by D P Lyle
“Yeah. The show had a brief technical issue. One of the cameras went out right in the middle of my report.” She laughed. “Scared the hell out of me. It sputtered and fumed and smoked. Good thing we have backups.”
“Knowing you, you soldiered on without difficulty,” Nicole said.
“Did my best. Then we had a brief editorial meeting. That’s why I didn’t have time to change.”
“You look very professional,” I said.
“Yeah well, I’d rather look more casual.” She scanned the room. “Right now I need a drink.”
I saw Willa, our waitress, taking an order at a nearby table. I gave her a quick wave when she glanced my way.
Megan snatched a French fry. “I’m starving.”
“Have all you want,” Nicole said. “Jake hasn’t been much help. I don’t think he likes them.”
“I do,” I said. “I was afraid to eat too many. You do have sharp instruments at hand.”
Megan smiled in my direction. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your smart-ass sense of humor.”
“It’s ingrained,” Nicole said. “But he’s pretty so it’s okay.”
Good lord.
Willa appeared. “Can I get you something?” she asked Megan.
Megan nodded toward Nicole’s glass of wine. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”
“Anything else?”
“I’ll have a another,” I said, indicating my glass of Makers Mark.
“Cool. I’ll get those right up and bring some menus.”
“Grab an extra one,” Megan said. “Someone’s joining us.”
“Will do.” And Willa was gone.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Megan said. “I asked my new intern to join us. You’ll like her.”
“Intern?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’s a new program at the station. The owners want to establish a training program for future broadcasters.” She raised a shoulder. “Somehow I got nabbed as the guinea pig.”
“Because you’re good,” Nicole said. “And experienced. I’m sure she’ll learn a lot from you.”
Willa rolled by, ferrying a platter piled with fried calamari to another table. “I’ll be right back with your drinks,” she said as she passed our table.
“Apparently, it’s part of my promotion,” Megan said.
“That’s right,” Nicole said. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention it but congratulations.”
“A good promotion?” I asked.
“Very. They made me Editorial VP and Co-Director of programming.”
“So cool,” Nicole said.
“What’s her story?” I asked. “Your new girl Friday?”
“Her name’s Abby. Abby Watson. She graduated from Oregon with a degree in journalism. Then she worked at a couple of small-market stations. Mostly behind the scenes. Now she wants to move around and face the camera. So, she applied for the internship and management hired her.”
Our drinks appeared. Willa placed four menus on the table. “Anything while you wait for your other guest?”
“The calamari looked good,” I said.
“Oh my. It’s to die for.”
“Sound good?” I asked Nicole and Megan.
“Absolutely,” Nicole said.
“On it.” Willa sped off again.
“Anyway,” Megan continued. “She’s a very attractive young lady. She seems smart like she really has it together. I think she’ll do well in front of the camera. Seems to have some moxie and isn’t afraid of the lights.”
“Sort of like you,” Nicole said.
“And here you are moving the other way,” Megan said to Nicole. “From facing the camera to being behind it.”
“I’m just the writer.”
Megan glanced toward me. “Listen to her. She’s just the writer. Only the most important part.”
“It’s a very good script,” I said. “It’ll be a great movie.”
“Jake’s trying to flatter me. Earning points for later.”
Megan flipped her hair back over her shoulder. “Like he needs them.”
“You know me too well,” Nicole said.
I knew that was true. Nicole had often referred to Megan as the sister she never had. When Nicole lived here in Newport Beach—of course, technically she still did even if she now spent virtually all her time in Gulf Shores squatting in Uncle Charles’ house—she and Megan had grown tight. Hanging out at the beach, cruising bars, and mostly offering each other shoulders to lean on when need be. They still talked on the phone almost weekly and occasionally helped each other with crises. It crossed my mind that Nicole never had crises. She seemed to go with the flow. But Megan had had a few bumps along the way. I remembered one night, what, maybe a year ago, when Nicole had to talk Megan off the ceiling after a tough breakup with a guy Nicole described as a “douche.” I had laid in bed next to her while Nicole offered a degree of comfort and rationality to Megan’s world. Seemed to work. By the time Nicole hung up, they were both laughing.
“So tell me about the movie,” Megan said. “What’s going on?”
“We begin shooting in three weeks. Then we have a ten-week production schedule.”
“You’ll be here the entire time?”
“Probably not. Maybe for about half of that.”
“Kirk Ford is going to star in it, right?” Megan asked.
“He is.”
“Ballsy move. After all the trouble he had.”
“Yeah,” Nicole said. “But Uncle Charles needs to get him back on the screen and his face out in public again. He figured this would be a good project for him. An action thriller.”
“You okay with that?”
“I am. Kirk’s actually a good guy. He simply made a mistake.” She nudged me. “The kind most guys make. Thinking with their dicks.”
“I thought you liked that about me,” I said.
“I do. But then none of your conquests ended up dead.” She shrugged. “As far as I know.”
“Conquests? That’s me. The knight-errant, knocking down castle walls and bedding all the maidens.”
Nicole shook her head. “Jake has a vivid imagination.”
“I need to if I’m going to keep up with you.”
The calamari appeared. Steaming, aromatic, and delicious.
“This will be Kirk’s first movie then?” Megan asked. “Since the New Orleans fiasco?”
Nicole nodded while wrestling a calamari tentacle into her mouth.
“Speaking of being a guinea pig,” Megan continued.
Nicole swiped her lips with her napkin. “Sort of. But a win-win for sure. Kirk gets to have a PR trial run and I get to have a true mega-star in my movie. Not to mention it’ll be done by Uncle Charles. With those two names attached, it has a good chance to be successful.” She shrugged. “But if it flops, I couldn’t be in better company for the flame-out.”
“Never heard of a flop by Charles Balfour,” Megan said.
“First time for everything.”
“I doubt it.” Megan’s phone buzzed. She looked at the screen. “That’s Abby. She’s five minutes away.”
CHAPTER 4
“THERE SHE IS,” Megan said.
I followed her gaze. A broad smile led Abby Watson our way. An attractive young lady, with lively brown eyes, black hair cut short and feathered around the edges, and a compact, fit body. Maybe five-four and a buck-ten. She wore snug jeans and an untucked purple shirt. She lugged a large black purse over one shoulder.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said. She settled in the chair between Megan and Nicole, across from me.
Megan made the introductions.
“Megan’s told me all about you two,” Abby said. “Good to finally put faces with the names.”
“She speaks highly of you, too,” Nicole said.
“She has to. Company policy.”
Megan laughed. “That’s actually true. You know, all that ‘safe space’ and ‘micro aggression’ crap.”
“I mean really,” Ab
by said. “If you can’t piss someone off every now and then, what’s the purpose of life?”
I liked her. She seemed energetic and witty. The glint in her eyes revealed a bit of irreverence. Add to that a healthy dose of cuteness and what wasn’t to like?
“That’s essentially Jake’s motto,” Nicole said.
“Me? What about you?”
“I’m all peaches and cream.”
“I see. And me?”
“Rhubarb.”
Abby giggled at that. “Just as advertised.”
“Oh?” I said. “Advertised?”
“Yeah, Megan said you two were Tracy and Hepburn reborn.”
“You are,” Megan said. “All those word jousts you guys love.”
No way I could deny that. We did like to jab each other. Well, Nicole did most of the jabbing. She said I was a target-rich subject, whatever that meant. I was afraid to ask.
But I did wonder if that was part of the Longly Investigations company manual. Was there one? Did Nicole have to read it to sort-of, kind-of work for Ray? I can see it now. Article two: hammer Jake at every opportunity.
Willa the waitress returned. She took Abby’s order, the same as Nicole and Megan, and added another round for the rest of us.
“Before you go,” Nicole said. “Can you take a group picture for us?”
“Sure.”
Nicole passed Willa her iPhone. She and Megan scooted close to Abby while I moved around behind the trio, bracing my arms on the chair backs and leaning forward. Once arranged, Willa snapped a couple of shots and returned Nicole’s phone.
“Thanks,” Nicole said.
“No problem. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
“Oh,” Abby said. She twisted and rummaged inside her purse, which she had hung on the back of her chair. She lifted what was obviously a wrapped gift. Shiny white paper, red bow, and a matching red envelope taped to the front. “From Mr. Wonderful.”
I saw script on the front of the card that read, “For Megan, My True Love.”
“A new guy in your life?” Nicole asked.
“Not what it seems.”
“He’s her celebrity stalker,” Abby said.
“No, he’s not.” Megan gave a headshake. “He’s simply an admirer.”
“A crazed admirer.”
“Let’s say devoted.”
Concern creased Nicole’s brow. “What’s this about?”
“Just some guy,” Megan said. “A fan of the show and apparently me. Sends notes from time to time. Flowers, candy.” She lifted the box. “This feels like candy.”
“Not to mention the emails and texts,” Abby added. “You’ve had about a million texts just since I got here.”
“How long have you been interning?” Nicole asked.
“What?” Abby glanced at Megan. “Three weeks?”
“About that.”
“This guy?” I asked. “Who is he?”
“I don’t know. He simply signs everything “‘A Devoted Fan.’”
I nodded toward the gift. “Or ‘My True Love,’ it seems.”
“Creepy,” Nicole added.
“Exactly,” Abby said. “But she refuses to take this seriously.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve told her over and over that this is how stalkers start. Some of them can escalate and become dangerous.”
“Voice of experience?” Nicole asked.
Abby nodded. “An old boyfriend. I broke up with him because he was actually a dick disguised as a normal guy. He kept following me, texting me, putting all kinds of crap on Facebook. Sent me things like flowers and candy.” She nodded toward Megan. “Like this dude is doing.”
“Anything more threatening?” Nicole asked.
“Oh yeah. He’d show up at my home, my work, at school. He’d leave notes on my door, in my mailbox. He’d even send things to my mom telling her that he was her future son-in-law. Crap like that.” She forked her fingers through her hair. “He flattened my tires once. At a mall of all places. He must’ve followed me there. He then offered me a ride. Like he was my savior or something. I said no way and called a friend.”
“Did he ever try to harm you?” I asked.
“Not directly. I put a restraining order on him and he smashed the windshield of my car.” She shrugged. “I could never prove that it was him but it had to be.”
“What eventually happened?” Nicole asked.
“I finished school, moved away. Far away. I got a few more texts from him so I got a new phone and shut down that email account. Never heard anything again.”
“This guy isn’t that way,” Megan said. “He’s merely a fan.”
“Didn’t I say that’s how they start?” Abby said.
“What does the card say?” I asked, indicating the box resting by Megan’s left elbow.
She detached it, finger-nailed the flap, and slid the card out. White with a red rose on the front. She opened it and read:
The TV does you no justice. A camera cannot capture your true beauty. Only the eyes of the beholder can do that. I love you madly and always will. Your most loyal fan and lover.
Megan frowned. “Well that’s different. First time he’s used the word ‘lover.’”
“See?” Abby said. “He’s getting all weird.”
“Have you met him?” I asked.
“No. Not that I know anyway.”
“Well, he’s seen you. In the flesh, so to speak.”
“Sounds that way,” Nicole added. “That could mean he’s following you.”
Megan reread the note. She sighed. “Okay, so he’s quirky and infatuated. I still believe he’s harmless.”
“They seem that way at first,” Abby said. “But then they grab on more firmly.”
Megan raised an eyebrow. “A little dramatic.”
Abby shook her head. “Not really. Look at the words he used.” She took the card from Megan and examined it. “He says things like ‘eyes of the beholder,’ ‘love you madly,’ and calls himself your ‘lover.’ Seems a bit obsessive to me.”
“I think you’re overreading it,” Megan said. “He’s simply some infatuated dude.”
“I’m afraid that I agree with Abby here,” Nicole said. “I’ve had stalkers in the past. Back when I was still acting. The worst one started with notes and flowers, but before long he somehow found a way onto the studio lot where we were filming. With all the security around, that was no small task. He actually made it to the sound stage several times. He was repeatedly warned. The studio even got a trespass order that banned him from the property. Didn’t work though. He returned a couple of more times and was ultimately arrested. That pissed him off so he became even more aggressive. He started showing up at my condo. This was when I lived in LA. Creating chaos. Even scratched some pretty awful words into my front door with a knife.”
“I never knew that,” Megan said.
“Not something I dwell on. Or care to think about. Ultimately, he broke in to my condo. Middle of the night. Fortunately, I had started keeping a short aluminum baseball bat by my bed and whacked him a couple of times.” She smiled. “A couple of good shots if I say so myself. He took off but only got a few blocks before the police arrested him. Thank God he pled guilty and there was no trial. I didn’t want to face him again. Not to mention all the paparazzi that would have turned it into a semi-circus.” She shrugged. “Not that I was a big name. Not even close. But I was Charles Balfour’s niece and that would have attracted the flies.”
“What happened to him?” Abby asked.
“The judge sent him away for five years.”
I knew the story. Nicole had talked about it, and a couple of other less scary stalkers, but hearing it again gave me chills. Always did. Raised my blood pressure and made me wish I had been there with a real baseball bat.
“That’s why you should take this seriously,” Abby said to Megan. “These guys always escalate.” She nodded toward the note. “Like Mr. Wonderful here. He seems to have started climbing that ladder.”<
br />
“You guys are overreacting,” Megan said. “He’s harmless. Not all fans become obsessed stalkers.”
“That’s true,” Nicole said. “Jake’s been stalking me for over a year now.”
“Me?” I said. “If memory serves, you started it. Took advantage of my predicament.”
“Oh, there’s a story I’d like to hear,” Abby said.
“Jake was doing surveillance,” Nicole said.
“Surveillance?” Abby asked.
“My father’s a P.I. He roped me into watching a house. Still not sure why I caved in and did it, but Ray can be persuasive.”
“Jake in his infinite wisdom—” Nicole gave me a glance and a smile—“managed to park right in front of his ex’s house, which was just a few doors away from the house he was watching. She saw him and beat his car to a pulp with a golf club. A cop showed up. The whole deal.”
“Really?” Abby’s eyes were wide.
“Really,” I said. “That’s when Nicole pounced. She saw me all helpless and vulnerable. Used her wiles to trap me in her home. I felt like Hansel without Gretel.”
Nicole gave a headshake. “Jake has a vivid imagination. Also a vintage Mustang. Tammy, that’s his ex, trashed a couple of windows and it was beginning to rain. I offered my garage as a safe haven.”
“Among other things,” I said.
“Just being a good Samaritan.”
“You were a great Samaritan.”
“That’s how you guys met?” Abby asked.
“It is. Jake’s been obsessed with me ever since.” She laughed.
I started to protest but really couldn’t since I was guilty as charged. But in my defense, look at her. Who wouldn’t be obsessed with Nicole? Megan and Abby, too, for that matter. Which I guessed was the point of this entire conversation.
Also in my defense, I never sent Nicole flowers or candy or creepy notes. She wasn’t a flower and candy girl anyway, preferring whiskey and ribs.
“So, you see,” Nicole said, “you have to take these stalker types seriously. They’re hard to shake.”
“Like you’ve tried,” I said.
“Look,” Megan said. “This guy’s harmless. It’s simply a momentary infatuation. He’ll soon move on, I’m sure. Besides, I need all the fans I can get.”
“Have you had any others like this?” I asked.