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Jack Jarrod

Peggy Briggs Hannah

Jack Jarrod

  Peggy Hannah

  Copyright 2012 Peggy Hannah

  Jack Jarrod

  “Morning, Steph!”

  Splat! Damn! My cup of coffee with that special Irish Crème thing that helps me get going every morning was face down on the floor. “What the Hell?” I screamed, remembering that was the last of the Irish Crème thing. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me, Jack.”

  “Who the Hell is Jack and where are you, and why are you in my house?” I screamed, “I’m calling the police right now so just show yourself…NOW!”

  “Come on, Steph, it’s me, Jack, your big money maker.”

  “My what?” I punched in 911 and grabbed my cat’s half-empty food bowl, ready to attack. “Okay, person, show yourself…NOW! The police are on their way”…So I hoped…“So if you want to make this easy on yourself, I suggest you get out of my house…NOW!”

  “Stephanie, what is your problem? I’m right here, Page 106, right where you left off last night.”

  “Okay, I have a weapon!” Still holding Princess’s cat bowl and ready to take no prisoners, I pivoted, showing the weapon to the perpetrator. “Where are you and what in the Hell are you talking about? Now get out now! I hear the police cruiser outside now so I suggest you run as fast as you can…OUT OF MY HOUSE…NOW!”

  “Excuse me, Stephanie Stevens, romance novelist extraordinaire, it’s me, Jack Jarrod, the guy who pays your mortgage, pays that expensive car note of yours, not to mention buys all those fancy clothes you wear, and those shoes, all those shoes. God, Steph, how many pairs of shoes does one woman need? Besides, how much money did Jonathan Jewell or Bernard Browning make you? Zilch, nada, nothing. And that guy, what was his name? What a loser, oh yeah, Mickey Malone. Yeah, Steph, you waited five long years for me to come along and now that I’m here, making the big bucks for you, what do you do? Contract the dreaded disease called ‘writer’s block’…in Book Number Three, no less. Come on, Steph, let’s get going, I’m getting bored. I need some action. And, I’ll never forgive you for deleting that shower scene I had with what’s-her-name. Talk about a cold shower. At least you could have let the hot water run for a few Nano-seconds before you deleted the scene. I’ll never forgive you for that. I still have nightmares.”

  Still holding my deadly weapon, I motioned for the officer to come in. “Yes, Officer, there is an intruder in my home, I just don’t know exactly where he is at the moment.”

  “Yes, Ma’am, I’ll have a look around. Uh, Ma’am, you should probably put that bowl down before someone gets hurt.”

  I cowered behind the young officer as he walked through the house, his gun pointed at each entryway.

  “Officer, please, he’s been talking to me. He says he’s on Page 106, whatever that means. I guess he’s some kind of pervert or stalker or something. Please just find him and get him out of my house.”

  The office turned toward me with his gun pointed. I lowered the gun’s position and he apologized. “Sorry, Ma’am, but I just realized, you’re Stephanie Stevens, right? Oh my God, my girlfriend reads all your books. She won’t believe it when I tell her I was actually in your home. Stephanie Stevens, oh my God. You know, Miss Stevens, an autographed book of yours would be a perfect wedding gift for Chelsea Lee. I wish I had one of your books on me but...”

  Oh, God, what a young idiot. “Thank you, Officer, and please tell Chelsea Lee I’ll autograph…could we just find this intruder first.”

  The youngster blushed. “Oh, yes Ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Officer.”

  The voice again. “Hey, big bad policeman, I’m right here on Page 106, right where the famous Stephanie Stevens left me last night. Come and get the big bad-boy Jack Jarrod.”

  “Officer, did you hear that? Did you hear that voice?” I asked, my voice trembling.

  “No, Ma’am, where did the voice come from?” The youngster looked skeptical.

  “Right over here, by my computer.”

  The voice again. “Nobody touches Jack Jarrod. I am Jack Jarrod, superstar, hero of the Stephanie Stevens’ ‘Jack Jarrod Trilogy’. My hair is perfect, my body is perfect, my manly parts are perfect…Hey, police officer, come and get me. I’m dancing around naked on Page 106. That’s gotta be illegal or something.”

  “Ma’am, I’ve secured the house and premises and I can’t find any sign of a perpetrator. We’ll patrol the neighborhood as always but please call if you…” The officer cleared his throat, “hear anymore voices.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thank you, Officer, you’ve been very helpful.” I closed my front door. Why don’t they send seasoned police officers for this kind of thing?

  “Is he gone?”

  “What the Hell?”

  “Come on, Steph, just sit at the computer, find something for me to do. I know, I’ll finish that shower scene with what’s-her-face.”

  “What the Hell? Who’s doing this to me? Stop it! I’m not afraid so just show your butt…NOW!”

  “Stephanie, please. You’ve seen my butt many times, but if you insist, just go back to Page 106. Remember Page 106, where you left off last night? Hey, that’s an idea. Stephanie Stevens, when was the last time you had any action with a man? Yeah, that’s the answer. Maybe if you get some of your own, you’ll figure out what to do with me. I’m bored, Steph, I’m bored to death, and if you don’t do something quick, the ‘Jack Jarrod Trilogy’ will die and you won’t be able to buy anymore shoes. How about that for tough love, Baby. So, get kicking, Stephanie Stevens, and get kicking fast, literally and figuratively.”

  I sat down at the computer wishing I could start this day over, and with a little of that Irish Crème thing. “Okay, okay, so now I’m crazy, hearing the voice of my oh-so-bored hero. Okay, Jack Jarrod! You hear me, now! Who do you want to end up with? I’ll play your little mind-teasing game! And, then you and your stupid voice will leave me alone. Right? Okay, Jack Jarrod, I’m tired of the ‘Jack Jarrod Trilogy’. I’m killing you off. I’m ready to move on. So, Jack Jarrod, who do you want to end up with…right before your death…Gloria Gilmore? Mary Frances Smythe? Oh, wait, I know, how about that exotic dancer, Allure LaLove?”

  “Okay, Steph, let’s be reasonable, unlike the time you pulled the plug on the bubble-bath scene with me and what’s-her-face…”

  “Shut up! Get out of my head! I’m ready to move on so just shut up! You’re driving me crazy!”

  “Alright, let’s talk about this reasonably and rationally. I’m the best thing that’s happened to you since you decided to do this stupid thing called ‘romance novel writing’. Now, let’s calmly think about what happened when you first starting writing. Just relax, Steph, think about five years ago…you thought some guy named Marco, air-head that he was, Marco would make you a lot of money. Well, Marco couldn’t have made a lot of money if he won the lottery. Do you know why? Do you know why, Stephanie Stevens? Because Marco couldn’t decipher a winning lottery ticket if he tried. And you paired him up with that tramp, Candy Upton. Talk about a pair of idiots. Please, Steph, please tell me you’ll never bring those two to life again. Just saying, just begging. Okay, next. You thought you’d write about love on an Indian Reservation? Please. Have you ever been on an Indian Reservation? Okay, sorry. I won’t bring that one up again. Now, I’m not making any suggestions, but I have made a lot of money for you…haven’t I? Well, of course I have. Now, let’s get back to that computer. I’ll be right there, making suggestions. I really love that one woman, what was her name? Natasha something.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  “Good morning, Steph. Oh, page 229. Very good.”

  “Shut up, Jack, and stop bothering me.”

  “Just trying to help, Steph.”

  “Jack, I said shut up!”

&
nbsp; “Oh, sorry, shutting up now.”

  “So, who am I with now?”

  “Jack!”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “I really like that one woman, Ellie Esterfield, nice family, very wealthy. And, Steph, it’s early, maybe Ellie and I should brush our teeth and take a shower together.”

  “Jack! Shut up! Unless you want me to flush you down the toilet!”

  “Oh, no, no, no, Steph, you go right ahead and write. I’ll just wait right here on Page 106.”

  “Stephanie?”

  “What now, Jack?”

  “What ever happened to Ms. Summer Sunset? She was pretty, although a bit needy.”

  “Burned to death in a forest fire…now shut up, Jack, or you’ll find yourself in a, how do I say this nicely, a similar situation.”

  “Shutting up now, boss lady.”

  “Stephanie?”

  “Jack?”

  “Have you thought anymore about what I said yesterday? Don’t you think if you went out with a man, a man with my perfect hair, perfect body, and perfect manly body parts that you might be inspired to write more…you know, about me?”

  I took my glasses off, returned to Page 106 of the ‘Jack Jarrod Trilogy’, and smiled. “Yeah, Jack, I’m going to write a lot more about you. Do you know why, Jack?”

  “Cause I make you a lot of money?”

  “No, well, yeah. But mainly, because I love you, Jack, and I’m not going to let Gloria, Candy, or Ellie have you! Goodbye, Jack.” I shut my laptop.

  “Stephanie! That’s not fair! Get me out of here! Just one shower scene! Please, Steph!”

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