Catching Chester

Chapter 18

(Then, in the dead of the night when the entire world was asleep and nobody was around to notice the oppressive heat that made it impossible to sleep, the petite author publishes a chapter. Her nighttime fuel? Half a brownie, a mozzarella Babybell, a bottle of water, and the burning desire to please her fans.)

*Chester awakens to hear a noise coming from his office. He rolls out of bed, slides into his velvet slippers, dons his Darth Vader Star Wars robe and grabs his trusty rapier. He shuffles sleepily across the hallway, yawning as he flips on the lights. He blinks at me and then looks blearily up at the clock on the wall.* "My my my. Burning the midnight oil, are we?" *He makes a tsking sound. "It's about time you burned both ends of the candle."

*I raise my bloodshot eyes to his well rested ones.* "It's two in the morning, Chester. Go back to sleep. I'm just publishing this and then I'm gonna hit the hay.*

*He shuffles over to me, peering over my shoulder. All is fine until he reads the note at the end of this chapter.* "Um...I'm pretty sure that's a typo."

Me: "What? Where?"

Chester: "That entire part. The note portion. It can't possibly be correct."

Me. "Oh, It is." *Grins*

*His face pales like a thousand moons are reflecting onto his features.* "No! No, you couldn't possibly want to-"

Me: "Don't spoil it for the readers! Let them read it and find out.*

Chester: "Good heavens! You've gone MAD! COMPLETELY OFF YOUR ROCKER!"

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As soon as Chester steps outside and trots down the steps, a woman in a Wassabi green leather jacket launches herself at him with some sort of karate chop aimed at his neck.

"Surprise attack!" The girl cries loudly, trying to catch him off guard.

I guess no one ever told her that yelling what you are doing as you are doing it kind of counters the element of surprise.

Chester fluidly counters her attack by snatching her hand out of the air and twisting her wrist at an unnatural angle that wrists aren't meant to twist. Using the hold as leverage and ignoring her pained whimper, he applies strategic pressure and easily lowers her black skinny jean covered knees down to the front lawn while still somehow managing to look bored while he does it. He quirks a smooth eyebrow down at her as if to say "give up?"

"Uncle!" She squeaks.

He releases her hand instantaneously and then politely presents his palm to her in a gracious offer to help her back to her feet as if he hadn't been the one to put force her down in the first place.

"Catherine." He greets cordially as he helps her up. She rubs at her wrist after he releases her hand from his capable grasp.

"I'll get you one of these days." She vows, quickly brushing back her short, black hair that's cut in a Cleopatra style.

The corner of his mouth quirks upward in amusement and his eyes spark with warm mirth. "I welcome you to continue to try, but remember that constant failure is devastating to one's self esteem."

"Whatever." She snorts with a huff and a roll of her eyes, the girl version of "we'll see". She turns and catches sight of me standing in the doorway, immobile like a cardboard cutout.

We stare at each other until we both raise our hands and exchange awkward, totally lame, tentative waves.

"Tasha. Come here, please." He motions for me to come join him with a small smile, like I'm a shy child. I cautiously creep across the porch and down the front steps to stand beside him, never taking my eyes off the new girl, which I'm still very wary of. I don't trust anyone right now except Mr. Fancy Pants here.