The Stalker Chronicles by Electa Rome Parks Page B

was—looked on with a slight frown on his face.
    â€œHi, Xavier. It’s good to see you. You look well.”
    â€œSame here,” I said and truly meant it. Kendall did look beautiful; she was actually glowing.
    In the midst of the hugs and sentiment, I almost forgot about her husband, until he cleared his throat several times.
    â€œBaby, I would like for you to meet Xavier Preston,” she stated, looking from him to me with a curious expression on her face.
    I flinched when she called him baby. At one time, not too long ago, that name was reserved exclusively for me, sometimes whispered during the throes of passion, when I was buried deep inside her.
    â€œXavier, this is my husband, Dr. Vincent Linton.”
    â€œGood to meet you,” I murmured as we shook hands halfheartedly.
    â€œSo, this is the famous author?” he asked like he had a bitter, vile taste on his tongue and couldn’t get it off.
    â€œThat’s what they tell me,” I said, trying to inject humor into the situation.
    â€œXavier, I hear your movie is breaking all kinds of blockbuster records,” Kendall remarked, attempting to break the obvious tension, which clung to the air like a thick, dense fog.
    â€œYou don’t say?” he asked, sizing me up the entire time.
    That pissed me off even more than standing there, pretending to be nice. I had to admit it—it was something that men did. I was guilty of sizing up another man myself. It was part of that king-of-the-jungle mentality; that my-dick-is-bigger-than-yours thing that was in play. I guessed it would be hard to meet the man who had almost married your wife and had sexed her on a regular basis.
    â€œI could never quite figure out you creative types,” he added.
    â€œThere’s not much to figure out. We are just like everyone else,” I retorted.
    â€œI’m a surgeon,” he stated, pushing his chest out farther. “I save lives on a daily basis. I literally have the power to give life or death. That makes sense to me.”
    â€œI agree, and I admire and respect your profession,” I said, not breaking eye contact with him.
    â€œBaby, shouldn’t we be leaving?” Kendall interrupted. “You don’t want to be late for your appointment,” she said, gently pulling on his arm, attempting to lead him away and end this interrogation.
    The doctor simply looked at her like she had lost her damn mind. He had every intention of playing out the purpose at hand—of making my profession out to be minuscule in relation to his. “What have I told you about butting into men’s business?”
    Kendall shrugged and backed down instantly.
    â€œYou have that movie out? Diary, uh?”
    â€œDiary of a Stalker,” I said slowly, like I was speaking to someone who was a little mentally challenged.
    â€œYeah, that’s it. What’s the point?”
    â€œExcuse me? I don’t understand your question.”
    â€œWhat value does that movie add to the quality of anyone’s life? It’s not like your little movie is a classic that will be viewed for generations to come, or critiqued and dissected by great literary minds.”
    I clenched and unclenched my jaw, thinking what a piece of work this guy was. He was unbelievable. I willed myself to remain quiet and let him talk so he could get all his resentment out.
    â€œDid you enjoy displaying your relationship failures and infidelity to the world?” he asked, with an obvious smirk on his face.
    â€œMovies and books are entertainment, Doctor. They make people laugh, cry, think, scream, and allow them simply to escape their day-to-day routine for a couple of hours. That’s the value. They entertain.”
    â€œI don’t need you to give me a lesson on the merits of movies. Actually, I am quite a movie buff. I simply don’t partake of your kind of movie. I watch good movies, ones that have intrinsic value.”
    â€œTo