific qualifications are you referring to, Mr. Bradwell?” Ari asked, as she veered toward accusation rather than curiosity. If he would not disclose the details, she would straight out ask.
He shook his head, his body language reflecting a sense of unease. It took him a moment to respond to the question, reluctant with his answer. “Your preference for the fairer sex.” The words fell off his tongue like vomit, spitting them out so fast they sounded more like a gurgle. He might have been uncomfortable in the LGBTQ community, which was strong and vibrant in the city.
At first, Ari burst into laughter, a hearty roar emanating from her gut. The idea of a job based on her sexuality seemed absurd. She knew of discrimination against gays and lesbians but never heard of anyone being given a job because they were queer. Then, her amusement transformed into a narrowed gaze, wondering how Terry even knew she preferred women over men because she wasn’t a butch or a dyke on a bike. With an open social media account, it made her feel like he had invaded her privacy, even though her sexual orientation was not a secret.
