Fever Dream by Annabel Joseph

retire just because some wacko is obsessed with me.”
    “It was just a suggestion.”
    She shouldn’t be yelling at the kid. None of this was his fault. He was obviously the poor schlub who got all the cases no one else wanted to handle, and she was one more headache in his day. “Could you send him a cease-and-desist letter, on some kind of official police letterhead?” she asked. “Do you think that would accomplish anything?”
    “It would only reassure Mr. Paulsen that he’s getting through to you. Ignoring is your best option. Return his packages unopened. If you don’t want to change your email, change your filters so you don’t have to see the things he sends. Whatever you do, don’t engage with him. If you don’t respond to him, eventually he’ll give up.”
    “You promise?” she asked, chewing a fingernail.
    He gave her a weary smile. “I can’t promise, although I understand your frustration. I know this will sound strange, but try not to get too worked up about the whole thing. Put him out of your mind and perhaps he’ll come to realize there’s no point in continuing to badger you.” He stood and fished a card out of a plastic holder. “And if he shows up here in town, or if his overtures to you become violent in nature, by all means, let us know.”
    “Okay,” she said out loud, pocketing his card. Thanks for nothing , she thought to herself. You suck.

Chapter Five: Inappropriate
     
    It was opening night of a new season. Not just a new season, but a new era at City Ballet. When he and Petra performed the kiss at the end of the balcony pas de deux , Rubio fell in love with her a little, as Romeo should. The audience broke into gleeful, impromptu applause. He felt her smile against his lips and then compose herself.
    As for him, he felt transformed.
    Rehearsals were one thing, but this opening performance had raised them both to new heights of inspiration. Petra brought bright, light innocence to the role, the needed balance for his dark Romeo. She was vivacious as young Juliet, and later dramatically mournful. During the death scene he was pretty sure she cried real tears. That scene was one of his favorite places to cop a secret feel, but he didn’t, not this time. Petra was far too invested in the character, so he laid still and stiff while she sobbed over him, keeping his perverted fingers to himself. Instead he focused on her closeness and her sweet scent.
    Petra always smelled so pretty. Her hair smelled like sonhos , like vanilla and sugar and good things, even at the end of a long, exhausting day. He liked that about her. He wished she wasn’t such a hard ass bitch. He wished she was a horny, cowering, deeply masochistic submissive, so he could run amok all over her delectable body until she broke down and cried. But no, she wasn’t. Too bad.
    At the final curtain call, the audience went wild. Flowers, whistles, yelling and screaming, a tidal wave of appreciation. When he held her hand and led her forward to take their bows, a stagehand trotted out with a massive bouquet of roses. The bright pink roses symbolized welcome and affection for a new partner, and Rubio presented them to Petra with a fleeting kiss. The already-crazed audience exploded into hysteria.
    She smiled up at him in the midst of the furor. It was impossible not to grin back. As he gazed into her pretty, almond-shaped eyes, he felt an attachment to her beyond duty and performance. He felt in solidarity with her. We can make perfection together. Afterward, instead of heading off to his own dressing room, he followed her to hers.
    Yves joined them, grinning ear to ear. “I have no words. I don’t know what to say, how to express my emotions. I felt like I was watching history being made.”
    “Yes, well,” said Rubio, rolling his eyes. “You can watch history made again tomorrow. And the next night. And next week.”
    Yves ignored him and turned to Petra. “How did it feel? How was the stage, the production?