Chapter 3

Shooting started just 6 weeks after Sheena turned 18. She had to be on set early, went with Brad to one of his gigs, and she asked me to come get her at 10PM and take her to bed. Put her to bed I mean. Well, whatever.

The sound was awful; I could feel the bass through my ribs, the beat was relentless as warfare, the lighting was terrible too. Young people danced ecstatically, apparently enjoying it. Then I saw Sheena.

She was on the stage next to Brad; he was bouncing a little and busy at his mixing table, like a puppeteer pulling the strings that caused all the movement on the dance floor below him. Sheena stood in a spotlight, undulating, bouncing, twisting in a sensual flowing liquidity. She was wearing almost nothing, a thong over her pink pussy and a knotted blouse that didn’t quite manage to cover her magnificent tits. She was shining, a star in the dark night. Adored by the crowd, and loving it.

I had to stand there and watch for a couple of minutes. How was it that I got to be with her? How was it possible that the girl who was adored by thousands, liked me?

I blinked a flashlight at her and she came home with me. We didn’t have sex, Sheena got 8 hours sleep and then we were out early to get to location by 8.

She was professional; got her sleep, studied her lines, and always got to the set early. She greeted everyone cheerfully, right down to the caterers and prop guys. And they all loved her.

They started with some outdoor shots, because most of the sets weren’t built yet, and a lot of the small part actors still had to be cast. It was just a warm up really, the crew, main actors, and director finding their rhythm.

Afterwards, we picked up the dogs for walking. It was late and we were both tired, so we just went to the local park.

Then the stalker attacked.

So this guy, Orion; he was unhinged. Basically nuts. He was young, only a couple of years older than she was. He was good looking and from a wealthy family. He’d met her in school, and they’d dated a couple of times. Sheena said they’d never had sex. On their date he’d started talking about how many kids they’d have together and how they’d live on an island and grow their own food and so on. She thought he was joking; he wasn’t.

He peppered her phone with messages so she blocked him. He followed her around and lurked outside her house, then outside Brad’s apartment when she moved in there with him.

Sheena had tried to get a restraining order without success. His high end lawyer told the judge he was her boyfriend and they were fighting. The judge said the courts are not for lover’s tiffs and threw the case out.

We’d spotted him following us several times, taking pictures too. I’d warned him twice, and the dogs went haywire whenever they caught his scent.

Look, I was there. I know some people insist she was leading him on, that just isn’t true.

There was a moment my guard was down; the dogs had run after an animal in the forest and I went after them. When we got back to the trail, Sheena was gone.

We’d trained the dogs; a simple game, “Find her” I told them, thinking she was just hiding behind a tree or something. Just fuzzy pet dogs, they did their job. And I did mine.

The dogs went into the woods to the other side, as I ran after them.

He had her, holding her semi-conscious, dragging her towards a big SUV that had the rear hatch open like the maw of a huge carnivore.

The dogs got to him first; Henry attacked the kid and bit his ankle. I was impressed; how did that cute fuzzy pet dog know to do that?

Greg snarled and snapped. The kid dropped Sheena on the ground and lifted a mini-bat to defend himself as I got to him.

I felt the anger; the primal murderous rage. My foot left the ground, aimed for the side of his head in a movement too fast to block, even if he’d been trained.

I had a split second to stop it; I had a choice. In that instant, it all flashed through my head. He was a threat to Sheena, and always would be. He was 40 years younger than I was, and would be a threat to her long after I was unable to protect her anymore. I didn’t consider him evil. He was just crazy, and would probably stay that way.

If I let my foot hit his head at full power, I’d likely go to jail. Probably for the rest of my life. Sheena would be safe, and I’d be free of my doubts, my qualms, my attachment to her. It would all be over; suicide though murder.

Because that was what it was. I didn’t need to kill him, I chose to do it. To free Sheena, by ending the problem of him, and of myself.

One kick, ¼ of one second, was all it took. I’d never had a fight, and this wasn’t one. When I’d trained in Japan, it had all been theoretical. Play fighting, practicing, just for fun and exercise.

My old foot broke on impact. Well, unlike his neck, that would heal. We were careful not to touch the cadaver at all; I did cut the tie from Sheena’s wrists though. We called 911, then called Brad, and sat together with the dogs until the cops and ambulance got there.

Sheena visited me in jail every day, unless they were shooting a scene. I lived for her bright eyes and her stream of chatter as she filled me in on the minutia of her day, the other actors, the directors, prop guys, sound and makeup people, our dogs, and Brad.

Jail was easy for me; regimented, pretty much stress free. It was a holiday camp compared to Japanese jail. The food was awful and I did miss my dog a lot. I had to wonder though; did I do what I did to put myself here? To escape the hassle of freedom, the worry of free choice?

I would have just settled in and stayed there, but Sheena had other ideas. Her first paycheck went to pay my lawyers, who got a judge to grant me bail. I put up my apartment as bond.

“I could have just waited for the trial.” I said to her as we got into her car. “It’s only a few months.”

She leaned across and kissed me. “Worth it.” She said.