Chapter 17 #2
Lulie stood behind Zinnia watching her mom ignore them again.
A hard, impenetrable look filled her eyes as she slipped on that rage-filled mask she wore far too often.
Her neck flushed red as volatile emotions rolled through her.
Like mother, like daughter. But then she mumbled, “She’s not even trying,” to herself.
Zinnia accidentally caught her gaze in the mirror. There had to be something real to this. She knew how it felt to want something only to be told no, pick something else—at first. Her art “hobby” hadn’t been whittled down to nothing by the person who was supposed to support her the most.
At the end of the day, Zinnia’s parents believed in her and her talent. They’d helped her pay for art school. Amber had filed a damn trademark for her rejection catchphrase.
Acting grown didn’t make it true. Lulie was still a teenager. Zinnia had been just as wild at that age, albeit in a different way. She didn’t give up on herself back then and wouldn’t allow herself to give up on the twins now.
So, she smiled because she wanted to. “A high ponytail with this dress could be a look.”
“Very Ariana. I love it. You’ll need earrings.”
She almost laughed at Lulie’s monotone reaction, but they weren’t there yet. “I was thinking Janet Jackson circa her Poetic Justice era.”
“When are you taking these braids out?” Lulie began fussing with them. “How do you feel about wigs?”
“I’m taking them out and putting them right back in. The only time my hair isn’t braided is when I’m on my way to get them done by someone else.”
“Why not experiment with different styles? We need to be innovative.”
“No.” She was willing to compromise today in all things except her hair. No one else got a say in the matter because she’d decided to keep that for herself, just like Jordan advised. Her hair was a part of her identity and too important a piece to give away.
Lulie crossed her arms and began tapping her chin. “I do know an amazing braider looking to make her mark. How do you feel about color? You could pull off being a blonde with the right shade.”
“Also no, but…” she trailed off, giving herself a moment to match Lulie’s contemplative energy. “I’d be into a nice brown. 1B/30?”
“Ooh, that could be sexy and very relatable.” Her sudden grin was as unexpected as it was camera-ready. “I’ll give you that. Baby steps to blonde is the better idea. We’ll launch it as a secret weapon in a few years when you’re fully established.”
“But I—”
“Where are those yellow alts I asked for?” Lulie whirled around, heading for the clothes rack to select the next outfit.
Zinnia had to laugh. Baby steps all around.
By the time they were finished, she was in possession of several pairs of jeans and other neutral-toned streetwear essentials, somber business casual options, and three breathtaking gowns for private benefit dinners.
“My treat,” Lulie announced, passing her credit card to the cashier.
Caught between a sardonic joke and a thank-you, Zinnia kept her mouth shut.
What a wild world she now lived in where six months’ worth of rent could be spent in four hours. She halfway assumed the prank was the Zaffres expecting her to pay for everything, then pointing and laughing about how poor she was compared to them. The lowest of low-hanging in-law insults.
A loud bang echoed through the store. Startled, Zinnia fell back against the counter before searching for the source—the security guards had slammed someone against the front glass doors.
The man they’d pinned wore a dark jumpsuit and began shouting, “I JUST NEED TO TALK TO HER! LET ME GO! I JUST WANT TO TALK! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! SHE LOVES ME!”
“What the fuck?” Lulie said exactly what Zinnia was thinking.
Amber suddenly appeared in front of them, eyes wild with panic. “Go out the back! Now!” She grabbed Lulie and Zinnia by the arm, shoving them both toward the utility entrance, but another loud bang stopped them in their tracks.
A second man was now relentlessly pounding against the glass with a baseball bat, yelling, “LET ME IN! LET ME TALK TO HER! LET ME—” One of the security guards tackled him to the ground.
Cold realization slashed through hot adrenaline and sunk into Zinnia’s bones. The two men were dressed identically. A growing crowd of bystanders was forming with their phones out. Their camera pod hadn’t even stopped recording—Burgundy was even walking closer to the doors to get a better shot.
This was the prank!
“Keep moving!” Amber ordered, and they did.
Pace set to an urgent speed-walk, they hustled past the storage and bathrooms heading toward the hallway. Amber abruptly turned left and shoved them through a partially hidden door. She slammed it closed in their faces, locking them inside.
“What is she doing?” Zinnia pointlessly twisted the handle.
“Security has the car keys! We have to wait here.”
Here being…an employee break room? A sliver of poorly lit space, crowded by one lone table, a few chairs, an old microwave, a freestanding storage locker, and a rattling refrigerator. The air was saturated with the scent of fish sauce and salty french fries.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” She felt along the wall, searching for another light switch but found none.
“What if they have a gun?” Lulie whispered.
“Then they would’ve shot through the glass,” she deadpanned. “This is the worst emergency safety plan in existence. You couldn’t have possibly thought I’d believe this.”
There was just enough overhead light to make out Lulie’s shockingly terrified face in the gloom. She was an actress, sure, but she seemed more like the CW type. Her performance was giving Emmy—cowering in an empty corner, arms wrapped around herself, palpable fear in her eyes.
Was she not in on this prank?
Zinnia paused, frowning at her. The odds of this being a coordinated attack from a cult obsessed with her were so abysmal she wanted to laugh…
until she realized there wasn’t a camera pod with them.
She circled the small room, scanning the ceiling for security cameras or telltale reflective lights in the wall.
“What are you doing?” Lulie asked.
“I’m trying to figure out what the hell is going on here,” she said through her teeth.
The storage locker door swung open with a high-pitched creak. Yet another man wearing the same dark jumpsuit stepped out of it.
Zinnia’s stomach dropped, matched in speed by her accelerating heart rate. “Oh, come on!” she groaned.
“Stay away from me!” Lulie whimpered. If it were possible to phase through the wall, she would’ve been halfway home by now…but she curiously wasn’t screaming for help.
“I just want to talk to you. I did all this for you.” The eerie stillness in his tone set off every self-preservation warning bell and alarm Zinnia had. He was tall and thick, with a pale, clean-shaven face and hair cut into a neat style. “Did you read my letters?”
“Leave me alone,” Lulie cried, covering her ears. He took a single step toward her.
Instinct took over and Zinnia was standing in front of Lulie before she even thought twice about it. The men outside the store were more surprising than scary, like watching a horror movie. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t hurt them.
This man felt different.
He blinked as if noticing Zinnia for the first time. There was no light there—he had the emptiest blue eyes she’d ever seen in her life. The remorseless kind that appeared in courtrooms and on Dateline: murder edition.
“Oooookay.” Chills ran down her spine with enough force to make her gasp. She held up her hand like a stop sign to ward off evil. “I’ve had enough of whatever this is. I’m starting to feel a little threatened! And I don’t recommend doing that!”
“Move,” he growled.
Oh, hell no! His method acting had officially gone too far for her.
“MOM!” Lulie finally remembered she had a voice and began shouting over and over—which must’ve been the cue to set him off. He rushed at them like a linebacker, crouched low with lethal force.
Zinnia screamed as her fist shot out and connected with his throat. “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.” She shook out her hand, fully on the verge of losing her shit.
His eyes bulged, hands clutching his throat as he gasped for air. He was wearing enough cologne to revive the dead. It rolled over her as he stumbled back, a nauseating wave nearly making her gag.
But her punch only slowed him down. He lurched forward again with one arm outstretched, his claw-like hand swiping at her and missing.
“No!” She rammed the heel of her hand into his nose. “I warned you!” Squaring up, she kicked him in the balls and, when he bent over, kicked him again in the face. “No!”
His head snapped back with a satisfying crunch, and he toppled like a slain giant crashing into the ground.
“Holy shit!” Lulie gripped Zinnia’s arm with both hands, still standing behind her. “Did you kill him?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, breathless. “I hope not. Oh shit. I hope he has actor insurance.”
He groaned and rolled over—they both screamed, and Zinnia kicked him in the face for the second time. “I’M SORRY! DON’T SCARE ME LIKE THAT!”
He didn’t move again.
Seconds later, Amber opened the door with a security guard and a camera pod in tow. They all stared open-mouthed at the man on the ground and then at Zinnia.
“He’s not dead!” she said quickly. “But I might have overreacted.”