5. Zola

Chapter 5

Zola

T he sound of the hairdryer was strangely soothing, and for a few minutes, I was almost able to believe I could completely focus on it and not remember my beloved Papa was gone. Gone forever. He was never coming back.

When Antoine cut off the dryer, I was once again greeted with silence and my loss seemed even greater.

“There. I bet you’re glad you have one of the best stylists in the city as your roommate.”

I curved my lips at Antoine’s words and hoped it passed for a smile. “Yeah.”

“So … do you like it?” he asked, pumping hair serum into his hands and rubbing it through the ends of my hair.

“Yeah,” I nodded, staring at my lifeless face in the mirror.

“You should put some makeup on, darlin’.”

Our eyes met in the mirror. “I don’t want to.”

He nodded and didn’t ask me any questions or push me to talk, even though I was certain he wanted me to share my burdens with him. I just couldn’t, so this was where our little bathroom session came to an end. I thanked him, got to my feet and went to my room. I slipped quickly into my black dress, grabbed my purse, and was on my way out when I caught my reflection. For a second an old memory of my father resurfaced.

When I was a child, my father always loved my hair down, but whenever it would get in my eyes, which was all the time since I could never quite sit still, he would call me over and help me tie it up.

He always seemed to have a hair tie on him. I had always wondered how this was so. I had asked him once and he gave me some funny fantastical answer of how he was secretly a hair tie genie and it made me laugh until my sides hurt.

Antoine had done a wonderful job, but the perfection of my hair suddenly annoyed me. I grabbed a hair tie and turned it into a messy knot that I was certain would break Antoine’s heart.

Then I grabbed my phone off my dresser and headed into the kitchen to find breakfast for one waiting.

“Eat up, darlin’. You need your strength today.”

“Aren’t you going to have any?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nah, I'll just have a Kiwi smoothie later.”

“Thank you," I said and looked down at the omelet, sausage, and toast breakfast he had obviously put so much care into making for me.

I really appreciated the effort so I ate as much as I could, but my appetite was gone and it was hard going.

We went down to meet the police officers waiting and followed them to the unmarked police car. They never spoke and neither did we. I was grateful for the silence all the way to the cemetery.

I had been made aware of the potential danger that now surrounded me, and even though I believed I was in danger, I still couldn’t find it in me to be worried or even scared. I would never say it out loud, but sometimes I felt so sad I hoped they would come so that I could escape this cold, numb, hollow emptiness. For three whole days, I couldn’t find a lick of sleep. I had literally become the walking dead.

I stared out of the window at the vibrant city and wondered when or if I would ever feel like these people again. Living their lives with a frown or even a smile on their faces. Feeling anything beyond this soul-crushing grief that seemed to want to completely suck my life away at every moment.

I shut my eyes, no longer willing to think.

Finally, we arrived at the cemetery.

Papa’s funeral, as I had expected, was packed full. The media kept a reasonable distance and I was sure this was due to the police’s insistence that they stayed away. However, more people than I cared to know were present.

In fact, I had invited no one, hoping I would be able to do this as intimately as possible and without any observers, but this courtesy, I realized, would not be given to me. From the moment I entered the cemetery, I ignored any person that came up to me with their empty platitudes, making the message clear, I didn’t want to talk to anyone.

My gaze never left my father’s casket while the prayers were recited and he was lowered to the ground.

It would be the last time I ever came close to experiencing his existence physically. Even though I tried to control myself as he disappeared into the ground, I couldn’t help the tears that filled my eyes and flowed down my face.

Antoine didn’t hold me. He knew I would have hated that. Instead, he edged closer, encouraging me to lean against him. I readily accepted the offer of support as my legs were close to giving out.

Soon enough it was over, and people began to go their separate ways.

My father’s secretary, Rosa, came up to me and this was one face at least I recognized. She gave me a warm, sweet hug, which I had no choice but to accept. Afterward, I knew she wanted to say more but after observing my frozen expression, she hesitated and then thankfully, went on her way after telling me she would be contacting me later on in the week with some information for me.

Papa’s business associates began to come up to me … and although I wanted to escape from them, I couldn’t help feeling as if that would be disrespectful to my father. I kept myself together until I couldn’t any longer. At that point, I looked to Antoine and he led me to the car while ensuring I wasn’t stopped on the way. Eventually, we were seated in the dark-tinted vehicle. The cop turned to face me.

“Ready to leave?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t stop staring at my father’s grave in the fields. “I want to wait here for a bit. I want to spend a little more time with him. Maybe you can take Antoine home and come pick me up later.”

"Sorry. Can’t leave you here,” he answered flatly.

“I’ll find my way back. You stay,” Antoine said and got out of the car.

It took about half an hour for the crowd to clear out. I was then able to return to the grave site in peace.

I sat on the grass and began to whisper to him. I found that although there were a thousand things I wanted to share with him, the only ones that bubbled up clearly and irrevocably were four words.

“I miss you, Papa.”

The dam broke with those four words. I poured out everything I felt in my heart until I realized I was no longer alone. Something about the way this person moved made me freeze. The hairs at the back of my neck stood and I stopped breathing. The steps behind me were incredibly quiet and controlled. I waited, hoping I was just imagining things. It was just someone passing by.

I wasn’t.

I heard the crackle of dry leaves behind me … much too close. Instinctively, I jumped up and whirled around, but my fear-fueled reaction was so sudden I couldn’t maintain my balance and I felt myself begin to fall backwards. Before I could land on my ass on the grass, a solid grip caught my hand and pulled me upright.

For a second, I thought I was losing my mind as I looked up and saw the face before me. The sun in the sky slightly hindered my vision for a moment, but soon it cleared and my vision was perfect.

He towered over me and I recognized him instantly. I stared at him in shock. God, he looked even more like a beautiful avenging angel than I remembered. All I could do was stare stupidly up at him until he broke the spell by speaking.

“Are you alright?”

“No,” I said and rudely pulled my hand away.

I saw him stiffen and instantly hatred filled me. “I guess you had to come, right? To see the results of your handiwork?”

I was so sarcastic that for a moment even I was shocked. I hadn’t meant to say that to him because even in my grieving state, I knew it was not his fault, but I still couldn’t help the resentment I felt when I saw him look so strong, vibrant and alive just after I’d buried Papa. The air between us crackled with tension, resentment, and … something else. I felt my heart beating erratically in my chest.

Suddenly he glanced away from me towards my father’s grave and I could see for a moment the sadness on his face. Then it was gone, and he continued speaking as if I’d never uttered my ugly comment.

“I don’t think the safety measures around you are appropriate,” he said evenly. “For one, too many people were able to come up to you. That’s unacceptable given the danger you’re currently in.”

“Rather than kill my father, why didn’t they kill you?” I asked. “Whoever the madman behind all of this is, he only had to get rid of you, right? Why take my father out instead?”

He looked at me in surprise. “I’m not that easy to kill, Zola.”

“Ah,” I spat furiously. “So you enlisted the help of a man who was?”

He sighed. “I’ll say this because I want to try to get you to listen to me. I tried my best to ensure your father was protected. However, that evening and after he had lost the informant at the restaurant …” he paused, and I could tell he was wondering whether I knew any of this or not.

I scowled at him. “Tell me the truth for the love of God.”

“That evening he wanted me to divert his security detail to finding and protecting the whistleblower because he believed their canceled meeting meant his identity had been compromised and he was in danger.

“I sent additional security to replace the ones I had sent to follow your father’s request, but they arrived too late.”

“So, what do you want from me?” I asked with a lethal glare. “Understanding? Forgiveness? I’m fresh out of both, I’ll let you know when I restock.”

Without waiting for him to respond I stepped to the side away from him and started to walk away, but his words stopped me in my tracks.

“You’re in danger. I’m sure you know this.”

I stopped and turned around to face him. “So? What’s it to you?”

“I’m told you’re considering getting into the witness protection program,” he said.

“Again, what’s it to you?” I asked.

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t. I can tell from personal experience they’re incapable of giving you the protection you need. The man who murdered your father will run rings around them. I want to help. I have to help. I can’t let anything happen to you.”

“You want to help?” I scoffed. “The same way you helped my father?”

It must have stung because I saw his expression go cold.

“Yeah, I thought so. Thanks, but no thanks,” I spat bitterly. “I think my family has been associated with you for long enough. Do me a big favor and stay away from me.”

Then I turned around and stormed away. I was still fuming when I returned to the car which felt weird because it was the first time since this nightmare had begun that I’d felt anything beyond the crippling, heart-wrenching sense of emptiness and loss. But the rush of fury and adrenaline faded as I got in and closed the door. As I was driven away from the cemetery Antoine called.

“You okay darlin’?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

We both knew it was a lie.