The Crazy One Read online

  From around the other side of the building came the sounds of people filing out of the huge building. The traffic began to pick up as people were leaving. Her heart started beating faster as her moment drew getting closer. She would be respectful and not try to draw Joel's attention from Belinda, but she wanted to make sure he noticed her again. She tried to position herself closer to the fan club leader, but Tammy and Miles flanked her like two eager lap dogs.

  Finally, after almost an hour, two large men exited the back doors followed by two of the judges, another man in black, and then Joel Ruskin. He didn't keep his head down the way the other two had. Instead, he waved to the crowd that had formed beyond the temporary barricades that hadn't been guarded when the fan club had arrived. He almost walked right by Lucy and her new friends, but Belinda called out his name enthusiastically and raised her hand above her head.

  Joel turned and smiled his stage smile. He recognized her for sure, but he didn't seem a hundred percent happy about it. Then Belinda handed her bulky Nikon to Lucy so she could take a picture of the group. But that wasn't fair. Maybe it had only been a few hours, but wasn't she part of the group now, too? She wanted to protest, to be included in the picture, but they were all posing around Joel now, and she didn't want him to think she was a crybaby. She snapped a few pics and tried to hide her disappointment.

  Clearly in a hurry to get away, Joel shook the hands of all of the members of the fan club. He turned toward Lucy and she was sure it was her turn for physical contact. Belinda reached out and touched his arm to get his attention.

  "Joel," she gushed. "Don't forget about our little get-together. Room 209. We're headed over there now."

  Joel nodded his head quickly. He was walking away and waved back at her. She had no chance now unless she tackled him. She was sure his muscle men wouldn't allow that to get far.

  The crowd dispersed but the fan club stayed. They were all awaiting Belinda's next move. She was watching Joel walk away as if he might turn around one more time. But he didn't and soon he was out of sight.

  "Well, I guess we'll head over," Belinda sighed. "I'd hate for Joel to get there before we do."

  Having had more of a pep in her step when Joel was around, Belinda now put her arm on Tammy's shoulder and walked laboriously toward the street. Lucy hadn't noticed Miles had slipped away, but now he was pulling a car up to the curb where the others stood. Tammy helped Belinda into the front seat, then took out her phone and turned back to her.

  "I'll friend you on Facebook," she said. "Then I can send you an invite to the fan club page. It's a closed group. We like to weed out the fair-weather fans." Lucy helped her find her profile and within seconds they were friends.

  "Tammy, come on." Belinda's arm hung out the open window. She slapped the outside of the door one time like she was summoning an unruly animal. Tammy quickly got into the back seat and waved at Lucy. Everyone else went presumably to their own cars. She stood alone on the sidewalk in front of the arena.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Room 209 was a double queen, non-smoking room with dated furniture and not enough working light fixtures. The group assembled inside and immediately produced piles and piles of well-loved scrapbooks. The members had spread them out on the two beds for display.

  The albums all contained photographs, articles, and other Joel Ruskin memorabilia. There were even printouts of emails between the members discussing Joel or recapping their fan encounters with the star.

  Most of the Joel snapshots–there seemed to be hundreds of them–were so similar she wasn't absolutely sure they weren't mostly duplicates. Some were candid shots of Joel signing autographs at meet-and-greets or at events. She saw pictures of Joel with the group or with individuals from the group, including people she hadn't met. In every one of these Joel's pose and expression were the same: standing straight, stage smile, one hand in his pocket and the other around the shoulder of the lucky fan. Nearly every photo was at a meet-and-greet or outside the back exit of a venue.

  Belinda had acted as if she and Joel were friends, but none of these pictures were the casual kind you would take with a friend. They were all staged. In all of them Joel was clearly obligated.

  She moved toward the dresser where an object had caught her eye. It was a large, rectangular vase. She picked it up carefully. Every side of the ceramic pottery featured multiple pictures of Joel Ruskin that had been apparently cut out of magazines. There was a glossy seal painted over the pictures, giving it a smooth finish and keeping the pictures safe.

  "I made that," Tammy said. She kind of sneaked up on her, causing her to almost drop the gaudy vase.

  "It's nice." She set it back gently onto the dresser. Next to where it had been was a gift basket stuffed with snacks and four glass bottles of orange soda.

  "What's this?" Lucy asked, motioning to the basket.

  "That's for Joel." She touched each item in the basket without disturbing the careful arrangement. Lucy nodded but said nothing.

  "He needs his Goody pop," Belinda said from her spot on the edge of the bed. Everyone in the room laughed. Lucy didn't get the joke, but grinned politely.

  Tammy leaned toward her as if to share secret information. She spoke at full volume when she said, "It's a joke between us and Joel."

  "Between me and Joel," Belinda corrected.

  "Right," Tammy conceded. "Back when MySpace was a thing, Joel had put up a picture of himself drinking a can of Orange Crush and the caption said he needed his Orange Crush. Then Belinda commented that Orange Crush isn't as good as Orange Goody. He actually replied and told her he'd love to try it someday."

  Lucy looked in Belinda's direction, but Belinda was staring off at the opposite wall as if she wasn't paying any attention to the conversation wherein she was the subject. Miles was leafing noisily through a ragged scrap book. He finally found the page he was looking for and thrust it toward Lucy and Tammy.

  "Here it is," he said, pointing at a printout of a screenshot which was protected by a plastic sheet. Sure enough, there was the grainy picture of Joel with the orange soda and his and Belinda's subsequent back and forth.

  "So right after that," Tammy went on, "Joel was hosting the Miss Teen Chicago Pageant. Belinda knew somebody who worked at the center and she had her put four six-packs of Goody pop in his dressing room." Everyone laughed again.

  "Now we do that any chance we get," Miles told her. "If we can get Orange Goody to Joel, we do it."

  "What does he think of all that pop?" Lucy asked.

  "He loves it," Tammy said, but she didn't seem sure. "I bet."

  "He sent a thank you card," Miles said. He flipped a few more pages of the scrapbook and, sure enough, there was a hand-written note from Joel Ruskin and an envelope addressed to Belinda. The writing on the envelope was not the same as the writing on the card, so it had clearly been addressed by someone else.

  "He has your address?" Lucy asked Belinda.

  "Of course he does," she replied peevishly. "I send him gifts all the time from the fan club."

  Belinda turned away, indicating the story was over, and everyone went back to their small talk. Lucy couldn’t think of anything to say to anyone. Many thoughts and emotions were churning inside her brain. Joel had clearly recognized the group, or at least Belinda, outside the arena. But how did he really feel about her and the soda and the fan club?

  A knock at the door signaled the arrival of pizza. The boxes were stacked onto the desk in the corner. Belinda reminded everyone to refrain from touching photo albums with their greasy pizza hands. Miles lifted the lid of one of the pizza boxes and was immediately scolded by the leader.

  "Not until Joel gets here," she bellowed. His face fell and he stepped away from the food.

  Not until Joel gets here? Lucy was sure there was no way in hell Joel intended to come to this shindig. What would his reaction be if he walked into this hotel room and was greeted by piles of pictures and delivery? Where would he even sit?

  Finally,
after fifteen minutes or so, Belinda apparently got hungry and gave the go-ahead to dig into the pizza. The fan club members swarmed around the desk. One by one they each found a place to stand with their backs to the wall so they could eat their slices without endangering the memorabilia. Lucy ate hers outside the bathroom door.

  A tall woman approached her. She had a wild mane of dark curls and wore men's double-bar glasses. Her t-shirt was clearly home-made. In the center was a picture of herself with Joel. It was bordered with a shiny gold ribbon. Above that, his name was embroidered in large letters.

  "How long have you been a Joel Ruskin fan?" the woman asked her.

  "Oh, a while," she fibbed. What would this group do to her if they found out she was newly obsessed? She was sure they wouldn't think her worthy of their celebratory pizza. Why should she care? She was the one destined to be with Joel, not any of them.

  "I'm Barb." She wiped her free hand on her high-waisted jeans and stuck it out for her to shake. "I've met Joel twenty-seven times. All of my pictures are over there in the blue binder." She motioned toward one of the beds. "They're all dated and in order. I made this shirt myself."

  Lucy nodded and told her it was very good. Technically it was. Everything was neatly placed and stitched well. She'd literally never seen anything like it. And Barb seemed to be a genuinely nice person.

  She told her the name of the small South Dakota town she'd come from. Her heart went out to her. Barb probably didn't have anyone in that small town to share her Joel obsession with. But neither did Lucy, and she was constantly surrounded by people.

  "Have you met Joel?" Barb asked.

  "A couple of times." Her face turned a little pink. She suddenly felt underqualified to be there. These people all seemed to be fan warriors, devoting so much of their time and money to following this man around middle-America.

  Silently she scolded herself for thinking that way. They had no idea the connection Lucy had with him. They didn't know the truth that lived only in her mind. If they knew the intimate moments she'd spent with him, that she was his only true love, would they be jealous?

  Tell them, her alter-ego screamed inside her head, wanting to be recognized. Tell them who you are. You’re that mystery girl seen with Joel Ruskin. You’re probably in one of these pictures.

  She inconspicuously scanned the nearest splay of candid shots. None of them showed Joel with an unknown female. There was no scene she could imagine herself into.

  What if they did know? Would they be astonished? Would they kick her out or would they treat her like royalty? Because they ought to. If Joel was their king, Lucy would soon be their queen.

  A while passed and everyone became absorbed in their conversations. The pizza boxes were now empty and piled next to the tiny waste basket. Then a cell phone chimed a notification. Miles pulled his from his pocket. Another phone alerted and then another. Lucy's phone beeped, too. She took it out and swiped the screen. It was a Twitter notification from Joel. Every face in the room dropped as they viewed the same photo she was seeing. Mutual high speed disappointment. Joel and his crew were gathered around a table in a contemporary restaurant. Swanky eats with the crew. Thanks, Omaha!

  "Well," Belinda said angrily, breaking the disappointed silence. "I guess Joel had a better offer." She slammed down the framed photo she'd been holding, not at all hiding her anger at the star's supposedly insensitive behavior.

  The others stared at her as if awaiting instruction. Lindsey began nervously tidying up the room. Tammy gathered the photo albums into a few piles. Belinda put her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes.

  "I'm tired," she said breathlessly. "Everyone please go."

  The others looked at each other questioningly. Belinda waved her hand dismissively and leaned back onto the headboard of the bed where she sat. Everything on the beds was claimed by the owners. Quietly they all retreated into the hallway. All except Tammy who stayed behind to tend to Belinda in her agony.

  Outside the room the group muttered to each other, unsure of where to go next. She didn't know these people. They didn't know her, so they didn't invite her to tag along wherever they were going. In fact, nobody seemed to notice when she turned and walked down the hall to the elevator.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  OMAHA, NE—Joel Ruskin, who was in Omaha this week filming auditions for the upcoming program Hometown Star, was admitted to an area hospital shortly before noon today. He'd just finished an interview with our morning crew. It's reported the TV personality is suffering from a severe case of food poisoning. "Joel started feeling sick on set before the interview," a producer reported. "He's a true professional. He finished the show, and then we consulted the medic."

  Lucy read the news story online right before her shift ended. She couldn't believe her luck. Joel's stay in Omaha had been extended by, no doubt, the hands of fate. It was unfortunate that fate hadn't told her which hospital had taken him in. There were at least ten major hospitals in town which meant she'd have to check them all until she found him. He could recover and be released by then. How frustrating she was again so close yet so far away.

  She began with the hospital closest to home. As she parked in the garage, she rehearsed what she was going to say. She had bought a large bouquet of daisies in a vase and had requested a white delivery box to keep it steady in her car. Delivered flowers always came with a white box. A white cotton shirt and black pants were generic enough that she didn't have to explain she was simply there to do her job.

  As soon as she killed the engine, her phone chimed. Finally, it was a post from Joel.

  Guess I'm staying in Omaha. #badfish

  Perfect. He was comfortable enough to use social media, but not well enough to go home. This bought her more time, although she might arouse suspicion by trying to deliver flowers in the middle of the night. It was already eight o'clock.

  When she reached the passenger door to retrieve the flowers, her phone chimed again. She sighed heavily and considered not even looking. Joel was slowing down her hunt with his posting. But she did look, and she was glad she did. This time he had posted a selfie from his hospital bed. He was wearing a light blue gown with tiny geometric shapes. His hair was sticking up in places. He looked tired, but not sick. And he was grinning. There was no caption.

  She studied the photo harder for clues. Amazingly, in the corner of the picture was the only evidence she needed to find Joel. On the tray beside his bed was a burgundy folder. Only the edge of it was visible, but on it was the hospital's logo in white. It was unmistakable. She had been there before. And she could be there again in ten minutes.

  Ignoring the posted speed limit, Lucy rushed through scattered traffic. If ever she had a reason to risk getting a ticket, this was it. Joel was waiting for her. Destiny was holding him, so she couldn’t be late.

  Despite the cold outside, Lucy was sweating when she entered the hospital. The flowers were heavy and obstructed her vision on one side. She had to move quickly. A posted sign told her visiting hours were almost over. When she got to the desk, however, nobody was there. She set the box on the counter and waited. Finally, a guard approached the desk. He looked to be in his seventies and, judging by his slow pace and his wide girth, probably not effective as security.

  "Receptionist went to get something." The chair groaned as she sat down with a huff. "Can I help you?"

  "I have a delivery for a patient. Joel Ruskin."

  The guard waited patiently for the computer to wake up. He tilted his head back and peered through his bifocals. With one finger he typed in his password. Then he looked at her.

  "Who again?"

  "Ruskin. R-U-S-K-I-N."

  His finger clicked the keys one at a time. R. U. S. K. I. N.

  "Joel." Her heel tapped impatiently on the tile. She tried to be calm. She resisted reaching over the desk and turning the screen to get a better look.

  The guard leaned closer to the screen. His eyebrows went up. He looked at her and then at the s
creen again.

  "Says 'no visitors', ma'am."

  "I'm just delivering." She had hoped the outfit would have been enough. She regretted not somehow fabricating a name tag.

  "I can take it for you," he said slowly.

  She couldn't argue. What would she even say? At least she was in the right hospital. The guard had confirmed he was there. There was still hope she could find him. Maybe she could pass as kitchen staff, grab a tray from a room, and wander the hospital undetected.

  She slid the box a few inches toward him to signify her defeat. He pulled a sticky note from the drawer and slowly wrote a number on it, 619. Then he stuck the note to the box and waved her away.

  Could it be real? Could he really be that absent minded? The guard, without realizing it, had given her Joel Ruskin's room number. She thanked him sincerely and headed back toward the parking garage as if she were leaving. Instead of going through the automatic sliding doors, she took the elevator up and scurried through the lobby's second floor to the hospital's main elevators.

  The sixth floor was buzzing. People were leaving their loved ones for the night. Nurses were checking their rounds. The two nurses at the main desk barely acknowledged her presence. She walked with purpose and tried to act like she belonged there.

  When she passed room 617 her heart began to flutter. Her neck was on fire from the nerves. She was almost to his room. This was the part she hadn't practiced. What would she say when she saw him? What would be her reason for walking into his room? Her legs were beginning to feel like Jell-O.

  619. The door was slightly open. The hallway was virtually empty. She pushed the heavy door. The hospital bed came into view. Its back was raised slightly. Joel's messy hair covered the white pillow. He was facing the window, ignoring the barely audible TV. As she crept inside her heart was pounding out of control. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She was afraid Joel could hear the thudding of her pulse which pounded in her ears.