{UNDER MAJOR REVISION}
Seventeen-year-old former cult member Virgo Samuels wants to put her past behind her but someone refuses to let her forget everything she's seen and the terrible things she's done.
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Virgo Samuels, also known as the Zodiac C...
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ALBERTSON'S
Tucson, Arizona
Mini Tyler wanted nothing to do with the story of the Zodiac Cult Killer, and even less to do with any talk of the Zodiac Cult Disciples. She was finished with all that. She wanted to take her groceries and go home, nothing more and nothing less, but the media had different ideas about how Mini's day was going to proceed.
She cursed under breath and pushed her Dolce & Gabbana sunnies higher over her eyes. Today was godawful bright and Mini was still doing battle with a lingering hangover from all the wine she'd drunk last night. She'd had just enough to be malleable and entertaining, no more than it took for Grant kiss her hair and tell her to meet him upstairs for a marital nightcap. He never liked her more than when she was giggly and punchdrunk ridiculous. It was the mornings after she had a problem with.
Mini clutched her oversized tote to her chest as though it could make her invisible to the press's all-seeing eyes.
"Mini! Mini!" they cried in her direction as she apologetically wove her way out the supermarket's automatic doors, past incoming shoppers and others trying to make their way home. Mini was accustomed to being in the limelight, if that was the way you wanted to put it. She wasn't accustomed to being hounded, not anymore. Got to get home. There's a timetable to keep. The lasagna alone will take me a couple of hours and there's still the ironing to do, she fretted to herself because she couldn't do so aloud. It wouldn't do to show discontent; nobody ever read it well. She didn't wear it quit right, or sooner late aunt had said.
Mini steadied her cart as a television cameraman almost toppled it in what she was sure was a deliberate act of sabotage. Dropping her groceries (enough for a small cocktail party of Grant's very best colleagues, all of whom Mini loathed on a deeply personal level) would mean having her on the ground and vulnerable, unable to hide from their ghastly flashbulbs and ruthless, penetrating questions. She began to grit her teeth from the stress. Her orthodontist would berate her at her annual exam. 'Your beautiful teeth,' he'd tut and she'd fantasize about removing his bleach whitened bicuspids with an eyelash curler while he rooted around in her unhinged jaw.
