Lipstick & Zombies (Deadly Divas Book 1) (24 page)

Her life had become so strange. Everyone around her seemed to have some manual or another that she'd never read. She didn't know how to do anything useful here. But while home hadn't prepared her for much in her new world, there were some survival skills she was learning always applied. Killing corpses was always your most valuable skill. Adaptation to any and all situations is vital; fighting the current gets you nowhere. And, that rule she'd only recently come to truly understand: letting go, which meant never holding onto something to the detriment of your own survival. Nothing is forever, and always is always a lie.

FENNEC NEWS

“And of course, no one's talking about it, because that wouldn't be politically correct, right? But what do you expect a girl with one leg to do? Take it off and beat zombies with it? Let's be real, here. These girls were never going to make this work, even if they had three legs each.”

Chapter Twenty-one

SADIE

They all needed to do solo interviews leading up to the concert. It was part of a special “Get to know your Deadly Divas!” campaign Willa had put together. It was smart, really. But the time had come, the manager said, to speak of many things.

Sadie was glaring at Willa, trying to find a good way to get out of it, but she knew she'd have to do it sometime.

“Hey,” Willa said, “you're the one who didn't want to hide your leg.”

She was enjoying Sadie's discomfort.

She needed her mom. Or Anthony. She needed her family. She gave herself a moment to imagine she was in her living room, talking with them.
No one can make you feel anything. You're the one making you scared right now
. It was probably weird to roll your eyes at your mom when she wasn't even there.

“Okay, I can do this.”

“You went over the talking points?” Willa asked again.

“Of course,” Sadie said. She'd gone over them all night. Willa had come up with a lot of things for Sadie to say. Sadie wasn't going to use any of them.

Sadie had specially requested her interviewer be Carter Halliwell, the fashion expert. She'd been putting together outfits to help their fans look like the different Divas. She was probably twenty-five years old, Asian, and bubbly enough for the news, but serious enough to tear your outfit apart in ways that made you wish you never had to wear clothes again. If you were a fashion miss, she'd tell you. She was kind of a lot like Dee, Sadie thought.

Sadie's stylist had worked extra hard on Sadie's outfit. She thought he'd go safe. She'd been wrong. They'd put her in a crop top with black, red, and white stripes, and a simple black and white skirt that went just below her knee, the better to show off her leg. There had been a lot of argument over which one to wear, but ultimately, it had been agreed that the one she'd worn in her music video was the obvious choice. Anthony had built it. Anthony had a part in all of her legs. She'd been so devastated over her first one, and Anthony, well, Anthony was an artist. Her robot leg was full of working parts, and once she'd shown them that if they gave her a replacement battery she could light it up, they were all over it. Or at least, Marcus, her stylist, was. Willa remained unimpressed.

Carter Halliwell wore a white, layered-lace dress, with purple combat boots. There were flowers tied in the lace, and in her hair. Carrie would have worn it without a doubt.

“Hi, Sadie,” she said, “it's so great to meet you.”

“Likewise. Thanks for doing this.”

“It's not my usual job,” she noted. Sadie couldn't tell if she was mad about it.

“I'm sure you'll do great,” Sadie told her.

“Mind if we jump right in?”

“That's what I'd prefer,” Sadie said.

“Great.” She smiled and did her introductory spiel about how she was so excited to be interviewing Sadie of Deadly Divas fame, and even went so far as to say that they'd be talking about her leg. Sadie nodded. “So, Sadie, let's dive right in, shall we? How did you lose your leg?”

Sadie had been given the questions, and a script for answers, but not the order they'd be asked in. She'd naturally assumed Carter would build to it, but appreciated that she hadn't. It was more honest. This was how her conversations with strangers on the street went, annoying as that was.

“I lost my leg?” Sadie grabbed her prosthesis. “Nope, still there.” Carter laughed uncomfortably. “I don't tell people how I 'lost my leg'.”

“And why is that?”

“Because it's the first thing people want to know when they see me,” Sadie told her. “Strangers will come up to me on the street, and feel they can ask. If I'm at a party and someone feels like being polite, they'll come up and talk to me for half an hour, just to build up to what they consider enough history between us to feel comfortable asking me about my leg. They want that story. They want it to sum me up, be all I have to offer. But let me ask you, Carter, which of your legs defines you?”

“I see,” Carter said.

“No, I'm not done, if you don't mind,” Sadie said.

“Go ahead,” Carter said.

Sadie tried to collect her thoughts. She had so much to say, and she wanted to get this right. She wanted people to understand, if they could. “I try not to mind. But I do. When I used to tell people, they'd have this reaction to it. I think it might get a little better when I'm older, but it makes people very sad. I tell them this story about how I lost my leg, which triggers all of these bad memories for me that I don't want to think about everyday all day, and then I have to comfort them. It becomes my job to assure this other person that I am okay and that I have a happy and full life. That shouldn't be my job.

“And if I get past that with someone, I've told them about how I lost my leg and I've comforted them about that, if the conversation continues, the conversation does not become more comfortable for me. People want to assure me that I'm still hot, or tell me that I look creepy. No offense though, right? No offense. I've been asked if it will grow back. I've been told I'm inspirational—and this was before becoming a Deadly Diva, this was just walking down the street. People have asked to touch my residual limb. People have asked if they let me keep the part they cut off. People don't ask me where I went to school or what my favorite subject was or why I like to sing. They ask me how I lost my leg. And if I have the courage to say something back that makes them uncomfortable, I'm told to remember that other people don't mean any harm. They're just curious. Well, I'm just trying to live my life.

“My English teacher told me this story once. He was still in school, and this person who wanted to sound smart raises their hand and says, 'I think the stick figure is the perfect representation of all that is man,' whatever that means. So my teacher says, 'No, that's bizarre, no,' and goes up to the chalk board. He drew a stick figure. He said, 'If a person doesn't have a leg, are they still a person? Yes? What if they lose all their limbs? Still a person?' and then he erased the limbs from the board and said, 'This is a lollipop.'”

Carter Halliwell laughed, and Sadie smiled at her.

“I think when he told the story he was trying to talk about pseudo intellectual garbage, but I always remember that we have all these symbols in able-bodied fully-limbed society that say
this
is what makes us strong, good people! And it's all just stick figures on chalk boards. We have to decide for ourselves what makes us strong, good people, and what's just a symbol.”

“Wow,” Carter said. Sadie knew she was on a roll. It was time to wrap it up.

“I had a bad time where I lost my leg. Today, I sing, I dance, I kill zombies. I am a Deadly Diva. And my prosthesis is definitely a part of who I am today. I would be happy to tell you about my prosthesis. It's amazing. I promise that missing that part of my story is not really missing anything. It's not the real story. It's not who I am. It doesn't tell you anything about what I'm capable of, and it's not what makes me amazing.”

Carter Halliwell wiped a tear from her eye. Sadie crossed her fingers and hoped that was a good thing.

WATM NEWS

“Tell me, Gerri. What do you think of your band mates?”

Gerri rolled her eyes and after a few uncomfortable seconds of silence smiled and said, “Next question, honey.”

Chapter Twenty-two

WILLA

Well, now she'd messed up, not that her colleagues realized that. More proof of just how little they knew. The girls were not getting along. It wasn't getting better on its own.

Still. They weren't sunk yet. Any idiot could be made into a star with the right guidance.
Her
guidance.

Meghan could be heard from outside the suite, which was said to be soundproof, clapping and shouting, "I said, get a move on!"

She really had a way with children.

Willa, being accustomed to doing tasks she had no desire to perform, pushed her way into the apartment and waited for them to gather in their main living space. They stopped fighting with Meghan once they spotted her. Willa chose to ignore the suspicion on most of their faces.

"Alright girls, we have a special treat in store for you today."

"Is it you deciding to grace us with your presence? Because I think we're good." Carrie. Not the one Willa would have pegged as the problem, but she should have known. It was always the quiet ones. Meghan put a hand over the girl's mouth and shook a finger at her, saving Willa the time it would take to really give Carrie the scare she deserved.

"The cars are waiting at the curb. We are taking a break from rehearsals this morning and going on an expedition to the wall."

Groans and grumbling.

"I thought we signed up for this band so we didn't have to go anywhere near that wall."

"I thought you said you signed up—"

"Oh, shut up."

Planning ahead for a private vehicle for herself had definitely been one of her wiser decisions.

SADIE

Sadie's brother used to wonder what it was like on the wall. He used to hound her, asking what she thought it looked like on the other side, what it would be like to be in the military, what it would be like to ride the elevator that brought you to the top of the wall.

She never thought about it, even with Anthony's hounding. She'd find out someday soon enough, when she was drafted. That was okay with her, as things went. Her concern about the draft had always been for her brother. She knew nothing was going to kill her. But her interest had always been music, and when she'd thought about taking out zombies as part of the military, she didn't envision seeing over the wall. She listened for the songs to sprout up in her head, the ones she wanted to sing one day. The ones she wouldn't get a chance to if she was busy killing things.

Her life was nothing like she'd imagined it would be. Somehow, she was busy killing things
and
singing.

If she'd taken the time to imagine the elevator ride, it still would have been a surprise. The wrap around window allowed a view of the whole city. People moved through the streets, the tops of their heads growing smaller as the elevator rose up the wall, until they were just bits of dust moving on the ground. Anthony would like it.

"Always remember you're representing the band," Meghan said. "If you don't care about how that reflects on me, remember how it reflects on each other." The elevator bumped to a stop, and just before the doors opened, Meghan shouted, "Smiles!"

Lights flashed. Even Jo was better at holding a pose for pictures than Sadie was, but honestly, Jo was typically stiff. Sadie, who was typically calm and in control of herself, flinched at the blinking lights and shrieking fans. Meghan was prepared for it this time, and rested her hand on Sadie's back, keeping her from ducking too far behind the other girls. Sadie gave her shoulders a slight shake, put one hand on her hip, kicked out her leg, and stretched that smile out until it just started to hurt, which was the point Meghan deemed acceptable. Meghan had explained that since they'd been shown as frightening zombie killers, their smiles had to balance it out so they still felt sweet. Sadie and Carrie had a good laugh about that. They'd both been walking the line of scary and sweet their whole lives, which was more obvious now that Carrie'd had her little loss of control moment. Sadie was finding she had more in common with each of the girls every day. Another one of life's little surprises.

Meghan led them out of the elevator, and a path through the small crowd opened up, ending in a small platform in front of a closet-sized building marked “administration”.

The people behind the flickering lights were all in uniform: bright green pants and tops with lots of pockets for weapons and survival gear. It was said that the color helped them stand out in the desert beyond the wall, keeping their fellow soldiers from mistaking them for zombies at a distance. In a group, it made them all hard to look at; the color was practically blinding. Dee raised her eyebrows at Sadie, no doubt a comment on the outfits.

Beyond the crowd she could see soldiers walking in their direction, but not necessarily toward them. They appeared to be on patrol, stopping every few feet to look over the edge of the wall, watching for threats. Most of them kept their hands on their guns. She would have thought patrol was a boring job a few weeks ago, marching up and down the wall over and over, but now it seemed peaceful. She'd bet it was a good opportunity to listen to some music.