Page 55 of Sapphires and Snakes
I pluck up my and Zarina’s rings, holding them up and watching the light flicker and flare along their bands, in their gems. The inferno inside me is barely sated. Rita and the kids are barely out of danger, and Zarina is still in the thick of it. And while Gemma shares responsibility in it, the rub is, so do I.
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’rebadmemories?”
“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 likea 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.”
