Page 68 of The Marriage Narrative
“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 loudbangechoed 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 LulieandZinnia by the arm, shoving them both toward the utility entrance, but another loudbangstopped 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 walkingcloserto the doors to get a better shot.
Thiswas 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 theworstemergency safety plan in existence. You couldn’t havepossiblythought 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 thehellis 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?”
