The door opens and I see the arm of what appears to be a suit. My lip begins to tremble as I try to remind myself that it could be a patron and not my mystery man.
My leg muscles tighten as I prepare to run. I should have worn the vest.
It’s like time is moving in slow motion as he rounds the corner from the door. The first thing I see is the navy blue tie against a white shirt, covered in a dark gray suit. As I swallow hard, my eyes slowly travel up his chest to his broad shoulders. Is he walking toward me or is it my imagination?
I summon the courage to make eye contact and feel as if someone punched me hard in the gut. He’s smiling. His teeth are white and perfect and his hair is even better than in my memories. I gasp and jump to my feet as excitement rushes from my toes to my chest in a wave of heat, utter joy, and complete relief.
“Fisher!” His smile grows even wider in my recognition. Is he here to save me from my stalker?
As my mouth opens with the intention of asking him why he’s here, a blur of dark suits blazes forward out of the corners of my eyes. Like the petals of a flower encasing a bee as it’s about to suck nectar, I watch as Fisher is surrounded and knocked to the ground, his legs flying out from under him in the process.
“No!” I shout. “It’s not him!”
Marcus pulls Fisher’s arms to his back and his beautiful perfect face is smashed against the hardwood floor.
I rush from the table over to him and immediately push a guard away so I can kneel next to him. His nose is bleeding.
“Oh my God!” I lean down to get closer to him.
“You could have at least let me buy you dinner before you crushed me,” he says.
My grimace slowly fades away. He’s still smiling even with a bleeding nose and his face pressed into the ground.
“Hi,” I say. “Come here often?”
Marcus pulls him by the arms to a standing position.
“I’ve never been, but I have to say, the staff isn’t very friendly,” he replies as he’s yanked upward.
“You stood up!” Marcus says as he cuffs Fisher’s hands behind his back.
“I know, but it’s not him. I just haven’t seen him in a really long time and I, well, I got excited.”
Fisher smirks and I regret my choice of words.
Marcus huffs and scowls at me. “How do you know it’s not him?”
How do I know? Would he have done all this? Maybe this isn’t a coincidence after all. Anger boils under my skin as I turn my head to him. “Was it you?”
“Can I ask what we’re referring to?”
“The tacos, the Fall Out Boy musical experience, this damn dinner. The dress?”
His lips curl into a crooked smile. “You know, you’re even beautiful when you’re angry.”
“Answer the question!”
Marcus pulls on his arms, causing Fisher to wince.
“Surprise?” He poses it like a question. “You didn’t like it?”
I encase my head in my hands as my mouth drops to the floor. I turn and pace back and forth a couple of times before I stop and place my hands on my hips. “You scared the shit out of me. Are you crazy? Are you seriously mental?”
“You started our story. I wanted to make it real.”
I close my eyes.
“What do you want me to do?” Marcus asks.
I sigh as I watch the blood drip down Fisher’s lips and onto his white shirt. I grab a napkin from the table and place it on his nose. “Let him go.”
“You can’t be serious!” Marcus mumbles in disbelief. “We caught him. Don’t you want to press charges so this whole nightmare can be over?”
I dab Fisher’s nose as I gaze into brown pools of chocolate with peanut butter streaks of gold. This is exactly what I was afraid of. I was so worried he was going to turn out to be a psychopath. But as I look into those eyes, my heart softens. He doesn’t look crazy to me. He looks sincere and almost cocky. He doesn’t seem the least bit worried that I’m going to press charges. Why is that?
“I’m sorry I scared you. It was never my intention. I figured you’d know it was me from when I had them play Fall Out Boy. You know, the T-shirt you dug out of the trash when you won an all-inclusive stay in Florida?”
Marcus rolls his eyes and frowns as he stares at me. I know nothing would please him more than to haul Fisher off to jail.
“Everyone knows I like Fall Out Boy! Why couldn’t you just call me like a normal human being?”
“Well, if someone had given me their real number, then maybe I would have.”
My lips purse. He got me on that one.
Marcus pulls tighter on his arms as Fisher tries to step toward me. Fisher’s face strains and I panic at the thought that he’s hurt.
“Can I explain?” he asks.
I’m probably a fool for wanting to hear him out. “Take the cuffs off. I want to talk to him in private.”
“Ms. Greer, I highly suggest you reconsider.”
A flashing light catches my eye toward the window and I see one of Marcus’s men speaking with an officer. I turn my head and notice multiple phones out recording the event.
“Oh my God.” I face Fisher once more and whisper, “Why does every encounter I have with you have to be a public spectacle?”
“Believe me when I say this is not what I had in mind.”
An officer walks into the restaurant. “Let’s get him down to the station.”
“Marcus. No.” I insist.
He shakes his head before it falls in frustration. “It seems my client doesn’t want to press charges at this time.”
He unlocks the cuffs and Fisher massages his wrists.
The officer frowns. “I need a full report right now.”
Marcus whispers to Fisher, “I’m watching you.” He turns and leads the officer out of the building, talking the whole way.
I turn to the crowd. “Show’s over, folks.”
Fisher adds, “Soon to be in theaters.”
As people slowly move back to their tables, I close my eyes to get a grip. This is not how I pictured this night.
“Can we talk?” he whispers, leaning in.
I hand him the napkin for his nose. “Not here.”
As I walk out of the restaurant and sit on a bench outside, I gaze up and notice Marcus watching me carefully. It makes me feel better to know he still has my back even though he’s pissed.
“May I join you?” Fisher asks, standing next to me, gazing down.
I nod. He rubs his nose lightly with the napkin and balls it up in his hands as he sits down.
“I had no idea you’d be scared.”
“Really? Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask as I face him. “Some stranger is reenacting my book and sending me gifts. I know nothing about you. Why would I consider it was you even for a second? I haven’t thought about you in forever. And even if I had, why would I still not be scared out of my mind?”
His eyes furrow. “I’ll deal with the part about you not thinking of me in a second. But first, are you trying to tell me you never once Googled me? Never looked up my Facebook profile or tried to find me on Instagram?”
“Not once.”
His head rolls back in surprise. “Wow. You really aren’t like other girls, are you?” He sighs when I cross my arms and turn away from him.
“A close friend of mine was bragging about this incredible book she read called Book Boyfriend. She wouldn’t stop talking about it. One day when I was waiting for a flight to New York, I found myself with a little extra time. I wandered into a store and saw the book on a shelf. Greer isn’t a name you hear every day. Out of curiosity, I picked it up and flipped it over. Imagine my surprise when I saw your photo.”
I shrug half-heartedly. “It’s not like I lied about anything. We never discussed what I did for a living.”
“I know that. I figured you gave me a fake name along with a fake number. I searched for you, you know. I regretted my decision to not go to the airport that morning after the
phone number turned out to be for a pizza place.”
My heart skips a beat. I remember feeling sad he didn’t come that morning. It makes me feel better to know he was even considering it.
“I read it.”
My head rotates abruptly to look at him as my eyes bulge. He read it? The book? Oh shit.
“I stood in that store and read the first chapter. I’m not gonna lie. I was flattered.”
I stand and straighten my sweater as I gaze down the road. “Well, don’t be. You gave me an idea, but the story isn’t about you in the least.”
He tries not to smile as his lips press together and he nods. I see his tongue push into his cheek. He doesn’t believe me. I’m the worst liar in the world.
“So it’s a coincidence that Penn Fitzgerald has the same initials as I do?”
“Huh. I never even considered it.” I attempt conviction in my voice, but I’m sure I fail miserably.
He leans back on the bench and places his left arm on the edge. He tugs at his tie with his free hand to loosen it. “Regardless, it made me happy. Happy because I finally had a name to go with a face.”
“I didn’t lie to you. My real name is Greer Hanson. I just don’t use it when I write.”
“I realize that. And I also know you’ve written twelve other books. Very impressive. I’m working my way through them in chronological order.”
“What? Why?” I ask.
“Because I want to know more about you. Reading your words makes me feel more in tune with you. I’m guessing there’s a part of you in every story. I’m starting to feel more familiar.”
I push up the sleeves of my sweater to avoid meeting his gaze and realize I’m still wearing the pin. I pull it off and stuff it into my pocket. I can’t believe he’s reading my books. In all the time we were married, Ollie never finished a single one. He claimed to have tried but said they weren’t his thing. “You’re a romance reader, huh? Who knew?”
He looks at me through the tops of his eyes and squints a little. I feel a flutter in my stomach. “I am now.”
I try to toughen up. I don’t want him to think his good looks and charm are affecting me. “To be honest, all you’ve done is confirmed that you really are a stalker. Maybe I should get a restraining order after all.”
“Nah. I’m mostly harmless.”
“Mostly . . . That’s not even funny.”
He stands and moves a step closer. “I think if you search your memories, Macy Greer, you’ll remember you weren’t scared of me at all on the beach.”
After our eyes meet briefly I immediately turn my head and focus on the officers by the entrance to the restaurant. I wasn’t scared of him on the beach and I’m not scared of him now. What I’m really afraid of is his proximity and my willpower.
He reaches out and moves a strand of my hair away from my mouth. “Your hair is longer. It’s sexy. I like it. I’d like to see what it looks like splayed across my chest in the morning.”
I gulp. “What did you say?” I yell to Marcus. “Oh sure, I’ll be right there.”
I scurry away from Fisher and his panty melting words and pretend Marcus called me. Marcus does a double take when I say his name and walks toward me.
“What’s up? Did you change your mind?” he asks, cracking his knuckles and eyeing Fisher over my shoulder.
I shake my head. “No, no. I just need you to do me a favor. Can you check him out? Tell me if I should be worried?”
“Absolutely.”
As he pulls out a pad of paper to write down his name, I take another look at Fisher. He’s standing with his back to me, hands stuffed in his pockets.
I can’t believe he’s really here. What do I do now?
“And then you left? Are you insane?”
I lean forward and place my head on top of my crossed arms to hide my face on my desk. “What was I supposed to do? Say, sure, let’s go back to your place and I’ll flip my hair all over your muscled abs?”
“Umm . . . Yes!”
I raise a finger out from the side of my head and flick Luna off.
She sighs loudly. “Well, the good news is that the videos people have posted on YouTube only show the back of your head. We were able to deny it was you.”
“I signed an autograph.”
“Don’t worry about it. I think we’re good.”
“But Fisher’s face is everywhere!”
“Okay, you have to tell me now. What’s Fisher’s last name?”
“Fisher is his last name.”
“His name is Fisher Fisher? That’s odd.”
I lift my head off my arms and clench my teeth. “Are you for real? No. His last name is Fisher. His first name is Patrick. There’s no use hiding it now.”
“Move,” Luna says as she pushes the arm of my chair, rolling me away from my desk. Her fingers fly over the keys. Within a second a picture of Fisher flashes on the screen. He’s wearing a towel and his skin is drenched like he just stepped out of the shower. He also has that smoldering look on his face that made me stop breathing on the beach.
“Holy shit-tits! Is that him?” she asks.
I roll closer to the desk, pushing Luna to the side to get a better look.
“Patrick Fisher is a model turned actor, age thirty, from Cleveland, Ohio.”
I click on the “images” tab and picture after picture of him appears on my screen. This is what I’ve been missing? I should have checked him out sooner. Holy hell. If I had seen these pictures a month ago I would have had a trilogy written by now.
“He doesn’t look like Chris Hemsworth,” Luna adds. “It’s Henry Cavill.”
I snap my fingers at her. I knew he reminded me of someone.
“He’s hot as fuck. You weren’t kidding there.” Luna pushes my hand away and goes back to “all” to scroll more info on him.
“Girl, it doesn’t look like he’s ever been married. He’s dated, but who hasn’t?”
“Okay, that’s enough. I don’t want to see or hear anything else about him. I don’t care.” I stand and walk away from the desk.
“Oh, here’s a picture of him naked!”
“What?” I rush back over to the screen, angling it toward me, and Luna laughs. It’s him in a suit but not the birthday suit I was expecting.
“Uh-huh. You don’t care. You wanted to see what kind of package the future father of your children was carrying.”
“Stop. And I already saw his package, remember?”
“So did you describe it to the T? Does he manscape? Inquiring minds want to know.”
“Knock it off!” I laugh, covering my face with my hands.
The phone buzzes. “Yes?” Luna asks.
“Marcus Montgomery is here.”
“Send him in.”
Marcus walks through the door with a file in his hand and immediately opens it on the desk in front of me.
“Patrick Fenton Fisher, age thirty, born and raised in Cleveland, Ohio. Graduated from Columbia School of the Arts in New York. Started modeling at age eighteen when he was discovered in a Starbucks as a barista. Modeled for Ford, did ads and runways all over the world for years. He’s been in two movies, small roles, numerous commercials, and is currently working on location in Fresno filming twelve episodes of a new series due to be aired on Fox next season. He travels a lot. As far as a criminal history, he was given community service for public intoxication when he was twenty-one. Other than that, he’s squeaky clean. Too clean if you ask me.”
I fold my arms over my chest and lean forward to look at the file. “So no priors for stalking? No restraining orders?”
“Just because someone hasn’t been arrested for it, doesn’t mean they haven’t done it. He probably hasn’t been caught yet.”
“His initials are PFF.” Luna makes the sound rather than saying the letters. “I like him already.”
“Thank you, Marcus. I really appreciate you doing this for me.”
He nods. “So you know, after you left, the police asked him if
he wanted to press charges against us. He said no, but I don’t think he’s done with this. I suggest you still file a restraining order. I don’t think he should be allowed anywhere near you ever again.”
Luna does a double take at him then stares at me. I suddenly feel uncomfortable. I don’t know how I feel about never seeing him again. As if she’s read my mind, Luna speaks.
“Marcus, you’ve done an amazing job these last couple of weeks and I think I can speak for both Macy and myself when we say we’re grateful for everything. The thing is, now that Macy realizes that Fisher is harmless and that this whole thing has been a complete misunderstanding, I think it’s safe to say that, for now, we won’t be requiring your services any longer.”
“What? But—”
Luna walks around the desk and grabs him by the elbow, leading him toward the door. “I will definitely tell Fabian what an outstanding job you’ve done and I promise we’ll call you for any publicity events we have in the future.”
Marcus turns to look at me over his shoulder and I lift my hand and wave at him as I smile awkwardly.
Luna closes the door behind him and leans on it. “Phew.”
“Thank you. But do you really think Fisher isn’t a threat?”
“I think he’s romantic. Who wants safe? A little danger and intrigue is intoxicating.”
I shake my head and sit down at my desk. Clapping my hands together first, I place my hands back on my keyboard. “Okay, so now that this whole mess is finally over, can we just go back to my trying to write and you bugging me about doing it faster?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is. I want to forget any of it ever happened. I want to forget all about him.” Right after I write another book about him.
I’m pretending to enjoy eating carrots for a snack when Brenna knocks at my door. I gaze up at the clock. It’s already after three. This day has flown by.
“Come in.”
“Hi, so, um, are you accepting appointments here?” she asks.
“Appointments? For what?” The cracking sound as I bite into another carrot is louder than I thought it would be. Even my chewing sounds louder now that someone else is in the room. Weird. I continue to type, not even looking at Brenna. I’m on a roll today.
Book Boyfriend Page 6