Page 27 of X Marks the Stalker
“I’m fine, really. Just busy,” I say. “Tell Marco I said hi, okay? And have a sticky rice donut for me.”
“Will do. But next time, you’re coming out if I have to drag you.”
“Deal,” I say, knowing I’m lying. Knowing I can’t drag Zara into this. She needs to stay away from my world. “Enough about me. What’s up with you?”
“Actually...” Zara’s voice shifts, losing its teasing edge.
The sudden seriousness in her tone makes me stand straighter. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s my parents.” She sighs, the sound heavy with concern. “The restaurant’s not doing well.”
I glance at the camera, uncomfortable having this conversation while being viewed. I lower my voice.
“What do you mean? That place is always packed when I come by.”
“Yeah, on weekends maybe. But weekday business has dropped by almost forty percent in the last two months.” The strain in her voice makes my chest tighten. “They won’t admit there’s a problem, but I see the books when Mom thinks I’m not looking.”
“Is it seasonal? Winter’s always slower for?—”
“It’s not seasonal,” Zara cuts me off. “It’s that new spot across the street. ‘Island Fusion’ or whatever they’re calling themselves.” The bitterness in her voice is something I rarely hear from perpetually sunny Zara. “They’ve got fancycocktails with dry ice smoke effects and DJ nights on Thursdays. They’re trendy.”
I sink onto my bed. “Your parents make the best Jamaican food in the city. People know that.”
“Tell that to the line of influencers taking selfies across the street.” She makes a disgusted sound. “You know what the worst part is? My parents won’t even acknowledge there’s an issue. Dad keeps saying ‘We’ve weathered worse’ while Mom pretends everything’s fine as she stares at spreadsheets at three in the morning.”
“How bad is it?”
“Bad enough that they laid off Miss Claudia last week. She’s been with them since before I was born, Oakley.” Her voice cracks. “And the equipment is falling apart. The big mixer broke yesterday, and Dad’s using duct tape to hold it together because they can’t afford the repairs right now.”
“Shit, Z.” I break off a piece of chocolate but don’t eat it. “What can I do?”
“Nothing. I just needed to tell someone who wouldn’t give me the ‘Phillips family optimism’ speech.” She tries to laugh, but it comes out strained. “I’m using all my dog grooming profits to help cover their rent increase, but it’s not enough.”
I sit up straighter. “Rent increase? In this economy? That’s predatory.”
“Tell me about it. Twenty percent jump with barely a month’s notice.”
My journalist brain kicks in. “Who owns the building?”
“Some property management company. Wellness something.”
An icy feeling spreads through my chest. “Wellness Metro Holdings?”
“Yeah, that sounds right. Why?”
I close my eyes, the pieces clicking together. “Just curious.”
Wellness Metro Holdings. One of Blackwell’s companies. Fits.
She laughs, but it’s weak. “I’m scared for them, Oakley. They’ve put everything into that restaurant. It’s their whole life.”
The vulnerability in her voice makes my throat tight. Zara’s always the strong one, the one who takes care of everyone else.
“They’re going to be okay,” I promise, even though I know better than to make promises I can’t keep. “We’ll figure something out.”
“Yeah,” she says, not sounding convinced. “Anyway, I should go. Marco’s waiting.”
“Go enjoy your date. And your architect friend.” I pause. “Hey, Z? Thanks for telling me.”
