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“I’m trying to calculate how long someone can survive from blood loss after being castrated.”
I drop my head back and laugh. “Physical aggression is never the answer.”
Claire pats my hand as she sits back down, tucking her phone into her pocket. “Oh, Zahra. It’s cute how innocent you see the world.”
“And that is?”
“Like you were never told Santa Claus isn’t real.”
I drop my mouth open in faux shock. “What?! Santa’s not real?”
Claire rolls her eyes half-heartedly. “Fool.”
“Seriously. Your answer to everything is to cut, maim, and kill. That’s not really the kind of solution I’m looking for here.”
“Only because you couldn’t afford a good lawyer after.”
We both end up laughing at that.
I poke her with my foot. “Seriously. Castration?”
“You know how the saying goes. Act like a dick, lose said dick.”
A loud laugh escapes me. “No one says that!”
“Then maybe it’s time people did. I mean that fucker seriously thinks he can manipulate you like that? Un-freaking-believable! Does he even have a conscience?”
My entire body aches at the thought.
“Debatable.” I sigh. There was a time I thought he did, but who knows anymore. Although he seemed genuine when he stopped by my cubicle, I can’t be certain who the real Rowan is anymore.
47
Rowan
Ienter the last Creator meeting before the holiday break. While the employees might take time off, I’ll be working day and night to finish up my presentation for the board.
Jenny stands at the front of the room and everyone nods in my direction as I take my seat. I scan the room, searching for the one woman I can’t get out of my head. Zahra’s usual seat is occupied by a different Creator.
A pressure pushes against my chest, making my breaths ragged. Jenny doesn’t say anything about Zahra’s absence.
The first Creator presents on some decent idea that will never make it out of today’s meeting. I’ve already vetoed it in my head.
The door creaks open behind me. I turn to find Zahra entering silently, minus her jangling backpack. It throws me back to our first meeting. A ghost of a smile tugs at my lips before they fall back into a flat line.
Her eyes scan the room before dropping to the only empty chair, located right next to me. If she’s annoyed by the seating arrangement, she doesn’t show it. She pulls out the seat and slides into the space. All the cells in my body fire off in unison as I inhale her faint perfume.
While presenters go up, Zahra remains stiff while ignoring my presence. It irritates me more than I care to admit.
By the time it’s Zahra’s turn to present, I’m fidgeting in my seat and struggling to think about anything but her.
She stands and clears her throat.
I go rigid in my seat, checking her over for any signs of sickness. She takes a sip of her water before going up to the podium.
“Today, I’m presenting something a little different. It’s not exactly about a ride, so I understand if it isn’t accepted as an option for Mr. Kane’s project.” She doesn’t even bother looking in my direction while she speaks about me, which only adds to the tightening pressure in my chest.
“I’m interested in making Dreamland more inclusive for our guests. As a salon worker, I met lots of children who experienced life’s hardest challenges. I began to take notice and write down their concerns. After years of working, I came to one conclusion. As a sister of someone with challenges herself, I understood the guests’ chief complaints—even though I think my sister would punch my arm if she heard me use that kind ofC-word.”
