Aria by Jennifer Hartmann

10Chapter Ten

Sunday morning began with a much needed band meeting. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the studio as the Freeze Frame members sauntered in. Everyone looked tired and hungover.

Tad and Miles had joined the birthday party festivities a little after midnight. They were looking rough – a sure sign of a successful Saturday night. Tad had a box of donuts under his arm as he approached the meeting table, and the group flocked like vultures to the sweet treats.

“Mornin’,” Miles said with a giant yawn.

Noah snatched the only cream-filled donut and stuffed it in his mouth. “What’s up,” he replied, his greeting muffled by the pastry. Noah was feeling exhausted and restless. He had been up until sunrise talking on the phone with a paranoid Chelsie.

“You need to move in with Devon,” he had told her. “You’ll be safer there.”

Chelsie had refused. She was too “independent” and had worked too hard to recreate herself to give it up. She never wanted to depend on a man for anything.

“My apartment is like my trophy,” she had said. “It means I did it. It means I survived.”

Noah couldn’t argue that. So, he listened. He did what he could to lessen her nerves until she drifted off to sleep as the sun came up.

“Hey there, sunshines,” Sean said as he entered the room. “No rest for the wicked. Hope you boys put on your business pants this morning.”

“Dude, you’re lucky I managed to put on any pants at all,” Tad grumbled.

Devon slid into the seat next to Noah looking disheveled and smelling like alcohol. “How late did you stay out?” Noah asked as he reached for another donut. Noah had left shortly after Chelsie and the girls took off around two o’clock.

Devon ran a hand over his weary face. “Late.” He did not elaborate.

Noah was surprised that Devon had continued to party with the other band members. He had never been a big drinker – especially if they had band-related business the next morning.

“All right, my friends.” Sean perked up as he took a seat at the round table. “Let’s talk Grammy’s. I want to discuss game plan. We’re only a few months out. I know you boys think you’re untouchable, but you’re not even close to being ready.”

“Sean’s right, man,” Miles agreed. “We totally botched up ‘Super Sonic’ at the Cherrywood show. No excuse for that.”

“That was a fluke,” Devon argued. “No one noticed. You know we can play that song in our sleep.”

“That was my bad,” Tad acknowledged. “I was sloppy.”

Sean nodded. “I’ll be honest… it hasn’t been the first time in recent months. Everything okay, Tad?”

Noah glanced over at the beefy drummer. He had been so preoccupied with his own shit, he hadn’t noticed his friend’s sunken-in eyes and blank stare. “Yeah, man,” Noah added. “You know we’re here if there’s something going on. There’s no going down that road again.”

Tad winced at the insinuation. “I’m fine. Ain’t nothing to worry about in that department.” He crossed his arms over his barreling chest and leaned back on the legs of his chair. “What about the Aberdeen lawsuit? Any word on that?”

Sean dismissed him. “Jackson is taking care of that. That’s what the suits are for.”

“Hey, when’s my endorsement shoot for Gibson happening?” Noah wondered. He realized he was seriously out of the loop. He skimmed through the calendar on his phone. “Shit.”

“Yeah, that would be tomorrow, buddy,” Sean said. “Hope you’ve got it covered.”

“And my charity event for the school is Friday, right?” Devon confirmed, scribbling down notes. “Then we’ve got the show at El Rey on Saturday night.”

“I fucking hate Los Angeles.” Miles tossed his half-eaten donut back in the box.

“Suck it up, princess,” Sean replied. “The fans eat you up there. I’m working on the set list for El Rey. I’ll e-mail it over tonight.”

Noah sighed, feeling depleted. He glanced up at their manager, Sean, as he typed away on his device. Sean was a good guy. He was the one who had taken a chance on them when they were struggling artists playing at the local clubs. He was slightly overweight and alarmingly tall, with black-rimmed glasses and a crew cut. He was a happy-go-lucky guy and he treated them right.

“Back to Grammy’s,” Sean said, looking up from his screen. “I’ll admit, I’m nervous.”

Devon scoffed. “We’re all nervous. It’s the goddamn Grammy’s. I’m probably going to piss myself in front of Beyonce.”

The group chuckled.

“I’m serious, kids,” Sean scolded. “You’re not ready. I’m noticing a seriously lack of professionalism and dedication lately. You’re sloppy, you’re preoccupied, and you haven’t even mastered the new song yet.” He shook his head in disappointment. “I believe in you, boys. But it’s time to get your shit together.”

Noah gulped down his coffee and stood up from his chair. The new song was called “Hometown Girl” and it was about Chelsie Combs. Devon wrote it while on tour the month prior, and it was about to hit the radio. “Let’s practice tomorrow after my Gibson shoot,” Noah suggested. “We’ll get it done. We need to nail down a few others, too. And hey, weren’t we hiring on a new marketing rep?”

Sean nodded. “Yes. I’m on it.”

Noah pushed his chair in and tossed his empty cup in the trash can. “I’m off. I need to spend some time with my kiddo before this crazy ass week. Later.”

It was true. He desperately needed bonding time with his son. He also needed to make childcare arrangements for his hectic traveling schedule. These were the moments Noah resented Ruby the most – Sam didn’t have a mother to take care of him when he was gone.

Noah strolled to his car and pulled his phone out of his pocket to call Chelsie.

Her voice was low and raspy when she answered. “Hello?”

“Sounds like you finally got some sleep,” Noah said with a smile. “I was calling to see if you wanted to keep an eye on Sam tomorrow. I totally forgot about this guitar photoshoot I have downtown.”

He heard Chelsie rustling around the room. “O – Oh, sure. Yes, of course,” she replied. “Sorry, I don’t even know what year it is right now.”

Noah chuckled. “Eight o’clock?”

“I’ll be there.”

***

Chelsie tossed the phone onto her bed covers and plopped down with an exaggerated yawn. Her plan to go back to sleep was interrupted when her phone began to buzz. She snatched it back up and opened the text message. Chelsie let a gasp slip when she recognized the name – it was the name of a woman she hadn’t spoken to in five years.

Riley Hoffman.

“Hey girl, I hope this is still your number. It’s been a while. Please call me.”

It had certainly been a while. Their friendship promptly ended when Riley took Chelsie’s ex-boyfriend’s side when she had needed her most. Riley was dating Ian’s brother, Brad, at the time and it was an equally volatile relationship. What could Riley possibly want after all these years? Memories of her old life came rushing back. Memories of a completely different Chelsie Combs. It was hard to believe that life had even existed. It all felt like a bad dream. Chelsie gathered her wits and pressed the call button. If Riley was reaching out, it had to be important.

“Chelsie?”

The familiar voice sent a shiver down Chelsie’s spine. Visions of double dates, drive-in movie theaters, and epic sleepovers overtook her. Those visions quickly evaporated into haunting memories of threesomes, raves, and drug binges. Riley was there through it all.

And then she wasn’t.

Riley and Brad had been the equivalent to Chelsie and Ian. Both men were victims of childhood abuse by their mother, and in turn, became abusers themselves. Both had done jail time. Both enjoyed tearing women down until there was nothing left – it was some sort of sick transferred aggression brought on by their own mother’s violent temperament. Ian’s tragic past was the driving force behind Chelsie’s decision to stay with him for so long. Ian was made into a monster – he wasn’t born one. She always thought she could rehabilitate him and help him conquer his demons. Chelsie had always had a soft spot for broken souls. The problem was that Ian did not want any help. He enjoyed what he’d become.

Chelsie and Riley had both wanted to fix their damaged men. The only difference between Chelsie and Riley was that Chelsie had gotten out. She had chosen to make a better life for herself. Riley had stayed. Riley chose Brad.

“Yeah. It’s me.” Chelsie’s tone was flat and indifferent. “Why are you contacting me?”

“It’s been a while,” Riley said. A silence settled in and she sighed. “Listen, I know you hate me. But there’s someone you hate more than me and I have some information.”

Chelsie’s blood ran cold. Were her fears from the night before completely justified? Chelsie had fallen asleep to Noah’s comforting reassurance that she was overreacting. The headlights in her window were a coincidence. The shadows on her wall had been her imagination. The terrifying theory that Ian was out of jail and hunting her down was only something that happened in television crime shows.

“Is it Ian?” Chelsie finally choked out.

A pause.

“Yeah, Chels. He’s out.”

***

Noah did not expect to find Chelsie Combs on his doorstep a few hours after speaking to her that day. And he certainly did not expect the petite blonde to be tear-stained, frantic, and hell bent on making an immediate escape over the Canadian border.

Noah’s peanut butter and jelly making afternoon was cut short when he discovered Chelsie standing on his front porch, white as a ghost. He had sent Sam up to his room to watch a movie while he tried to calm his terrified friend.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… take a deep breath,” Noah said. He took Chelsie by the shoulders and guided her to the couch. Her eyes were wild. Her mascara left dark stains across her flushed cheeks. “What’s going on?”

Chelsie removed herself from his grip and began to pace the living room. “It’s Ian. I knew it. I just knew it,” she said. She sat down on the couch, then stood back up again. “I have a target on my back, Noah. He’s coming for me.”

Noah ran his hands over his face as he tried to process everything. “Okay, slow down. How do you know he’s coming for you? How do you even know he’s out of jail?” he asked. “In fact, why the hell is he out of jail in the first place?”

Chelsie shook her head. “Good behavior, I guess. Riley called me – an old acquaintance.”

“Did this acquaintance tell you he was going to hurt you? If that’s the case, we’re going to the police right now,” Noah told her.

“Screw the police,” she shot back. “They didn’t listen to me the first time. My bruises didn’t mean anything. It took the rape of an innocent woman for them to take it seriously. And now they let him out.”

Noah studied the girl in front of him. She was panic-stricken. He could only imagine what she was going through. She had overcome so much, only to have the skeletons in her closet reemerge. Her slender frame was trembling, and her eyes were glazed over. Chelsie had noticeably left her apartment in a hurry. She was wearing mismatched socks and a t-shirt that was two sizes too big over pajama shorts. Noah wondered why she had come to him. Why not run to Lisa? Why not confide in her boyfriend?

Why did she trust him so much?

“Chelsie, you need to take a deep breath and focus,” Noah explained. He approached her and reached for her shoulders again. She tried to dodge him to continue her unproductive pacing, but he caught her and forced her to look at him. “I’m serious,” he whispered. “Breathe.”

Chelsie’s body relaxed beneath his gaze. “You don’t understand, Noah.”

“You’re right – I don’t. I could never understand how you’re feeling right now.” He squeezed her shoulders and she stepped in closer to him. “But I need to know if you’re in real danger right now. What did your friend say?”

“Acquaintance,” Chelsie corrected. “She called me because she felt like she owed it to me after we had a huge falling out years ago. I guess no threats were made, but she heard from the crowd we used to hang out with that he was out on good behavior and he was asking about me. They told him I was dating some famous person and he said, ‘I know’. Then he took off. This was yesterday morning and they hadn’t seen him since.”

Noah nodded as he took in the information. “And you got that birthday card yesterday?”

“Yeah. He probably mailed it right before he was released.”

“So, he knows where you live,” Noah concluded. “And he’s obviously been keeping tabs on you while locked up.”

“Do you see why I’m so freaked out?” she pleaded.

Noah couldn’t deny there was cause for concern. But Chelsie wasn’t going to like his suggestions. “Honestly? You need to go to the police. And you need to tell Devon everything.”

Chelsie pulled away and crossed her arms over her chest like a defiant child. “I’m telling you… the police won’t help until it’s too late. And if you want me gone for good, fine. I’ll tell Devon. That will be a surefire way to get rid of me.”

“First of all, have more faith in Devon. You think he’s going to dump you because of your past? That’s ridiculous,” Noah insisted. “Second… you might be ‘gone for good’ if you don’t go to the police. You can show them the birthday card and get an order of protection.”

Chelsie let out a caustic laugh. “Excellent,” she snapped. “I’ll hand them my birthday card with a damn teddy bear on it and say ‘help’. That will be super helpful.”

Noah’s defenses flared up. “Fine,” he shot back. “Do nothing then. Just call me crying every time you get scared until you eventually wind up in a ditch somewhere with a bullet in your head. Sounds like a plan.”

Chelsie’s body tensed up, the prospect of a fight looming in the air. Noah could see the familiar spark of anger in her green eyes. She bit down on her bottom lip, as if she were trying to keep her smart comeback at bay. It seemed to do the trick – instead of slinging an insult, she stormed past him and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Noah called to her.

Chelsie reached for the door handle. “Don’t worry about me. I can figure this out myself.”

“I’m just trying to help you,” he said. “This could be life threatening. You think I want your blood on my hands? You confided in me, and now I’m involved whether you like it or not.”

She swung around, her long mop of hair flying over her shoulder. The anger in her eyes flashed and then faded to wounded surprise. “Is that all this is? You don’t want ‘my blood on your hands’?”

Noah backpedaled, realizing how crass that had sounded. “I didn’t mean it like that, Combs. You know that.”

“I thought maybe I meant a little more to you than a sense of responsibility,” she said, her voice cracking. “But I guess I’m just a burden.”

You are so much more than that. “Wait,” Noah said, trying to catch her as the front door flew open. “There is one more thing you can do.”

Chelsie paused but didn’t turn around.

Noah knew it was a terrible idea. But it was the only idea he had left. “I have a gun. Take it.”

***

Almost a month had gone by since Chelsie received the news that her psychopath ex-lover was on the loose and potentially plotting her elaborate death. It had been a month filled with anxiety, paranoia, and many sleepless nights.

There had also been a lot of big changes. Devon had finally convinced Chelsie to move in with him. While she was fiercely opposed to the idea at first, her new predicament didn’t put her in a position to say no. Their relationship had also been getting stronger. It felt wrong to head home to her small apartment when a high-rise condominium could be hers. Chelsie was the only one holding herself back from living the good life.

For a long time, the “good life” was simply existing. She had made it out alive. She had her own place, a small group of friends, and her beloved cat. That was all Chelsie had wanted. But now she was getting a taste for more. She wanted to truly live – not just exist. Devon could give her that. He wanted to give her that. He wanted to give her the world. He had even bought her a car, so she didn’t have to take an Uber everywhere. Chelsie had grown independent over the years, but not having to struggle with bills, rent, and transportation for once was a nice change.

“I think I got the last of the boxes,” Devon said. Chelsie watched as he carried the rest of her life out of the apartment. She had wondered why he didn’t hire professional movers, but Devon insisted on doing it himself. He claimed it gave him a taste of real life, which kept his ego from getting too big. “Today I’m just a regular guy moving my girlfriend out of her apartment and into my place,” he had told her with a smile. Chelsie couldn’t argue with that.

“Just one more thing,” Chelsie called out, as he placed the box down in the bed of the truck. Misty purred from the front seat. “Be right back.”

Chelsie jogged back into her apartment and headed towards the bathroom. She peeked behind her to make sure Devon wasn’t following and shut the door. Chelsie stood on top of the toilet seat and popped one of the ceiling tiles out of place, revealing a hidden treasure.

Noah’s firearm.

She climbed off the toilet and carefully placed the gun inside her purse, zipping it shut. Devon still didn’t know about the gun. Or Ian. Or any sordid details about her past. He had tried to learn more about her other relationships, but Chelsie was always vague.

“You seriously don’t have any good ex stories for me? That seems impossible,” Devon had prodded her over Chinese takeout one night.

“Oh, you know me. I’ve always been a wallflower. There was this one guy who I was kind of serious with, but he cheated on me. All men were the Devil from that point forward,” she had joked. “Until there was you.”

Devon had seemed to accept her boring relationship history. It felt too late to tell him the truth.

“Okay, we’re good!” Chelsie said. She skipped over to Devon and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“What did you need to get?”

“What? Oh… nothing,” she replied. “I just wanted to take it all in one last time. Lots of big life changes happened in this apartment.” Chelsie averted her eyes. She hated keeping things from Devon, but the truth was too risky.

Devon flung his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. “I get it,” he said. “On to bigger and better things.”

Chelsie hugged him tight. “Thanks to you.”

They hopped into the truck and pulled away. Chelsie closed her eyes, taking in the moment as she stroked her cat’s fur. Life was good. Ian had not made his presence known. There had been no sightings, letters, or suspicious phone calls since her birthday. Chelsie wasn’t sure if he was waiting in the shadows to strike, or if she had blown everything out of proportion. Maybe Riley had only called her to scare her – Riley Hoffman was hardly a trustworthy source. Maybe the birthday card was a one-time scare tactic.

Maybe everything was going to be just fine.

Chelsie’s friendship with Noah had been strained since their argument, but Chelsie was content distancing herself. Devon had every right to feel bothered by their relationship. Looking back, they had become too close. Chelsie still watched Sam on a regular basis, but her interaction with Noah was all business. There were no more movie nights, pillow fights, or late-night talks. Chelsie couldn’t deny missing the way things used to be, but she knew it was for the best. She was Devon’s girl.

“Hey, what are your thoughts on a triple date tonight?” Devon asked, breaking through Chelsie’s thoughts.

“Triple date?” she wondered. “With who?”

“I was thinking with Lisa and Miles and Julia and Noah. It’s been forever since we’ve all gotten together for some laughs and drinks, you know? Practices have been grueling with the Grammy’s coming up, and this past week has been all about moving you in. I could use a little R&R. You up for it?”

Chelsie tensed. “Julia and Noah?” Somehow that was the one thing that had stuck out. “Are they dating or something?”

Devon turned on the radio and began tapping his hands against the steering wheel. “Oh, you know how it is. Their version of dating, I guess.”

Chelsie hadn’t spoken to Julia or Lisa in weeks. Their only correspondence had been the occasional text or a tag in a Facebook meme. Chelsie realized she had been isolating herself to avoid conversations about Ian. “That works for me,” Chelsie agreed. A night out sounded fun. The Ian drama seemed to have blown over and her apartment was officially cleared out.

She had a lot of catching up to do with her friends.