Diana Rowland - How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back

“Yeah, that makes sense.” I racked my brain for some way I could help and came up with nothing. Hey, making coffee is important, dammit. “Do you think Andrew’s involved in all this?” I asked. “I guess if he’s second in command, he must be.”

Naomi grimaced. “I know he was involved with the zombie research before,” she replied. “I saw him on those videos, right there with my mother. I wish I could say he wasn’t, but . . . yeah, he probably is.” She swallowed and looked out the window. “He sure is stupid for being so smart.”

“I’ll smack him and tell him so when I meet him,” I said, trying to get a chuckle or smile from her and failing.

“I’m not going to see him, am I?” she said quietly, still looking out the window.

“You’ll see him,” I told her firmly. “He won’t see you, but that was his own stupid choice.”

“I hate him,” she said, voice catching, and it was obvious she didn’t mean it.

I gave her a light punch in the arm. “Yeah, I’ll definitely smack him for being such a poopoohead.”

“We’re never going to talk again,” she said, voice growing less steady. “Even after he gets smacked.”

The whole thing was really hitting her hard. Now that we were heading into his turf, her loss grew more and more real. Her ties to her family were cut and gone, and the grief was beginning to set in. She was almost certainly right—she would never again speak with her brother. And I had no idea what to say to make it better.

But sometimes nothing needed to be said. I hit the release button on my seat belt, scooched over, and wrapped her up in a big, obnoxious, smushy hug. A laugh hiccupped out of her, and then it turned into a total bawling sobfest. I knew all about crying and emotional release and shit like that, and I kept on holding her and generally being there for her.

I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. Philip, silently handing a packet of tissues back to me. I took them with a grateful smile, then returned to the holding and soothing noises thing.

Naomi finally sniffled and lifted her head. I had a tissue ready for her, which she noisily blew her nose into.

“Thanks.” She took another tissue and wiped at her eyes. “Before, I could pretend I was off on a job, that’s all. But now I’m going to where he is . . .” Her voice caught again, and she snatched at another tissue.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I know you’ll get through this. We all have your back, and you’re a total pro.”

She blew her nose again. “Sure, I’ll get through it. Andrew got through it.”

“And you’re a lot tougher,” I stated firmly.

Her lower lip quivered briefly, and for an instant I saw beyond the tough mask to the forlorn and grieving woman. “It might be a little hard sometimes,” she said a bit hesitantly, as if afraid to admit it.

I hugged her again. “If it wasn’t, I’d be worried about you.”

“So instead you’ll squish me?”

“I’m squishing you with my love.”

“I’ll take it.”

To my delight New York was almost exactly like in the movies. The city had the tall buildings, yellow taxis, the strange mix of people walking along the sidewalk, and food carts on the corners, even this early in the morning. It was chilly outside, but I cracked the window so I could get a sense of what everything sounded like and smelled like. Naomi gave an amused snort, and I gave her my I’m-a-tourist-so-get-over-it glare, but no one told me to close the window.

And the traffic. Holy shit, cars everywhere. Philip explained that we were arriving at the beginning of rush hour, but damn . Kyle drove with a lot more calm finesse then I would’ve in that kind of traffic. No way in hell was I getting behind the wheel in this city, that was for sure. Naomi pointed out some of the landmarks along the route—Empire State Building, the theater district, Central Park—but even I was too tired and cramped from the long drive to want to do a bunch of sightseeing. A real bed. Yeah, that was the tourist attraction I wanted to see.

After what seemed like an endless drive in bumper to bumper traffic, we finally turned onto a quieter street and pulled up in front of a hotel that most certainly wasn’t the flea bag rat trap that I’d half expected we’d be staying in. A fancy awning with brass trim overhung the sidewalk with The Fairbourne in elegant gold letters on the front. The building itself was grey stone with all sorts of carved columns and scrollwork and other cool stuff around the windows. And the entrance! I stared in utter delight at the brass and glass and marble. The broad entrance was flanked by two solid doors and in the center of it all stood an absolutely gorgeous revolving door. Brass everywhere, and all polished to a fierce gleam. I’d seen dozens of glass and chrome hotels on our way here, but this place oozed personality and charm and Yes, you want to stay here because I am so very much cooler than the others.

Kyle stopped the car and killed the engine as a young man in a dark green uniform hurried up. Following the lead of the others, I got out and grabbed my stuff as well as one of the coolers, and tried not to look too out of my depth as Kyle handed the keys to the young man. Another man in a dark green jacket and white gloves approached and offered to take our things. Kyle politely declined even as he slipped what I suspected to be cash into the man’s hand.

“The car will be okay here?” I murmured under my breath to Naomi.

She nodded. “I’ll have them put it in long-term parking,” she told me. “We won’t be using it again until we leave, most likely. There are disadvantages to driving in the city.”

“You mean that little bit about the drivers all being complete maniacs?” I asked as I followed her into the hotel—with only a slight delay. I had to make a second round in the big revolving door. When I caught up with the others, I tried really hard not to gape, or rather to gape without looking as if I was gaping, because holy shit this place was nice . Huge lobby with white marble floors bordered with gold-flecked black. A gigantic chandelier that sure looked like crystal and not plastic. Black leather sofas and chairs lined with burgundy velvet pillows. A fresh flower arrangement so big I didn’t think I’d be able to get my arms halfway around it—though I was tempted to try. And uniformed staff all bright and cheery.

“We’re staying here ?” I whispered to her.

“That’s the plan,” she murmured back.

“And were going to pay for this how? What is this—some kind of five-star place or something?”

“Only four stars,” she said, and it was obvious she was trying not to laugh. I started to bristle until I realized I was totally playing the role of country bumpkin to a tee. I’d laugh at me too.

“I have money stashed in a dozen different accounts that nobody knows about but me,” she reassured me in a low voice. Her expression grew more serious. “It’ll be worth the expense to have a safe and comfortable place to stay while we plan our next steps.”

With that she went up to the front desk—a massive thing of polished dark wood—while I stayed back with Philip and Kyle and tried to look as nonchalant about the whole thing as the guys seemed to be. After a few minutes she returned with key cards that she handed out to each of us, and then we trooped off to the elevators.

“It’ll be a little crowded,” Naomi explained after we got off on our floor and headed to the room, “but I figured as long as it had two bedrooms we’d be okay. Kyle and me in one and Philip and Angel in the other.”

Wait, what? Philip and me? I started to gently prod for a clarification, but then Kyle opened the door to the room, effectively derailing my thoughts.