Mistletoe & Kisses

by Anthology

  He nodded. I knew he thought I was going to check in with my social media, maybe post a little something to keep my new fans excited about the upcoming tour. I supposed I probably should have been doing that, but I had other things on my mind.

  Oh, I was going to be dealing with my social media, all right, but I was going to be looking instead at my “stalkers” and see if any of them seemed real or made up. I’d already seen enough episodes of Catfish: The TV Show to know that people online didn’t always present their real selves. Quite often, people presented only their “best” selves or, worse, they would misrepresent themselves entirely. It seemed as though some people did it because they felt insecure about who they were, but in the case of stalkers, I was sure their reasons were instead sinister. They were hiding themselves to possibly escape detection.

  So I sat down at my computer with a cup of hot tea. Gracie was dosing on the sofa and Chuck was standing over by the window looking out. Chris was playing a videogame, but he’d look over at Chuck once in a while and, when the man would wink at Chris, Chris would grin and turn back to the game.

  Yeah…for supposedly being worried earlier, Gracie certainly didn’t seem too concerned now. I started feeling a little angry that I’d managed to be duped. Goddammit. Once more, I proved that you can take the naïve small town girl out of the town, but the naiveté managed to linger. That irritated me more than you can imagine. Fooled once again.

  Well, I supposed then that I shouldn’t feel too stupid. After all, Brad didn’t seem to suspect her either…nor did Chuck, a guy who was probably more an expert at this kind of thing than either me or my husband. I sighed. It was up to me to find out for certain.

  I’d just been looking at all this stuff the day before with Chuck, but now I was going to see it with new eyes. I had a different agenda now.

  I went to Twitter first. That was where my French guy had found me. He was probably not likely to be my local stalker—that was, if he was who he seemed to be on the surface. His Twitter profile didn’t say where he was from, but his tweets sometimes identified a location, some place in France I’d never heard of. I tended to trust the locations Twitter gave, considering they were pretty spot on when I tweeted and I didn’t even notice half the time until later. His name was Etienne, and he wasn’t bad looking…but the guy had to be at least twenty years older than I and when he first started following me and tweeted to me, he spoke in French. I shouldn’t have tried to be nice, but I tried to interact with my fans from time to time, and I thought it might be a good idea to let him know I couldn’t understand most of his words. I typed a tweet back at him that said Je ne parle pas français (thanks, Google Translate) and figured that would be the end of it.

  But no. Instead, he tweeted me multiple times that same day, and I didn’t bother translating them. I got the gist of what he was saying. He was telling me that he didn’t know English but that he’d love talking with me and oh! Wasn’t I beautiful?

  It was at that point that I was very grateful that I hadn’t followed him back. Just the one tweet I’d sent him had encouraged him more than it should have. Every day, he’d tweet me at least once and then he started sending pictures—most of them half naked—chest shots, fortunately—nothing below the belt. But he was feeling creepier by the day. I made the decision to figure out how to block him, but then he quit tweeting me.

  Now, though, I wanted to make sure I could eliminate him from my list of suspects. As I started looking through his profile and pictures, I became convinced that he was a real guy. There were too many pictures of him and it was obviously the same guy in every photo. So, creepy, yes. Stalker, yeah. Here in Beaver Creek watching my every move? Probably not. The last time he’d contacted me had been over a month ago. I was pretty sure he was still somewhere in France.

  I got up and stretched and moved to the stovetop to make another cup of tea. Chris came over and asked, “Mommy, can I have some cocoa?”

  “Sure, honey.” I glanced over at Gracie again. She was out like a light on the couch in a deep sleep. I began wondering why she was so tired, because there had been no partying the night before like there had been before we headed to Beaver Creek. Besides, she’d had some Starbucks coffee. Was she maybe engaging in online activities once everyone else was asleep?

  Well, now I was just inventing trouble. I took a deep breath and asked Chris about his videogame while waiting for the water to warm up. We had a sweet conversation and, even though I didn’t like him playing a lot of videogames, it was a vacation, and Brad and I had agreed beforehand that we’d let Chris play to his heart’s content while we were away. Once we got back home, it would be back to his limit of one hour a day.

  I made his cocoa before the water hit a full boil and then added a couple spoonfuls of cool water so it wouldn’t be too hot, and then I made my tea. Once I sat back down at the computer, I knew the bigger task was at hand—to analyze my three stalker types on Facebook.

  Wait…I’d forgotten about the bossy bastard on Instagram. That was what I called him (or her maybe). It hadn’t taken me long to get close to one thousand followers there and suddenly people were liking and commenting on my pictures, whether it was the album cover or just a picture of something cool, like my guitar. I’d never clicked through to see if the person was a woman or a man, but the user ID was falover77. At first, he was just posting cute little emoticons, but then he started commenting and asking questions—personal questions that I wasn’t comfortable answering. Sorry, dude, but it’s none of your damn business if I wear Victoria’s Secret. The guy took to shouting at me…internet shouting, leaving comments like ANSWER ME AND FOLLOW ME BACK. He would sometimes follow it up with Please? and add a little smiley emoticon. Just like the Twitter guy, I felt creeped out and started posting less and less. My so-called fans were making sure the internet was not a fun place for me anymore.

  I had a few Facebook stalkers, too, but most of the time, their interest would dwindle if I didn’t respond to their antics. I’d discovered that they thrived on attention, whether positive or negative. I wanted to look at all of them anyway just to see if I could learn anything. All three of the Facebook guys had friended me and then tried to start private messaging me. When my new band first exploded, I decided that I wouldn’t decline any friend requests, because those people were likely fans (oh, except for the fake people who just wanted to post sunglasses ads on my timeline). And I have always tended to respond to friendliness, so at first when people would send me a message saying “Hi” and ask me for advice or to share info, I didn’t guard myself. What a sucker that made me. It wasn’t long before a so-called friendly conversation would become a full-blown proposition. Most of those guys were easy enough to send on their way, but my main stalker guy denied having any underhanded intentions.

  Two of them seemed to harass all kinds of women, not just me. They seemed like the same type of guy. When I checked out both their profiles, they were both older guys—one was retired military and the other also seemed retired, but I couldn’t tell from glancing what his profession had been. Both had attempted to engage me in private conversation and both, it seemed, simply wanted to find an internet girlfriend. Neither of them seemed to really know who I was—they just must have liked my profile picture. But when I checked out their friends’ lists, it was pretty evident that I was the odd woman out. I might have, at one time, shown some skin (and I wasn’t against it now either), but the women on both of those guys’ friends’ lists seemed enhanced and they had no problems showing it all off. In fact, of all the friend profiles that popped up on their pages, I was shocked at how many were women wearing bikinis…and there wasn’t a C cup in sight.

  I was out of my league. My boobs would never become honeydew melon size, but all those women appeared to be well endowed. What I found strangest was that both of those guys seemed similar—motive-wise anyway.

  By the time I got to the third guy, I expected to find the same damn thing…but I didn’t. This guy had only one
profile pic, and it was a fuzzy side shot. There were no pictures of him with friends or even by himself. In fact, there was hardly any information of him at all.

  But what I realized next chilled me to the bone.

  Chapter Nine

  I FELT A cold shiver race through my body as I looked at Frank Johnson’s profile. Yeah, “Frank Johnson.” I somehow doubted that was this person’s name. But that wasn’t what had me freaking out. No, what creeped me out the most was that this guy had two friends—and I was one of them.

  Weird.

  This guy did nothing on his page either. He had the profile pic (the fuzzy one) but he didn’t have a cover photo. He didn’t have any likes or interests…well, except he had liked our Val Hella Facebook page. Other than that, though, he had no activity.

  Nope. The only thing he did do on Facebook, it seemed, was stalk me, but even that had seemed to be harmless. Had. Now I was beginning to wonder if I’d found exactly what I’d set out to find. Because this person had only one friend other than myself (and only heaven knew how he’d found this other person or what that person meant to him), it made him even more suspicious and made me believe the profile was completely fake.

  It made me think that maybe Gracie was “Frank.”

  I considered telling Brad or Chuck, but I thought, first of all, that they might think I’d lost my fucking mind. Besides that, without evidence—without proof—I had nothing. Again, they’d think I’d gone off the deep end. But I did plan to tell the cops when we returned home. If I gave them what I had and then let them do their own digging, they might be able to confirm what I’d only suspected.

  I wanted to tell Brad. I did. But he had enough to worry about, and I didn’t need him worrying that his wife had lost her marbles.

  Instead, the next day we did what we’d planned. We celebrated Christmas, presents and all, and Brad had even arranged to have a restaurant make us a traditional dinner and serve us in a little backroom. I had no idea how much money he’d paid for that one, but the pumpkin pie alone was worth it. We even got to watch some of our favorite Christmas movies that afternoon. It was a wonderful holiday, one that almost felt like the real deal.

  The day after, we packed up according to plan, ready to head over to the western slope of Colorado where we were going to visit Brad’s dad and then his mother. By that point, Chuck told us couldn’t come along as he had another job to do, but he said that, aside from Gracie’s Starbucks incident and the ominous note on the newspaper I got before he arrived, he thought I was out of danger. The whacko must have gotten a clue and Chuck’s presence must have scared him off.

  Ha. Nope. Gracie got wise. That was all that had happened.

  Chuck insisted upon checking out our vehicle before we left, though, just to be sure nothing funky was going on there. So he had the hotel bring the car up and he examined every last nook and cranny—especially on the outside—before he gave us a go ahead.

  He must have seen the look on my face as I held Hayley close, rocking her on my hip outside on the stone walk under the overhang. “Val, I see that look you’re giving me, but I want you to know I was looking for tracking devices…or even something more sinister. Guys like the guy stalking you—you just can’t be too safe.” He shook his head. “Damn. I wish I could go with you.”

  Brad walked up behind me from the lobby while a bellhop rolled out a large cart full of our stuff. “No worries, Chuck. I agree with you completely. You scared that asshole off.”

  No matter what I knew, I had to play along. After all, Gracie was standing right next to me. “Or the guy’s just been laying low since Chuck has been here, and he’s planning to make a move once he’s gone.”

  Chuck frowned. “Know what? Give me a minute.” He stepped out of our line of hearing, tapping on his phone while he walked away, and then he brought it up to his ear. I looked at my husband who then raised his eyebrows.

  Brad wrapped an arm around my back and asked, “What the hell did I miss?”

  I lowered my voice. “Your guess is as good as mine.” But I had an idea that maybe Chuck was reconsidering. Something I’d said rang true with him.

  When he came back, he told us that he’d rearranged his schedule with Manny, and Manny would find someone else to do the three-hour job Chuck was scheduled to work the next day. “I think you’re right, Val, and I want to be sure you’re safe.” So, while we waited for the hotel to bring his vehicle up as well, Brad told Chuck where we were going and Chuck typed the details into his phone. He said he’d follow us on the road but wanted directions in case he somehow lost us. “Have you been followed at all?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have you noticed anyone following your vehicle, either here or back at home?”

  Brad shrugged and I shook my head. I was more convinced than ever that my kids’ nanny was the culprit, for whatever sick reason she had in her head, and so I didn’t think I’d ever been followed in a vehicle, not to mention I’d never seen it happen.

  A thought invaded my brain, frightening me to the core. What if…what if Gracie had fallen in love with Brad…and that was why she was playing this sick game?

  I kept my suspicions to myself but suddenly felt very grateful that Chuck was going to be with us for the duration.

  * * *

  The day we spent with Brad’s dad was uneventful, much as I had expected. He lived alone in a small apartment and seemed to like it that way, but it left little room for his sons or their families. It was a pleasant visit but it was nice to relax in a hotel where we had a little breathing room.

  The next day we headed to Brad’s mother’s home in another town. She had a big house and Brad had already called her to make sure she could accommodate one more. She’d been planning on us and the kids and even Gracie, but not a bodyguard. No problem, she told her son. The more, the merrier.

  Yes, well, she might say that now, but once she heard about all the stalker BS that had been going on, she might change her mind.

  She didn’t, though. She loved having us all there and having a huge crew to cook for. Brad’s brother rarely visited her and even we were lucky to make it over the slope once a season, but we made the effort. She came to see us a couple of times a year as well, but she had to work around her job as a nurse.

  The biggest part of the problem was Brad’s touring schedule—and now mine as well. Being on the road for months at a time, all we wanted to do with chunks of time off was to go home and take it easy. But I’d always loved Barbara Payne…and her cooking was phenomenal. It reminded me of my own mother’s, except Barbara tended to do some unusual things that made her food even better. She added a lot of fruits and nuts to dishes I wouldn’t even think of adding them to, but it made those foods even better. Ever eat green chili apple pie or cinnamon chili? Yeah, that’s the kind of strange I’m talking about—but good strange.

  Chris already loved the woman he called Gramma Barb. He’d been looking forward to seeing her since we left Beaver Creek. He was happy to see Brad’s father too, but my son didn’t feel as close to him.

  After our first night where we exchanged presents and had another traditional Christmas meal, the next evening—our last before we headed home—Barbara said that her biggest present to us was a night alone. She wanted us to enjoy a romantic evening at a steak and seafood place downtown. She also wanted to have the grandkids all to herself. If she hadn’t said she wanted to have the kids with her, I would have said no and found an excuse. I didn’t want to leave my kids alone with Gracie anymore.

  Barbara, though? I knew she loved those kids as much as—if not more than—her own sons. And I would have trusted her with my own life. So we told Gracie she had the night off and could do whatever she liked.

  The girl couldn’t decide if she wanted to go out or not, so Barbara convinced her to stay and hang with her and the kids. Brad’s mom tended to take people under her wing, and Gracie had that look of innocence sometimes.

  But now I knew bet
ter.

  I put on a pair of slacks but Brad asked me to wear a dress instead. I tried to play stupid, but he knew I’d brought along one dress…just in case. Just in case what, I hadn’t known at the time, but I liked being prepared. And Brad knew that about me, so when I tilted my head and tried to feign ignorance, he grinned and squinted his eyes. “I want to see those sexy legs of yours, babe.”

  I laughed. I didn’t want those legs of mine getting cold, and I knew they would be. It was just as cold here as it had been in Beaver Creek, and I complained about it. Brad countered. “What if I make sure the car is warm before you get in?”

  I closed my eyes, slowly shook my head, and let out a sigh. Then I nodded. It was hard telling my husband no when it was something that obviously meant so much to him.

  As I was doing my hair in the bathroom upstairs, I heard Brad and Chuck talking. A few minutes later, Brad walked in. “Hey, Chuck was going to come with us to keep an eye on you, but I asked him to stay here with mom and the kids.”

  For me, that was a no brainer, and having dinner alone with Brad would be my chance to lay it all out to him. I’d debated telling him the last few evenings in bed before we’d drifted to sleep (except for the night before when the kids were with us), ever since I’d had my suspicions, but if he’d gotten all fired up, he would have made a scene in the middle of the night and who knew what else? Alone, though, just the two of us, he’d be able to get over his vehemence and help me come up with a plan of action to watch Gracie and find some evidence so the cops could arrest her. Right now, all I had was my gut feeling. I needed proof.

  So having Chuck stay with my kids was an easy decision. If Gracie had gone out like she’d debated, I wouldn’t have been as concerned (and, in fact, might have been in need of Chuck’s skills), but if she was staying behind with my kids and I still didn’t know her MO, my kids were in more need of a bodyguard than I.