Crazed By Me

Another warm July morning. Another frozen hot chocolate to fuel my muses. Having claimed my favorite tall table at the Bistro D’Armand, I can surreptitiously peruse the newspapers piled neatly near the counter when my muses have taken a break from their duties. The top headline catches my eye.

“Bookstore Robber Only Wants Local Author’s Novel”

As far as I know, I am the only published author in town. Consider my attention captured. I rise from my seat and step close enough to read more.

“This isn’t a library,” the bored girl behind the counter recites in nasally tones before snapping her gum.

“Of course,” I reply, grabbing a copy of the paper with one hand while fishing for change with the other.

I assess the coins quickly to be sure I paid enough before bringing the paper back to my table. The girl snaps her gum again as the coins clatter into the register and she pushes the door closed with more force than necessary.

“The last remaining bookstore in Willow Heights experienced a break-in last night. George Dumont, the proprietor, installed a silent alarm last year, so police apprehended the suspect before he made it out of the store.

“Pete Sanders, 33, of Willow Heights was arrested and charged with breaking and entering and robbery. Apparently, he only stole novels by local author, Bella Knight, whose most recent work “Nighty Night, Nurse” was released two years ago. If you want to grab an autographed copy, you might have to wait as the books are now considered evidence.

“Sanders insisted on pleading guilty at the scene. He has already been transferred to county jail, where he awaits trial and sentencing.”

“”I just want Bella to see me the way she sees her characters.’ Sanders informed this reporter when asked what prompted his actions.

I immediately grab my phone from the table and tap the screen until it places a call to my brother Beau. I glance around the small coffee shop, relieved to see that most patrons have opted to take their orders to go this morning.

“Beaumont Knight,” he answers in the faux British accent he adopts in case someone outside our sleepy little town ever calls him.

“Beau, it’s Bella.” I whisper.

“What can I do for you, twin sister?” He drops the accent. “And could you possibly speak up?”

“I’m in a public place and might need legal representation.”

“Oh did you finally do something interesting?”

“I’m serious. I have a stalker.”

“You do? Are you sure? This isn’t like the time you thought the new kid was stalking you when he had moved into the house a few doors down, is it?” He guffaws.

“It was an honest mistake.” I grind my teeth but refuse to let him distract me. “Clearly, you haven’t read today’s paper. I know it is sitting on your desk. I’ll wait.”

And I do wait as the phone goes silent except for paper rustling on the other end. A few minutes later Beau’s braying laugh resounds through my earpiece. 

“Maybe you weren’t wrong about that kid after all.”

“What?”

“After you accused him of stalking, Nathan Sanders started going by his middle name, Peter. Pete. Clearly that stalking only went one way. You finally won him over to stalking you, sis. Congrats!”

“What!”

“You might need a new word. I suggest two: restraining and order.”

“But then I can’t talk to him.”

“Why on earth would you want to do that?”

“I’m a writer. We like to know things like what motivates people.”

Beau sighs as he has been plagued by my stubbornness and curiosity since conception. “Fine. We will go see if he will talk to you. And if he does and I don’t like what he says, we’ll be filing a restraining order immediately thereafter.”

“Do the girls love when you talk lawyer to them?”

“I have real work to finish here. I will pick you up in a half hour.” He hangs up on me.

—-

I grab my paper and down what remains of my now thinned chocolate. I drop a dollar next to my mess and rushed home to select an outfit for my awkward interview.

My brother doesn’t bother getting out of his car. He honks the horn repeatedly until I step out my front door. Then he honks once more, allegedly in greeting.

“Really, Beau. Do you have to annoy my neighbors?” I slam the door behind myself.

“Do you have to annoy me?” He counters with a twinkle in his eye. “I made arrangements for you to see your only fan this morning. It sounds like this will be the best moment of his life.”

I roll my eyes and watch the road ahead. After miles of traveling in silence, the prison looms before us. I look at Beau. He keeps his eyes forward as he pulls into the parking lot, not looking at me until the car rolled to a stop.

“You ready?”

“Is anyone ever ready to meet their number one fan?”

“Nope, but I met mine before we were even born, so I don’t even remember it.” He winks.

“Fool.”

“You love me.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

As we pass through the first gate, a morose silence falls over us. After rigorous questioning and passing through a couple of metal detectors, the guards deem us worthy to speak to their newest resident. They lead us to a drab room with beige walls and steel furniture bolted to the floor. We sit down to wait.

“Don’t touch your visitors. Don’t ask them for anything. Any violations or suspicious actions will lose you yard time.”

‘Yes, sir,” Pete keeps his eyes on the toe of his shoes as he takes the uncomfortable chair across from us.

As the guard steps back, Pete looks up. His eyes light up.

“It’s you.”

“It is.” I agree.

“I knew you’d come to see me if I made a grand gesture.”

Beau raises an eyebrow. “Did you also know you’d get to visit the inside of a prison?”

Pete ignores him, focusing all of his attention on me. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

“Well, I had some questions…”

“And I have answers.” He assures me brightly.

Beau places his hand on my knee so he can squeeze it hard every time something we say makes him want to roll his eyes. It is a habit he developed as a child since I could ignore the eye rolling simply by refusing to look at his face.

“I guess I really just want to know the thinking that led to you breaking into a store to steal all the copies of my novel.”

He nods his head and stares deep into my eyes as he tries to explain.

“After you accused me of stalking you when we were kids, I got to wondering what made you think you deserved to have someone so interested in your every move? I was new to town, so I didn’t even know you. Was there something I was missing? I couldn’t figure it out.”

Beau snickers, earning an annoyed grimace from Pete before he continues.

“Then I was too busy trying to get rid of the stigma around me to pay much attention to you. I had my own problems. I started going by my middle name and avoided you as much as possible at school. Luckily, the principal was kind enough to change my schedule without being asked.”

Beau squeezes my knee particularly hard and I squeak. Pete pauses to take a long look at me before deciding to continue.

“Then I saw your novel in the bookstore a month ago. I picked it up. I read it. I should say I devoured it. I loved how you painted your characters. I loved everything about them and the way you crafted them with such tender love and compassion. I wanted you to write me a new story, but how could I get you to notice me and then to know me?”

“So you broke into a bookstore knowing you would go to prison to get my si…client to talk to you?”

“I know she is your sister.” Pete leans back in his seat and eyes Beau suspiciously. “We went to school together and you’d look just like her if you didn’t have that ridiculous mustache.”

“Thanks for your input, Peter. I think I won’t be taking style advice from an admitted thief.”

I sigh loudly. “Pete, why didn’t you just leave a message on my author website or post a review on any number of sites?”

“That’s impersonal. We have a connection.”

Goosebumps prickle my skin. Beau pats my leg reassuringly. Then he stands and motions toward a nearby guard.

“Thank you for your time, Pete. We need to be leaving.”

I open my mouth to protest but think better of it.

“Will you come see me again?” Pete asks hopefully.

“I’m advising my client not to do that until this is all sorted out. Even then, it isn’t likely. You owe Mr. Dumont an apology and recompense for earnings lost and any destruction of property at the very least.”

“About that, I haven’t been assigned a pro bono lawyer yet, could you…”

“Sorry. I fear that would be a conflict of interest. Good luck, Peter.” Beau gave him a curt nod and put his arm across my shoulders to turn me around.

“Goodbye, Pete.” I call over my shoulder.

“Goodbye,” he replies as if his heart broke simply because he said those words.

~~

When we finally step out into free air, Beau releases his protective hold on my shoulders “You know that you drove that man crazy, right?”

“I dunno. I think he’s kind of shy and sweet.”

“I’m still filing the restraining order.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

“You actually agree with me—your silly brother?”

“I felt like there was something he didn’t tell us. It scares me.”

“It should. He has had decades to stew in his feelings. You kind of ruined his life.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

Beau puts his arm around me. “I know that. It was a mistake. You were both children. You grew up and decided to write novels. He grew up decided to steal to get your attention. He had other choices. Like a phone call.”

“Or a card.”

“Or friending you on social media.”

“Or asking a mutual friend to arrange a meeting.”

“Exactly. You’re my sister. You drive me crazy, but I’d rather protect you using my knowledge of the law than break the law.”

“That might be the nicest thing you ever said to me.”

“Consider it your birthday present.”

~~What would you do if your past came back to haunt you? What would you do if you met your number one fan? I would probably offer them more cookies, since that is what they would probably be after in the first place…~~