Allison Patrick


The Ice Queen And The Stalker

Dennis James Browne

Copyright © 2015 by Dennis James Browne

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author

ISBN 978-1-4951-7166-6

Visit dennisjamesbrowne.com


Love at First Sight


I think I fell in love with Allison Patrick the second I saw her.

She looked so much like Marilyn Monroe it was scary. And for years before we even met, I had been obsessed with that beautiful, but ever so fragile rose of an actress, whose melancholy eyes and star-crossed death haunted my dreams even as a child

I met Allison about a week after we moved into the Patton Marina. My stepfather, William "Doc" Stratton, decided to buy the marina because we only lived a few miles away, he keeps his yacht there, and he thinks living near the water is good for his health. He's wrong of course. Living on the water will never help him. He's a very frail ninety-five year old widower who spends most of his time in a wheelchair, and he's fought off death for decades by the sheer power of his will alone.

Doc is a sweet, polite gentleman to most people, but I know better. He has a real nasty side, so it only seems natural that he paid no attention to buying the "cursed" Patton marina--especially the big white house with the blue shutters, where there had been a murder, a suicide and the mysterious deaths of two sisters who ran a drug and prostitution ring at Westfield College.

My stepfather became a millionaire by crushing his competitors in the auto parts import business, and he has a dark side to him that he doesn't want anyone else to know about.--even though every now and then a highly unflattering news story will pop up about one of his import deals or how he drove one of his competitors out of business.

Doc adopted my brother, Dalton, after his own much younger brother, Roger and his wife, were both killed during a drive by shooting in California. Dalton is younger than I am--a senior in high school. He's a very bright, quiet young man who spends most of his time alone playing with his computer or smartphone. Because his right arm is stunted and he walks with a slight limp, one of his classmates made fun of him--until Doc entered the picture and had the evil little brat suspended.

When my mother married Doc, Dalton and I got along great. We were only small kids at the time, and we used to hang out and play together for hours every day.

But then, as I grew older, and started spending more time with my own circle of new friends I met in school, Dalton and I grew apart to the point where when he saw me, he just went the other way and became even more withdrawn and sullen...

I never realized the depth of his growing hatred for me until the day my little pet terrier, Tinker Bell, suddenly disappeared.

Dalton, have you seen Tinker Bell? She's not in the house."

At the time, Dalton was outside on the porch, playing with his cell phone, but when he turned around, he had this absolutely terrifying angry look on his face, and his voice was so slow and creepy it sent chills down my spine--

"I don't know, Samantha...but I'm sure if she loves you, she'll come back."

Such a strange remark took me completely off guard, and I said nothing...

But I never saw little Tinker Bell again, and down deep I just knew that Dalton had done something terrible to her...

From that day on, I tried to avoid Dalton as much as possible.

My mother was killed when some drunk high school kid in a pickup truck ran a red light and hit her broadside, nearly cutting her car in half...

She died instantly.

I never even knew my father, and because my mother and I were both ice queens, we were never very close, so her death really didn't hit me that hard. She had her friends and I had mine, and we rarely spoke, let alone spend any time together. But when Doc took us out to one of his big social events or even dinner, he always managed to flaunt his beautiful young wife and equally beautiful young daughter, who, it was becoming quite clear, not only looked just like her mother, but one day would be even more beautiful...

Most of my friends think I look a lot like Megan Fox. Personally, I disagree. I'm taller, have a much better body, and, as many of my friends--especially the boys--have told me over and over again, I have deep blue eyes to die for...

In fact, one morning Mr. Ross, my high school history teacher, actually made me blush when I walked into the classroom and he greeted me by saying--

"Good morning, Miss Highbeams!"

I love old movies, and one beautiful old time actress

by the name of Gene Tierney was only seventeen when she and her family went sightseeing on a Warner Brothers lot. Even at that young age, a famous director was so struck by her beauty that he wanted to sign her to a movie contract on the spot.

That's exactly the same effect I have when I walk into a room...

Everyone just stops and stares at me.

Anyway, a few hours after my mother's funeral, Doc called me into his library office. It was still a year or so before he had his first heart attack, but even then he looked quite old, and when he took my hand in his and told me to sit down, it felt like I was grasping dry twigs that would snap if I closed my hand.

When Doc sat down at his desk, there were tears in his eyes and he told me that he loved me as a daughter as much as he had loved my mother as a wife, and that he would always protect me and give me anything I ever needed...

From that moment on, I knew I was Doc's favorite----and when Dalton eventually came to the same realization some time later, he became even more hateful and resentful toward me.

Anyway, the first time I saw Allison Patrick was right after we had moved into the Patton house. It was a beautiful, sunny Saturday, so I invited some of my friends over to play volleyball on the marina beach...

And that's when I saw Allison came bouncing down the tarmac road like a little kid..

At first I really didn't pay much attention to her--but then Roy Stark--whose father owned a yacht at our marina-- shouted and waved at her--

"Hey, Allison, we need another player--come on!"

She stopped and glanced at her watch, then hopped over to the other side of the net and smiled at everyone--

"Sure--hi, everyone--I'm Allison."

Now I got a good look at her for the first time--and so did everyone else...

It was like staring into the past and actually seeing the young Marilyn Monroe herself!

But there was something else about Allison--maybe it was her eyes. I've seen hundreds of photos of Marilyn Monroe and sometimes her eyes look blue and sometimes they even look brown...

But there was no mistaking the color of Allison Patrick's eyes...

They were the brightest blue I have ever seen--even brighter than mine!

Now I really don't know how many of my young friends even knew who Marilyn Monroe was--all they know is stuff like Facebook, Twitter and smartphones, and practically nothing else about history or great traditions like classic movies...

Still, it didn't make much difference...

Allison was so beautiful that for a few seconds everyone just stopped and stared at her...!

Exactly the way they used to stare at me.

And I didn't like it.

I didn't like it at all.

And that's when I suddenly stopped loving the girl in front of me because she reminded me of Marilyn Monroe--and really started hating her because she was Allison Partrick!.

Before we started playing, I set the net a little low so if someone really ticked me off, I could spike the volleyball down his--or her -throat.

And right then and there was someone who really ticked me off!!

My chance came a few minutes later when Allison was standing right in front me on the opposite side of the net...

Someone gave me a nice setup lob, and I leapt up high into the air--and smashed the ball as hard as I could with my clenched fist--

The volleyball hit Allison so hard in her head that she went flying backward and fell flat onto the sand--

In a split second all the guys were hovering over her--

"Allison--Allison--are you okay?"

But then, to everyone's surprise, she bounced right back up onto her feet--

"Sure--sure, I'm okay. It's nothing!"

She seemed like she was okay all right, but after that, she never once looked at me...

And a few minutes later when I was standing right in front of her on the other side of the net, Anita Jones--one of my I'll-pretend-I-like-you-but-I-really-hate-your-guts friends, gave Allison a big, juicy setup...

I should have seen it coming, but it really never occurred to me that little Miss Apple Pie would ever have the guts to do what she did next...

I swear, I never saw anyone jump so high in my life--she was like some kind of blond gazelle flying through the air--and the worst part about it is that I just stood there watching her every second of the way like I was hypnotized--she was still smiling!--right up until the second she smashed the volleyball straight down into my face!

The next thing I knew I was lying face down on the beach, spitting sand out of my mouth and seeing stars.

--That did it!

I jumped to my feet and ran straight for her--in a split second I grabbed Allison by her hair, threw her down hard onto the sand and jumped right on top of her--

Then I slowly pulled her head close to mine so no one else could hear me growling into her ear--

"Tomorrow morning--eight o'clock sharp, bitch!--meet me in the marina gym--and we'll settle this once and for all!"

Then I let her go.

She slowly got up, still all happy and smiling, like I just bought her an ice cream cone--


Then she walked off to her car without saying another word.



The Bully

When I was in second grade, Frank Arnone started picking on Elisa Stankewietz, a quiet little girl from Czechoslovakia who had long pigtails and a thick accent. Elisa tried to commit suicide because of Frank, but her parents caught her just in time and they moved away to another school.

Next it was Amos Manchester, a poor little black kid who sometimes came to school wearing old clothes with holes in them...

And of course there was me. Because of my limp and bad arm, one day in the cafeteria he stood up, called me a freak, then started slapping me around right in front of everyone.

Nothing happened to Arnone because everyone was afraid of him and his father, who owned the biggest car dealership in town.

And then when I was in the fifth grade, Arnone said I was like a chicken with only one wing, and while our teacher stepped out of the room for a minute, he mocked me in front of the whole class by clucking and strutting around the room with his arm tucked behind his back like a chicken with only one wing.

This time my father got involved and Arnone was suspended from school for a month.

But when he returned, he was angrier than ever, and he and three of his jock goons wearing ski masks assaulted me in the bathroom. They stuck my head down a toilet filled with crap, then they flushed it with my head still inside until I was unconscious and almost drowned.

I couldn't identify who beat me up because of the ski masks, and Frank Arnone supposedly had an airtight alibi at the time--he was at football practice.

But months later the coach's son, Jason O'Malley-- one of my few friends in high school--secretly told me that Arnone and two of his football cronies missed practice the day I was beaten up--but he couldn't tell me or anyone else the truth because he too was bullied by Frank Arnone and was deathly afraid of him.

The last straw took place awhile ago when I met a sweet girl named Carla online. She told me she went to a Catholic school in Carlton, a town about fifty miles away, and she said her parents were so strict that they never even let her have a cell phone and would go crazy if they ever found out about us. But we still exchanged photos and had such a great time together online that she decided to tell her parents about us anyway--and when she finally did, they said the two of us could go to my senior prom...

But a few days before the prom I found out Frank Arnone had staged the whole thing with one of his evil cousins by the name of Carla who lived in Texas.

Everyone in school got a big laugh out of his little practical joke...

Except me.

"So right after the prom I followed Arnone around in my car for a few weeks. I found out that on weekends he and his girlfriend, Jazmin Hernandez, usually drove out to a family hunting cabin deep in the woods where they spent the weekend getting drunk and screwing....

But on one weekend while I was sitting alone in my car watching the cabin, I heard a big fight and suddenly Jazmin Hernandez came running out of the cabin, screaming and cursing Arnone at the top of her lungs...

The next thing I saw she got into her car and burned rubber all the way down the long, dark road that led back to the highway.

That left Arnone alone in the cabin...

I waited a few minutes, but didn't hear a sound.

Then I got out of my car, crept up to one of the windows and looked inside...

Frank Arnone had passed out dead drunk on his bed....

And that was exactly the chance I was looking for!

I took a hammer and some strong nylon cord. from my car trunk, then I crept up to the front door, went inside and walked up to the bed where Arnone was snoring like the pig he was...

Then I took the cord, cut it into four pieces and started tying up his arms and legs to the bedposts--.

I decided right then and there that if he started to wake up while I was tying him to the bedposts, I would just beat him to death with my hammer and leave...

But he was so drunk he never felt a thing.

"Once I had him tied up so tight he couldn't move his arms or legs an inch in any direction, I thought for sure that he would finally wake up when I gently slipped off his class ring and gold chain necklace--mementoes you understand, from our last time together--but he was still so drunk he kept right on sleeping...

Finally, I went into the kitchen, filled a glass of ice cold water, went back and threw the water straight into Arnone's face--

When he woke up, he was shocked--and furious--to see me--

"Stratton--you fucking little freak! What the hell is going on--why am I all tied up!?"

I burst out laughing and just stood there, looking down at him--

"Because tonight, Frank, I'm going to make the world a better place to live in."

He just stared at me. He was still so drunk his eyes were glazed over and completely bloodshot...

Then, suddenly, he realized what I was going to do. His eyes filled with terror and he tried to wrestle himself free from the nylon cords...

But I ignored him and picked up a bottle of Bacardi 151 rum from the floor beside his bed.

"Stratton--Stratton--stop--stop, please, I'm begging you!".

For a second he started choking on his own vomit, but he quickly cleared his throat and started screaming again-- "Dalton, stop--think what you're doing! My dad will hunt you down and kill you-- I'll give you money!--I'll give you anything you want!"

I just kept on smiling and started splashing the rum all over him.

"Frank, this rum is about 75 percent pure alcohol, and it's extremely dangerous..You should be a lot more careful"

And before he could say anything else, I took his cigarette lighter off the bed stand and lit him up...

He was screaming like a pig, and the flames started licking up at the ceiling...

It was all quite unpleasant to watch, so I took one of Frank's cigarettes and went outside on the front porch...

It was a beautiful summer night with a full moon, and the sky was full of stars...

After the screaming finally stopped, I went back inside. cut off all the pieces of cord from what was left of Frank's arms and legs, made sure there was no trace I had ever been there, and then torched the cabin...

The next day Frank Arnone made headlines. What little was left of his evil ass was found burned to a crisp inside the ashes of the cabin, and his girlfriend told the police that they had a big argument , but before she left she remembered that Frank was smoking a cigarette and drinking straight from a bottle of rum...

All the news stories said Frank Arnone's death was ruled an accident caused by a burning cigarette and a highly flammable bottle of liquor...

What they didn't say was that Frank Arnone's bullying days were finally over.


A Love Match

I got to the marina gym right before eight the next morning, but Allison Patrick was already there, waiting for me.

We were both in full fighting mode, wearing just t-shirts, shorts and sneakers with our hair up in back--both ready for a real dogfight.

Luckily, the marina gym was just a small unmanned room with a few pieces of weightlifting and other exercise equipment, a big floor mat and one wall window with a beautiful view of the lake...

I can only thank god that no one else was in the gym that morning because I still can't believe what happened next....

Allison didn't waste any time. She walked over, slapped me right in the face and before I could even raise my fist, then she stepped back and slowly started stalking me in circles around the floor mat...

And she was still smiling that crazy beautiful Marilyn Monroe smile...

"You know, Samantha, you really shouldn't mess with someone you don't even know--you could really get hurt!"

I lunged at her, but she was too quick--and she just kept on slowly walking around me in circles, still smiling..

"Did you ever hear of a man by the name of Royce Gracie, Samantha?"

By now I was starting to get a little nervous.

I hardly had any sleep the night before, thinking how dumb it was to challenge a complete stranger to a fight in the gym--but there were other things about Allison Patrick that really pissed me off!

For example, even though we had only just moved into the marina, I already knew a little about her fiancé, Dusty, and his father, Captain Mueller...

The Muellers owned a detective agency and a small yacht that they kept in the marina and they lived above the marina garage--which they now owned because old man Patton's son deeded it to them as a separate piece of property right before he sold the marina to my father...

And I also knew that Allison Patrick was a spoiled, rich little brat whose parents had been killed in a car accident.

But I think what really ticked me off was the fact that Allison Patrick and the Muellers paraded around the marina like they owned the place, not us!

For example, the first weekend we moved into the Patton house, the Muellers threw a big party at the Sea Breeze, our marina restaurant and grill, for some Marines and other military types who just got back from Iraq--and there was a big red, white and blue banner stretched across the entire hall that read--


As soon as I saw what all the music and celebrations were about, I just went back to the house, but couldn't fall asleep because of all the racket...

"No, I'm afraid I don't know anyone named Royce Gracie!"

For some reason, that seemed to annoy her because she took another quick step forward--and again slapped me in the face!

I tried to grab her arm, but again missed. She backed away and kept right on slowly circling around me...

"Even though he was just a regular sized guy who knew a little Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, Royce Gracie was the first Ultimate Fighter Champion--and he beat up all those big 200 pound Ultimate Fighter bad asses you see on TV--because he was just too quick and slippery!"

By now I was starting to get the picture...

"Okay, so you know a little Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, but sooner or later I'm going to get my hands on you--bitch!"

Then she suddenly stopped and just stood there right in front of me, still smiling.

"Go ahead--be my guest!"

I went straight at her, grabbed her by one arm and flung her down on the mat--

Suddenly I found myself stretched out on the mat behind her with my right arm locked around her neck, and my left hand pinning her free arm behind her back...

But all she did was look up at me and smile.

"...Well, what now? Is that it?"

Our faces now were only inches apart--..

And, quite honestly, even though I still really wanted to punch her right in the face, my one arm was locked around her neck and my other hand was pinning her arm behind her, so I could do absolutely nothing except lay there and stare down straight into her eyes...

And as we kept on staring at each other with our faces only inches apart in an almost comical silence, something very weird happened...

I felt my hatred for her suddenly melting away--and slowly, but very definitely, it was being replaced with...

A sudden, almost irresistible desire to kiss her!

Suddenly I felt totally embarrassed--and accidently relaxed my grip on Allison's arm.

--And that was all she needed!

In a split second she had flipped her body up and around, and before I knew what happened, our positions were exactly reversed--she was now behind me with her right arm locked around my neck, with my left arm pinned behind my own back!

She was very strong, and as she kept smiling straight into my eyes, she tightened her arm around my neck even more--so hard that I could hardly breathe!--and at the same time she took her left hand and placed it very firmly on top of mine, then started slowly--very firmly--guiding my hand around my waist, across my belly, and finally down, down, down deep inside my panties until I felt my fingers starting to touch myself between my legs!

And then she did something else that suddenly drove me straight over the edge--

She started slowly, very tenderly, kissing me on the back of my neck!.

--And at that moment--just as she tightened her grip around my neck even more and I knew I was about to black out--my spasms suddenly started--

I just closed my eyes in the a completely wild, explosive ecstasy!.

I must have passed out because the next thing I remember is seeing Allison Patrick standing beside the gym room door.

She looked right at me, but for the first time she wasn't smiling...

It was the look of a completely exhausted, satisfied lover....

"I'd like to have you come over tonight and meet my fiancé and his father...Is six o'clock okay?"

I barely managed to nod.

But as she started out the door, she suddenly turned and once again flashed that playful, irresistible Marilyn Monroe smile...

"And could you please wear something nice?"