Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kira
We did a couple of Scare Zones, rode some rides, then ate a little something before we hopped on the Terror Tram.
It was the same tram that takes you on the regular studio tour, I was told, only during Horror Nights they forgo the regular information and just drove you down onto the lot where they’ve decorated the place for Halloween.
And, of course, there are monsters waiting to get you along with a lot of really good animatronics. The tram even stopped so you could walk through some more Scare Zones. So, definitely not your typical studio tour.
We screamed, laughed, and held onto the guys as we went through. Even Athena seemed to jump a few times—latching onto Trevon—though she wasn’t getting as worked up as the rest of us were.
“That was the best!” Cami said.
“A little freaky,” Annika noted.
“That’s the whole point,” Cami reminded her with a grin.
“Hey, look over there,” Trish said. “It’s a selfie station! Wanna go take one?”
“Of course,” I said. We held hands as we started to walk away. “Anyone else coming with us?” I called over my shoulder.
“I want a churro,” Lana said.
“I second that,” Samanta agreed.
There was a stand nearby and the smell of the cinnamon-and-sugar treats was delicious.
“Do you want one, honey?” Rex asked.
It still felt strange—yet wonderful—to hear him talk to me that way. “Yes, please.”
“Me, too,” Trish yelled.
Her Daddy—a handsome man of about fifty or so named Ben—yelled out, “Already on it.”
Trish giggled.
“Tram leaves in five minutes,” I heard Rex say. “Be sure and be on it and by me, little girl.”
No one seemed to notice what he’d called me, and that was vanilla enough not to flag too much attention, I assumed. But it still made me blush a little.
And feel really nice.
We walked toward the picture station. “Your Daddy seems nice.”
“So does yours,” Trish noted.
“Hey! He’s not my… well… I don’t know. It’s complicated. We, uh, have sorta been throwing that word around since we…”
“Did it?” she finished for me.
I laughed loudly. “Yeah. Since we did it.”
We were almost to the selfie station, and Trish opened her mouth and got one word out, but before I could even figure out what she was saying, another voice yelled, “Hey, Lila!”
I tried not to freeze. Perhaps whoever this guy was he wasn’t talking to me. How could he be? It wasn’t like he’d recognize me from the real Lila’s videos.
He sounded angry, though. A moment later, I realized he looked angry too, because he was barreling straight toward me, jabbing his finger in my direction. Two other men followed him.
What the hell was going on?
“We want our fucking money!” the guy yelled.
It didn’t take him long to close the gap between us. He was a bit quieter as he spoke again.
“I can’t believe you had the nerve to livestream. Did you think we wouldn’t be watching?” His nose scrunched up and there was obvious disapproval in his eyes. “You don’t look anything like you usually do. What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Wow, nothing to boost the ol’ self-esteem than hearing something like that. But right now, I had bigger concerns. I’d study myself in the mirror later and obsess over his jab.
Though he was right—I don’t really look like Lila. I guess if you stripped her of all the stuff she does to herself we could pass as sisters, at least. But I sport a more natural look.
Not that it was important right then. What was important was that I defused this situation before this guy flew off the handle!
“Look, I’m not sure what’s going on or who you think I am, but?—”
“You’re Lila Merriman. And you’ve been avoiding me and the guys for weeks now. Then you have the nerve to show up to Los Angeles, our own city?”
“Do I seriously look that much like Lila Merriman to you? I mean, you follow her social media, obviously. You can see that?—”
“You’re either her or you’re her friend and you’re covering for her.” He studied me a moment longer. “But I say it’s you. You’re Lila. You just don’t have all that shit plastered on your face and stuff.” Shrugging, he said, “Prove me wrong.”
“So here’s a funny story,” I said. “And you’re going to think this is hilarious.”
My smile or my charm seemed to be disarming the guy. The men behind him just stood, as if awaiting orders.
“I’m not Lila.”
“What?” The question came from Trish.
I looked at her. “Sorry. But… I’m not… Lila.”
I saw confusion and then a bit of hurt in her eyes. A moment later, though, she said, “Who are you?”
“I’m—”
“You’re not going to get out of this,” the man said.
Trish and I turned our focus back on him.
“You borrowed money from some dangerous people, and we fucking want it back. Or…” He stepped even closer, his menace gripping me, a chill tracing my spine.
There at Horror Nights, the scariest thing was not monsters and ghosts.
It was whoever this guy was.
He came closer, and that’s when I screamed.
Me and Trish both ran.