An experiment in first-person narrative. Enjoy.
The Stalking by Oldest Man
Rick's Version
The first time I laid eyes on Katherine Beckett I knew I had to have her. I wanted to knock her off that high and mighty pedestal of hers and make her moan and beg and…well, you get the picture.
I knew that a woman like her would see right through me, would know me for what I am, a selfish and self-centered walking, talking Peter Pan who is used to getting what I want to play with and then, when I get bored, move along to the next one after carving a notch in my bedpost.
She became an obsession and I wormed my way into her life without a care in the world for how she might react. I simply craved a response. I wanted her moaning and begging and totally out of her normally rigid self control. I know people and I know a control freak when I meet one and Katherine Beckett is a control freak without peer.
I have money, lots and lots of money, and I owe a lot of the lots and lots to her. I created a Katherine Beckett to whom I would appeal, a Katherine Beckett who wouldn't think twice about getting naked and hopping into the sack and fucking me senseless and then keep coming back for more because she liked it – and me.
I created Nikki Heat.
Did I mention that Beckett is a control freak? When I wouldn't stay with the car, she handcuffed me to the steering wheel! That only had to happen one time and I got smart and stuck handcuff keys in my wallet and on my key ring. I even had a custom-made belt buckle that featured a key as the tang. If you want to knock a control freak off her stride, keep thwarting her efforts to control you. And I kept trying and she kept controlling.
Did I mention that she pinches, punches, and threatens ('Castle,IhaveagunandIwillshootyou!')? She does. And it makes no difference to me that she does. It's all part of my Master Plan to possess Kate Beckett.
The first book featuring Nikki Heat came out and it was a great success. Even Kate liked it although getting her to admit it was a feat on the level of digging the Panama Canal with a spoon.
I 'guilted' her into showing up at the launch party and it was worth every frikkin' penny when I saw her walk into that ballroom wearing the dress I'd picked out for Nikki Heat to wear. I walked around with a hard-on and almost ended up screwing my ex-wife I was so damned…
I worked on my second novel in the Nikki Heat universe and worked my Master Plan almost every day. I fell in lust with Nikki Heat but kept my emotional distance from KB. She wouldn't let me call her anything other than 'Detective' or 'Beckett' so KB was a compromise that earned me a few black and blue marks and death glares.
Almost without realizing it, KB had thawed a little bit. I saw the woman underneath the emotional and professional armor that she cloaked herself in and I almost – almost – felt guilty about Phase 2 of my Master Plan. After all, I'd been hanging around like a dog in heat for almost a year and it was time to carve that notch. I wasn't getting bored, understand, but I was getting terminal blue balls but I wouldn't cave. The image I was projecting screamed 'You're so wrong about me, Kate. Take a chance,' and by God she did.
She let me inside, just a little, when she reconnected with Sorenson, the dickhead from the FBI who'd assumed she'd follow him to Boston and then was angry that she wouldn't throw away her career for the vague promise of something more solid in the future other than sharing the sheets and body fluids.
I used that and my continued shadowing to slip further inside, under her radar. We had lunch together, solved cases together, had drinks together but always within the scope of cop and shadow, never Kate and Rick. But one day, out of the blue it changed.
She told me about her mother.
Kate's Version
I cannot believe that I've been saddled with a damned tag-along for as long as he wants to stay and do 'research' for a novel! I feel so – so damned angry. I should have developed evidence and put him away when I had the chance. It doesn't matter one bit that Castle was – there's a word out there but I just can't bear to use it and his name in the same sentence – innocent.
Fine. I'll do what I have to do but I don't have to like it. So what if he's the mayor's poker buddy. So what if he has almost as much money as the Federal Reserve. So what if he's handsome and charming and – ugh – I can't believe I thought that. He is. But I don't want to ever really see it.
He won't follow orders. He won't stay in the damned car. He almost got killed today! I'll – I'll give him an ultimatum. That's it. Stay in the car or stay home. No choice. If he breaks the rule, he's gone. Period.
Ha! Handcuffs! He actually looked like he was having a 'sexual moment' when I snapped the cuffs on him and then on the steering wheel. He looked – he looked so damned good with that look on his face. Glassy eyed. Mouth slightly open. I'll bet I could put that look on his face all night – I didn't just think that, did I?
We met before. A long time ago. I had buried myself in his novels as an escape when my Mom – don't think about it. I went to the bookstore to get a copy of his latest Derrick Storm novel and he was there, signing books.
I waited almost an hour in line, me in my patrol uniform and him sitting there, occasionally drinking from a Starbuck's cup. There was an attractive blonde standing behind him, casually running her fingertips across the back of his neck as if saying to the women in line 'Look what I get to take home with me'.
I got the definite impression he was less than thrilled with her attentions. Cops get really good at reading people and he was definitely wishing she was anyplace else but beside him. As I progressed through the line I saw that he was wearing a wedding ring and that she was wearing a matching one together with a diamond engagement ring that probably cost more than I made in two years! I felt sick to my stomach for a second but then it was my turn and I just stood there.
"Are you going to let me have your book, Officer," he stared at my breasts and I blushed until I realized he was trying to read my name tag, "Beckett, Kate Beckett" I somehow managed to stumble out my name.
He looked at me, looked me straight in the eye, then opened the book and scrawled something across the dedication page and handed it back to me. I stood there like a dumb ass until I glanced up at the blonde. If looks could kill, I'd be one dead cop. There was raw hatred in her eyes and for a second I almost reached for my service weapon.
"Ah, Officer Beckett, was there anything else?" He looked at me with just the hint of a smile and I gushed out "No, thank you, Mr. Castle. I just love all your books." I walked quickly out of the store and over to the patrol unit.
"Well, Katie, I thought I had a hostage crisis on my hands. I was ready to call in SWAT."
"Shut up, Royce. Richard Castle was signing books. And I stood in line. Sorry, hon, I'll make it up to you after shift." He grinned and then pulled away from the curb and into traffic. I opened the book and read what he wrote and had the most amazing moment of sheer joy.
To Kate Beckett
Until we meet again
Please stay safe
Rick Castle
It would be several years before I saw Castle again. I felt 'sheer joy' in my life for the first time in a long time even if I denied it at every opportunity and to myself.
I'd been in love, okay, lust that slowly has turned to something that I think is love, since the first time I laid eyes on him.
In my own way, I've been stalking him ever since that day in the bookstore. I have every book he's written. I have photos from his fan site that are available but require registration. My good friend Lanie is an official fan girl even if she doesn't know it. I've clipped gossip news and pictures from the Post and Times and some check-out magazines you glance over at the grocery store.
If anyone ever looks into my bedroom closet I'll probably be arrested as a stalker. A psycho stalker. It's wallpapered with his photos. It's my shrine.
And now he's mine. I can tell. I know he feels something more than lust when he looks at me. There is a depth in him that no woman has taken the time to notice. I saw the flare of love in his eyes that reflected the anguish in my eyes when I told him about my mother. He felt my pain and wanted to take it away. No one is that good an actor.
His mother sees it.
His daughter sees it.
And now, I see it.
Continue? It's up to you guys. Boredom makes me write and it gives me a chance to say 'I'm busy' to the Canadian July '70 Centerfold who spends the winters down here. Times are tough all over.
OM