Royal Pain

by Pike, Leslie

  Africa makes for great imaginations. Just outside of the edge of light, if you listen, there’s a cacophony of sounds.

  When I was a boy I’d imagine unseen beasts with fiery red eyes, crouching in the dark. The night was a great sea of black water. As I grew up my perception changed. Now the call of the lion, or the conversations of the monkeys, are nothing but gifts. And the inky blackness my cocoon.

  I take her hands and bring her to my arms, holding tightly. Just two lovers content to be together.

  * * *

  This bed isn’t as comfortable as mine. Whatever. The fact Belinda is next to me makes up for it. We’re tangled up in the sheets content to stay exactly where we are. The morning has laid bars of gold across Belinda’s back and highlights the curve of her ass. As if to make sure I haven’t overlooked the treasure in the room. I have not.

  “I could live in this moment. Just admit to the gods it’s never going to get any better than this,” I say, kissing the top of her head.

  She sighs. “Me too,” she says, looking up at me. “I feel so happy when I’m with you. It’s like you turned on the lights in my life.” Her brows lift. “Is that too much?”

  “It’s not nearly enough.”

  My lips find hers, like a magnet pulls metal toward itself. She’s a force of nature, like electricity and gravity. I guess it’s why she doesn’t have to be even touching to pull me in. But when she is, like now, my only impulse is to be closer.

  The kisses are soft and deep and full of unspoken words. The feel of my skin against hers creating some kind of unfamiliar sensation. There’s something new to our lovemaking. Now it’s not just passion and lust as our bedfellows, but meaning. There’s an intangible element. It’s what I sensed in the distance that first time. Now I know. It’s love set to physicality, making this act, this moment, something rare.

  Every cliché becomes fact in this bed. I’m melting into her. It’s not just physical but spiritual. I didn’t know that fucking is just the introduction. Lovemaking is the novel.

  * * *

  I watch Baas and Chudda board the jet. They’re checking it out before I get on. Even though Belinda and I sit on the hard plastic chairs at the small private terminal, my mind is still back in that bed. It wasn’t a two-hour fuckfest. We only had a half hour before having to leave for the airfield. But the experience was condensed only in time.

  All other components of our morning were present and accounted for. The tenderness alone made the encounter free of the constraints of time. There’s no doubt Belinda feels the same. I see it on her face and feel it in my heart. Damn. Listen to me. I sound like a love song.

  “Is that our plane?” she says, eyeing the sleek private jet on the runway.

  “It is. It’s not ours, but my family has use of it whenever we want.”

  “How’s that?”

  “The richest man in South Africa is one of the king’s best friends. He owns three diamond mines in Africa. Desmond Thompson. One little jet means nothing to him.”

  Her eyes go wide. “You live in such a fairy tale world.” But as soon as the words leave her mouth, she adds a caveat. “I mean, now. Of course I know you’ve lived the very opposite of a fairy tale.” She touches my hand. “I’m sorry. What a ridiculous thing for me to say.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I understand what you meant.”

  I kiss her discomfort away.

  “They’re ready for us. Let’s go.”

  Making our way to the jet I wrap my arm around her. That’s when I see the flight attendant. Crap. It’s Tilly coming to greet us. Shit. I hadn’t thought about this possibility. When she gets to the bottom of the steps she looks up and smiles. I know that smile. She’s amused and not surprised to see me. I make an executive decision right on the spot. Better to be transparent while I have the chance.

  “By the way, that flight attendant and I have a history. I didn’t know she’d be on this flight. Just want you to know. There shouldn’t be secrets between us.”

  That’s all the time I had to spill my guts, and Belinda has no time to react or respond.

  “Good morning, Prince Zan,” Tilly says, holding my gaze a few beats too long.

  “Good morning, Tilly. This is Belinda, my girlfriend.”

  That one surprised all three of us. And pissed off only one.

  “How lovely to meet you, Belinda. Please, make your way inside.”

  Her professionalism belies what I know is true. Her head is about to blow off about now. Unfortunately, I was attracted to fiery women for a while. That’s the wrong word. Psychos. I was attracted to women on the verge of meltdowns. I mistook that for passion. Right about now that seems idiotic.

  With Tilly I was too cowardly to return her many texts and angry calls that came when I walked away. I almost changed my number. Again. I’ve left a trail of angry women over the years. Eventually they would just give up. But today it’s coming back to bite me in the ass. I wanted a relaxing hour’s flight. Instead I’ll be on the lookout for a knife in my back.

  Belinda leads the way. I thought she’d look back but she didn’t. That’s a secure woman. Of course she is. I haven’t seen one thing I don’t like about her. Once inside the jet we take our seats.

  “Would you like a mimosa?” Tilly asks, speaking directly to me.

  “Yes, I would,” Belinda says casually.

  Neither woman looks at the other. Oh shit. Tilly turns and heads for the galley. Normally I would have been looking at her walk away. That was before I knew what a spectacular ass really looks like.

  “So, tell me about it,” Belinda whispers.

  I don’t even bother asking what she’s referring to. I know.

  “Three months, four years ago. It ended badly because she’s crazy and I can be a dick. Correction. I could be a dick then. That’s the old Zan.”

  She seems to be satisfied with my condensed version of Tilly’s and my romance. There’s a squeeze of my hand and a quick kiss. Interesting. I’m used to having to go into more detail to convince someone I’m over a prior relationship. Belinda knows. She’s confident of her own place in my life. She’s right, of course.

  Belinda is an impressive woman. She saw the past has no hold on me, so didn’t punish me for having one. It’s the future that’s on my mind, and she saw that too. When it’s obvious, it’s fucking obvious.

  Chapter 14

  Belinda

  This country, this continent. One flight over three hundred miles of African hills and plains and I’m hooked on the dream. I’m seeing scenes straight from the movies. Specifically, Out of Africa. Cue Robert Redford and Meryl Streep.

  I watch herds of animals traveling in dusty reddish storms raised by the pounding of their hooves. Oxen and wildebeest. In the flat country with distant hills, I saw giraffes with bending necks trying to eat the spreading Acacias. And birds! Huge flocks flying over the land in massive migration.

  But when we crossed from edges of South Africa into Mozia is when everything became clear. I understood another layer of Zan and his family, the connection to this magical place on Earth. Even from this height I could see the draw of the unique landscape and colors that make the land.

  The late autumn shades of amber and red spread across the hills. Golden grasses lay across the plains. A big natural sapphire-blue lake lays at the southern tip of the country.

  It’s been a spectacular, stunning, breathtaking moment in time. I’ll never forget the flight. The plane comes to a rolling stop. The sounds of the engine being turned off and the sudden quiet that follows.

  “Did you enjoy yourself? Your face was pressed to the window the whole time.”

  I know he’s happy seeing my reaction. It’s genuine and he can feel it.

  “Oh, Zan! I’ve never been so swept away by a place. It almost makes me want to cry. I have a lump in my throat. Really.”

  He unbuckles and works on mine.

  “Mozia is absolutely beautiful from the air.”

  He motions
for me to lead the way out of the plane and I oblige.

  “Honestly, I can’t believe what we saw in just a little over an hour! I was looking for lions, but I didn’t see any,” I say over my shoulder.

  “You’re not going to see every animal in your first hour here! Patience, Princess.”

  What? Was that just a nickname or was he teasing me? I hear a little chuckle under his breath, and it makes me smile. Good thing he can’t see my face. I nod to that whore Tilly, who does the same in return. Zan doesn’t say a word to her or she to him.

  Walking out to the bright sunlight, my eyes gradually adjust.

  “Welcome to Mozia!” the voices of children ring out.

  At the bottom of the steps awaits Tarik, a petite woman I imagine is his wife, and four male children. The tallest no older than fourteen. Wide smiles and contained energy make the picture. I turn back to Zan.

  “Oh look! Your brother and his family are here!”

  I wave to our greeters and start down the steps to the children’s squeals.

  When I make it to the tarmac the kids suddenly go shy. Except for the littlest, who is doing a kind of happy dance in our honor.

  “Hello, everyone! What a welcome party!”

  Tarik wraps an arm around the woman. “Belinda, I’d like to introduce my wife, Princess Monifa.

  She puts out two hands, reaching for mine.

  “Welcome to our country, Belinda.”

  Her smile is welcoming and I sense a real warmth.

  “Thank you, Princess. I’m so happy Prince Zan invited me.” Then turning to the children, “And who are these handsome boys?”

  Their shyness turns back to excitement. Two are peeking around me to see their uncle. Looks like he’s a favorite.

  “Uncle Zan!” the oldest boy shouts. He breaks away from his brothers and throws his arms around Zan for a hug. He’s the only teenager and I don’t think he’s older than fourteen or fifteen.

  “Hello, guys! Hey, I’m glad you all showed up for our guest. Boys, this is Belinda.”

  “Is she your girlfriend?” the second oldest child asks. He looks to be about ten.

  Princess Monifa sends a silent message to stop asking personal questions with her expression. The boy quiets, by pressing his lips together, holding back a laugh.

  Tarik looks at me and throws up his hands. “Children are brutally honest and absolutely curious.”

  “Yes, Isoba. Belinda is my girlfriend.” Zan puts a hand on my back. “Belinda, these are my nephews. Isoba, Nubia, Kojo, and this little guy is Gugu.”

  They each offer me a kiss on the cheek, and it’s my pleasure to accept.

  “Okay let’s get going. Mother and Father are waiting. There’s a lunch,” Tarik says, leading the way.

  * * *

  Driving onto the compound is an experience I won’t forget. Tall iron gates, guarded by armed men in uniform, juxtaposed by a van full of energetic children whose innocence charms me. Even Nubia, the eldest, is playful with his brothers.

  The colored stone road leading in is different. It’s a deep pink, and against the green foliage it looks dramatic. The shades of late blooming flowers and tree blossoms line the road.

  “Tell Mom we’ll be at the house in fifteen minutes,” Zan says.

  “Okay. Don’t get sidetracked, brother.”

  A quiet chuckle is his only response. As we take one more curve in the road, a beautiful house comes into view. One story, a soft yellow stucco exterior with a red tiled roof. Wide steps lead up to a porch. There’s black glossy ceramic pots with small trees I don’t recognize on either side of the tall glossy black carved door.

  “Here we are,” Princess Monifa says.

  “This is your house?” I ask.

  A big smile breaks out on Zan’s face. “Yeah. What do you think?”

  “It’s really beautiful.”

  The car comes to a stop. As soon as little hands grab the handles of the doors, their mother speaks up. “Stay where you are. We’re not going in.” Mumbles can be heard, but they obey. “We’ll see you at the house,” the princess adds.

  “See you there,” I answer.

  Tarik pops the trunk and gets out. Zan and I follow.

  “Want me to take it in?” Tarik asks, standing my big suitcase upright. He pulls the carryon behind him.

  “I’ve got it. Thanks,” Zan says, taking them both from him.

  “See you two soon,” he says, returning to the car. Little hands can be seen waving from the windows.

  “Let’s drop your things off and then we can walk to the big house.”

  “I can help.” I try to take the small case, but he refuses with a tight grip.

  “I got it. Door’s open. Just walk in.”

  I climb the stairs all the while trying to absorb the setting. It’s really perfect here. The house looks like it’s private, even though I know his entire family lives on the same plot of land. Must be acres though.

  Opening the front door, I’m taken by the warmth of the great room. It’s modern, but not cold. Large but not cavernous. It’s got a real charm. There’s not a lot of doodads, as my grandmother used to say, sitting on the surfaces. But the topper is the picture window on the back wall. It reveals a lush garden.

  “Oh, Zan. This is spectacular!”

  “You like it? Really? I put a lot of thought into this place.”

  “It shows.”

  He abandons the luggage and comes to me. Our arms wrap around each other and we take the kiss. Then ten. I feel the erection pressing against my stomach and give him my amused look. One eyebrow up with a little smirk.

  He backs away, chuckles, and adjusts himself. “We’ve got to stop now. It wouldn’t do showing up with a hard on. Pretty sure my parents would be horrified.”

  My laughter is all the response I can give.

  * * *

  Shutting the door behind us, we head for the big house. Down a pink stone path, winding through the trees. Big house. That’s what Zan calls it. When I asked if I should refer to it as a palace he laughed. “It’s just the family home. Big and beautiful, but nothing like a palace,” he says. Then his face darkens. “I want to tell you something.”

  “What?”

  “It’s about my father. When you see him don’t be shocked. He looks different from when we were in New York.” My stomach drops when I see his eyes well with tears. “Shit. I’ve got to get in control.”

  “Tell me.”

  “My father has cancer. It’s moving quickly. There’s no treatment available. He’s dying.” Zan spits out all the words as if it’s one thought. It hits me in my soul. Not only for the king, but for his son, who clearly loves his father.

  “I’m so sorry, Zan. Oh. What devastating news for your family. For your country.”

  “There hasn’t been an official announcement but of course there’s talk. People aren’t stupid. And he hasn’t made any public appearances for two weeks now.”

  We arrive at the “big house” but I barely take in its appearance.

  “I know this is silly, but if there’s anything I can do to make even one thing easier for you or your family please tell me. Am I supposed to know this information?”

  “They know I’m telling you. I convinced them you could be trusted with the information.”

  A nod of my head confirms he’s made the right decision.

  He opens the door and we walk inside. Immediately I’m lifted from feelings of sadness and empathy to lightness and joy. The laughter of little children and the sounds of lively conversation in another room reaches us in the entry. Zan’s face brightens and he wipes the remnants of his tears away.

  “This way,” he says, taking my hand.

  We walk toward the noise which is getting louder. I hear the laughter of the king, whose timber is unmistakable. It’s weaker though. When we enter the great room I’m taken by the scene. And completely surprised. There’s red, white, and blue decorations, small flags of the United States on the huge dining tab
le, and the king and queen are dressed in red. What? Is this for me?

  “Belinda!” the king says, arms open. I try not to react to his appearance. Thank God Zan warned me. I go to the king and he offers a hug which I take and give.

  “Hello, darling. We’re so happy you could come for a visit,” the queen says.

  Their whole vibe is different. This is who they really are, away from the stiffness of interviews or public appearances. It’s startling in its authenticity.

  “Thank you, your home and grounds are magnificent.” I look around at the theme of the luncheon and ask, “Is this in my honor?”

  Quiet laughter starts and grows into a hearty show. Everyone’s in on the private joke but me. But I’m amused too.

  “No, my dear. It’s the Fourth of July. We celebrate Zan’s childhood holidays. We’re doing it a little off schedule this year,” she says, locking eyes with me. I understand.

  “My mother was an American,” Zan chuckles, enjoying my confusion.

  “Oh!”

  Kwai enters the room, carrying two big boxes with unmistakable graphics revealing the contents.

  “We’ve got fireworks!” he says.

  “Fireworks? That’s so cool!” Nubia hollers.

  That’s how the lunch began. My confusion, the children’s excitement, and the sense of being totally comfortable amongst these people. This wonderful family. They’re inclusive. And watching them interact in their family home is impressive. They not only love each other, they like each other too.

  Even Kwai, who I sized up early, is more complex than I thought. Under the impatience lies a goodness. It’s pretty well hidden, but it’s there. Tarik and family are the centerpieces of the family puzzle. The grandchildren adored. Seeing the king with one child on each knee is adorable. They love their grandfather. It’s so obvious.