Chapter 21 Zarina
ZARINA
My wedding dress looks like a flag of surrender.
I stare at myself in the mirror, Sally fluttering around me as she places pins wherever needed.
She pulled this together in less than a week, and while it’s no more than panels of fabric right now, the vision is coming into shape.
Objectively, it will be beautiful. Sally will have outdone herself, and I’m paying far more than she quoted for the rush job.
Yet, despite her skill and impressive speed, my fingers itch to rip the fabric off and throw it into traffic on a rainy day.
Maybe I’ll ask her to dye it crimson. To hide the blood when I slit Marcus’s throat.
I sigh, knowing I can’t actually slice a knife across his carotid, though I desperately want to. And if I dyed the thing red, I’d more than likely tempt a similar fate for myself.
“Stop sighing or start spilling,” Sally snipes.
I catch Pat’s eye in the mirror, their bright-blue gaze sympathetic from their seat on the sofa behind me.
My gaze shifts across my bedroom to Danny standing beside the door.
He plays on his phone, obviously bored, but I know he’s listening.
I know he’s waiting for me to fuck up so he can report back.
So he can justify the vicious cruelty barely concealed behind his handsome face.
“I’m just tired,” I lie to Sally.
She shoots me a look full of skepticism, and I shake my head just enough to warn her off pressing further. We’re not back at her studio, where we can speak freely over bottles of wine and soft R&B music. I tried to do that, but Danny insisted on accompanying me.
And I couldn’t have that. Not this time.
I shift my weight, and Sally smacks my thigh. “Hold still. Just a few more pins.”
“Yes, drill sergeant.” I offer her a mock salute.
She wrinkles her nose. “Ew, don’t remind me.”
“Of your masculine days in the Army?” I lean into the ribbing, into the feeling of normalcy that it provides. Anything to counter the stirring ball of anxiety sitting heavy in my gut.
“It was the Coast Guard, thank you very much.” She sniffs as she steps back to assess the lay of the skirt.
“Barely even military.”
She laughs outright, kneeling down to re-pin a part of the hem. “Don’t say that to someone who actually has pride in the U.S. military industrial complex.”
“That’s not you?” I tease.
“They paid for my transition. That’s the only good thing I have to say about ’em.” Sally stands at my back, studying the dress in the mirror before me.
I squint at her. “So you have pictures of your Coast Guard friends plastered all over your studio because they’re bad memories?”
“Hush, I’m working.” She ducks behind me where I can’t see her.
I bite back a laugh, but my smile hitches my lips upward anyway.
Until I catch my reflection again, eyes drawn to it like a car crash I can’t look away from.
I wonder if I’ll look like I survived a head-on collision at the end of my wedding night, after I’m left alone with Marcus for the first time.
Rita’s face as I last saw it flashes over mine in the mirror, and I squeeze my eyes shut. She’s safe. They’re all safe.
And hopefully I will be, too.
Sally stands before me again, cutting off my view, and considers her creation. “I think that’s good. I’ll be adding the top layers this week, and then we’ll need another, final fitting before the day. How are you liking it?”
I force my eyes back to my reflection and do my best to scrutinize her work as if I care. As if she’s not hand-sewing my funeral dress. “Can we drop the décolletage? I’d like to be just over the edge of scandalous.”
Sally smirks, too knowing. “Who am I to say no to the bride?”
I blow her a kiss. “You’re the best.”
“I know, but I do love hearing it.”
I let my laugh free this time. “Anytime.”
Sally claps her hands together. “Okay, slip out of it so I can pack it up and actually meet this insane deadline you’ve assigned me.”
I raise a brow at Danny. “Get out, Snake.”
He doesn’t move nor look up from his phone. “There’s a closet and a bathroom. Use them.”
Anger weighs down my hands, heating my palms. This is my home, my room. I should be able to choose who can step foot inside. Whether they can hover beside the door. A sickening feeling pulls at my stomach, and when the word for it springs to mind, I almost vomit.
Powerless.
Danny fucking Saldano with his stupid hair and his stupid dick and his absolutely fucking stupid mouth is making me feel powerless. The idea of it should be laughable. An insult. I’m a Gallo. Heiress to the South. But there it is, foreign but real. I hate it.
I lift my chin, gazing down my nose at him with as much disdain as I can muster.
He’s taller than me, sure, but I’ve lived a lifetime as a conniving, savage mafia princess.
I didn’t almost cut off a man’s dick when he got too handsy at coat check for fun.
I did it to challenge every future man to think twice before their hands found my ass lest I take their family jewels as my own. To wield the power I had.
And while I can’t castrate Danny right now, I am not powerless.
I signal Sally to start removing the dress.
She frowns, but I give her a reassuring nod.
“I’ll change where I like. You go ahead and stay, Danny boy.
I’ll be sure to tell Marcus you watched.
” Sally unclamps the back seam of the dress, still waiting to be sewn up.
I let the sleeves fall down my arms, the bodice folding down to show my bra then my stomach.
“I’m sure he’ll love knowing you saw me naked before he did.
Your eyeballs should remain in your face. Probably.”
Danny rolls his eyes. “Patrizia.”
“It’s Pat, dipshit,” they snap. It’s been a week of him misgendering them, calling them by their legal name. I don’t blame Pat for their irritable, bordering on violent outburst.
“And I’m Danny,” he retorts.
Pat gags. “Don’t make dad jokes, it’s revolting.”
“Get out. Both of you.” I shoot Pat a subtle apologetic look as they sweep through the room, snatching Danny’s elbow to drag him out the door. He yanks his arm away, like they’re contagious. Which makes me want to drench his pillow in Ebola.
The moment the door clicks, I snatch Sally’s hand and press a finger to her lips before I step out of the dress and lead her into the closet.
Every week, I use a device to sweep for bugs and cameras, unwilling to trust my parents, Danny, or Marcus.
Today, thankfully, the closet was clear.
My bedroom, though, had two fucking microphones hidden away, both of which I threw in a glass of water before placing them back where I found them.
I push Sally into the closet and shut the door with a soft click. The more layers between us and Danny the better.
Sally’s eyes flick between me and the wall facing my bedroom door, as if she can see through it. “What the fuck is going on, Z?”
“Low voices, sorry.” I yank off my bra—better Danny think I actually got naked—and pull on a robe. “I know I’m asking a lot of you.”
“Are you under house arrest or something?” she asks.
“It’s complicated. I need a favor.” I whirl for the wall of shoes and handbags.
“This is some deep shit, Z. I’m not about to get myself killed for you.”
I pull the garish, pink heel that triggers the wall to reveal the secret compartment behind it. “That won’t happen.”
She scoffs. “And how can you guarantee that locked up here in your tower?”
“Sally. Please,” I beg. “Just hear me out.”
She studies the cache of weapons behind me then me.
I wait for her to decide, knowing that I truly can’t make her do this.
I won’t. She’s my friend. She always has a choice.
And maybe it’s how pathetic I am right now or how she knows I’m about to be forced into an arranged marriage with a man despite my parents’ full knowledge that I’m a lesbian. Because she relents.
“Talk fast,” she says.
“I need you to deliver something to the DA.” I turn to the safe set in the wall, twisting the dial. “It can be by courier so you don’t have to be seen there, but I can’t do it from here. It’s too dangerous.”
Sally closes the gap between us. “If it’s murder evidence, absolutely not.”
I shake my head, the twitch of a smile fluttering at the corner of my lips. “It’s just paperwork, nothing illegal. I swear.”
“Why can’t you do it?” She pulls a knife off the wall, studying the edge.
I enter the last number and unlock the safe. “The whole being a captive but not thing.”
“Right.” She replaces the blade and turns to me. “If anything happens, who do I call? You can’t help, obviously.”
“Call Tamayo.” The name whooshes through me, stealing my breath.
“Her number is in our messages. But these…” I tug out a manilla envelope so full, the edges threaten to rip.
Inside it lies about two inches of paperwork that could either save me from my fate or condemn me to death.
I’m choosing to hope for the former. “These have to be delivered into the DA’s hands by four tomorrow. ”
Sally looks at me, at the envelope, at me again.
I wait, not pressuring her to decide either way even if I desperately need her to do this.
I don’t know who else to ask. I don’t trust my parents, Pat and I can’t leave without Danny sticking to us like a fucking barnacle, and no one else in this house is allowed to talk to me. Marcus’s orders with Danny enforcing.
Sally’s my only chance.
“Do you know how to use all of these?” She nods at the wall of weapons.
“Yes.” Thankfully, Father wasn’t too keen to only depend on his men to protect me.
“And yet you’re stuck here.”
“Yes.” The envelope is heavy in my hands, but I don’t flinch.
If I move, change my expression, I know she’ll say no.
She might say no if I stand still, too. The seconds tick by, and I know we’re running out of Danny’s patience.
Any moment, he’ll barge back into my room as if he owns the place, and my chance to stop this wedding from happening at all will wink out of existence.
It’s Sally or no one. It’s now or never.
Sally presses her lips together. Her Black skin glows in the warm, low light of the closet as she considers me and my stack of paper.
The irony of the moment hits me—we’re here, two queers hiding in a closet and hoping not to incur the wrath of straight cis men.
If it was actually funny, I’d laugh. Unfortunately, nothing’s very funny these days.
Especially not this.
She heaves a sigh and holds out her hands. “Anything I should say to the DA?”
Relief edged with urgency slams into me. “Thank you so much, Sally.” I lay the envelope in her outstretched palms. “Tell the DA this is what I owe her. It should be enough.”
“Her? And enough for what?” Sally asks.
“He’ll know what I mean.” I swing the safe shut and spin the dial before clicking the button to close the wall back up. “Don’t look inside, please.”
“Look inside?” She follows me to the door. “I’m not stupid.”
“I know.” I pause before exiting, grinning back at her.
She doesn’t return it. Instead, her brow is furrowed and her eyes full of concern. She rests a hand on my shoulder. “Are you gonna be okay? I’m scared for you.”
I grab her fingers and squeeze. “I’m scared for me, too.”
I wish I could submerse myself in her comfort, however small.
I don’t have much these days. And almost every hour of every day, I am resisting the urge to curl into a ball and let myself fall apart.
I haven’t yet. Not once. Because I know if I do, I won’t be able to keep going. I won’t be able to stop this nightmare.
And I must. No matter what it takes.
So I release her hand and shove through the door before I can slide into the warmth of her compassion and lose myself completely. We’re out of time, anyway. My instincts are screaming at me to get back into the bedroom before Danny bursts back inside. He cannot see the envelope.
My room is still empty. I grab a wedding invitation off the pile sitting on the side table. I wrote a note on the back this morning, during one of the few moments I had to myself. “Make sure he gets this, too.”
“God this is so fucked up.” Sally slips the manilla envelope and invitation into her binder of designs. It’s a little bulky, but innocuous. No one will know it’s anything other than designer business.
Then the door bangs open, smacking into the wall with unnecessary force.
“It’s been long enough.” Danny surveys the room like he’s expecting it to be full of assassins. Or empty. He narrows his eyes when everything is as he left it—except I’m in my robe.
Sally sneers as she zips the dress into its garment bag, fingers gentle with the fragile piece. She picks up her binder and the bag and levels a look of pure derision at Danny. “You’ve never lasted longer in your life, have you?”
The transformation of his face from skeptical intimidation to confusion to enraged offense would be comical if he wasn’t striding across the room with his fists clenched and his jaw set. I shoot Pat a look as I step into his path.
“Watch your mouth, bitch—”
“Shut up, Snake.” I shove his chest, sending him back on his heels.
My heart is loud in my ears. Danny is bigger, stronger, and armed to the teeth.
But I also know that, right now, before I’m married to Marcus, he cannot touch me.
Not if he wants this wedding to happen. “You will not insult my guests in my home.”
Pat yanks him back out of my space, and he shrugs them off. He aims his vitriol at me, a far more interesting target than Sally. “Enjoy it while it lasts, princess.”
That word slaps me in the face with the echo of Tamayo, her betrayal, and now the sad reality of this wedding. But I just lift my chin higher.
Danny crowds closer, teeth bared. “Twelve days and you’ll be in my house.”
“You mean Alonso’s house,” I say the words like I’m apathetic, unafraid. It’s a lie.
“And put in your rightful place,” Danny jeers, “under a man.”
Sally winds up for a retort, but I seize her arm. This shit is par for the course with Danny, and while I’d really, really love to slice my favorite knife across his face while he’s tied to a chair, now is not the time.
“I’ll see you for the final fitting.” I guide Sally to my bedroom door. “Thank you for everything.”
She clutches my hand so tight, my bones strain against her grip. “Stay safe.”
“You, too.” And then I watch my only chance at getting out of this death sentence walk down the hall, out of my control, and hopefully into the hands of the District Attorney before four tomorrow.