Fangirl

By Jill Robi

A ground-breaking novel of pop fic/chick lit, Jill Robi's Fangirl is a fictionalized non-fiction and a book that all fangirls should read.

A young woman named Khloe discovers the world of sci-fi and fantasy at conventions and meets the man of her dreams. The only trouble is, he's a well known actor and inaccessible. With him on a platform and she amongst the crowd, will she be able to find love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jill Robi
• Release date: Aug 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476037684

Jill Robi

Writer. Journalist. Creator.Jill Robi is a Chicago native and Columbia Chicago graduate. With a BA in fiction writing, she is a self-proclaimed geek, avid comic-con attendee, cosplayer, and professional karaoke singer.Jill is a seasoned writer, predominantly known for her interviews. She has worked for Unite4:Good magazine, where she cut her journalistic teeth with legend Dionne Warwick, a plethora of CEOs and various musical talent.A freelancer, she continues to work for the Sugar Gamers and The Geek Initiative as press and film critic.Currently, Jill has just finished her third novel, THE GOOD SOLDIER (available on Amazon), and is now working on her fourth novel. Not keen on being traditional, it is also her fourth, vastly different genre to write in [street contemporary]. Though she favors pop-fic and chick lit, Jill also likes to write poetry, noir, and sci-fi/fantasy. She particularly loves exploring character studies.She writes first and foremost for her own entertainment. She hopes that by sharing her work with the world, she can also achieve the entertainment and enjoyment of others as well.

Book preview

FANGIRL

JILL ROBI

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. To the extent of any real names of individuals, locations, or organizations are included in the book, they are used fictitiously and not intended to be taken otherwise.

Copyright © 2012 by Jill Robi, Amazon Kindle, Smashwords and the Library of Congress.

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

Second Edition: January 2016

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Robi, Jill

Fangirl / by Jill Robi

Summary: A stunning what if? story, Fangirl shows us a young woman named Khloe, who discovers the world of sci-fi and fantasy at conventions and meets the man of her dreams. The only trouble is, he's a well-known actor and inaccessible. With him on a platform and her amongst the crowd, will she be able to find love?

ISBN-10: 1478139951

ISBN-13: 978-1478139959

Printed in the United States of America

DEDICATION

I dedicate this second edition to my mother, Diane, who gave me a love of books, my good looks, and an amazing mind. Thank you for being my first teacher, and a phenomenal mom.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to everyone who helped me along the way, and never stopped believing in me as a writer. Teachers, friends, editors and fans, I love you all.

PART I: L.A. BOUND

I'm excited.

I wake up early and hop in the shower, eagerly letting the hot spray wash yesterday off of me. Its warmth compliments the happy feeling coming from within.

And I am excited because come this time tomorrow, I'll be in LA for the very first time. It's not like I came from a small town or anything like that, or I'm wetting my panties to get to the Big City. Born and raised in Chicago, here. And not a surrounding suburb of Chicago, but the actual city. Funny thing is, my town— my slice of the Windy City—is the original Beverly Hills. That's right. Contrary to popular belief, it's still within the city limits and is the highest point in the state. We have actual hills due to a giant glacier from like, a long time ago. Anyway, my Beverly Hills? It was established during the 1890s. The West Coast copy…Well, theirs wasn't established until 1906.

How you like them apples?

So, enough with the history lesson. Let me fill you in on why this trip is so entirely tremendous. My twenty-first birthday is next week, and this is a treat to myself. My favorite actor from a cult hit of a show that's been off the air for a few years is releasing a solo album, and I bought a ticket to the album release party.

He's an awesome, multi-talented artist.

I've never met him before; I cannot tell you how friggin' scared and happy and all kinds of other indescribable feelings I am right now. I've crushed on him ever since the tender age of thirteen, when the show first aired. The moment Weston Moore walked on the screen, I was totally enchanted. Not that I was alone; enough viewers were captivated by him that his initially disposable villain of a character (he was supposed to be killed off after a paltry three episodes) got extended several years. This was then followed by his own spinoff. That only lasted five years, but it was an amazing run.

I've been to a couple of local conventions before and met some of the other cast members (well, more like supporting cast), not to mention other celebs from other shows and films, but this? This was like the missing piece of my awkward adolescent days or something. I was never terribly popular or even pretty back then, but I always imagined that if I could just meet him and he could see the real me, Mr. Tall, Dark and Studly, then...I don't know, everything would be sunshine and rainbows or something. See, you gotta understand just how craptastic those awkward years were for me. I know I'm not the only one, but hey.

I grew up feeling ugly and unloved with no boyfriend for like...well fancy that, never. Well, not officially, anyway. So here I am with a bit more confidence and finally knowing my way around some pressed powder, blush, mascara, and a nice Cleopatra inspired hair do. I've put on a few pounds since high school, but it doesn't look bad—curves are in the right place; anything that ain't, well, it's nothing a body-shaper can't fix. They may be uncomfortable, but they're really magical things for anyone who wants to wear a form fitting dress with a few problem areas. To top it all off, my cinnamon colored skin evened out. Goodbye, teen acne!

My bags are mostly packed. A cab will be waiting outside my house in the morning to whisk me away to the airport. I'll be in that industry-laden land known as LA before I know it.

And just in case it isn't clear why I'm bothering to do all this...

I'm a fangirl—hardcore.

----

The first time I was ever on a plane I was two. I don't remember it of course, but I had been accustomed to planes for quite some time. That is until I had a horrible re-entry from D.C. back to Chicago a couple of years ago. I was coming from a conference (not to be confused with a convention). The turbulence was awful. There was a thunderstorm that night, and the plane shook and rattled the entire time, surrounded in the inky blackness of the night sky. I'd never been so frightened in my entire life. I actually held the hand of a stranger next to me. She'd been at the conference as well, but I didn't know who the crap she was. Anyway, ever since then I've been nervous about getting back on a plane. Not that the fear stops me. I acknowledge it [the fear] and move on.

The best seats for me are the exit rows. There's no better place to stretch out, and that's including first class on regular flights. But now, as I sit in there, feigning calmness, I feel as if I have no choice but to grip the hand rests on either side of me. Because yeah, somehow that will keep me safe…

The stewardess asks if I'd like a beverage, and I immediately opt to pay for whatever liquor they have available. They have a lot of liquor, so I opt for a glass of white wine. Even though I'm not twenty-one yet, I don't get carded. It's probably due to my stature—I come in at five foot eleven—and the fact that I apparently have one of those ageless faces.

Small favors, right?

Eventually, I fall asleep with my headphones on. I let the wine and Mama's Gun take me to a relaxing stake. When I wake up, we're only twenty minutes away from landing. Naps sure are nifty. The pilot tells us via intercom that the weather is in the high seventies with mild winds. All in all, perfect vacation weather. I silently hope that will apply to the rest of my trip.

The butterflies in my stomach have waned, and my trip is soon to really start. I just have to get my luggage, pick up my Rent-A-Wreck (which is loads cheaper than other rental brands, let me tell you), then head to the Hilton Hotel.

LA, here I come.

----

The hotel is lovely. I have to say, I've really outdone myself. Everything looked so modern, with its glass and steel accents, and the bed was the perfect amount of firm. Oh, I wish I could take this mattress home with me. It'd make for one hell of a souvenir. Also, the shower? To die for. I totally want to find a way to unscrew the head and take it back home with me. Or the bathrobe. Or the comforter… Anyway, it was all for a great, low price. Thanks, Orbitz!

I guess it's just...I really wanted this birthday to be special. The sad part is that I had to make this trip alone. None of my friends had the time or the money, or even liked the show that Weston was on. Not to mention, they just don't get it. Being a geek can be a blessing and a curse. Everyone looks at you funny unless they're a geek, too.

Most of my fangirl buddies are online—in forums, reviewers of fan fiction (and yes, I've written my fair share), LiveJournal, and the like. Perhaps I'll run into some of them at this event. In hindsight, I suppose I should have made arrangements to actually meet with some of them…but that's why they call it hindsight.

Now that I'm all unpacked, I get my site seeing shorts and sunglasses on, ready to explore.

----

My rental car ends up being comfortable enough. I decided to pay for an upgrade to get a medium-sized one, as I was sure my knees would touch my chin in the compact car. Long legs, here, and since I'll be doing a lot of driving, it was worth the few extra bucks.

I wish planes were as simple as that.

I swear, if I had the money, like Warren Buffet money, I'd create an airline with two feet of space in every row as a minimum. First class would get three feet. Or having the seat of chairs receive an extra six inches in length. Having the seat of a chair hit you mid-thigh is quite uncomfortable. The struggle is real.

As I drive around, I pass a neighborhood called Little Ethiopia. Can't really deviate from my intended destination at the moment, but it's an interesting sight. It seems like a world apart with its…vibrancy. The whole strip just seemed colorful. Literally. And there seemed to be some kind of vendor fair set up. Would have been nice to check it out more, but I couldn't stop.

I don't have a GPS. I just look stuff up on Google Maps on my laptop, write it down, and try not to get myself lost. It's not foolproof, but it's a lot cheaper than buying more technology. Or solely relying on technology. I mean, those kind of trends just aren't my thing. Just because there's some new doodad out on the market, doesn't mean I have to buy it. For instance, I have had the same Razr phone for the last four years, and I don't plan on getting a new one until this one craps out and dies on me. Sure, some of my friends make fun of me for it, but hey, I'm an individual. Nor do I have time for that peer pressure crap. Ugh.

The traffic is slow. Dreadfully slow.

It seems that everyone in this city loves driving just under the speed limit. I'm not sure why that is, but the only thing I do know is that it's really starting to frustrate the fuck out of me. And then the thing that makes it even worse is that the guy in the car in front of me just tossed a cigarette butt out of his window. Man, does shit like that make me see red. I mean, there are little ashtrays in cars. Even if there doesn't happen to be one, stop being an inconsiderate douchebag and don't litter the earth.

It's kind of a funny thing for me, cigarettes.

I once smoked a whole one when I was eighteen just so I wouldn't be a hypocrite in my vehement dislike of them. While I really don't get the appeal of smoking, I also think that smoking, at times, can look sexy. I think I'd looked wickedly cool smoking. Like in a black and white ad or photoshoot. It seems as if it'd make a good prop.

Weston Moore's character smoked, but Weston himself—he quit ages ago (or so I read), and the cigarettes his character would light up on the series were merely herbal. There was just a finesse he had when he handled one. He'd take out a lighter, put the filter to his mouth, and light it in one seemingly fluid motion. And the way he would exhale...something about his face just made me think of sex.

Then again, most of the things he did reminded me of sex.

Like the way he walked. He took these long strides and just exuded confidence—like he had the biggest dick in the world or something. I don't care to use this term, but it really is like, swag. The man has swagger. I've never seen him walk out of character, so I'm equally curious and excited to see him just for that and compare. Okay, that's not entirely true. I'm nervous as hell to meet him. It's not happening until tomorrow, and my stomach is already in knots. I haven't the vaguest clue as to why—he's just a regular person, right?

Yeah—a guy I've been crushing on since age thirteen. Lame.

I've seen plenty of interviews of him on TV and various Comic Con panels online, but he's usually standing or sitting. It's just not the same. So yes, I am nervous as hell.

But I'm ready. Or so I tell myself.

I finally make my way towards Hollywood Boulevard. The parking for the mall there has a great rate: four bucks for eight hours. My plan is to see some of the Walk of Fame, Madame Tussaud's, and of course, the mall itself. Yeah, it's all touristy stuff but hell, I'm a tourist. I plan on seeing some of the neighborhoods-specifically Beverly Hills and Rodeo Drive later in the week—but today will be a bit more generic.

I find myself overwhelmed by all of the people in costumes on the strip: Batman, Spider-man, Marilyn Monroes and Captain Jack. Oh, and a slightly perverse Sponge Bob Squarepants who loves to hug all of the young women. I manage to get out of his spongy embrace and see Catwoman, another Marilyn, and a Hulk, and I wonder about the dedication these folks have, being out here in this heat and in costume and heavy makeup. Well, the Marilyn costume seems fairly easy; all flowy, white material and a wig. I was kind of hoping to see one in her signature, form fitting satin pink gown from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, but I'm sure that dress isn't as easy to acquire. But then I look at the bulkier costumes, like