Fame

by Karen Kingsbury

  At first she kissed him back, her lips moving across his as they drew nearer to each other. But after only a few seconds she pulled back, her eyes wide, her breathing fast and irregular. “Dayne—” She released his hand and took another step back—“I can’t.”

  He came to her again, frustrated at himself. “Katy, I’m sorry. It’s just . . . I had such a good time tonight.”

  The hint of a smile returned to her lips. “Me too. But still . . . kissing has meaning for me. It’s not something I just . . . you know, something I just do on a whim.”

  “That wasn’t a whim.” He looked to the deep places of her heart. “I can’t describe the way you make me feel, Katy.”

  For a moment she said nothing, though she looked flustered even in the darkness. “I want to be your friend.” She crossed her arms. “Nothing more, okay?”

  “Okay.” He held his hands out, palms up. “I’m sorry. We’ll save it for rehearsals, fair enough?”

  She tried not to laugh but lost the battle. Her giggling started quietly, but after a few seconds it took over, bending her at the waist and making her gasp for breath. When she straightened she gave him a sheepish look. “Sort of silly, I guess.”

  “No.” He smiled at her and reached his hands out to hers again. “Not silly at all.”

  She took hold of his fingers and looked to a place in his soul few people found. “Thanks for understanding. I guess I’m still a little old—”

  Katy’s words were cut short by the sound of clicking coming from the distant bushes. Cameras.

  “Here we go.” Dayne took a few hurried steps toward the sound, Katy’s hand still in his. He looked over his shoulder at her and whispered, “Watch this!”

  She tiptoed across the grass behind him and took up her position near another set of bushes. “Be careful.”

  “We’re fine.” He led her closer to the sound, let go of her hand, and ran full force toward the bushes, yelling as he went. There was the sound of something crashing just a few yards in front of him and then the distinct sound of people running away, as if fleeing for their lives.

  Dayne made a loud growling sound and took another few steps; then he turned around and broke into laughter. “That was the best one yet.”

  “Whoever they were probably thought you’d lost it.” She covered her mouth and stifled a laugh. “You looked that way.”

  “At least I scared them away.” He took a step toward her, his laughter fading. “The bad news is, I have no idea how many pictures they took before we heard them.”

  “In other words—” she made a face—“my picture might be in a magazine?”

  “Right.” He tossed his hands and grinned. “‘Dayne Matthews Meets Mystery Lover at the Beach’. . . that sort of thing.”

  “At least they don’t know my—”

  In a rush of motion, a yellow-haired woman jumped from the bushes behind Katy and grabbed her by the arms. Katy screamed, loud and shrill, but before Dayne could do anything to help her, the woman put a ten-inch knife blade to Katy’s throat.

  “Don’t move or I’ll kill you,” the woman hissed at Katy. Her body trembled, and as Katy went stiff, the woman looked at Dayne. “Isn’t it time you stopped this nonsense, Dayne?”

  Dayne’s heart was slamming against the wall of his chest. How had this happened? And where had she come from? “Hey.” He slowly took a step closer, his voice a forced calm. “What nonsense?”

  “Stay back!” The woman looked like a witch, her hair long and wild, her eyes evil, lifeless. “Don’t come closer.”

  “This will never work, you idiot.” It was the woman talking again, but this time the hiss was gone. In its place was a high-pitched voice. “You’ll get us both caught.”

  “No!” The hiss was back. “Shut up. I told you to shut up or I’ll kill you.”

  Dayne took another step closer. He had to get within range of the woman, close enough so he could snatch her arm or knock the knife from her hands.

  Katy was breathing fast—too fast. Her eyes were wide and she shook her head. “Stay back, Dayne. She means it. I can . . . I can feel the knife on my throat.”

  “Hussy!” The hissing voice spat the word at Katy’s cheek. “You’ll feel the knife more than that in a few minutes.” She relaxed some, though she kept the knife pressed against Katy’s throat. “I have to talk to Dayne first. Then he can watch me get rid of you.”

  Dayne moved closer. “You said something about stopping the nonsense.” He had never been so terrified in all his life. This had to be the stalker, the woman who had been sending the notes. He glanced at the parking lot. Sure enough, there in the space next to Katy’s rental car was a yellow Honda Civic. He swallowed hard. “Let’s talk about that.”

  “You don’t even know my name.” Her voice was loud again, angry.

  “Of course he doesn’t, idiot.” The high voice cut in. “That’s because he isn’t your husband.”

  “Yes, he is, Anna!” She stiffened, bringing the knife harder against Katy’s throat. “He’s my husband, and he knows my name is Chloe.”

  Dayne jumped at the opportunity. “You’re right, Chloe. It’s all my fault.” Dayne took another step. He saw Katy’s eyes react, but he gave a subtle shake of his head. Her only chance was if he got close enough to help her. “I’m sorry about everything.”

  Chloe’s shoulders relaxed a little. “See, Anna, I told you.” She threw Dayne a disgusted look. “Anna’s always telling me I’m not married to Dayne Matthews.”

  “You are, Chloe. It’s all my fault.”

  “So then—” she tossed her matted, wild hair—“you’re ready to come home with me?”

  “I am.” Another step. “But first I need you to let my friend go, okay?”

  Rage filled Chloe’s face and she jerked back a few feet, taking Katy with her. Katy tried to swallow, tried to talk, but the knife blade was too tight against her throat. “She’s not your friend; she’s a home wrecker, a Hollywood hussy. And hussies need to die, Dayne.” Her voice sent chills through him. It was so evil it sounded otherworldly. “Do you understand that?”

  Dayne reached out his hand, but she screamed at him. “Don’t!” Then she took the knife and made a three-inch surface slice down the inside of Katy’s upper arm.

  Katy cried out, clenching her jaw to keep from screaming louder. Blood ran down her arm, dripping on the ground.

  “See, Dayne. Pretty girls bleed easy.” She pressed the knife to Katy’s throat again. “Not me . . . nothing can make me bleed.”

  Dayne wanted to grab the knife and plunge it through her heart, test her theory. He gave Katy a look, one intended to calm her. Then he took a step back and focused on the lunatic. “I’m afraid I can’t go home with you, Chloe. Not if you use that knife.”

  His statement caught her off guard. She lowered the blade a fraction of an inch. “What do you mean? We have a honeymoon to plan.”

  “Not with the knife, Chloe. I can’t stay married to you unless you stop cutting my friend.”

  “It’s a trick, Chloe!” It was the other voice, the high-pitched one. “Dayne doesn’t care about you. He’s not your husband!”

  “He is too!” The hissing voice fought back. “If he’s coming home with me, I need to hear him out.” She twisted her face into a hateful glare and stared at Dayne. “If I cut her she’ll be gone forever. She’ll never be in our way again.”

  “Besides . . .” Dayne was desperate. One wrong move and Katy could have her throat sliced. He gulped. “You’ve got the wrong girl, Chloe. The one you want is Kelly Parker.”

  “Kelly Parker?” The hissing voice barely whispered the name. “Yes! I want her more than this—” she gave Katy a disgusted shake—“this little tramp.”

  “Okay, good.” Dayne didn’t let up. If she read the magazines—and of course she did if she was this obsessed—then she knew about his recent photo spread with Kelly. “I have an idea.”

  “It’s a trick, Chloe. We’ll both go down.” The shrill v
oice was more insistent.

  “Shut up!” she hissed, looking over her shoulder this time at an empty clearing. “Leave me alone. I’ve finally found my husband, and you still can’t be happy for me.” She jerked her head and found Dayne’s eyes. “You’re right. I want Kelly more.” But she continued to press the knife close to Katy’s throat. “Maybe I should kill this one and then go find Kelly.”

  “No, Chloe, that won’t work.” Dayne was ready, tightly wound, looking for any sign of weakness in the woman. Any chance to jump at her. “Those aren’t the rules.”

  “The rules?” She blinked. Her trembling had gone into a full-bodied shaking. “What rules?”

  “You know, Chloe.” Dayne did his best to sound at ease, relaxed. “The rules about knives. You can only use them on one person a day.” He nodded to Katy. “You don’t want to waste your chance on her.”

  Chloe lowered the knife a couple of feet. She had her mouth open, about to say something, but Dayne didn’t wait. In a sudden burst, he kicked Chloe’s hand with all his strength. The knife went flying and Dayne rushed in. He grabbed Chloe’s arms and wrenched her away from Katy. Then he flung the woman onto the ground facedown and fell on top of her.

  He looked over his shoulder and shouted at Katy, “You have a cell?”

  “Yes!” Katy was frantic, her voice seized with fear.

  “Call 911.”

  “Dayne, look out!” Katy screamed, pointing at Chloe.

  The woman had stretched herself, squirming on the ground, and now she had her hand around the handle of the knife. Dayne brought his fist down full force on her forearm and heard a sickening crunch. Her hand went limp. She groaned, writhing and fighting him, trying everything in her power to get him off her back.

  He pulled the knife from her grip and tossed it back toward the picnic table. “Stop moving or I’ll suffocate you!” He shoved her face into the grass and slid up higher on her back. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you and call it self-defense.”

  Behind him, Dayne heard Katy on the phone with the emergency operator. She sounded breathless, in shock, and twice she had to repeat herself. Meanwhile Chloe was kicking, thrashing about, trying to buck him off her back.

  “Anna, help me! Where are you?”

  The high-pitched voice answered. “It’s all your fault. You got us into this.”

  Dayne felt a chill run down his spine. The woman had at least two personalities fighting it out inside her. Both voices had dark and frightening undertones. No doubt she would’ve killed Katy and maybe him if she’d had a few more minutes to think about it.

  Katy was off the phone. “Dayne, be careful!” She was still out of breath. He wanted to leave the psycho woman and comfort Katy, but he couldn’t. Not when it was taking nearly all his strength to keep the maniac pinned.

  “If this is how you treat your wife . . .” It was the hissing voice. Chloe. Her words were short and clipped from the struggle and the fact that her forearm was definitely broken. “If this is how you treat your wife . . . I’ll have to kill you too, Dayne.”

  Dayne didn’t say anything. He wasn’t interested in the ramblings of a lunatic. All he cared about were the quiet whimpers coming from behind him. What would this do to Katy? Of all the times for the wacko to act on her threats, she had to do it when he was with Katy Hart. How terrible was that?

  His knee was pinned against Chloe’s arm, the one that wasn’t hurt. She was still thrashing when the sirens came into earshot. “The game’s almost over, Chloe.”

  “Don’t talk to my sister like that!” the high voice ordered him. It was Anna this time. “I told her not to kill you, but now . . . you better watch your back, Matthews.”

  Dayne shoved her face closer to the ground again. “Shut up!” He hated that she was still fighting him, probably scaring Katy to death. He couldn’t see Katy’s eyes, but he could feel her terror from five yards away. His chest heaved from the adrenaline coursing through him. He heard the police now, heard them running from the parking lot toward them.

  The one who arrived first drew his gun. “Police! Freeze.” His eyes met Dayne’s. “Mr. Matthews, we’ve got it from here.”

  Dayne rolled off the woman and ran to Katy. She was shaking, her eyes locked in terror. The gash on her arm had stopped bleeding, but a dried streak of blood ran halfway to her wrist. “Are you okay?” They were both out of breath, but even in the shadows beneath the trees he could see that Katy’s face was worse than pale.

  “I . . . I can’t . . .” She was still shaking—almost convulsing—too scared to speak.

  “Shhh.” Dayne put his arm around her. “It’s all right. The police have her.”

  Katy brought her hand to her throat. Ugly scratch marks ran along the area where the woman had held the knife to her. “She . . . she was going to kill me.”

  He tucked her head against his chest and smoothed her blonde hair. “It’s over, Katy. It’s all over.”

  One of the officers came up and looked at Dayne. “She admitted to stalking you and writing the letters.” He shifted his attention back to his notepad. “We have your address. A couple officers will be by your house tonight for a statement. We’ll need one from both of you.” He looked at Katy. “Are you all right?”

  She still had her hand on her throat. “Yes.”

  “Okay. You two can go.” He gave a disgusted look at the woman in handcuffs still on the ground. Then he directed his attention back to Katy. “I’m sorry about this. I guess it’s the price of fame.”

  Dayne nodded. He kept his arm around Katy and led her to the parking lot. The whole way he whispered to her, assuring her, promising her that the terror was behind them.

  Katy looked up at him as they reached her car. “Are we going to your house?”

  “Yeah.” He opened the door for her and waited while she climbed in. The sound of the surf filled the air, but now it held an ominous sound, as if each wave were pounding out a rhythm of impending doom. “Is that okay?”

  “We have to . . . the police said so.”

  “Right.” He went around the other side and got in. “Katy, everything’s okay.”

  But even the police officer had underlined the fact that it wasn’t. What had he said at the end there? This was the price of fame? It was exactly what he didn’t want Katy to think, but it was the truth. After tonight how could he tell Katy anything different?

  They were halfway home when Katy turned to him. “That lady’s been writing letters about you?”

  He gave Katy a sideways glance. “Yeah, I guess so. The police told me about her a few days back.”

  “We never should’ve gone out there.” Her tone wasn’t angry or accusing but straightforward. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Dayne exhaled hard. “I didn’t believe it. There’re lots of crazy people out there, Katy. I didn’t think she was serious.”

  They were mostly quiet the rest of the ride, but as they pulled into his garage he turned to her. “I’m sorry. I never meant for you to be in danger.”

  She looked calmer, the color returning to her cheeks. “I know.” Her lips were shivering, and it made it hard to understand her. “You’re right. The police will take care of her.”

  “Exactly.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “She won’t be a threat anymore.”

  But somehow he didn’t sound convincing. Kelly Parker was still in the hospital, undergoing a mental evaluation; the magazines were still relentless and always would be. And with a star’s every move chronicled in print, there would always be the possibility of freak fans like the one they’d encountered tonight.

  Dayne could only guess how the rest of the evening would play out, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be good. And that come tomorrow he wouldn’t be trying to convince Katy that everything was okay.

  He’d be looking for someone else to fill her part.

  Katy was still shaking.

  She barely noticed the lush furnishings and expansive rooms as Dayne held her hand and they w
alked into the house. The beach was in his backyard, but it was too dark to notice anything other than the sound of the pounding waves. And right now that only served to remind her of what had just happened.

  Dayne directed her to the family room, and they sat side by side on the sofa. “Want coffee? anything?”

  She was numb, exhausted, drained from the fight for their lives. Her eyes met his. “I’m fine.”

  “I’ll make some anyway.” He stood and headed toward the kitchen. “Might make you feel better.”

  Katy doubted that, but she didn’t say so. As he left the room she stared at her trembling hands. What sort of bizarre life was this, anyway? She’d been in town only a few hours, and already she’d been caught on camera kissing Dayne Matthews at a private beach and nearly killed by a maniac fan.

  She closed her eyes, and the image of the woman came back again. Wild yellow hair, intensely evil expression on her face. And the knife. Dull black handle and a thick stainless-steel blade that caught the light of the moon and flashed in the darkness. She would remember the knife as long as she lived.

  Her neck hurt, even though the woman hadn’t drawn blood there. Only on her arm. She rose and followed the sounds of Dayne in the next room.

  He was filling the coffeemaker with water, but he must’ve heard her behind him because he turned around. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” She smiled. It wasn’t Dayne’s fault, and he was right: They were safe now. “Where’s your bathroom?”

  He directed her down a hallway, and she thanked him. Once she found it, she turned on the light and looked in the mirror. Her neck was worse than she’d thought. The knife blade had left three long horizontal lines across her neck. She looked closer. They wouldn’t scar, but they’d be there for a few weeks at least.

  Katy grabbed the edge of the sink, closed her eyes, and hung her head. God . . . thank You for saving me. Her throat felt thick, bruised. The remembered pressure of the knife against her skin made it hard to swallow even now. Lord, what am I doing here? I thought You showed me that this was Your will. She swallowed, resisting the tears that welled in her eyes. But how can this be Your plan for me?