Storm leads the way through the tree-lined street. We pass the manicured lawns and elegant homes in this idyllic area. Back when New York and then later Los Angeles was my home, I never really paid much attention to the neighborhoods I lived in. Going from living my whole life in two metropolitan cities to the middle of the Mojave Desert was definitely a shock but it provided me the solace and isolation I sought to have.

As Storm and I traverse the slightly curving streets here, a gentle breeze rustles through the leaves of mature trees, and the sunlight filters through the canopies, casting a warm glow on the sidewalks. Neatly trimmed hedges and vibrant flowerbeds line the front yards of the well-maintained houses, each displaying a unique blend of architectural styles.

I don’t miss this life in the slightest, not these pretty tree-lined streets with the scent of blooming flowers, nor seeing the occasional jogger or parent pushing a stroller on the sidewalk. The comfort and seclusion of baren land, void of human presence, is the kind of landscape I want to live in.

This current lifestyle among people isn’t for me anymore and hasn’t been for almost a decade. Brittney once said I’ll be ready to move back one day because the desert isn’t a permanent habitat for anyone with a sane mind.

But what if it is for me? What if I enjoy living a zillion miles from civilization and, once in a blue moon, emerge to see if the world still stands?

Is that weird?

My attention is drawn to the white fence of someone’s property that faces the road. It’s not so much the fence that draws in my shock but the spray-painted image. I pull Storm to stop on his leash to observe it closer and realize the symbol is of a similar one I have tattooed on my upper ribs, just beside my left breast.

It’s a Unalome symbol that I inked on my skin a few years ago. It symbolizes my journey of overcoming the trauma I went through and learning to live again.

But here, this random spray-painted image on someone’s fence seems off. It’s not the exact design, but it’s enough to catch my attention and add some cause for concern. I raise my hand to dab my finger over it, but it’s dry. So it wasn’t painted just now.

I glance to my left and right but am unsure what or who I’m looking for. This could be a coincidence, but I can't help theeerie feeling and the shiver running up my spine. Instinctively I decide to leave this road and quicken my pace.

“Come on, big boy. You gotta find your spot to squat; otherwise, you’ll have to use a doggie mat because Haze doesn’t want dog poo in his garden.”

Storm sighs as if not liking the idea.

“It’s not like Haze ever uses his garden anyway.”

A sudden thought springs to mind, and I take my phone from my back pocket.

“Catalina.”

“Hello, darling. It's nice to finally hear from you. How is everything?”

“Everything’s good. I was wondering if you’d like to visit me in LA?”

“What’s going on, Eden?” Catalina never wastes bullshit on small talk.

“I need someone to take care of Storm while I’m here recording the demos.”

“Do you want to bring him back home?”

“No, I prefer him with me here. But maybe you can come and stay at Brittney’s place. I’d have to ask, but I think it should be okay. There’s only five rooms at Haze’s, and I’m in the fifth one, so there’s no room—”

“I thought you weren’t going to stay there?” Catalina cuts me off fast, seemingly alarmed.

“I wasn’t, but I took your advice. Maybe it's not safe to be here, but at least living in a house with four men is safer.”

I don’t end that sentence with a question mark, but there is one in my head.

“Hmpff. Safe. My ass. You know well that wasn’t the advice I gave you.” I know she doesn’t like them as much as Brittney doesn’t either.

“So far, they’ve been nothing but gentlemen. They want this demo. That’s all.”

“And you want to stay there while I’m at Brittney’s? Darling, it makes no sense.”

Catalina constantly questions my actions, but for the last fourteen years, I’ve never felt that it was necessary to answer her. She’s my hired help, and I love her tremendously, but I always felt too independent to need parenting.

“Can’t you just come without making a fuss?” I say with a sense of urgency that’s probably more rude than anything. “I’d think you might enjoy some time out of the desert,” I add, hoping to lighten the situation.

“I’m more worried about you with those men. I don’t trust them and their intentions.”