Uchronia: hypothetical or fictional time-period of our world,
in contrast to altogether fictional lands or worlds.
Chapter 1
Book release parties were one of the favorite parts of Rick Castle's career. Stepping out of the limousine into the waiting crowd, hearing their cheers and watching their excitement gave him a rush unequal to anything else, except maybe when he was in the midst of a writing spree. This day was no different, and as the crowd's cheers echoed in the confined space of the limousine, he took a deep breath and straightened the collar of his shirt, preparing himself for the madness waiting for him outside as the chauffeur stopped the car amidst a cluster of photographers.
In his suit pocket, his cell phone vibrated for the umpteenth time that night. He didn't have to look to know it was Gina calling, and he would bet that she was pissed at him. Yes, she had told him to arrive at seven thirty, and it was now rounding on eight o'clock, but after all, he was the star of the evening. That gave the right to arrive fashionably late, didn't it?
He was only able to prepare himself for a moment before the chauffeur began to open the limo door. Taking a deep breath, he plastered his best "book jacket grin" on his face and he stepped out of the vehicle. Instantly, he was blinded by the flash of the cameras, and blown away by the deafening shouts of the people gathered at the hotel's entryway. Thankfully, he'd remembered to bring his sunglasses tonight, so at least there wouldn't be a picture of him blinking stupidly in the newspaper this time.
Castle slowly made his way down the crowded sidewalk, waving at his fans and scribbling a few autographs as he walked. He certainly knew how to captivate a crowd, how to make each individual there feel like he was their best friend, and he'd turned the charm on in full force tonight. After sparing a moment or two to answer some questions from entertainment reporters, he gave a final wave to the crowd, then stepped inside the building, still able to hear the crowd's cheers after the front doors shut. He rounded the corner to the elevator and found his agent, Paula, standing at the doors, tapping her foot impatiently.
"You're late," she snapped, not even giving him a sideways glance while she jabbed the button to open the elevator doors.
"Hello to you too, Paula," he answered cheekily.
"Gina is angry."
"When is she not?" he muttered. He was putting on a front for Paula, but cringed internally at the prospect of facing his editor. Gina certainly knew how to hold a grudge, and while she'd be nice enough in public, it would be a long time before she let this one go.
The moment the doors opened, Paula marched inside the elevator, not even waiting for Castle to follow before pressing the button for the roof. He darted in just as the doors slid shut, and Paula lay back against the wall as the elevator began to ascend.
"Gina's speech was supposed to start half an hour ago," she said. "The journalists are complaining about meeting their deadlines, so she will have to cut it short."
"Well, in that case, you're welcome."
"If you want to act so cocky, talk to her yourself," Paula said, striding out of the elevator the moment the doors opened. Castle trailed out behind her to the rooftop party, where hundreds of people were either dancing to the pulsing beat of the soft music or talking in the general vicinity of the open bar.
Sure enough, Castle spotted Gina making her way towards him almost immediately, and she definitely didn't look happy to see him. But he was Richard Castle, the master of charm. He could make her forget that she was annoyed with him in a heartbeat.
He plastered on a grin. "Hey—" he started.
"Save it," she interrupted, her terse tone causing him to abandon any thoughts of cheering her up. "Follow me. We have no time for your excuses."
Gina took his arm and led him towards the open area of the rooftop, tugging him along like a puppy on a leash. When he tried to stop along the way to properly greet his fans and guests, she pulled him forward, not allowing him the chance to do so. The moment they reached the raised platform, she didn't waste any time, letting his arm go as she stepped onto the raised platform, already illuminated and ready for her speech.
As soon as he stopped beside the platform, several fangirls rushed to him, asking for his signature in all sorts of places, whether it be on a loose slip of paper, in a book, or on their bodies. Needless to say, he was happy to oblige, ignoring the look Gina shot him as she began to speak.
"Murder, mystery, the macabre. What is it about a hard-boiled detective, the femme fatale, and the cold steel of a gun that keeps our bedside lamp burning into the wee hours of the morning?" Gina started.
As she continued through her speech, his fans were still fawning around him, demanding his attention with unashamed innuendos and uncovered… body parts. But he still noticed the nasty look Gina threw in his direction between sentences. He smiled in return, quirking an eyebrow as she rolled her eyes. When she finally announced him, he stepped onto the platform and took the spotlight. The crowd went mad.
Sometimes, he just loved his job.
As soon as he finished his speech, Castle tried to get lost among the guests, hoping that Gina wouldn't be able to find him. No such luck, though. Through the thick cloud of photographers surrounding him, Castle caught a glimpse of his editor striding directly towards him, her eyes fixed determinedly on his. Even if it were possible for him to slip away before she arrived, he wouldn't be able to get very far, due to the photographers and reporters crowded around him, blocking every escape route possible. So he resorted to throwing flirtatious smiles to the reporters interviewing him, hoping they'd stick around to serve as a buffer between him and Gina. They must had sensed the impending danger, though, because they made themselves scarce just in time for Gina's arrival.
The moment she reached Castle's side, she yanked the sunglasses off of his face, a huge, fake smile plastered on her face. He greeted her with a quick peck on the cheek, undeterred by her almost aggressive gesture. That was how Gina was. You just had to take it or leave it.
"What kind of idiot wears sunglasses at night?" she muttered, careful not to let the press overhear.
"Hello to you too, dear," he replied with a hopeful smile on his face, keeping his voice low to try to appeal to her softer side- the side of her that made her cuddle with him in front of the fireplace in the cold evenings; the side that had brought tears to her eyes when he had proposed to her in a hot air balloon, of all places.
His fiancée was unfazed by his efforts to sweet talk her, though, toying with the engagement ring on her left hand as she continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "How considerate of you, honoring us with your presence. I had to deal with the media's attention on my own."
With a curt nod of her head and a final smile, she dismissed the few reporters that still hovered around them and turned on her heels and walked off, Castle hot on her tail. She wasn't his fiancée that night; she was his boss.
"You're better at that kind of thing anyway... honey," he shrugged apologetically. Charming her obviously wasn't going to work, so he decided to aim for sympathy, jutting out his chin slightly and putting on his best puppy-dog eyes. That tactic had worked for him in the past, and hopefully, it would work again now. Gina liked to be in charge, specially in her role as editor, so Castle would gladly take a step back if that meant having peace for the night.
She didn't fall for it, though, her face hardening as she looked at him. "Well, I had to answer a hundred variations of the same question tonight," Gina said, pausing for dramatic effect. Castle knew what was coming next, and he sighed, preparing to defend himself.
Sure enough, Gina's next words were exactly what he was expecting. "You had to kill Derrick Storm, didn't you? You could've retired him; you could've crippled him; you could've had him join the frickin' circus. But no. You just had to put a bullet through his head."
There it was. His decision to kill off his main character was still a sore subject with his fiancée these days. He knew the publishing house was worried, afraid he'd killed the "golden goose". Normally, that wouldn't have mattered to him at all, but, considering he was currently living with one of his bosses, he was growing tired of having the same dispute every single night, then having Gina give him the silent treatment for the rest of the evening.
This was neither the time nor the place to get into yet another argument about it, and Gina was so stubborn and persistent that defending his decision was pointless, anyway. So he decided to try his patented move and diffuse the tension with humor, a grin on his face.
"Real messy too. Big exit wound."
Gina chose to ignore his comment, choosing to charge instead. "Of course, this wouldn't matter if you gave me the book you owe me already."
"I told you, Gina. It's coming together." He crossed his fingers behind his back as he spoke, hoping that his fiancée wouldn't catch him in his lie. The truth was that he was going through the worst "dry spell" of his literary career. He'd killed off Derrick Storm in part due to boredom, but mostly due to lack of inspiration. His characters just weren't speaking to him anymore.
"Is it? Because I've been told you spend your days playing video games in your underwear while I'm at work."
He gaped at her, shocked. "You spoke with my mother?"
"I wouldn't have had to, but you don't tell me these things. I had to go to your mother because you don't talk to me, Rick," Gina stressed, some hints of hurt slipping through the anger in her voice.
So that was the real reason behind her uptight behavior lately. Not the book, not his antics in front of the cameras, but the fact that he'd been pretending that everything was going well and lying to her about it.
He didn't know what to say, so he stood quietly, averting his eyes to the ground. Gina waited him out for a couple of seconds, but when he stayed silent, she strutted away with a huff.
Great job, Rick, he thought. You can make dozens of young women flail over you, but you can't even keep your own fiancée happy.
He watched Gina as she walked away, her heels clacking across the floor as she strode. A flash of red caught his eye as she passed the bar, and he shifted his gaze to find his mother sitting at one of the stools, flirting with the bartender as she nursed a champagne flute.
Castle quickly made his way to the bar, plopping himself down on the stool beside his mother. "Scotch on the rocks," he said to the bartender, interrupting the conversation the young man was having with her.
"Richard, darling! Hello," Martha started, turning toward her son with a grin.
"What have you been telling Gina, Mother?" he fired in response.
Her eyes widened for a moment, then her gaze hardened as she focused on him, fixing her son with the same look she'd used when he'd gotten in trouble as a child.
"The truth, Richard. You've been moping around the house for weeks now, and she's supposed to be there for you, but you don't let her. She is your fiancee, after all," Martha admonished.
"Mother, remember the arrangement we came to when your last beau left you with nothing? You could come to the loft, and in return, you would help me with Alexis and you'd stay out of my private life."
His mother had come to live with him a few weeks ago, after her latest companion had left her broke, homeless, and with a shattered heart. Martha Rodgers was a very intelligent woman and a fairly talented actress, but in matters of the heart, she was prone to be blindsided by gold diggers and scum who were only after her money. This was the third time a "boyfriend" had taken her money and disappeared, and once again, his mother had moved in with him.
As much as he tried to conceal it, it hurt Castle to see his mother going through all of the heartache all over again. However, Martha Rodgers was nothing if not resilient, and in a matter of days, she had bounced back, even more extravagant and unrestrained than before. There was no denying that life with her was more interesting; their relationship seemed to be founded in their mutual ability to keep the other on their toes.
If only she weren't so… intense.
"Bingo!" Martha exclaimed, her attention on a man across the room. "No ring. Stand back, kiddo. Momma's going fishing." And with those parting words, she was gone.
The bartender set a glass of scotch in front of Castle, and he drained it in one large gulp, wiping his lips with the back of his sleeve as he set the empty glass back on the counter. His fiancée was upset with him, and his mother wasn't taking the situation seriously. This evening was not going as planned.
A presence at his back brought Castle out of his haze, and he turned to find Gina standing behind him, a softer expression than a few minutes earlier gracing her features. "Hey," she offered, her voice soft.
"Hey," Castle replied with a gentle smile. "Enjoying the party?"
Gina chuckled in response. "Sorry. I've been under too much pressure, with the book release, the party, the new manuscript…"
"Yeah, about that…" he began, only to stop, not knowing what to say.
"We can talk about it later, at home," she offered, and he nodded, grateful.
That was why they- he and Gina- worked as a couple. Both of them frequently got sidetracked by their stubbornness, and it didn't help that they tended to have opposite reactions to the same situation. He liked to procrastinate and goof off, saving the hard work for the last minute, while she let things stew until she snapped at everyone around her. And Castle had a way with kindling that particular fire, making her even angrier. But later, they'd both realize where they'd been wrong and turn to the other, tails between their legs in apology. Just like now.
"You're right, this is not the best place, with all the vultures around," he mused, looking through narrowed eyes at a couple of journalists across the room.
"Oh, come on, they're not so bad," Gina said, taking a step closer to him.
"Maybe for you. You don't always get asked the same questions over and over again. 'I'm your biggest fan! Where do you get your ideas?'" he mocked, raising his voice in perfect mimicry of a pesky reporter.
"And the ever popular, 'Will you sign my chest?'" Gina intervened.
"That one I don't mind so much," he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
"Yeah, well, FYI - I do," his fiancée declared.
He smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "I just wish someone said something new every once in a while."
"Mister Castle?" a melodious voice rang from the open space behind him.
Pen at the ready, he turned in a swift motion, amused at Gina's exasperated expression. Instead of a devoted fan holding a book, though, he found a golden badge in his face, the woman behind it staring at him sternly.
"Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. We need to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place earlier tonight."
Despite her strict appearance, from her short, slicked back chestnut hair to the tips of her high heels, the detective was beautiful, and couldn't be too much younger than him. Words escaped him, and he could only gape at her, confused about where he should turn his attention: her looks, her badge or the fact that she was here for him.
Wait, did she say murder?
From behind him, Gina reached an arm, took the pen from his still outstretched hand, and muttered in his ear.
"That's new."
Infinite thanks to encantadaa for her beta work.
I'd love to know what you think :)
