Excerpt: Fanfic Writer

Fanfic Writer
Chapter 1
Taking the Fan Out of the Fanatic
I started out being sane, maybe too sane. I went to school, received my degrees, went to law school, passed the bar and started work in Compton, California in the office of the District Attorney. The first few years as an Assistant District Attorney are daunting; you’re literally thrown into arraignments with anywhere from a two to five dozen misdemeanor and felony cases and less than two minutes apiece to review the charges and argue bail. You learn to make executive decisions on a dime.
I paid my dues in Compton, a low-income neighborhood populated with a high percentage of African-Americans. Dealing with the Bloods and the Crips became second nature to me. After four years, I managed to get bumped up to Pasadena where I handled red-neck barroom brawls and high school druggies and dealers for another six years. I had been recently transferred to the Beverly Hills’ D.A.’s office as a consolation prize for my recent loss. When it came time for me to be promoted to the supervisorial position at the Pasadena branch, I lost out to a male with less experience, but who had campaigned for the winning side in the last D.A.’s race. I had backed the losing horse, my old boss in Compton, Charles Woods. Still, the new D.A. knew that, as a result of not getting the promotion, I’d probably leave. It came as a surprise to find that they didn’t want to lose me, I was good for the D.A.’s stats, having won several high profile cases in the last two years. So, Beverly Hills was their way of saying, “no hard feelings.”
Beverly Hills was a risky choice for the new D.A. It meant that I was going to have contact with the cream of the crop in Los Angeles. I’d be interacting with celebrities, high rollers and the most sophisticated crooks in town. If I fell on my face, I’d embarrass the D.A. for having moved me to Beverly Hills. If I succeeded, then I would be in position politically to give him a run for his money in a few years. I could line up some Beverly Hills high rollers to back me and run for the D.A.’s position. But, frankly, I knew I didn’t want to be the D.A., never did. But, I didn’t tell the D.A. that, I wanted him to think that he needed to keep me happy.
I had settled in and found out quickly why the attorneys and paralegals liked the Beverly Hills Office—you could work and have a life! The office was more pretentious, but I was finding that I could leave the office by six and not feel guilty. My work was getting done and I didn’t feel like I was constantly dancing on a high-wire. The problem with having a life is that it had been a long time since I’d had one. I didn’t know where to start. So, I started taking a step class right after work to at least tone the jello that had become my thighs.
As soon as class was over, I’d take my wobbly legs and go home, microwaving a frozen dinner and plopping my butt on the sofa to watch television, something I hadn’t had time to do for years. At first I surfed the shows, amazed at how many were the same boring format. But, just when I thought I would have to find a real hobby, I landed on a channel showing the second season of Last Resort, a series about a doctor who was the ‘last resort’ for patients with undiagnosed terminal diseases. Since I had been pre-med at one time, I had an affection for shows about medicine, both medical reality shows and dramas. This show was a little different, the primary emphasis was figuring out a medical mystery each week. When I first started watching the show, the mystery was my primary attraction. However, I soon found myself drawn into the life of the lead character, Michael Downing, a difficult and damaged man who’s intellect made it difficult for him to relate to those who weren’t as gifted as he was. The fact that he was in his early forties and gorgeous, didn’t hurt. I was infatuated with the character, which was played by the tall, blue-eyed, Brit, James Selwyn.
I found out that one of the paralegals in my office also watched the show with a passion similar to my own. We quickly formed our own little fan club, reviewing the previous night’s episode ad nauseum. We emailed each other paparazzi photos of James that we found on the web and, when he recently bought a house in West Hollywood, I pinpointed the house on Google Earth with an Accuracy that would make NASA proud.
“Brandy, you up for lunch?” I yelled across the office of cubicles.
She held up a finger to indicate that she’d be ready in a minute. I went back to my office and waited. A few minutes later she poked her head in, “Man, if we don’t get out of here now, I’m going to go nuts.”
I jumped up and grabbed my purse from my lower desk drawer, “Great, I’m starved.”
We drove over to Château Marmont for lunch. It was a luxury we allowed ourselves every Friday. Despite seeing celebrities on a daily basis while driving to an from work, walking around, investigating a crime or in court, we still ate at Château Marmont just to watch the celebrities in their own environment. It was only three miles from the office to the hotel which sat slightly up on a hill. Built to remind you of a European palace, the hotel had housed celebrities like Humphrey Bogart, Natalie Wood, Raquel Welch and until he bought his house, James Selwyn, who resided at the hotel when he first came to California to begin work on Last Resort.
We had huge hopes that one day, Selwyn, would return to Château Marmont to dine since he had once remarked in a magazine that he loved their Tenderloin pork in the hotel restaurant. We frequently saw celebrities at the restaurant, including Jack Nicholson, Greg Gruenberg, Candice Bergen and William Shatner, but not James Selwyn.