A short story by Sylvie Galloway
Standing under the lights with a slight breeze blowing my hair, I raise my hand and wave at my fans before going inside. Life as a best selling author/supermodel/crime fighter maybe exhausting, but moments like this make it all worthwhile. However this was a working day. Even though it was, by all appearances my attending an after premier party for the movie that was made from my latest novel. I was also on the trail of a thief, a person who was known to steal things of great value and resell them to people of even more nefarious reputations.
The thief’s target, my sources told me was the Kalamazoo emerald, being worn this evening by the star of the movie. The skinny was that an international arms dealer had expressed a desire for the necklace, and was willing to exchange some very nasty missiles in exchange. I had etched into my memory two things, pictures of a village one of those missiles had destroyed with horrific results, and a picture of the suspected thief.
My job was to attempt to keep the necklace from being stolen. Sigh, babysitting jewelry, I’d much prefer catching the thief, and seeing him locked up for good. There was only one problem, the man everyone suspected of being the thief was a dead ringer for Hugh Jackman, yummy biceps and all. Part of me wanted to catch him to see his thieving butt rot in jail, part of me just wanted to catch him…
Giving my head a small shake, I went back to concentrating on the task at hand. Although I wasn’t fond of the necklace-wearing movie star, I had to try to keep close, that is if I could get past her entourage. Smiling and greeting people as I made my way gracefully into the ballroom I looked to see I could see the thief, as well as keeping one eye on the actress. The actress, whom I could overhear, talking about how her role in the movie was such an improvement over what I had written about the character. She forgets who also wrote the damned screenplay. The same actress who’s last four movies had been blockbuster flops. The studio did her a favor giving her the role, and they got her cheap to boot.
Just then I caught a glimpse of the thief, leaning up against a wall, handsome as the day is long, looking like he hadn’t a care in the world. “Why couldn’t he be an ugly thief?” I thought to myself. I also noticed that he was watching the actress keenly, watching every move she made. “Aha, you just think you are going to get that necklace.” I thought, knowing I had him. I turned and noticed that the actress had finally separated herself from her entourage and was heading to one of the outer room with her leading man/current lover. I excused myself and started to follow, noticing out of the corner of my eye, that the thief was doing the same.
I was just about to follow the couple into a courtyard when my arm was grabbed from behind, and I found myself not only pulled into another room, but in the arms of that oh so handsome thief. “Don’t you think you can steal that necklace,” He said, “I can’t let you do that.” It took me a moment to get over the double shock. The first, being in the arms of the thief, and then him accusing ME of being the thief. Recovering, I replied, “Me? Steal that necklace? Hardly. My intention is to keep you from taking it.” Right about then he traced one finger along my jaw-line, smiled at me and said “meow.”
My eyes flew open, and there on my chest sat my cat! She was naturally, wanting breakfast. A dream! It was all a dream. I’m not a supermodel/crime fighter. I am an author, but best selling? Hardly. I am 43, not fat, but quite fluffy, a mom, a wife of a wonderful man, and I couldn’t move gracefully across a room if my life depended on it. Grumbling, I stumbled out of bed, grumpily trudging to the food bowl, then trying not to trip over the cat went to make my first cup of coffee for the day.