By Jen Mierisch
As soon as I saw the tweet, I knew he’d be coming after Bridgett. And I’d be damned if I was going to let that happen.
“Can’t wait to meet my favorite author, @BridgettKuzminsky, tonight at Chi-Town FanCon! #DragonAngels5 is the best one yet. I’ve read it three times. I have a special something just for her that I know she’ll love!”
Clearly the guy was an obsessed fan. I didn’t trust the police to help. They might not take a tweet seriously. They might think I was crazy. No… it was going to be up to me.
I scanned the hotel’s spacious meeting room. Bridgett wasn’t there yet, but the table was already set up with her swag, black markers, and hardcover copies of Dragon Angels, Book 5: Wings of Emerald Fire.
It was best if Bridgett didn’t know what was going on. I’d handle the creep myself.
The problem? I didn’t know much about @DragonAngel997. The photo on the Twitter account was an illustration of one of Bridgett’s characters: a dragon with a silver crown and brilliant, green wings. Looked like I’d have to play detective to track down and intercept him before he could get to her.
And time was limited. Bridgett’s book signing didn’t start for another half hour, but people were already filling the room, many dressed in cosplay. I spotted a buff Captain America, a red-lipsticked Maleficent, a dreadlocked Captain Jack Sparrow, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall decked out in full wizard regalia, and a trio of anime girls in school uniforms and neon pigtails.
I’d have to handle this carefully. I strolled toward Sparrow, who was checking his phone. “You here for the signing?”
“Oh, is that what’s happening in here?” he asked, scratching his mustache with a knuckle. “I’m just hanging out while I wait for the Yu-Gi-Oh tournament to start.” His grin revealed a gold tooth.
I moved on to Captain America. “So,” I said, jerking my head toward the stacks of books on the table, “you read the book yet?”
“Nah. I read the first one, Thunder Canyon. It was pretty good,” he said. “Figure I’ll get a signed copy. Might be worth some money.”
I frowned and moved toward a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle who had just walked in. “Yo! Michelangelo, right?”
“Oh, uh, yeah.”
The guy was shifty-eyed. I squinted. “So, you a big fan of Bridgett’s?”
“Who?”
“Bridgett Kuzminsky. The author who’s about to sign her books over there.”
“Oh, I dunno, man. I’m just here with some friends.” Sure enough, Donatello, Rafael, and Leonardo bounded through the door behind him. They exchanged green-gloved high-fives.
Keeping an eye on the turtles, I moved toward a blood-splattered Jules and Vincent from Pulp Fiction. “So, you guys got your books for the signing?”
“Of course!” gushed Vincent, his long hair swinging as he turned to face me. “I can’t wait!” His hands clutched a copy of Wings of Emerald Fire.
Jules grinned. “He’s got all five books. Goes to all her signings.” Then I watched as Jules took Vincent’s hand and kissed it.
“Bridgett’s books are some of the best fantasy out there.” Vincent squeezed his partner’s hand. “She’s totally awesome.”
“Yeah,” I said. “She is.” Clearly these two weren’t about to make a move on my wife.
That’s when I spotted him. He was dressed as Wolverine from X-Men, down to the sideburns, the cigar sticking out of his mouth, and the claws—out and shining. Maybe it was his swagger, his sneer… I couldn’t name it, but there was something about the guy that made me march over to him.
“You’re here for Bridgett, aren’t you?” I demanded.
He blinked, and his brow furrowed. “This is the room for her book signing, isn’t it?”
“Well, you’re not getting what you think you’re getting. So back off.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m her husband, douchebag. Watch yourself.”
He gave me a long look, chomping on that cigar. And then he turned and walked out the door, pulling out his phone all casual, like I hadn’t just scared him off.
I couldn’t believe it. I’d done it! I’d kept her safe and put that jerk in his place. I sighed with satisfaction, cracked my knuckles. And then she walked in. My beautiful Bridgett. Brown hair, blue eyes, curves for days.
A woman ran up to her wearing a silver crown and feathered green wings. She gushed, “Ms. Kuzminsky? Omigod. It’s so amazing that you’re here. I’m a huge fan!”
The tap on my shoulder made me jump.
I turned to face a uniformed rent-a-cop.
“Dereck Kuzminsky?” he asked me.
“Yes.”
“Come with me, please.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re in violation of a temporary protective order. Police have been called.”
“Step aside, man. I’m the one trying to protect her. She’s my wife!”
“Soon-to-be ex-wife, from what I know. Sir, it’s in your best interest to come quietly.”
Over his shoulder, I saw Green Wings hand Bridgett another silver crown. “I made it myself,” she said. “Mushussu’s ceremonial crown, from book 4. I hope you like it!”
“You don’t understand,” I explained. “I need to protect her. I need to prove myself, so she’ll take me back.” I looked the guy in the eyes. “Please.”
Then I watched Wolverine, still chewing that cigar, put his arm around my wife and steer her toward the book-signing table.
I leaped toward Wolverine, but Rent-a-Cop grabbed me around the waist. As he dragged me down the hallway, I screamed her name. Couldn’t she see? Didn’t she know that I was her biggest fan?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I had hoped he wasn’t the crazy one… but it was not to be. XD
Oh, well.
Totally captured the bustle and excitement of the ‘cons I’ve been to, though!
Oh dang. I wasn’t expecting that twist. O_O nice job!!
Nice! Good way to start the week.
Of course Wolverine would save the day :) cute story!
Wolverine was always my favorite.
*fist-bump*
Yikes, a nice twist!
That was great. So many twists!
I was wondering if the narrator was not to be trusted. I also like that book series titles. I would read that.
Thanks everyone for reading and commenting!
Oof- I was wondering if it was going there!
Very twisty and satisfying. It’s always fun to run into an unreliable narrator, and the setting was most enjoyable :D
Yikes! Great twist!
Creepy stalker guy. Wonder why she married him.
Oh… I knew something was off about this entire situation. The narrator overreacted to a tweet.