I fight.
“Has anything been stolen?” the female officer asks, surveying the surroundings. Bare walls and an immaculate kitchen, boxes stacked like columns scattered throughout the room.
“Not that I can tell,” I say. “As you can see, everything’s already out of place.”
“Moving in or moving out?” the male officer asks.
“I move out at the end of the week,” I say. “Most of my stuff is already in storage. I went through some of the boxes but can’t think of what might be missing.”
My bottom lip quivers, a tell that I’m lying. Or maybe it’s my nerves, aftershocks of an eventful night. It’s unsettling having the police inside my apartment.
“Lucky for you, I guess,” the male cop says, slapping his notepad closed. “The perp couldn’t have found too much before you came at him.”
I smile and nod, ambling behind them as they head for the front door.
“Getting another place across town?” the female asks.
“Heading abroad, actually,” I say. “I’m attending the Cannes Film Festival before taking some time off to travel.”
She pauses at the front door, looking at the opened box beside it. A coffee-table book pokes out of the top. She reaches forward, tilting it closer to her, and smiles.
“I remember this guy,” she says. “My grandpa and I used to watch those old shows when I was a kid.”
Marmee and I share a similar experience. The guy she’s referring to is Alfred Hitchcock. His basset-hound stare graces the cover alongside snapshots from some of his most iconic films.
“Take it,” I offer.
“You sure?”
I nod. “There are tons more in storage. I wrote the book.”
“Really?” She snaps up the copy, testing its durability.
The male officer leans in closer, eyeing the magenta foil script across the front.
“Tippi’s Takes Presents: What Hitch Taught Me About Life,” he reads. “You’re an author?”
“This is my first go at it,” I say. “Normally I run a movie review blog.Tippi’s Takes.”
“I’ve been on that website before,” the woman says, nudging her partner. “You’re always complaining there’s nothing good to watch. She’s got great recommendations.”
“Movies aren’t really my thing,” he says, rolling his eyes at her. “I can’t buy into the fantasy. I’d rather see life for what it is.”
“I recommend true crime documentaries, too,” I say. “Anything that involves a good mystery or scare.”
“And now you’ve experienced your very own burglary. What are the odds?” he says, tipping his hat. “Once you go through your things, if you notice anything’s missing, give us a ring. We’ll add it to the report.”
“Thank you,” I say, opening the door for them to exit.
“Thanks for the book,” the other officer says, shimmying it in her hands.
Once they’re gone, I sigh in relief. I’ve lived in this apartment for years and never had an issue. What are the chances someone would break in just days before I’m scheduled to move? In the movies, there is no such thing as a coincidence, but in real life, they happen all the time.
I open my laptop and begin scrolling through my open tabs. Work brings me comfort, always has.Tippi’s Takesstarted out as a hobby, but like the most fulfilling careers, it soon transformed into something more. Through the popularity of social media, the blog took off. People are always on the hunt for new entertainment and prefer the transparency of an everyday person over the opinions of mainstream media. They want recommendations from an equal, a friend.Tippi’s Takesprovides a surprising dose of authenticity in a world commonly made of smoke and mirrors.
My career, however, like everything else of late, is about to change. After Cannes, I’m ducking away from the movie scene, transitioning the blog into something different.Tippi’s Travels. Changing focus is a risky decision, one my social media manager urged me against, but I think I’ve garnered enough followers to do it. Besides, travel blogging and movie critiquing might seem different on the surface, but they provide viewers with the same thing: escapism.
I enlarge the agenda on my computer, making sure all my scheduled posts for the next month are confirmed. The only live events I havecoming up are in Cannes, and after that, I’ll announce my hiatus. I scroll through the mostly blank calendar, overwhelmed by the sense of unknown the next year will bring.
