Page 21 of Book Boyfriend
“We both know I’m not Kasey. Kasey was trusting until she realized he was the reason she became a best seller.” Doubt invades my brain. “You don’t think my stalker bought ten thousand copies too, do you?”
“No!” Luna says, shaking her head. “This is real life, darling. Men like Penn don’t exist, remember?”
I know she’s right. Penn doesn’t exist. Real men are nothing like the ones in my head. Real men lie and cheat and break your heart. Book boyfriends will always be better than reality.
“Are you clear on what you’re supposed to do?” Marcus asks, as he places a pin containing a small camera on my sweater. He’s recording the whole thing in case we need it for a court case.
“Yes. When I know it’s him, I stand up.”
He places his hands on his thighs, leaning toward me. “You know it’s not too late to change your mind.”
Even though I’m nervous, I’m also pretty excited. It feels like I’m playing a part in a crime drama. I’ve already plotted a book off this whole thing about an undercover detective who falls for the guy she’s supposed to be investigating. I’m trying to pretend I’m not scared because I know Marcus wouldn’t let me go through with it if he knew I wasn’t half as confident as I appear to be.
I suppose with popularity comes increased risk. When I first became a best seller, I paid a company to wipe my past personal stuff from the web mostly so I could keep my address safe. Looking back, especially since we’re divorced, I’m glad I didn’t take Oliver’s name. Greer Bruckner never sat well with me anyway. Now, it’s nearly impossible to know that Greer Hanson ever existed. I guess security and stalkers are the things I never considered when I prayed for fame.
“I’m not going to change my mind. Besides, you have like twenty other guys stationed all around this place. I’m not the slightest bit worried.”
“Please reconsider the vest.”
I inhale a deep breath through my nostrils to try to stay calm. The suggestion of my wearing a bulletproof vest almost made me cry when he mentioned it the first time. If it’s going to happen, it’ll happen. I’ll die someday, vest or not. “Nope. I’m good.”
Marcus arranged for a guard at the door and one sitting at the table near me. He’s going to be standing at the bar, within feet of me. Luna wanted to be here, but he said no and I agreed. I don’t need her taking any risks.
I’m directed to the table my stalker/gift giver reserved. I rub my hands on my jeans. My palms are sweaty. I semi-sing Eminem’s song “Lose Yourself” as soon as the thought crosses my mind. Another one of my issues. I tend to think of song lyrics when I’m nervous.
This dude might expect me to be in the dress he bought me, but I’m not Kasey and my not wearing the dress like she did should drive that point home even further. Part of me hopes a smiling fan shows up and just asks for my autograph. Then Marcus can give her a restraining order and we can call it a day.
I watch the condensation drip down my water glass and realize the sweat on my back is following the same pattern. I keep glancing back and forth between the door and Marcus. He nods to me as he holds a glass of soda and perches half a butt cheek on the bar stool.
A tap on my shoulder startles me and I almost bolt from my seat. “Excuse me, but aren’t you Macy Greer?” a young woman asks as she steps in front of me.
Is this her? Is this it? Should I stand?
“Are you the person I’m meeting?” I ask hesitantly.
“I wish. I’m so sorry for bothering you, but my mom and I saw you when you came in and it took me a few minutes to get the courage to ask for your autograph.”
I smile. “Um, sure. What do you want me to sign?”
She hands me a napkin and I gaze over at Marcus and shake my head lightly. I try to smile as I scribble my name.
“I love Kasey. She’s like, my favorite character of all time. I love how feisty and sexy she is. I wish I could be more like her.”
“Just be you. The world needs you to be exactly who you are and no one else.”
She grins. “Thank you so much. Have a great dinner.”
I watch her walk back to her table and I wave to the older woman she’s sitting with. She smiles back.
Where the hell is he? I know I’m early, but jeez. Why is he late? Let’s get this show on the road. People really need to be more punctual. It’s rude to keep me waiting.
I try to busy myself by taking in the décor. You never know when I might need to describe a restaurant in a book. The walls are a deep shade of red. I suppose it’s to match the exposed brick on the wall by the fireplace in the corner. It’s a nice place. And I might have even thought it was a romantic location if I were on a date rather than waiting to meet a crazy person.
Why would anyone think I’d be interested in recreating a story in my book? I’ve written twelve other novels and no one copied those. I wish they would have. It would have been nice to inherit a million dollars from someone for real.
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.
