by Rena Marin
International Bestselling Author
Rena Marin
Table of Contents
Title Page
Death with a French Vanilla Splash
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Check out how Zoey’s journey into living life after death all began...
Chapter One
Chapter Two
About the Author
Chapter One
“Zoey, would you like to share with the group tonight? I know you have tons of stuff going on in your life right now. Maybe hearing how you’re staying busy and fighting your cravings will help others.”
I hate it when Susie addresses me in front of new people. She’s good for this shit. Whenever someone new joins our little eating disorder group, she sticks me out there on display for the world to see. I don’t know why she thinks I have my shit so together. Yes, it’s been a few months since I’ve accidentally eaten anyone. I don’t even count what happened with me and Cunt Leader, the one who ran this group before Susie and whose name I’ve forgotten due to her perfect nickname. I didn’t accidentally eat her. She deserved to die. I did it on purpose.
To keep Susie from pouting like she’s known to do when I tell her no, I throw out my best Zoey smile and suck it up. Having friends can be a pain in the ass sometimes.
“Hey y’all, I’m Zoey, of course. I have an issue with binge eating that I’m working on controlling. It’s been a while since I’ve had an incident. When I get upset or go through something messy with a guy, I seem to let my bad habits revisit me. At the suggestion of this group, I started a blog. They told me I needed something to keep me busy. I love blogging. I have fun with it. I talk about everything from fashion to recipes. Since I started helping out at Willow Whispers Rehab Center, I even blog about the animals. In the past month I’ve helped a few find their forever homes.”
“That’s so amazing, Zoey. I follow your blog. Your posts about the animals are fun reads. You show their real personalities in your words. As a reader, I feel like I know them.” The way Susie is sitting with her chest slightly extended and a huge smile on her face tells me she’s proud of what I’ve been accomplishing. I can’t say that I blame her.
“Thank you, Susie. I really appreciate that.”
“Are you planning on working anywhere else or is the rehab going to be your main gig?”
“Nah, I’m going to find another job now that Anna has hired on another helper. I’m going to help on weekends or days off. I’ve also promised that if she needs to be away from the facility, I’ll do overnights or whatever, so the animals aren’t alone. The money I make there is good and all, but making it out there every day can be a hassle. I’m saving up for a car though.”
“I love how you have everything in order, Zoey. You know what you need to do, and you’re sticking to it. Without a doubt, that’s helping you with your eating disorder. You’re doing amazingly.”
Instead of saying anything else, I just look around at the group of people staring at me and smile. Since Susie took the group over, I must admit, things are more relaxed here. I don’t feel weird talking about stuff. Sure, I need to watch what I say to keep anyone from realizing I’m actually a zombie, but that’s manageable on most days.
Within half an hour, group ends, and I hurry my way out the door while Susie is talking to one of our first timers. I’ve learned not to linger. When I do, I get stuck in conversations with Susie that can go on for hours. By the time I make it home on those nights, Dick and Clyde are worried, and it takes ages to settle them down.
Two months ago, Dick didn’t have to worry when I was out late. Hell, two months ago I didn’t even have Clyde. During the week I spent at the rehab center while Anna was away things got a bit wild. I came to find out my ex-boyfriend and real dickhead Eli had been turned into a zombie. Ya know, normally in that instance I would step in and try to help the guy out. I did it with my friend Charlie when he was turned. But no, not with Eli. This asshole decides that since he’s a zombie, he’ll start up his own horde like out of a fucked-up television show and try to take over the town. His claim was taking over the world, but like with everything else where Eli is concerned, he talks a big game but doesn’t have the equipment to back it up.
The craziness all started with Parker. Yes, Parker is the ass who accidentally turned me into what I am, but he’s also a friend. He’s been by my side through this whole zombie ordeal and hasn’t let me down once. He taught me how to fix my eyes when they get stuck, he repaired my kneecaps after Clyde massively fucked them up, and he’s even taught me how to enjoy sex as a zombie. The whole sex trick is enough to make me bow down and kiss his ass. When he went missing, I got worried. His texts were ominous. He warned me I was in danger. I just had no idea it would be Eli who showed up at the rehab trying to start shit.
Since the ass kicking we gave Eli and his cronies at the center, we haven’t seen hide nor hair of him. I keep my eyes open though. I know he’s simply planning out his next move. Whether that move involves coming after all of us again or not, I have no idea. I try to be ready for it, though, just in case.
It’s strange being the local, dead girl who has to keep her eyes open while she’s walking down the street at night. Before Eli’s attack, I’d stopped caring about danger. I didn’t really feel like I could be in any. Honestly, I assumed I was the danger in the world. My goal was to try not to hurt anyone. I hadn’t planned on me being the target of an ex with a vendetta to grind, who also knows exactly how to take me out if he wants.
After the incident at the rehab, Parker was extremely overprotective. He stayed at my apartment for almost two weeks. I’m not sure if that was more for me or himself, though, to be honest. Eli and his merry band of assholes snatched Parker one day when he was getting in his car after work. He hasn’t told me much about it, but he says they tried to make him help them with their idiotic scheme and offer his medical services for their convenience. Parker politely told them to go get fucked, and well, he paid a price for it.
Seeing Parker in the shape he was in when he rode in to rescue me at the rehab opened my eyes to a lot of things. Keeping up appearances as a zombie is hard as hell. On a good day, Parker looks damn good. After being snatched by Eli and hiding out like he did, it took him awhile to get back to his normal splendor. His spray tan had faded, he had been injured and needed to repair himself since I suck at that stuff, and he lost a tooth. He’s working on getting that fixed, but I’ll be damned if I know how he’s going to do it.
I hadn’t thought much about my tan since Parker mentioned he could hook me up with his friend who kept his tan up. In my hay day, I kept a tan. I wasn’t big on tanning booths. I preferred tanning myself the old natural way and soaking up the sun’s rays. Those rays won’t tan me now. I guess being dead kills the pigment in my skin or some shit. I’m not sure how it all works; all I know is it sucks.
I suppose, I’m the new goth chic in town. I’m paler, still wear makeup, and don’t mind rocking a great pair of boots when the occasion calls for it. Mostly, though, I’m just a bumkin. I wear my shorts, my tanks, and my flip flops. I hate having to be more careful now though. A simple walk through the apartment while Parker was staying here left me with a lopsided toe. It used to hurt like hell when I would catch my feet on something in my flip flops when I was alive. Now, it’s just a damn nuisance. I don’t want to lose a toe at the han
ds of a dismembering table leg.
Trying to tend to myself gives me a lot to blog about though. I’m constantly having to do new things to keep my hair from feeling lifeless. Sharing about the treatments I use online gets lots of comments from girls who are actually alive but struggling with their own beauty issues. They love it when I talk about moisturizers, foundation, and healthy nails.
My experimental beauty methods came in handy with Parker. I was able to step in and help him get himself back to working order. His hair was a mess. It felt like sandpaper. With a few of my treatments, it’s feeling nice and normal again. My homemade sugar scrub seems to be helping with his skin too. It was weird. Just a few days of no moisturizer, and the dude looked like a giant scab walking around. If we hadn’t been able to fix that, he would’ve never shown his face again. He’s worse than a chic when it comes to being vain.
The aftermath of what Parker went through left me facing the harsh reality of what I could be looking at as life goes on. Yes, I can keep up my routines for now, but eventually people are going to wonder why my look never changes or why I’m not aging. Then again, most likely, I’ll start decaying someday. I’m not looking forward to that. I can’t even come up with a good cover story for it. What am I supposed to do, tell people I contracted a flesh-eating disease or something?
I’m also very aware of how many people now know what I am. I don’t think Eli has told Cherry. According to what she’s preaching down at Cherry’s Chillers, Eli decided to step back from the business a bit and is doing some traveling. That clueless heifer may not know her brother is still around and wreaking havoc on the undead.
Seeing my apartment building up ahead, I hurry toward the main door. I know, if I can get inside, everything will be fine. Even Eli isn’t dumb enough to start shit inside the building. Zombies or not, these rednecks around here would shoot first and ask questions later. I love the guys in my building. They’re kind of badass.
“Excuse me, Zoey?”
Hearing my name immediately creeps me out. The voice isn’t familiar, and my first thoughts are about how I’m going to fight off whomever is after me. I can’t just ignore it though. Instead, I turn, to see a petite, little thing smiling brightly at me through her jet-black hair that’s hanging mostly around her face. I hate those kinds of hairstyles. They hide people’s true beauty.
“Yeah?” I ask as my fear subsides. Zombie, human, whatever, she’s so little I could take her.
“My name is Zeyda. You probably don’t recognize me but I’m in Susie’s group.”
Okay, now she seems familiar. She sits in the corner, not speaking to anyone. Poor thing must be a nervous wreck about being part of our group of misfits.
“I heard you mention you were planning on getting another job in group. I really need some help down at French Vanilla Splash, and I thought you might be interested.”
Oh, this is cool. A job opportunity comes to me instead of me needing to go in search of it. That’s different. “Really? I used to hang out at French Vanilla Splash all the time. I don’t remember you.”
“My mom owns it. I do the hiring, though. You have a great personality, and I would love to have someone like you out front working with the customers. People just love you.”
She has a point. This could be a good thing. Of course, it would put me front and center for Eli to find me, but what can he really do inside a coffee shop with tons of people, right?
“Sure,” I smile at her. “Let’s talk about it.”
Chapter Two
When I was alive, coffee was my thing. I used to spend hours in the coffee shop chatting with people or simply scrolling social media on my phone. I do miss days like that. You know, the days when things were normal, and I didn’t have to worry about people knowing I was dead. I’m also a connoisseur. I remember the taste of every coffee I ever had. I tried them all. Damn, I miss it.
“Zoey, I don’t like this. I think it’s too soon.”
I do good and avoid rolling my eyes at Dick like I normally do. Instead, I just smile.
“I think he’s right,” Claire chimes in.
I offer her the same look. I get that they worry about me, but dammit, I can’t stay locked up in this apartment all the time.
“Eli could show up at any time. I know you don’t want to live in fear, but he’s dangerous, Zoey.”
“Dick, I get it. I really do, but we have bills to pay. I can’t just sit here and pray the rent fairy shows up and covers everything for us. We need money to survive in this world, living or dead.”
He hates it when I make a good point. It’s honestly the only way to shut him up sometimes. I know I’m on the right track with what I’m saying considering he doesn’t offer a rebuttal. Claire on the other hand has more up her sleeve.
“You two can move in with me. I’ll work, and you guys can stay home where it’s safe.”
“Claire, I’m not sponging off you. That’s not an option. Besides, Clyde is used to this apartment. He’d chew up your cute shit.”
She looks over at Clyde, my pet zombie goat, and sighs. “He likes me though.”
“Yeah, but all those shag rugs and frilly decorations would be trash. Trust me, I’ll be fine.”
“How can you be sure?” Dick continues.
“Because I’m Zoey. I can take care of myself. Eli shows up, I’ll dismember him like I did you,” I insist with a chuckle. “I won’t keep him around though. I’ll burn his shit.” My added wink makes Dick smile.
I don’t have much more I can offer to soothe their worries, but it is what it is. I can’t stand around hoping money falls from trees. A girl’s gotta work for a living. Even a dead girl.
“Now, can you two chill out a bit? I know all this feels off. I get that. I don’t want to run into Eli or his band of dead goons, but life goes on. If something happens to me, you guys know what to do, right?”
“Yes, you’ve told us several times since we found out about Eli,” Claire sighs. “If you don’t come home without a text or phone call, we contact Parker. If something happens and you die, again, I take Dick with me and Charlie said he would take Clyde.”
“Right. So, we have it all worked out. We keep going like normal, and if anything strange happens, we have our bases covered.”
“What if something happens to Parker? What if they get Charlie? What if they come here and drive a screwdriver through my brain and chop Clyde into pieces? There are other possibilities to consider here, Zoey. He could even go after Claire since she knows about him.”
He has a great point. It’s not like I haven’t thought about all those possibilities. Believe me, they go through my mind every day. I try not to talk about them, so they don’t worry. They don’t need to know that Charlie creepily follows Claire to work every day to make sure she’s alright. There’s no need in them knowing, the redneck down the hall has already been alerted to the fact that Claire and I have a stalker, as I called it. He’s already said if someone showed up, he didn’t trust, they’d introduce themselves to his shotgun. I’m trying to look out for them without telling them I’m doing it.
“Trust me, I’ve covered a lot of bases you guys don’t know about, okay. We’re not going to live in fear of Eli. Besides, when Parker finds him, no one is going to worry about him anymore. That dude has ways of finishing that prick off that none of us would understand.”
I see Claire shiver slightly. She stopped by several times while Parker was recovering and heard his rants. She knows some of the ways he wants to dispose of Eli and all his parts. She told Dick she had nightmares about it for days. I can’t say I blame her. I’m kind of glad I don’t dream, or I would’ve been seeing his head spinning in an oversized blender or something myself. Gross.
“Great. Now that we have all this straightened out, I’m going down to meet up with Zeyda. She’s introducing me to her mom and getting the okay for me to be hired on.” I still see the worry in their faces. I hate it. “Guys, come on, I need this. I can’t hide out forever.
Yes, blogging is fun and all, but it’s not making me rich. I gotta stay active. If not, I’m just going to waste away. Do you want me like those zombies in the movies that just mope around moaning and shit?”
“Of course, not.” Dick rolls his eyes and smirks when it’s his turn to get stuck.
I step over, a smile on my face, and take my finger and flick his temple to dislodge it. “See, sucks doesn’t it,” I add with a laugh. “I’ll be back later to fill you guys in on everything, okay.”
“Try to get day shift,” Claire calls out. “It’s safer.”
“I will.”
“Tell them you’re not comfortable walking home at night, and you don’t have a car,” Dick adds.
“Gotcha.”
“Waaaa!” Clyde bellows out.
I point at him, “Don’t you start shit too,” I grumble then quickly close the door behind me to escape the onslaught of love from my fucked-up family.
FRENCH VANILLA SPLASH was one of the first new places to pop up in Willow Creek. Before its arrival, most people simply grabbed their coffee at Ollie’s. There weren’t any special blends, fancy brews, or tasty additions. It was black or with cream and sugar. That was it. Now, people young and old in our little-ass town get the privilege of choosing lattes, frappes, all the cream they want, and of course, mixed up bullshit most of us have never heard of. It’s the new way of the world and I used to love it.
I was one of those people. I would pop in at the shop, order a different coffee blend with splashes of this and touches of that every chance I got. A couple of the baristas, as they insisted, they be called, even knew my name. Never once however, did I meet Zeyda. Now I know why.
Zeyda’s mom, Monique, is a real winner. Just looking at the woman makes you want to cower in a corner and never come out. I know you know what I’m talking about. She just looks mean. Her freshly sculpted eyebrows are completely wrong for her face. She looks like she is constantly giving you the evil eye. Don’t even get me started on the fact she has the worst case of resting bitch face I’ve ever seen. Her scowl and thin lips are straight out of a horror movie where the mom is the killer who wants to punish you for all the underage drinking and sex you had. The bitch is scary.
