Part-time Princess

by Pamela DuMond

  This exercise/playroom was filled with expensive toys: a 72” flat-screen TV hung high on the wall, a Ping-Pong table positioned on one end, an old-fashioned jukebox sat on a diagonal in the corner. A kitchenette was tucked in the other corner.

  Except for a quick nap on British Air and passing out, I’d been up for well over twenty-four hours and desperately needed to sleep. Steam wisped from the simmering hot tub waters. It looked so warm and relaxing—it could soothe my aching muscles. I remembered the mineral waters at the Drake Hotel. This spa beckoned me, practically called my name. But I had no bathing suit.

  Whatever.

  I stripped off my clothes and tossed them on the floor. My underwear would suit me just fine. I leaned down, set the timer for five minutes and the waters bubbled to life. I placed one foot on the first stair that descended into the tub when I remembered Zara and Mr. Philip’s lesson: How to be Naked like a European Lady.

  I glanced around. I was completely alone. I listened—didn’t hear a peep. The windows in the room were high on the walls and covered completely by blinds. And I was finally in Europe—now was as good a time as any. I stepped out of the water, unclipped my front-hook bra, pulled the straps down my shoulders, shrugged out of it and tossed it onto my clothes pile. Shimmied out of my panties and pitched them as well.

  I was buck naked in the middle of a room I’d never even been in before, in a filthy rich penthouse condo, in a foreign country. I did a quick happy dance to celebrate my progress in conquering my modesty and then stepped into the tub’s soothing waters. “Aah.” I sighed, leaned my head back against the tiled side and flinched when that touched the painful bump on my noggin.

  I flipped over onto my stomach, placed my arms on top of the hot tub’s tiled lip, turned my head to the side and rested one cheek as my legs splayed out behind me. I sighed. “The perfect end to my not-so-perfect day,” I said.

  “Actually I’d call that the perfect ‘rear-end’ to my almost perfect day,” Nick said.

  I snapped my head up and saw him standing in front of me, still dressed in the clothes he wore on the plane, wearing a big fat grin on his face.

  “Ack!” I screamed and ducked under the water.

  Chapter 16

  “Lizzie?” I heard Nick shout in the distance.

  I blinked under the shallow pool and attempted to cover my private parts with both my hands. Unfortunately, I had three private part areas and only two hands. So I settled for my boobs and crotch.

  “Lizzie! Lizzie! Are you drowning? Do you need me to rescue you?”

  I peeked my head above the choppy waters and glared at him. “No! What are you doing here? Never mind. Go away!”

  “I texted Joan Brady. She said they’d dropped you off at your dad’s condo. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “Except for the fact that you have no boundaries, I’m feeling fine, thank you. Who let you in?”

  “A short, round woman. She said you were headed for bed, but I insisted that I needed to see you or I’d worry the entire night.”

  “Okay you saw me.” I said. “Now go!”

  “But I have a question for you.”

  “Leave!”

  “But it’s my turn.”

  I. Was. Going. To. Kill. This. Man.

  “Fine!” I said. “Ask away. I like both dogs and cats equally. I vote for whomever I want. I believe in freedom of speech, marriage equality and breaking the glass ceiling. Kindness is my religion. I consider myself a feminist. I like reading mysteries, romance and thrillers. I don’t like bullies or snobby people who think they’re better than you or me just because they have more money or nicer clothes or went to a better school. My favorite season is autumn. I don’t watch reality TV shows except for the musical stuff.”

  “Good to know. But that’s not my question.”

  “Then ask it and leave, I beg you!”

  He leaned down toward me, winked and then whispered. “Who looks really sexy when she’s wearing only bubbles?”

  When the hot tub’s timer clicked off and I realized that very soon there would be no bubbles. I widened my eyes, swiveled my head and stared at the door. “Oh my God!” I sacrificed my hand that was covering my nether regions, shot gunned it out of the water and pointed. “What’s that?”

  Nick turned and stared. I took that moment to pull myself half out of the water, jam the timer back on and sink back in.

  “Oh, it’s you again,” Nick said.

  And just when I thought today couldn’t get worse?

  Cristoph strode into the room, pushed past Nick and knelt next to the Jacuzzi. “Cheryl Cavitt Carlson texted me and said that the hospital had released you.” He frowned. “But you hit your head. Should you be in the Jacuzzi? Isn’t that dangerous?”

  “I was wondering the same thing,” Nick said.

  “Okay it’s decided,” Cristoph said. “Time for you to get out of that tub right now.” He held out his hand to me.

  Nick also held out his hand to me. “I’ll help you. Like always.”

  Cristoph glared at him. “I don’t even know what you’re doing here, dude.”

  “The same thing you are, man. Just making sure Lizzie’s okay.”

  “I’m not getting out of this tub now or any time soon. Something really important would have to happen to make me get out of this tub,” I said. “You both need to leave—now.”

  “No, Nick needs to leave.” Cristoph pulled out that damn black velvet jewelry box, popped the lid open and held it in front me. “I’d say this is important. Marry me Elizabeth?”

  “I’m sleep deprived, Cristoph. I’m exhausted. I’m overwhelmed by your offer—like seriously I’m all a tingle—”

  “That’s just the extra strong, strategically placed water jet talking,” Nick said.

  “Zip it!” I shot him a dirty look and then smiled at Cristoph. “I need to sleep on your incredible question and I’ll give you an answer tomorrow.”

  “She’ll answer your question tomorrow,” Nick said.

  “Who died and put you in charge Nick? Oh and hah! That would never happen. You just want more time to influence and change her mind,” Cristoph said. “You hit your head thousands of times in soccer tournaments, Elizabeth. I know because I watched you and cheered from the sidelines. You were always fine after those games. Always knew exactly what you wanted: vanilla ice cream and lots of it.”

  “You used Elizabeth’s soccer tournaments to pick up the girls who were a few years older than her,” Nick said.

  “Like you didn’t?” Cristoph asked.

  I stared at the timer and watched as precious bubbly seconds ticked away.

  “Once,” Nick said. “How many times for you? Twenty? Thirty? Or is that number conservative? Besides, Elizabeth likes chocolate ice cream,” Nick said. “The darker the better.”

  “Might I remind you, I am the Crown Prince of Fredonia,” Cristoph said. “I am the heir apparent. As much as I like you, dude, I get first dibs—on everything.”

  “Elizabeth is not a dib!” I yelled.

  They turned and stared at me confused.

  “I mean—I am not a dib. Or maybe I am. What’s a dib?” I whistled under my breath.

  Carolina walked into the room and spotted the guys and me. She stopped in her tracks and fanned her face.

  I waved one hand in the air. “Help?” I mouthed.

  “Damaged goods,” Nick said. “You still want her, Cristoph, if she’s damaged goods?”

  I glared at him. “No way you just called me damaged goods?”

  “Everyone here needs to call it a night,” Carolina pulled it together and strode into the room. “You need to go home, gentlemen. There will be no decisions made and no important questions answered tonight.”

  I looked at Carolina and smiled. Thank God someone was looking out for me. When I heard boisterous hollering. “Get out of town, bitch!” A familiar female voice said.

  “Esmeralda you know the best tapas and tequila joints in every c
ountry.” Cheryl squealed as she slid through the doorway, landed on her ass and giggled uncontrollably. “Like seriously—you’re gifted.”

  “There’s been a mistake, ladies,” Carolina frowned. “Even though you are Elizabeth’s dear friends, this isn’t an appropriate time. I invite you to visit tomorrow: for tea and scones.”

  “Lizzie?” Joan slurred and waved a gigantic tequila bottle in front of me. “Lizzie, I see three gorgeous men, one of you and I insist you answer Mischief’s question. Are you going to marry him? Because if you don’t? I will.”

  “No-no, Joan. I’m going to marry him,” Cheryl said. “Prince Cristoph, I, Lady Cheryl Cavitt Carlson accept your ring. I will be your wife in sickness and in health, in—”

  “You’re already married,” Joan said.

  “Crap,” Cheryl said. “I’ll initiate divorce proceedings tomorrow. Give me the rose.” She burped. “Oops, sorry. That’s the enchiladas talking.”

  “Lizzie! He’s a prince. He’s gorgeous,” Joan said. “He totally loves you!”

  “No he doesn’t,” Nick said.

  “I do love you, Elizabeth,” Cristoph said. “I always have.”

  “Everyone needs to leave.” Carolina clapped her hands. “Now!”

  I peered around Carolina at Nick, Cristoph and the Ladies.

  “For God’s sake, Elizabeth, grow a backbone!” Esmeralda swiped the tequila bottle from Joan. “Don’t you know what you want?”

  “No. Maybe. I’m tired. Can I figure this out tomorrow?”

  “Do you remember that time we attended the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona?” Esmeralda asked.

  “Yes,” I lied.

  “Remember that brute of an animal with the huge tusks that careened through the streets while men raced in front of it and screamed like little girls?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “Remember the hairy, sweaty guy who was gored?”

  I shuddered. “Ew.”

  “You said, ‘Whoa, that’s one big tusk and he’ll be feeling that tomorrow.’”

  “I bet he did,” I said.

  “You squeezed my hand and made me promise to remind you about the power of a big tusk?”

  “You’re absolutely right.”

  “I have it on good authority that Prince Cristoph has a big—”

  “Ladies!” Carolina coughed. “Elizabeth has had an extremely long day.”

  “And she could be signing up to be Queen of Fredonia and married to a King with a big tusk. She could have it all,” Esmeralda said.

  “Guards!” Carolina shouted.

  Two muscular guards dressed in snappy black suits materialized at the door.

  Oh God, could this get any worse?

  “Yes Duchess?” one guard asked.

  “Escort Prince Cristoph and Nicholas as well as the Ladies to their limos, please. Make sure no one is driving themselves home tonight.”

  The guards bowed.

  Joan sighed. “Get up Cheryl.” She grabbed her wrist. “Come on. Your husband and wee ones are waiting. We’re out of here.”

  “Therein lies the problem. The wee ones are always weeing. And peeing and pooping,” Cheryl said. “I thought becoming a mother would make me feel motherly. Not like I needed to soak in a tub of anti-bacterial soap every day.”

  Esmeralda grabbed Cheryl’s other wrist and they dragged her out of the room.

  “What about—” Cristoph said.

  Carolina bowed her head. “Tomorrow.” She grabbed a white bathrobe from a wall cubicle and shook it out. “Come back with your question tomorrow, Prince Cristoph.”

  The room went a little fuzzy, but this time I didn’t black out. This time I held it together as I waved goodbye to the gorgeous men and my Ladies.

  Carolina handed me a robe, turned while I exited the tub and shrugged it on. “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  She held up one hand. “Look. You’ve been gone for a while. You aren’t really up to date on all that’s going on around here. Everyone’s excited you’re back and things just got a little out of hand. I’m not sharing this with your papa by the way.”

  “Thank God!” I said as she led me by the hand to my very red bedroom, pulled back the cushy duvet cover and tucked me into bed. “Thank you again, Carolina. You are very kind.”

  “You’re welcome. I only want what is best for you, your father and our beloved Fredonia. I left you some water on the nightstand. Tomorrow will be a better day, yes? Welcome home.” She leaned down and kissed me on my forehead.

  Her lips were cool and I couldn’t help the small shudder that rippled like a wave through me.

  “Interesting?” She gazed at me.

  “I think you’re mistaken.” I shook my head. “I’m not all that interesting.”

  “Not you—your photos,” she said. “In pictures you look like a natural blonde. But in person you’re definitely more brunette.” She patted my arm. “Sleep tight, Elizabeth. Don’t let those bad dreams bite.” She smiled and left the room.

  Chapter 17

  I spent the majority of the night tossing and turning, checking my phone for texts and e-mails as I waited for a reply from Lady and the Damp, and/or E, on how I should best handle this Cristoph engagement debacle. I suddenly felt parched and drank a little water. But Fredonia’s water had a funny acidy taste. Blech. Note to Self/Lucy: buy bottled water as long I was here.

  But the bigger question remained: should I say yes to Cristoph’s proposal? Or should I say no? Hold out? Delay? Ack, it was too much for a real Lady to figure out, let alone an imposter from the Southside of Chicago. This part-time job was not going according to plan. I finally fell asleep in the darkest of night and awoke, God knows how many minutes or hours later, when someone shook my arm roughly.

  “What?” I asked.

  “The incredible handsome Mr. Philip Philips ees on ze line for yous. He says ees urgent.” Helga thrust the landline phone into my face. “That I must wakes you up.”

  I gazed up into her beet red face and accepted the phone. “Thanks.”

  She pointed to the side table as she cleared the water that I’d barely sipped and replaced it with a steaming mug of coffee. “Drink.”

  I did. “So nice of you to finally call, Damp,” I said. “I could be dead, you know. At the very least I have a size-able lump on my head.”

  “Page fifty-four in the contract, paragraph three, states that we provide reasonable medical reimbursement for job-related injuries. I’ve been trying to get through to you for hours. Your cell isn’t accepting any texts. You need to reset it to factory mode and start over.”

  “Factory mode? My last job was in a bar, not a factory.”

  “You said you could improvise.”

  “Of course I can improvise. But with people and situations—not electronic devices. Did you know Elizabeth once danced topless at a nightclub on the Algarve? What’s an Algarve?” I paced the room. “Is that like Rush Street in Chicago? Freaking kill me now.” I threw one hand up in the air.

  “We bought that video footage and destroyed it. Who told you about that?”

  “Esmeralda, who seems to know Elizabeth’s darkest secrets. Cheryl Cavitt Carlson who is fond of tequila. And Joan Brady who rocks a sassy, red hairdo.”

  “Aah, yes, apparently you’ve met the rest of Elizabeth’s Ladies-in-Waiting.”

  “What do you mean, ‘The rest?’”

  “You already know Zara.”

  “The tight-ass make-over queen?” My hand flew to my chest. “She’s one of my Ladies-in-Waiting? Do you think you should have told me about the Ladies and more importantly this Prince Cristoph engagement thing before I ventured to Fredonia? And who is this Nick character?”

  Mr. Philip Philips inhaled sharply. “I saw the footage of Nick on the tarmac with you and the marching band. Did anything of a… delicate nature happen between the two of you?”

  “Yes, I mean no, I mean—what the hell do you care? Prince Cristoph keeps proposing to Elizabeth. What am I su
pposed to say? Yes, no, maybe-so? Is she going to marry him?”

  I jumped out of bed and paced when I spotted camera crews and vans parked twenty plus flights below our building. At least fifteen cameras angled up toward my window. “Crap!” I dropped onto my butt, hopefully out of sight. “Does she even want to marry him?”

  “Technically, yes. Elizabeth plans to marry Cristoph. She had no idea he’d propose so quickly. She thought you’d take her place for a few weeks—”

  “It was supposed to be ten days tops,” I said.

  “Does it matter? She’ll pay you more each day you’re in Fredonia. Elizabeth thought you’d attend several state dinners and flirt a little. She believed that she’d be back in plenty of time to accept Cristoph’s proposal and prepare a proper royal wedding.”

  Helga walked into the adjoining bathroom. “Running warm tub for you, Stinkzys.”

  “You’re a peach!”

  “No probs.” She waved a hand at me.

  I swiveled away from Helga and placed a protective hand over the phone. “I’m not dumb you know, Damp. If I accept Cristoph’s proposal, the shit’s going to hit Fredonia’s majestic fan. Did you even see the local media coverage of The Royal Engagement Debacle? Fox Fredonia aired a close up of my panties. They featured a half hour news special on the making of the lace. I was humiliated!” I grabbed the mug and slugged back the rest of the coffee.

  “Actually,” Mr. Philips said. “Elizabeth was humiliated. Because Lucille Trabbicio has never been to Fredonia, never passed out on a tarmac and not one single camera ever filmed up her pretty skirts. At least not one camera in Fredonia.”

  “You did not just say that!”

  “Besides, Elizabeth has never held down a full-time job, let alone a part-time job.”

  “I. Am. Going. To kill. The three of you.”

  “We are holding our collective breath.”

  “Your tub awaits stinkzys girl,” Helga said. “I have new loofah. So exciting!” She waved it high up in the air. “Very scratchy!” She disappeared into the bathroom.

  “Awesome! Just give me one sec.” I rolled over onto my stomach on the bed and scrunched my mouth next to the phone. “Look Damp. If I say yes to Cristoph, I’ll be enduring even more media scrutiny. While I’m great at improvising and rolling with the punches? This feels like a big freaking gut sucker punch and I’m not sure I can do this on my own. When is Elizabeth is showing up in Fredonia? When are you showing up? Or at the very least—Zara?”