Fan Fiction ❯ Celebrity Stalker ❯ One-Shot

Celebrity Stalker

Desiree Williams

Forced to hide in the shadows and watch, there is nothing the police can do. As if they would ever believe it was going on. You wouldn't even believe it, unless you knew the whole story.

Alison Chase is the most popular movie star in the world right now. I knew her in high school, when she was Beverly Jones. I was captain of just about every sports team in the school. I was the student body and senior class president. Overall, I was the most popular guy in school. The chicks dug me, and every guy wanted to be me. So, it was no surprise that Beverly Jones had a slight crush on me. She was a plain girl, a little over weight, long black hair that seemed a bit greasy at times. Not really the girl I would have noticed. Hell, I didn't even remember her until I looked it up in my old Franklin High year books. She wasn't involved with anything and definitely wasn't popular, so I never thought once about her. That is, until I saw her on the television.

I was relaxing in my chair, watching the usual gossip news as I did every night. My small trailer was open and lonely. My wife had left me the year before because she felt I was going nowhere in life. I felt I was doing just fine. Obviously, she wanted a salary man. At least, that's who she's with now, the biggest nerd from my senior class. Well, good for him. I guess that's how it turns out when you graduate from college. I went for a semester, but got caught up in the parties, and decided that the whole academics thing wasn't for me anyway. I've been working in the mines ever since. The pay is enough to keep my going; it even bought me my favorite chair. Though some people may view my life as a failure, I feel just fine. The theme song blared through my television as I saw the image of a beautiful blonde appear on the screen. I had the feeling that I knew her. I pressed record on the VCR and sat through the rest of the show. She was the budding actress staring in some new film, that I had no desire to see, but that eerie feeling that I knew her clung to my brain.

After the show, I rewound the tape, and played it to a point that showed her face well on the screen. I paused it, and began flipping through one of my yearbooks, that I always have on the coffee table. I passed her picture several times, not believing that it was true, but it looked at me right in the face. It was Beverly Jones. I guess I should have left things alone then, but still living in the same small town that I always had, I felt that courtesy called for me to congratulate her parents. I looked up the Jones' number in the phone book. It was easy since they were the only Jones in the book. The phone rang a few times and an answering machine picked up. I said my name, and mentioned that I had gone to school with their daughter, and mentioned how proud they must be. I hung up leaving no more information than that. Imagine my surprise when the phone rang a few days later, and Beverly herself was on the line.

I was a little dazed when she mentioned who she was. I asked how she had my phone number. She giggled and mentioned her parents had caller ID. Now, I curse the very invention. She mentioned remembering me from high school, and made a show of letting me know that she was still single. I shrugged it off and made polite conversation. In the end, she asked if I would escort her to her movie premier in LA. I thanked her for the invitation, but mentioned that I didn't have a tux, or the time to get out there. She insisted that she would take care of everything, and I gave in.

It was a grand event; a helicopter picked me up outside of town and inside was tux. I thought it was odd how well it fit, but once again shrugged it off. We landed on top of a hotel she was staying at, and I was escorted to her door. She answered the door looking pretty good. I even said so. She giggled and pulled me inside. She told me that she still needed to get ready and pointed me to a couch. I sat in it, and it was uncomfortable. Maybe I was just used to my chair, maybe I was uncomfortable, or maybe the couch was just plain uncomfortable. Either way, she shouted to me from her bedroom that the movie studio was putting her up in this hotel until she finished making all of the films they needed her to, then she was going to buy herself a mansion. There was more to it, but I wasn't interested. I was busy trying to remember if I had set the timer on my VCR to record the shows I usually watched at night, and if I would get back in time to get some sleep before I went to work.

She came out of the bedroom in a different dress when a knock came at her door. She answered and in rushed two gentlemen with tackle boxes. One grabbed her, and drug her back to her room, the other grabbed me. I cursed when he started putting make-up on me, but he politely explained that it was all for the cameras. Everyone at the premiere had to look good. I relaxed a bit; at least he didn't try to cut my hair. I always thought I did well with the already thinning mop on my head. It was however styled in a different manner, but I just sat back and let fate take its course. Once each of the men had finished their job, we were apparently ready since the limo driver was waiting at the door. We followed him to the only limo I had ever seen. My prom ride was a new pick-up. This was beyond believable. Once inside, I was instructed that I should get out first, and then escort her down the red carpet. I only took it as half an insult to my intelligence. Chivalry was not dead with me, that was one thing my mama made sure that I knew.

Once we arrived, I did as they instructed, but they had not prepared me for all of the bright and flashing lights. I almost couldn't handle it. Once in the theatre, I was relieved to find it pleasantly dark. It gave my eyes a chance to rest. The movie was some sort of romance. The definite chick flick of the year, but I kind of zoned out through the thing. When Beverly leaned her head on my shoulder, I shifted a bit. She asked me what was wrong, and I told her nothing, putting her name at the end of the sentence, only to have her say back to me that I should call her Alison. Everyone else did, and she had legally changed it. I agreed, turned towards the film, and promptly zoned out again.

When the movie was over, I thought that would be the end of the night. I prompted myself to say goodnight, but she laughed and called me silly. Apparently the night was still young, even though all decent folk were in bed, and we still had and after party to attend. I explained that I had work, but she would hear none of it. Simply saying that they would do fine without me for one day, and she could match whatever I would lose on my pay. I tried to argue further, but we were coming out of the theatre, and became surrounded by people from newspapers and TV. I just smiled while Alison answered all of the questions.

At the party, I was surrounded by people that I had only seen on TV, and it should have just stayed that way as none of them talked to me, all of them talked to Alison. Finally, I convinced her to let go of my arm and let me go home. She told me to keep the tux and that I could take the helicopter that was still on the hotel roof. The late night caused a lousy day at work. I was sent home since my job on the maintenance crew required a certain level of alertness. After that, I slipped back into my normal routine. Things were going fine until I saw my picture on a supermarket tabloid. I only hoped they guys at work wouldn't rag on me about it too much.

A few months had passed when I received another call from Alison. She had another premier that she wanted me to go on with her. I was currently on the night shift and had to turn her down. She sighed a bit and said she call me some other time. I hung up, and thought nothing more of it. A few weeks later, I was coming onto my shift, when I ran into the supervisor as he was leaving. He asked me how I was doing, and told me not to come into work for a couple of days. I asked him if I was fired, and he explained that it was simply a command handed down from above. I thought it was weird, but welcomed the break in a small way. When I got home early that next morning, the phone rang, and I was going to let it ring, but thought it might be important. It was Alison, asking if I'd reconsider going with her to premier. I thought about it. It was a slow night on TV, so I agreed. I then went to bed.

This premier was just like the last. No one spoke to me, I didn't care for the movie, but I sat through it anyway. Only this time, the tux had already been at my house, one less excuse not to go. For awhile, this became the norm. I would go to work, then out of nowhere, they would tell me to stay home for a few days, and Alison would call asking if I would go somewhere with her. She gave me very little room to say no. My pay never suffered, so I was fine with the way things were going, never suspecting. God was I an idiot.

Things didn't seem to get really strange until I began to see myself on the gossip TV shows. All the premiers I had gone to had become an insane routine for me, but the way the media made things look. Alison and I were an item, not to mention the few times she got really drunk at the after parties and tried to force herself on me. Even though I would gladly partake any other time, I would never take advantage of a woman that was not in her right mind. The guys at work were always asking what she was like, and I would honestly have to say that I didn't know. Well, at least at that time.

After nearly a year of this oddball life falling into my lap, Alison invited me over to her new mansion. This would be the first time I'd spent time with her outside of the public spotlight. In a way, I thought it was nice that I had such a beautiful woman practically to myself. So, I didn't refuse when she asked me to help "christen" her new bedroom. Eventually, bedroom turned into every room of the place and guesthouse, but looking back now I wish I had never done such a thing. At the time I was thinking with my dick. Two years and several missed opportunities can do strange things to a man's mind and once you get that sweet taste again, you'll do almost anything to keep it. Remember, almost anything.

It was after our second `tour' of the mansion, and Alison's fifth movie that she asked me to move in with her. I declined. I liked my life as it was. I still went to work when they would allow it, and all of my needs were met. What more could I want? She was obviously not happy about this. I explained that I had my job, and even though being with her was fun, it wasn't love and that as hard as it would be, I would leave her if she didn't understand that. Then, I left. I went back to my trailer and showed up at my job, whether or not I was wanted there. Life was good. I had to return to the realm of self service, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices. Other men may have called me crazy, but then again, they didn't know Alison.

Three months after I left, the phone calls started. Heavy breathing on the other end, when there was actually someone there. Then there were the letters. Anonymously sent, typed, and never signed, but I knew they were from her. They were all from her. Then, I was fired. No, I shouldn't say that. I was still getting paychecks, and they had simply told me that I was to not come in. I asked why, and the only response was that it came from above. I would be called in if needed, and I was changed from hourly to salary. I found that kind of ironic, but let it slide. Too much was happening to me too fast. Things that could never happen in the real world were happening to me and I didn't like it one little bit.

That brings us to now. Her shadow popping up into the window, I tried calling the police. Telling them that Alison Chase was at my house only made them think I was bragging. There had been nothing in the media about us breaking it off, so they still thought we were together. I'm cowering in the corner only hoping that she'll leave. I've locked all of the doors, but it won't do any good. The last silhouette showed an axe in her hands. I have no idea what I'm going to do. The axe shatters the door as if it were plywood. She comes in and throws down her weapon. `Why?' is the only thing I ask her and her response frightens me. I never noticed her in high school, but she definitely noticed me. The one time she tried to say something with a love letter; I crumbled it up and threw it in the trash with a laugh. I didn't remember doing that, but she obviously did. She spent her whole life trying to get me to notice her, and when she found out that I finally had, she was happy about it. Apparently she had been keeping tabs on me since she could afford a private detective. When I called her parents, she took it as her cue. She invited me to the premiere. She thought she had me then, but my excuse about work only meant that I was not the only thing on her mind. So, she bought the company that I worked for. Thus, the conveniently placed days off. She reminded me that this meant she now owned me, and I was working for her. She thought that she had made me happy, but after I told her I didn't love her, that was the end of it. She said she would take everything precious to me until she was the only thing left to love. At this point she got quiet.

I sat there on the floor staring at her in horror as she stepped back over to the axe. She began swinging it into my television, and smashing my VCR. She demolished the electronics and smirked at me saying that I would come running to her if it was the last thing I ever did. She got into my face, and I could smell the fumes. She stood back up and walked out of the door. It wasn't long before the flames began licking the windows. I could hear her cackling outside. I jumped into my chair. She hadn't yet taken everything I loved. I sat comfortably in my chair knowing that I Jacob Foster had a celebrity stalker. These are my last thoughts as the smoke fills my lungs.