Chapter 4

Brenda' s proximity was a constant, low-level hum of anxiety. We' d hear her talking to herself, or rather, to "Johnny," through her thin apartment door. Sometimes she' d leave little "gifts" outside our door: a single, wilted rose, a page torn from an old movie magazine with a picture of a forgotten actor, a note scribbled in lipstick saying, "Thinking of you, my Starlight."

Mike started using the back stairs to avoid running into her.

The real crisis hit about two weeks after Brenda became our neighbor.

Mike had an important lunch meeting. His boss, Linda, a sharp, no-nonsense woman in her fifties, was considering him for a lead architect position on a new downtown development. It was a huge opportunity.

He' d been nervous all morning.

"Just be yourself, you' re great at what you do," I told him, kissing him goodbye.

Around 2 PM, my phone rang. It was Mike, his voice frantic.

"Sarah, you need to come to 'The Grill' downtown, now!"

"Mike, what' s wrong? What happened?"

"It' s Brenda, she' s here, she... she made a scene."

My heart sank. "I' m on my way."

I got to the upscale restaurant in twenty minutes. The lunch rush was over, but there was still a buzz, and it seemed to be centered around one table near the window.

I saw Mike, his face flushed, standing awkwardly. Linda, his boss, looked furious, her arms crossed tightly.

And then I saw Brenda.

She was standing over Linda, gesticulating wildly with a breadstick.

Brenda was wearing a bright turquoise turban, a caftan that shimmered with sequins, and her signature oversized sunglasses.

"You... you talentless understudy!" Brenda was screeching, loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear. "Trying to steal my Johnny from me! He' s a star! He doesn' t need your little projects, your drab blueprints!"

Linda was trying to speak, but Brenda wasn' t letting her.

"Johnny belongs on the silver screen, with me! We have a legacy to uphold, a love story for the ages! And you, you' re just a... a glorified secretary!"

Several patrons were openly staring, some filming with their phones. The restaurant manager was hovering nearby, looking helpless.

I pushed my way through. "Brenda! That' s enough!"

She whirled around. "Sarah! Darling! Tell this... this extra that Johnny is mine! He' s always been mine!"

"Brenda, you are embarrassing Mike, you are embarrassing yourself, let' s go."

I tried to take her arm, but she shook me off.

Linda finally stood up, her face like stone.

"Mike," she said, her voice cold and clipped. "I think it' s best if you handle your... family matter, we can discuss your future at the firm later."

The implication was clear.

I managed to steer Brenda out of the restaurant, her muttering about "sabotage" and "jealous rivals."

Mike followed, looking utterly defeated.

Once outside, Brenda seemed to deflate slightly. "Well, I certainly told her, didn' t I, Johnny? No one tries to come between Lila LaRue and her leading man."

Mike didn' t say a word. He just stared straight ahead, his jaw tight.

The next day, Linda called Mike into her office.

She fired him.

"Mike, you' re a talented architect," she said, according to him later. "But the firm cannot tolerate this kind of... unprofessional association, the liability, the potential for repeated public disruption, it' s too much."

He tried to explain about Brenda, about her delusions, but Linda wasn' t interested in the details.

"I' m sorry, Mike, my decision is final."

He came home that afternoon, carrying a small box with his desk belongings.

He looked broken.

I held him, and the anger I felt towards Brenda solidified into something hard and cold.

She hadn' t just invaded our home, now she was destroying his career.

This wasn' t just about managing a nuisance anymore. This was about fighting back.