“This page is my favorite,” Jonas said and looked at me as I looked at the page and he went on, “Yeah, Loretta. She’s Dad’s stalker.”
I knew my mouth was hanging open but I couldn’t close it because I was staring at a page that was a mélange of photos of Tate from what appeared to be high school, through Penn State (not just playing football but also walking to class and sitting on barstools and the like) – I shoved Jonas’s hand out of the way, commandeered the mouse and scrolled down – through Tate at awards ceremonies, his short-lived career with the Eagles (mostly shots during practice) – I scrolled down further – and shots of him in Carnal and doing bounty hunter things, like dragging fugitives into police stations or standing over them with their bellies to the pavement and their arms cuffed behind their backs.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
“She’s harmless,” Jonas told me.
“Oh my God,” I repeated.
“Dad’s talked to her. She’s agreed not to put pictures of me on there but I think that sucks, since the kids at school thought it would be cool. Hey, wait!” he cried. “She’s got a new page.”
He pushed my hand away, clicked on the “3” at the bottom of the page which was next to the “Pages 1 2” and then a site came up with one picture.
Tate and me on his bike.
We were waiting to pull out of Bubba’s parking lot, Tate’s booted foot was to the ground, his head was turned to look down the street and I was tucked close to his back, my arms around him, my thigh against his, my chin to his shoulder.
The caption under it said, “Tate’s Flame, love her or hate her (and I hate her), she’s got great legs.”
I shot from the chair and squealed, “Oh my God!”
Jonas grinned up at me. “You’re famous, Laurie.”
I didn’t hear him. I was too focused on my horrified panic.
I tore my eyes from the screen, reached out to where my cell phone was on top of a pile of scattered papers on Tate’s desk, snatched it up and called Tate.
“Laurie, it’s cool. Loretta’s awesome. She went to school with Dad at Penn State. They had some class together. He knew her. Dad says she’s harmless,” Jonas, reading the atmosphere, assured me.
I looked down at him and didn’t answer because Tate said into my ear, “Everything okay, babe?”
“You’ve got a stalker!” I shouted into the phone.
“She found Loretta’s page, Dad!” Jonas yelled to be heard by his father.
“Ace –” I heard Tate say in my ear.
I interrupted him. “There’s a picture of me.”
“Fuck,” he muttered. “There is?”
“She said she hated me!” My voice got shrill on the last two words.
“Honey –”
“Oh my God!” I shouted.
“Babe, calm down and listen to me. I’ll talk to Loretta –”
“No,” I cut him off. “I can’t deal with this. Too much. I have officially had too much. There’s a serial killer on the loose! I don’t need to deal with your stalker!”
“Lauren, quiet down and listen, all right? There’s bad stalkers and then there’s stalkers like Loretta.”
“She’s taking pictures of me! And saying she hates me! On the internet!” I screeched.
“She would say that ‘cause you’re with me. She hated Neeta too.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered and then looked down at Jonas. “Jonas, go to the alarm panel and activate it,” I ordered, too frenzied to notice Jonas didn’t move a muscle and I said into the phone, “Where do you keep your guns?”
“Babe –”
“What if she’s out there?”
“Lauren –”
“What if Loretta and her camera are out there?”
“Laurie, Loretta and I have a deal. She doesn’t come to the house.”
I didn’t hear him. I kept panicking.
“What if she snaps? What if she snaps when Jonas is here? Oh my God!”
“Lauren, shut it, take a deep breath and fuckin’ listen to me.” Tate’s voice was firm and unyielding in my ear. “Loretta is harmless.”
“Right,” I snapped.
“She lives in Pennsylvania. She works there too. She’s married and has three kids. She takes her vacations in Carnal or wherever she finds out I’m gonna be. Sometimes, she even brings her husband and kids with her.”
“That’s crazy,” I breathed.
“I’m her hobby,” he told me.
“That’s crazy,” I repeated.
“Some women get hung up on movie stars, some on sports stars, Loretta’s stuck on me. She lives her life normal. I’ve met her husband and her fuckin’ kids. She’s completely harmless.”
“She tracks you down!”
“She likes me.”
“She’s devoted a website to you and she says on it she hates me!” I reminded him.