“You’re under arrest.”
At first, it didn’t register. Then I thought about the boy I’d been with only moments before. He’d told me he was twenty-three. And pot was legal now in California...
It took a second for me to register the rest of what the police officer had said.
“You’re under arrest for murder.”
One
Two weeks before
I’d flown into—and landed in—cities around the world, but something about landing in San Francisco was the most thrilling of all.
Every once in a while, when it was windy, the pilots would divert the plane and make this crazy landing pattern that brought the plane next to the Golden Gate bridge and then right over the Bay Bridge. It was insane.
I’m not gonna lie; it was also exhilarating.
And the thing that made it even more so, was the surge of excitement that coursed through me at coming home.
It had been years—too many years—since I’d been in San Francisco.
The sad thing was, I didn’t even realize how much I missed it until the moment I saw the skyline before me and my heart clenched.
The City by the Bay was my home.
Even though I’d grown up on the sheltered, white-privileged Monterey Peninsula, I never fit in there. Despite the town really being founded by Italians, the rich white kids I went to school with looked down on me.
They all assumed my father was in the mafia.
I really should thank them for my martial arts skills, though.
After they spat racial slurs at me, I got in a fight at school. After that, my dad had me take private martial arts lessons. But I still was never comfortable at school. I was always an outsider.
It didn’t help that I was olive skinned and dark-haired, while my asshole brother was blonde. My classmates loved him and hated me. It made sense since he hated me. He was a sociopathic monster. When he was murdered, I never shed a tear. May he rot in hell.
As the plane bumped to a landing, I sent a text to my driver, Tony.
Tony was a grandfather now. He had prison tattoos and had done time for murder. I could trust him with my life.
I grabbed my gunmetal gray carryon bag and got off the plane, heading straight through the airport, eager to see my old driver and friend.
I walked as fast as I could in those damned high-heeled black suede boots. For some reason, I’d thought it would be a good idea to dress up for the trip home. Maybe because years ago when I left the city, I’d been dressed in worn leather pants and a ripped T-shirt with a skull and crossbones that said, “Fuck Authority.”
That Gia was gone.
I was a grown damn woman now.
I laughed at my own thoughts. Who was I fooling? I still felt nineteen.
But my style had improved.
I still loved leather pants, and actually was wearing some, but they were sleek as butter and cost a small fortune. Unless you looked closely, you might not even know they were leather.
My huge, dark sunglasses, which had been on the entire flight, shielded my face from the few people I caught staring at me. It was a little odd. Did I stand out that much? For most of my life, I’d tried to blend in.
When people stared at me, it was because I wanted them to and had worn a short skirt or low-cut top for just that reason.
Now, dressed in expertly tailored leather pants, a fitted black blouse, and my boots, I didn’t see what the big deal was.
As soon as I stepped outside, I took a deep breath of the salty air I’d always loved.
San Francisco.
Tony was there in front of me. He’d hopped out of the massive black SUV and was reaching for my carryon.
I squealed like a little girl and wrapped him in a hug. And then I drew back grinning like a fool.
“Man, it’s been a long-ass time since I saw your mug,” I said.
He gave me a shy grin and looked down. “Same.”
“Thank you for coming to get me. I know you’re big time now, and I appreciate you taking the time,” I said.
“Gia. You’re my girl. I drop everything for you.”
For some reason, his words brought a tear to my eye.
“Thanks, man,” I said in a gruff voice.
Then I was in the passenger seat, fiddling with the radio. He hopped in.
“You’re listening to Al Green?” I said in a pseudo-shocked voice. “Have you gone soft?”
He laughed. I connected my iPhone.
“I’m gonna blow your mind,” I said and pressed play on some Cardi B.
I rolled down the window and cranked up the volume and leaned back, closing my eyes during the drive into the city. Once, I peeked over at Tony and saw him tapping his fingernails on the steering wheel. When I realized I wasn’t torturing him with my music, I closed my eyes again.
After a while, the sounds of the city made me open my eyes. We were downtown now, in the deep shadows created by the skyscrapers around us. My loft and building in the Tenderloin was just north of us, but I’d asked Tony to take me to a hotel near Union Square.
My friend Danny had been living in my loft and managing my building and its tenants for the past several years. I couldn’t wait to see him and the Tenderloin area again, but I wanted to chill out and explore the city on my own for a few hours first.
Besides, what was I going to do, kick Danny out of his home now that I was back? No way. I would find a new place to rent in the T.L. The loft was his. I’d make it official as soon as I saw him. He had no idea I was coming home, anyway. I hadn’t wanted him to worry about me trying to move back in.
My pal Danny was a world-class hacker and drone expert. He’d become emancipated at seventeen—with my help—because of a fucked-up home
