Zach stared at the sidewalk, not speaking.
Jax wasn’t prince material. He wasn’t from old bloodlines like Zach, he wasn’t a good guy like Ian or Owen. And yet, if they asked him to be a prince again—for the kids—he’d do it. Because he wanted to. Because he’d be in a place much worse off if it weren’t for a few people looking out for him.
Ryuto “Duke” Lopez:
This Navy veteran likes to work with his hands. He prides himself on being a self made man and defining who he is, but it doesn’t change the fact that he has always been left on the outside looking in. A child of two cultures who belongs to none, except that of a rumbling engine and fast bike.
Duke bobbed his knee and checked the time.
Was it over yet?
Why the hell had he said yes?
He could have skipped the media shitstorm like Blake and Jaxon were. At least Vas had a reason—he was on-shift at the firehouse. Duke could be working on that sweet fifties bike restoration job. He was finally done working through the caked-on grease, the years of dirt and scrubbing off the shitty paint job. When he was done, that bike was going to be museum quality. Instead, he was packed into a tiny room with too many of the guys. It was hot, stuffy, and he was pretty sure his balls were starting to sweat.
“Holy fuckin’ shit.” Ian stared at his phone.
“What now?” Duke asked. It was what they were all thinking.
“One of those fancy mornin’ shows. They want to fly us into New York.” Ian blinked at him.
Just about everyone muttered a curse under their breath.
Five days.
In five days that stupid video had over a million hits. There were people all over the country sending them fan mail.
Duke had a dozen letters from little girls dressed as Mulan sent directly to his motorcycle shop.
Who the fuck let their kid write a letter to a biker dude like him? He didn’t exactly look like prince material with his busted mug, the scars or the tattoos, but that didn’t seem to matter.
Still, the reach of what they’d done was astounding. Duke hadn’t even played a real prince, but it didn’t seem to matter to these kids. He’d become a hero by wearing fake armor and being half-Japanese, and he wasn’t entirely comfortable with it. Hell, whenever anyone said, “Thank you for your service,” in regards to his time spent in the Navy, he had no fucking clue what to say to them, much less all these letters from kids.
“Did you guys know there’s an audience?” Levi blinked at him. The poor guy was paler than usual. Duke had dragged him along simply because if he had to do it, so did Levi.
“Yup.”
“We should...like, have a plan. What are we going to say? Have we thought about it?” Levi stared around the room.
“Not really...” Ian was getting a little green around the gills.
Duke mentally re-read the pages written in large, looping letters. Some of it wasn’t even legible, but it didn’t matter. Those kids, boys and girls alike, had seen their stupid asses dancing in a video and found some joy. Some hope.
“We keep it focused on the kids,” Duke said. “That’s why we did this. That’s what matters. Stay positive, stick to the kids, and it’ll be over before we know it.”
The guys nodded, as if he were speaking some sort of sage advice.
Fuck, this was a circus if they were looking at him for guidance. He knew how to handle bikers, hobbyists and tire kickers. Kids and this media stuff? It was so far outside of his realm of expertise. He fixed bikes. Period. Hell, he’d moved to Seattle to escape the heavy sense of expectation from his parents.
Maybe he should go visit some of his dad’s family in Argentina for a bit. Let all of this blow over.
Except he couldn’t. Javier wanted to work on their pet project, the other guys didn’t have the patience for Levi’s tinkering, and then there was the normal day-to-day business. He couldn’t really leave it to anyone since their office manager had retired and Duke hadn’t brought someone new on yet. It was his own damn fault he was stuck. He wasn’t a prince. He wasn’t a hero. And playing one just felt like lying.
“Hey, guys.” Javier stepped into the dressing room.
Great.
Another body.
As if there weren’t enough of them crammed in here already.
“The children’s hospital just called me. They wanted to know if we’d be interested in coming by sometime next week.” Javier grinned like it was the best news ever.
Duke groaned.
Ian’s niece and her friends were easy, happy kids. What the hell was he supposed to do with the ones at the hospital? He needed to get out of this.
“I don’t know, man.” Ian frowned.
“They’re kids, dude. If you’re not working, not doing anything, why not make someone else’s day better and stop being a grump with a stick up his ass?” Javier’s gaze narrowed.
Ian glared right back.
Looked like their truce was over.
Awesome.
And here they were about to be on regional TV. At least this wasn’t syndicated or anything. The only people who’d know would be those that lived in the city. It was going to be good for business more than likely, which brought Duke back to why he was going to stick this out.
Someone tapped on the door and a woman with a headset stepped through the door.
“You guys are on in ten. You need anything?” She glanced around.
Duke’s stomach rolled and twisted worse than it ever had when he was on a ship.
Maybe he needed a hurling bag.
“Okay then, if you guys would follow me this way I’ll show you to our green room. We do cut to it on-air, so just know that you could be on camera while you’re in there, okay?”
Duke’s palms were even sweaty.
To think, the things that made him nervous weren’t battle, leaving home at eighteen, or facing down burly bikers, it was cameras. Cameras and faceless, nameless people watching him. Yeah, he was making a great prince. Or whatever the hell he was.
“If you’re thinking of bolting, I’m right behind you,” Levi whispered.
“Oh, no. We’re doing this.” Duke shoved Levi toward the door and followed after him.
Maybe he should have dressed up a bit for this, but at the time wearing one of the shop shirts had seemed like good advertising. Proof that once more, he was no prince. Princes didn’t need to advertise.
Andre Wilson:
He believes that change starts with a single person, and he plans to be that person. Andre sees the good in everyone and tries to nurture it. If he can’t foster goodwill, he figures brewing the perfect cup of coffee is the next best thing.
Andre sat across from the two morning anchors, his palms a little damp, the stool a touch wobbly, and excitement buzzing inside of him just the same. He understood some of the guys’ reluctance and flat-out hating the attention, but the way Andre saw it this was an opportunity.
The world was so full of dissention and fear, people needed hope. And children more than any other age group. They needed to believe in good, in fairy tales, in possibility, because when they did, they went on to do great and amazing things.
“Going live in five... Four...”
“What the fuck do I say?” Ian whispered. “I’m not cut out for this.”
“Three...”
“Want me to do the talking?” Andre wouldn’t steal what was rightfully Ian’s thing, but neither would he turn down the chance to take the bull by the horns.
“Two...”
“Be my guest.” Ian said.
“One... And go.”
“Good morning, I’m Suzie McWinters,” the perky blonde said to the camera.
“And I’m Leo Crawford.” The well-known black anchor gave his signature grin to the camera. “Today we have the Trinity Hall Princes with us. You may have seen their smooth moves and touching pictures online. These guys have taken social media by storm after helping out at a little girl’s birthday party. Ta
ke a look.”
The studio seemed to exhale, and, behind Andre, the second tier of guys shifted.
“Okay, guys, camera’s going to cut back to us, and who am I talking to?” Leo asked.
“Me.” Andre waved.
“Nice, nice brother.”
“Coming back in three, two, one.” The stage hand pointed at Leo and Suzie.
“Guys, let me first say—wow. What a performance.” Leo’s grin was contagious. He exuded the kind of confidence Andre wished he had deep down. “How did you guys get together to do something like this?”
“It was a happy accident, really.” Andre sat up a bit straighter, his gaze locked on Leo’s to keep from looking at the cameras. “Ian’s niece was having a princess-themed birthday.”
“And she’s this little girl?” Leo gestured to a screen.
Delilah and Owen were captured in a picture with their foreheads pressed together, both of them grinning like Cheshire cats.
“Yeah, that’s Delilah. She’s a great kid. I met her before I ever met Ian and the rest of these guys at this physical therapy center. She’s got so much zest for life in her. We just wanted to help make her birthday extra special.”
“I can see that. It looks like we’ve got everyone from Cinderella’s Prince Charming to—is that you?” Leo slapped his leg, laughing.
“Yeah, yeah that’s me.” Andre shook his head and laughed. The costume was reminiscent of the latest movie rendition of The Frog Prince, complete with a green suit and half-cape.
“I love that, man. Love it.”
“Yeah, we had a lot of fun with it, and all we were looking to do was put a smile on these kid’s faces. We had no idea things would get this big.”
“And it’s huge. You guys are everywhere in—what? Five days?”
“Yeah, it’s nuts. We’re getting letters from all over the country and invitations to take the act on the road.”
“You thinking about it?”
“I don’t—”
“I’d be interested to know if the parents of the children knew one of their entertainers was a felon.” Suzie delivered that line with all the chill of a frosty winter morning.
Andre stared at the woman glaring at him.
What the hell?
Who was she talking about?
Even Leo sat there gaping at her like she’d grown another head.
“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Andre recovered first, pasting on a smile. Wasn’t this supposed to be the fluff, feel good piece of the morning? That was how the news show had pitched it to them.
“Isn’t it true your cousin, Jaxon Wilson, was charged with, what was it?” Suzie pulled a card from her pocket.
“Jaxon isn’t a felon.” Sweat broke out around Andre’s collar. What the ever-loving hell was going on? Yeah, Jaxon had gotten into a spat of trouble years ago, when he was a kid, but he was past that.
“But he was charged with money laundering, wasn’t he?” Suzie’s eyes gleamed.
“What?” Andre was going to be sick. “No. No that’s...”
“Jax? No.” Duke’s automatic rejection echoed Andre’s thoughts.
“Look,” Owen leaned forward, “whatever problems Jaxon had when he was a teenager, he was acquitted. We don’t hold mistakes against people in this country. Jax is a great guy, and he pitched in to help make this little girl’s party a success. That’s what’s really important, and I think that speaks a lot more about Jax’s character than anything he did in error as a kid.”
“Cut to commercial,” the stage hand said.
Andre stared at Owen. Was he hearing him right?
Had the cop just stuck up for Jax?
“Hey, lady, we’re here to talk about kids.” Javier glared at the blonde woman. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but this isn’t cool. Jax lost his job because of this stuff, and you accusing him of shit he didn’t do ain’t helping him.”
“Suzie, what the hell?” Leo whirled on the woman.
“I...just, no one was talking about it.” She glanced from Javier to Leo, and then the stage hand who wasn’t making eye contact with her.
“Guys. I am so sorry about this, will you give us a moment?” Leo planted his hand against Suzie’s back and ushered her off stage.
“What just happened?” Ian asked.
“We got set up is what happened, man.” Javier stood, muttering curses.
“I’m done with this bullshit,” Duke said.
“Yeah, me too. If this is the kind of story they wanted, they could have gone somewhere else for it.” Javier yanked at the microphone attached to his shirt.
“Wow, wow, wow. Wait a minute guys, please?” The stage hand rushed forward. She glanced over her shoulder, then covered her mic. “Look, Suzie’s new. She went way off the rails. This was supposed to be a fluffy, feel good piece. Please, give Leo a chance to make it right?”
“How do you make that right?” Andre asked. “Javier is right. Jax has already lost his job because of this circus, now everyone’s going to think he’s a convict. No, we’re done. Come on, guys.”
“Wait. Hold on, guys.” Ian planted himself between them and the exit. “Think about it. We walk out of here, that bird wins. She gets to paint Jax as a loser and a criminal. All that matters is what she says, not us. Not Jax.”
“So, what? We sit here and let her call our characters into question?” Andre gestured at the stage exit where Leo and Suzie had disappeared.
“Leo’s coming back, just—give him a chance, please?” The woman chewed her lip.
“I don’t know,” Ian shrugged. “Leavin’ just seems like we’re tellin’ everyone what she says is right.”
And staying felt like Andre was betraying Jax.
“Guys? I’m so sorry about that.” Leo approached the stage, alone this time. “The good news? The control room was able to cut off the last bit of what she said.”
“How much went out?” Andre asked.
“I’m not sure, but please, let me try to spin this in a better way?” Leo glanced around at them.
“I want a copy of the whole interview. Uncut.” At least Andre could make sure Jax saw the whole thing. How Owen, of all people, jumped in to defend him.
“Done,” Leo replied.
“Going on air,” the stage hand said.
“Guys, back.” Ian waved them back to their stools.
Andre would never understand people whose sole purpose was bringing others down. Sure, Suzie might argue journalism or getting the truth, but talking about Jax’s past did no one any good. Jax was a good guy whose crimes involved caring too much and doing the right thing for the wrong reason. He was misguided at worst, but deep down, there wasn’t a more loyal, generous person. And Andre would be damned if the world saw his cousin as anything but the kind of man he was. They might not be princes, but they were good people, and Ian was right. Good people had to stand up for what they believed in.
Erik Larsen:
After years touring the world doing the kind of odd jobs he couldn’t write home about, Erik is now content to own his bar and lead a quiet life. At least on the surface.
Erik ignored the tittering girls at the end of the bar.
They’d been coming in droves the last week. This particular group had dubbed themselves The Prince Chasers. All they were doing was driving his regulars out the door and buying shots by the dozen. Just about every one of the guys were laying low and hiding out, the exception being Jaxon working the bar tonight and Blake holding down a barstool.
“Another, Erik.” Blake pushed the pint glass toward him.
Erik considered telling the guy no. He’d put down a few already, but what the hell? This whole dancing prince bullshit wasn’t for everyone.
“Your partner’s been in looking for you, ya know?” Erik grabbed a chilled glass and filled it with Blake’s preferred amber brew.
“He’s not my partner anymore.”
“Yeah, well he’s still worried about
you.”
“Why do you think I do all my drinking early?” Blake grimaced.
“Okay.” Erik wiped down the bar and slid another coaster toward Blake.
“Fuck me.” Blake turned his back toward the girls. “That’s all I need, some girl pitying the cripple. Tab me out?”
The Prince Chasers had caught sight of Blake and were edging down the bar.
Erik bit the inside of his mouth.
The only person who pitied Blake was Blake. It wasn’t the first comment he’d made about being the peg leg of the group. Erik believed the guy was due some slack. He’d lost a limb and his livelihood all in one go. That was going to take the wind out of his sails, but fuck. At some point Blake, like every other person who’d hit a rock bottom, would need to pick himself up by the bootstraps and move on.
“Go on. You’re good for it.” Erik thumbed Blake toward the patio.
“Thanks, man.” Blake downed most of the pint before abandoning that and the stool.
Erik wiped down the gleaming wood, drying the damp circles left by glasses.
To think, when he’d won the bar in a poker game he’d thought about just burning the joint down. When he’d first stepped foot in the building he’d nearly died from a collapsing beam. How far it’d come. On any given night the place was damn well near full.
The Prince Chasers put in an order for another round. Jaxon was keeping away from them. Erik didn’t have that luxury. He shouldn’t complain. Plenty of people had come to the bar since the video and pictures went viral. If Erik was more of a people person he’d ham it up. Instead, he was happy to serve drinks, answer questions, and direct any further inquiries at Andre or Ian who’d become the spokesmen for the group.
“Got one for me?”
Erik paused.
That voice.
Damn, but every time he heard her, saw her, it was like a magnet pulling him in.
He inhaled and schooled his face into a mask of normalcy before he turned, glass in hand.
“Got one coming up. What are you out and about for today?” He was careful with the glass, wiping the sides down so that the beer wouldn’t get on her fingers.
Twisted Royals Origin Story Page 5