The Fine Print

8

Zahra

“Let me get this straight. You’re going to be a Creator? How did you keep this from me all day?” Claire’s fork drops against her plate. 

I’ve held back from spilling the news because I wanted to share it with my whole family during our weekly Saturday di

Ani jumps out of her seat, making her brunette curls fly around her head. She throws her arms around me. “Yay! You did it!” 

I hug my sister back, cherishing her warmth. It means the world to me to show her that nothing can get in her way, regardless of her Down syndrome diagnosis. And in other ways, she pushes me to be my best self every day with her infectious happiness. 

“We need to celebrate!” My mom’s hazel eyes brighten as she runs into the kitchen. 

The brown skin around Dad’s eyes wrinkles as he grins. “I’m so proud of you! I knew once the right person realized how talented you are, they wouldn’t be able to resist.” 

My chest tightens. Dad has always supported me, ever since I was a little kid who said I wanted to be a Creator when I grew up. He never stopped dreaming enough for the two of us, even when I gave up on myself. 

Mom steps out of the kitchen with a bottle of champagne and a few plastic champagne glasses.

“Do you have champagne bottles sitting around now?” 

“Your mom was pla

Mom places a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Forget about our a

Twenty-eight, to be exact. They’ve been solid since Dad swept Mom off her feet with his stories about Armenia and his tenacity to take her out on a date despite her weekly rejections. 

Mom wraps her arms around me. “Our daughter is going to be a Creator! Did you hear that, Hayk?” 

“Hard to miss since I was sitting right here.” Dad winks at her. 

I sigh. That’s my parents. Voted most likely to make me nauseous with their love since the day I was born.  

Mom takes her seat beside Dad. “I can’t believe Mr. Kane offered you a job after you told him how disappointing his ride was. Now that’s our daughter.” She shoots Dad a knowing look. 

I grimace. “Well, I didn’t tell him that exactly…”

“She’s lying. She told him that it represented everything Brady Kane would hate if he were still alive.” Claire tips her glass of water in my direction before taking a sip. 

Ani’s brown eyebrows rise. “You didn’t.” 

“I might have gone a little overboard but it’s true. The design Lance submitted was only a fraction of the idea I created with Brady.” 

Dad’s smile drops. He reaches out and gives my hand a squeeze. “Well, the joke is on Lance. Now you have a new job and you have the chance to fix it until it’s exactly what you dreamed of.” 

“I’m not sure that’s what Rowan wants.”

I’m already going into a job grossly underprepared and under-qualified. The last thing I want to do is make waves with the Creators, especially after my accidental proposal.

“If he hired you, then he has a good idea of what he’s doing,” Dad says. 

I wish I felt as confident as he did in my skills. Ever since I left Rowan’s office, the worrying thoughts have multiplied until they became overwhelming. 

What if I only had one good idea that Brady Kane helped take from average to amazing? What if I was a one-hit wonder who will crash and burn in front of the very people I’ve looked up to my entire life? 

I hate that I’m slipping into these old thinking traps. I’m letting Lance win every time I give his criticisms any airtime in my head, and it only a

If you don’t believe in yourself, no one will. 

My family pulls me out of my thoughts. I pop the champagne bottle and raise it toward the ceiling. 

Cheers, Brady. 

I arrived ten minutes early today to impress Rowan with my newfound punctuality, but my efforts were for nothing. His door remains shut, so I talk Martha’s ear off. It doesn’t take us long to become gal pals who bond over our favorite romance author and our forever craving of Chick-fil-A on Sundays. 

Talking with her helps pass the time. 

Even Martha has to work, so I fiddle with the fabric of my polka dot dress and mess around on my phone. 

The door to Rowan’s office opens with a bang. I jump in my seat and press a hand on my racing heart. Whatever coffee Rowan drinks in the morning clearly isn’t working for him. He walks out of his office without giving his secretary and me a second glance. 

She all but shoves me out of my chair. “Go!” 

I speed walk out of the lobby to catch up with him. It takes me double the amount of steps to keep up with his long strides because the man is tall. How does he fit through a doorframe without ducking his head? 

As we continue walking, the silence eats away at me until I burst. 

“I’m starting to think you’re not much of a morning person.” I somehow find myself matching his strides. 

Rowan grunts under his breath. He leads us toward the Story Street Catacombs entrance. 

“Wonderful weather, am I right?” 

Someone cue the crickets. “Why yes, Zahra, I was wondering what’s the point of showering in the morning if the humidity does the job for me?” I try to imitate his voice with a low pitch but fail when my voice cracks.  

The corner of his lip lifts the tiniest bit and I mentally fist pump in the air. 

I take another stab at rescuing this conversation. “How do you like Dreamland so far?” 

“I don’t,” he mumbles under his breath. 

I trip on the toe of my sneaker. “Oh.” Well, shit. I didn’t expect him to say that. “Do you have a favorite ride?” 

“No.” 

My brain cells all cheer for his response. We’re getting somewhere, people. “Me neither! There are too many good ones.” 

That earns me another grunt. 

“What’s your favorite part about being the Director?” 

“The silence at the end of the workday.” 

I flat out lose it. My lungs burn from laughing so hard at his response. He stops walking and stares at me for a second before recovering. 

He leads us through the tu

Rowan shuffles me through each room, staying quiet as I take in the beauty of it all. The first space is packed with animatronics and robots for rides, parades, and shows. I run a hand across a cold metal arm of an animatronic. It moves and I jump back and straight into Rowan’s chest. His hand clutches onto my arm to stabilize me. Every cell fires off in unison within me, sparking to life at the gentleness of his touch.

My body becomes an inferno from the contact. Skin heats where his hand presses, and I find myself leaning into him. He releases me and exits the room like his shoes might catch on fire. 

I keep up with his hurried pace, following him into a designer’s paradise where the walls are covered with storyboards and the tables are filled with all kinds of art supplies.