A/N - Thanks again to everyone who has read, followed or added this story to their favorites. Your encouragement and reception is awesome!
This chapter was a bit of a challenge as I am not and have not been a teenage girl for a very long while. I hope it's realistic.
Please Enjoy!
~GeekMom
Fan Girl
Chapter 3
Pulp Fiction
"Please, Katie?"
"It's Katherine and no."
Katherine (no longer Katie or even Kate) Beckett folded her arms over her chest obstinately as she plopped down on the couch, folding her long legs under her and glared at her mother.
Jo looked helplessly at her husband who sat in his chair on the opposite side of the living room and back to her daughter. She had been hoping that this would be a good weekend. "But…"
"No, Mother. I'm not going to join your little Richard Castle fan club." The venom spiked throughout her teenaged daughter's tone was unmistakable. Jim shrugged his shoulders and sighed in a defeated way and returned to the paper. He had long ago learned to steer clear of disagreements between his wife and his daughter. There was no upside to taking a side when it came to non-parental issues.
"But you've never even given his books a chance," Johanna tried a different approach. She had invited Katherine, the daughter previously known to her parents as Katie, to her mystery book club meeting. Katie loved reading and Jo and Jim agreed that the shared interest might be a way for Jo to regain some ground with her fifteen year old. Their Katie seemed to be drifting beyond the reach of either of them recently. Jim blamed the new boyfriend. He felt that she was too young for a declared boyfriend, but Jo had convinced him that she needed the freedom to make her own mistakes or she'd continue to push the envelope of her upbringing.
"They're pulp," Katherine snorted derisively. "I don't want to waste my time with that trash when I could be reading the classics, real literature or poetry."
Jo picked up her latest Castle thriller and held it out, as she would evidence to the jury. "They're great stories, not pulp. Smart and funny, and justice is always served. Your dad even likes them."
"The bumbling ridiculous bad guys lose and the heroic, but flawed good guys win. That's a second-rate television show, Mother: that's not real life."
It was her mother's turn to scoff. "Please enlighten me, Katherine." Jo sat down primly on the edge of the sofa and folded her hands in her lap, not quite mocking her daughter, but mocking her daughter, nonetheless. "What is real life?"
"I just know it's not getting wrapped up in the mediocre fantasy land of some author you have the hots for."
Jim piped up, "That's enough of that tone toward your mother, Katie." Jim wouldn't but in to his wife's business unless someone belittled or insulted her. It didn't matter whom.
Katherine rolled her eyes. Her father refused to acknowledge that she had grown up or to address her as such.
Jo turned toward Katie. "I just wish we could share this."
Katherine grimaced. "So the both of us could fawn over a guy that's way too old for me and way too young for you? It's embarrassing." She shook her head and turned a palm up toward Jim. "Really, Father: how can you just sit there and let her drool over ol' blue eyes over there? Aren't you jealous of him?" She indicated the bookshelves proudly displaying nine Richard Castle thrillers. Her mother never missed a debut; had been to six book signings and was an official member of the writer's ultra-creepy fan club and received a newsletter every other month. On top of all that, she told anyone who would listen about the magical meeting in the park.
Jim Beckett sighed and looked over his reading glasses at his daughter. "Your mother is a grown woman who decides what she does or does not like. I'm certainly not jealous. I'm very secure in our relationship, Katie." His daughter began to correct him, but he held up his palm. He was a quiet man, but could command a room. "I know she is not going to…" he stopped, not wanting to educate his daughter too soon. "Look, if his books and stories bring her happiness, who am I to say no. I'd be an idiot for trying. I want her to be happy all the time and I'll do whatever I need to make that happen. That goes for you, too, even though that seems to be an extraordinarily challenging task these days. Besides, your mother says he's a nice man."
"Have you seen the papers?" Katherine scoffed as she stomped across the room and picked up the Sunday Times from the ottoman in front of her father's chair. The pencil he had rested on the crossword clattered to the floor. She leafed through the pages until she discovered an article and thrust it under her father's nose: a gossip page photo and an accompanying article of Richard Castle and a blonde woman exiting a popular mid-town club. "I don't think this is nice." Sarcasm dripped off the final word like drops of melting water from an icicle. "Unless everything you've ever taught me about being nice is wrong."
Jim peered at the picture, although his interest, if he was honest was drawn to the stunning woman hanging on the author's arm. He knew, from Jo's reports that the celebrity author had divorced so it was no surprise to see him out and about as the playboy again. "First, if you are going to become a lawyer, you can't make snap judgements; you have to weigh all the evidence."
Jo added, "And even then, you probably won't have the whole story."
"You know, Katie," Jim said, "don't judge a book by its cover." He was pleased that he had quickly thought to use that expression, clichéd as it was. It fit the situation and he grinned.
Katherine was having none of it. "The evidence suggests that this is not a role model or someone suitable for anyone's hero worship."
"Oh my god, Katie. Fine, fine: you don't have to go, but please stop making judgements about which you know nothing." Her mother's uncharacteristically raised voice drew her attention. "Just…just go to your room."
"Fine," she screeched as she stomped down the hallway. Jim squinted and hunched his shoulders in preparation for the house shaking slam. He wasn't disappointed.
Jo sat back down on the edge of the couch after picking up the discarded papers and handing them back to her husband. The morning had been pleasant. They had laughed and joked as a family, all finding Jim's stories about the latest patent applications he'd managed and the crazy things people invented. It was a small part of his practice, but an entertaining one. They'd enjoyed a leisurely brunch and she felt like maybe they would escape any of the strife and disjointedness the family had been suffering recently.
Jim sighed deeply and heavily, he took his reading glasses off his nose, folded them and he looked over at his wife.
"Are you okay," she asked.
"Me? Yeah, but I wasn't the target this time." That past Thursday, he'd received an earful from his daughter on the gradual dumbing down of America because of people watching television like Weird Science and Duckman. He liked Weird Science: it was perfect escapism in the form of a super model who granted wishes. "How are you?"
"Oh, I'm alright. I remember being fifteen. Katie's…" Jo blinked her eyelid rapidly and corrected, "I mean Katherine is just trying to figure out who she is. High school is a wonderful, frightening and confusing time, especially the first few months."
"I just wish she would figure it out without the histrionics."
Jo smiled and crossed the living room to sit in his lap. "That was an impressive word, Mr. Beckett. Maybe you should be a writer."
"Twenty-four, across, Mrs. Beckett." He kissed her. "And I don't have to write: I already have my fan girl."
Jo put her hands on his chest and asked, "It doesn't really bother you, does it?"
"What?" Jim had his lap full of his wife. He had just kissed her and been kissed back by her and there was quiet in the living room. How could he possibly be bothered?
"My penchant for Richard Castle's books and being a fan of his."
Jim grinned, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Oh," he hummed. "Bothered, huh?" He exhaled forcefully. "Let's examine the evidence for the prosecution, counselor. Exhibit one: he is a good-looking man. Even I noticed."
Jo raised an eyebrow. "Do I have to be worried?"
He placed his fingers on her lips. "Shush, I'm making a case. Exhibit two: he is a talented author." He gestured toward the books on the shelf. "Exhibit three: you agree with the aforementioned conclusions in items one and two." She nodded. Jim continued, "For the defense: hypothetically speaking, would you still like the author as much if the talent were contained in a less than…appealing form? Say something or someone as repulsive as Dallas Green taking over management of the Yankees."
Johanna's jaw dropped. "You take that back: that's sacrilege."
"Agreed, but would you still adore the books?"
"I love the stories. They can whisk me away and immerse me in something other than watching the little guy as he gets swallowed and run over by societal machinations."
Jo looked at her husband for his reaction. He was smiling. "One more question: Do you remember that movie a couple of years ago with Robert Redford and Demi Moore?"
She squinted at the wall, trying to recall. "Um…Indecent Proposal."
"Yeah. If Richard Castle were to knock on the door and offer you a million dollars, would you sleep with him?"
"In the movie, Redford offered to pay Moore's husband." She stated and then fixed him with a scorching, unashamedly carnal stare. "Would you accept the offer? Since it would be made to you?"
Jim searched his wife's eyes. "I plead the fifth, your honor." Jo raised an eyebrow. He shook his head. "You know it doesn't bother me at all and I would never sell you or your considerable charms and talents to the highest bidder: you can't put a price on perfection."
"Oh well, that was just horrible and cheesy. Stick with the crossword. I don't think Richard Castle has to worry about you becoming a writer." She playfully slapped his chest. Looking down the hallway, she sighed. "I guess it's time to see if I've been pardoned for my crimes against humanity."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
"No, it will seem as though we're ganging up on her."
"Good: I didn't really want to go and aren't we? That's part of our job as her parents, right?"
"It's good to know that you have my back."
He grinned. "Always," he said and smacked her backside. "Into the breach!"
Johanna knocked softly on her daughter's door, bracing herself for another confrontation. It seemed to be all they did any more. Fight about anything and everything. If Jo said that grass was green, Katie would dispute it and in the process, also try to belittle her mother's understanding or opinion.
"Kate…Katherine. Please open the door so that we can talk."
She heard, "Go away," mumbled from the other side of the door.
Jo inhaled and grasped the doorknob, letting herself into the room which had recently been transformed from the soft pinks and lavenders of fairy princesses and tea parties to bright purples, teal and acid greens peeking out from under black light posters of grunge bands, teen heartthrobs and motorcycles with copies of Sin City comic books strewn on the floor and desk along with literature compilations and poetry volumes.
Katie was stretched across the bed, her head buried under her pillow.
"Can we talk?" Jo asked.
"It's a free country." She hadn't moved yet.
Jo crossed her arms over her chest, defensively. "I want to know when I became the enemy."
Katie sat up and looked at her mother. "You're not the enemy, you just don't understand."
"Really? You think I don't understand what you're feeling right now?"
"No: you couldn't."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that you've got this perfect life, with a perfect job that you were meant to do and you had perfect grades and perfect friends and a perfect husband who has all the same perfect things you do."
"Katie, my life isn't perfect."
"And then you go on and on about how great those perfect books are and it's humiliating."
"The books provide me with some escapism and yes, even fantasy. There's nothing wrong with that. But, honey, my life is far from perfect. I read to try to balance the tough parts. What I read doesn't always have to be life changing, but I like it to be entertaining. That's all."
"Why do you have to gush over him, though?"
"Why do you gush over Joey Lawrence or Nick Carter?" She pointed to the hearts she'd drawn on their posters.
The blush overtook Katie's cheeks faster than a tsunami swamps a South Seas island. "Mom, I don't…"
Jo indicated the Tiger Beat magazine in amongst the comic books. "It's fun, honey. That's all. It makes me feel giddy and feminine and silly, which is different from the solemnity I have to bring to my job."
Katie was silent for a moment while she thought about all her mother had said until Jo asked, "What has you so upset? Has something happened at school?"
The fifteen year old looked down at her hands. "I don't know who I'm supposed to be. Stuyvesant is a great school, but I don't fit in. Whatever I like is wrong. My hair is wrong, my clothes: everything."
"That's just high school." She sat on the bed next to her and played with her daughter's long locks of hair. "No one fits in. Some people fake it better than others do, but no one is completely comfortable in their own skin at your age. Give it a couple of months, you'll find your niche."
Katie leaned into her mother's touch and calmed while relishing the familiar repetitive motion.
"I just wanted to spend some extra time with you, but if you need space to figure things out, I'm okay with that. But please think about reading his books with me, maybe you need a little universe where you can escape, too."
"I'm sorry for yelling, Mom." Katie hugged her mother. "I'm sorry for putting his books down and you."
"I know you didn't mean it and thank you. Don't be so quick to judge, okay?" Katie nodded on Jo's shoulder. Jo kissed the top of her head. "I'm going to have to go, if I'm going to make the meeting. Are you okay, now?"
"Better, thanks."
Jo stood and walked to the door. "Mom," Katie called. "Can I still come?"
