Froggy Style

by J. A. Kazimer

  Lollie snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Kermit. Are you going to answer me?”

  “Oh. Right. Sorry.” I groaned, erasing from my head the image of Lollie’s long legs wrapped around my ears. “Do you know what the name La Grenouille stands for?”

  “Arrogant idiot?” She grinned. When I didn’t share her humor, she rolled her eyes. “I took French. La Grenouille stands for ‘the Frog,’ hence why they call you the Frog Prince. So?”

  “So thirty-five years ago my parents fell in love. And I’m not talking the kind of love we shared last night.” Not the sort of love that took a mop and bucket to clean up, not that I’d minded swabbing Lollie’s decks. “I’m talking about the real deal. L.O.V.E. The happily-ever-after kind.”

  “Gross.” Her lip curled. “What’s this got to do with your fancy French name or why you’re so desperate to marry Sleeping Beauty?”

  “I’m getting to it.” Crossing the room, I stopped at the bar to pour myself a cup of coffee. “A few years into their happily-ever-after, my grandfather ordered my father to give him an heir. My father didn’t want anything to interfere with the time he spent with his bride, but he finally agreed when my grandfather threatened to cut him off.” A sort of family tradition, I supposed, noting my own current financial quandary. The only difference was, I wouldn’t let the Frog King’s money rule my life. I was my own frog prince, damn it.

  “It’s not the worst reason to have a kid, I guess.” Her eyes narrowed. “So what happened?”

  “A curse happened.” I shivered, my voice thick. “Try as they might, my parents couldn’t conceive. My grandfather grew more desperate, pressuring my father until . . . well, one day, he—”

  “I still don’t understand what this has to do with you,” she interrupted as she plopped down on the hotel room couch. “You weren’t even born yet.”

  “Precisely.”

  “What?”

  “My father did the only thing he could think of. He offered a witch riches beyond compare if she would give him a son.”

  “Huh.” She nodded. “Your mother’s a witch?”

  “No. The witch cast a spell and soon after, my mother became pregnant with me. Mother rejoiced for nine months, until the night she went into labor. The labor was hard. So difficult that my mother . . .” I took a deep breath, the horror of that night infused in every word. “Died. A brain hemorrhage the doctor declared.”

  “My God.” Lollie’s hand flew to her heart. “I’m so sorry. I lost my mother when I was young too.”

  “If only it was that easy.” I smiled sadly. “The thing is, my mother didn’t stay dead, Lollie. You see, my father, in his great wisdom, did what any fool in love would do. He sacrificed everything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Frog King, then only a prince like me, called for his guards to bring the old witch to my mother’s bedside and demanded the witch save my mother. She told him that nothing could be done to save her. But my father refused to listen.” I gave a bitter laugh. “He was next in line to be the Frog King, after all.”

  I turned to watch the tourists on the Cin City strip below. My voice sounded odd to my ears, mechanical, as if the story I told was nothing more than a fable. But it wasn’t. It was my life. “My father loved my mother so much that he offered the old witch his most prized possession if she would save his queen.”

  “Rookie mistake,” Lollie said.

  I nodded. “The witch accepted his offer, waved her hands in the air, and sure enough my mother began to breathe once again.”

  “And the witch?” Lollie leaned forward, enthralled with my tale. “Did she take your father’s most prized possession?”

  “I wish it was that easy,” I said. “Rather than pay her price, he had the old witch arrested and charged with witchcraft.”

  Lollie sucked in a sharp breath. “He didn’t.”

  I nodded. “Ten days later, on the morning the witch was to be hanged for her black deeds, my father awoke to find my mother standing over my crib, crying.” My throat tightened. The queen still cried, to this day, locked away in her tower. Inconsolable with grief. I hated my father for that.

  “How sad. Your poor mother.” Lollie’s hand covered her mouth. “Why was she crying? Were you missing?”

  I turned to face her. “I was there.”

  “So what caused her distress?”

  “A frog.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  I stared into her dark eyes, so devoid of color like the darkest recesses of my soul. “The witch had her revenge. She took what was most precious to my father. His most prized possession.”

  Lollie lowered her gaze. “Your mother.”

  “Yes.” I vowed to never fall in love, to never allow someone to wield that much power over me. Being cursed and forced to marry a serial-killing nitwit was bad enough.

  “But how?” she asked.

  “By turning the queen’s baby into a frog.”

  “No.”

  I swallowed, afraid, as if saying the curse aloud could somehow make it all the more true. “And she will have her revenge again in a couple of days.”

  “How?”

  “On my thirtieth birthday, unless I marry the One, the curse strikes again.”

  “The One?”

  “The woman, well, she was more of a girl really, when we first met at the pond, who broke my curse twenty-two years ago.”

  Lollie’s face lost all color. “Sleeping Beauty.”

  I nodded.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  Chapter 45

  Lollie’s reaction wasn’t quite what I’d expected. Rather than run away, disgusted by the fact she’d recently made love to a man who’d once digested flies, she paced the room, muttering, as if my curse was now her burden. I caught the words “pond,” “girl,” and “greenish moron” as she flew by.

  I reached for her arm, stopping her mid-mutter. “Are you all right?”

  “What?” She ducked her head. “Of course I’m all right. I just need to think.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly in the voice I reserved for the village idiot. “I’m going to meeting Karl downstairs so he can drive me to the warehouse. Do you want to join us?” Not that I wanted her within a hundred feet of Spindle or my soon-to-be bride, but it didn’t feel right to leave her locked up in my hotel room either, especially after I just dropped a frogshell like that in her lap.

  Besides, what if she was right and Sleeping Beauty really did want to remove both Lollie and me from the picture? Leaving Lollie here would be like inviting an ex-girlfriend to my wedding and handing her a knife to cut my throat as well as the wedding cake.

  “You’re going to the warehouse. Now?” Lollie’s face paled and her lips started to tremble. Then her face relaxed as something occurred to her. “What about the money? It will take you a couple of hours at least to gather that much cash.”

  I walked to the hotel safe and punched in a four-digit code. The safe opened, revealing stacks of cash, all neatly laundered and pressed, a job I often forced upon Karl when he annoyed me. I picked up a stack, weighed it in my hand, and then shoved it in a black bag. “That should do it.”

  Lollie’s eyes grew wide as she stared at the money. “A little walking-around money?”

  “Petty cash. Besides, my fairy godmother told me, always be prepared. That’s the frog prince motto,” I said, raising my hand in a Prince Scout salute, which equaled a raised middle finger.

  “Hmm . . .” Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. “In my experience, princes salute in a very different manner.” Her face quickly sobered. “Didn’t your dad disown you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So . . .” Her hand motioned to the petty cash and the safe.

  I shrugged as my p-Phone jangled. “Hey, Karl. What’s up?” I answered after a quick glance at the caller ID. I listened for a few seconds while he blathered on and on. For a bald, not-so-charming manservant, Karl could talk. I rolled my ey
es at Lollie. She grinned back, but her smile slipped as soon as I stepped away. Distress was etched in every inky line on her body. Was she worried about Spindle? The thought caused a small—tiny really, nothing to even be concerned about—pain in my chest.

  “Okay, we’ll be down in a few minutes.” I hung up and grinned at Lollie. “Karl ordered you some fresh clothes. Once the maid gets here, you can change and then we’ll be on our way. But, Lollie,” I began, my voice growing cold, “don’t make me regret this. You’ll do as I say. Stay in the car and keep quiet. I don’t want you to get hurt.” The very thought made that tiny ache explode into full-on indigestion.

  She beamed up at me, the picture of innocence in a body designed by the devil himself. “You’re the boss, Kermit. Your wish is my command.”

  I wished she’d stop saying that. It made focusing on the matter at hand all but impossible. Yet even as she promised complete wish fulfillment, I knew like a punch in the gut I’d regret ever bringing Ms. Bliss anywhere near my bride. Probably had something to do with the evil gleam in Lollie’s dark, almost mauve in color, eyes.

  Rolling up to Spindle’s warehouse in an ugly yellow Ford Princess probably wasn’t the smartest move. The car screamed for attention; add a slightly-olive-in-the-face prince, a bald manservant, and a tattooed lady, plus two hundred thousand dollars in unmarked bills, and we looked much more like a circus act than a rescue team.

  “Are you sure this is the place?” Lollie asked, her eyes darting around. “It looks sort of . . . abandoned.”

  Karl checked the map on his BlackFerry. “This is the address Elly gave us.”

  I waved off any concern. “This is the place. I can smell the greedy bastard lurking inside.”

  Lollie raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, a trick only a woman could pull off. When I tried the same expression I resembled Humpty Dumpty after the fall. “Smell him? Really?” She fingered the big black bag sitting on the seat next to her. The same bag I’d found while searching remains of the Rose following the explosion. Or as Lollie put it, “all she had left in the world.” What a drama queen.

  Her royal pain in the ass flicked my ear to gain my attention. “Hey, Kermit. Be careful. You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.” Her concern for my continued breathing warmed me.

  “And you do, mademoiselle?” I grabbed her chin and kissed her, hard. Pulling quickly away before she could protest and/or smack me in the face. “Stay in the car. Karl and I will handle this. I don’t need you messing it up with your . . . youness,” I ordered, wincing as Lollie glared daggers at me.

  Truth be told, I was more worried about how Spindle might react when he found his former lady love now loving my princely self. Not that Lollie loved me. We were just . . . I shook off that particular terrifying line of thought. Besides, if I brought Lollie inside, she could get hurt, and I wasn’t about to risk her life again. One explosion per lifetime was enough. Of course, I didn’t relish the thought of grilled frog legs either. I turned to Karl. “How do you feel about bullet wounds?”

  “I’m opposed to them, sir.” He heaved a long, world-weary sigh. “Please try and not get me shot.”

  I nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s hit it.”

  Before Lollie could comment or throw something, as she was prone to doing, Karl and I piled from the vehicle, the bag of cash in my hands. The street looked as abandoned as the rest of the neighborhood. Cars from the 1970s littered the landscape, a Chevy Aladdin with missing magic floor mats, a Buick Dwarf, one of its two seats ripped asunder. Most of the vehicles lurched to one side, engines, tires, and sometimes even the doors pilfered by villains.

  I nodded to Karl, and together we headed for the warehouse and whatever lurked inside, namely my annoying and possibly murderous future wife. I shuddered at the thought.

  “Wait!” Lollie leapt from the ugly Princess.

  “What?” I ducked, preparing for a pummeling at her tiny hands. Rather than punch me, she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed the breath from my lungs; her mouth ground into mine while our tongues played a game of ring around the tonsils. My hands tugged at the belt loops of her jeans, dragging her body even closer. She moaned, low and deep in her throat, kissing me as if the world was about to end.

  And maybe it was. For us at least.

  “Get a room,” Karl said in a bored tone. “I mean, come on, his lordship will be right back. It’s not like he’s running away with the dish and a spoon.”

  Lollie pulled away, wiping a string of my saliva from her mouth. “Right. Sorry. But, Kermit, wouldn’t it be safer if you left the money here? With me.”

  My eyes narrowed.

  “She does have a point, sir.” Karl nodded. “If Spindle is inside, what’s stopping him from killing us and taking the money? If we leave it with Ms. Bliss, he won’t outright murder us.”

  “But—”

  Lollie’s own dark eyes narrowed. “But what? Don’t you trust me? After,” she lowered her voice, “last night.” Before I could answer, she reached out to take the bag from my hands. “I’ll just wait right here like a good little girl until you give me the all clear.”

  I frowned.

  “What do you have to lose, sir?” Karl asked with a shrug. Two hundred thousand dollars came to mind, but I could afford it, for the moment. On the other hand, walking into a trap with that much money in hand sounded stupid, even to me, a prince who’d failed Heroes 101 at charming school. When I still didn’t release my grip on the bag, Karl patted my arm. “The sooner we do this, the sooner you can start your happily-ever-after.”

  And resume my real life, I added silently, one without tattooed beauties much too intelligent to trust. I took a second to run my fingers across the faint freckles sprinkled across Lollie’s cheek before finally letting the bag drop. “Don’t make me regret this,” I said, voice thick with equal parts lust and suspicion.

  Lollie gave me a wink and headed back to the ugly Princess to wait for me. I liked the sound of that, maybe a bit too much. Something shifted in my chest. My feet felt touched by Midas, heavy, leaden, as if I was slowly being swallowed by the concrete below me.

  This was it. Once I had Beauty back, safe, we’d get married and I’d lose Lollie forever.

  “Sir?” Karl motioned to the warehouse.

  “Right.” I shook my head to clear the taste of Lollie from my mind and focused on the task ahead—saving Beauty without dying in the process.

  How hard could it be?

  Chapter 46

  Opening the front door of the warehouse took a few minutes, mostly because neither Karl nor I realized it was unlocked. A shiver of dread ran up my spine as we pushed the door wide, sort of like when the mouse ran up the cat-faced clock. He too was never seen again.

  The warehouse was a perfect place for an ambush. A part of me wanted to turn around and rush back to Lollie, to protect her from whatever secrets, lies, or sleepy brides waited inside. Karl shined a flashlight inside the darkened building, illuminating thick black oil stains on the concrete. Otherwise there was no sign of life. I strolled farther into the dark interior, my ears straining. If Beauty was here, she was either asleep (a likely possibility) or dead. I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

  “What’s that?” I pointed to the back of the warehouse. Karl swung the flashlight in an arc, illuminating a metal staircase. It appeared rickety and old, every other rung rusted beyond repair. The staircase screamed certain death, perfect for a bald, slightly pudgy manservant to climb.

  “What d’you think?” I nodded to the stairs.

  Karl tilted the flashlight up higher, toward the second floor. The weak beam skirted the stairwell. “Seems like the kind of place a devious villain might stash a tired princess.” Karl motioned me forward. “Why don’t you check it out? I’ll wait here to ensure Spindle doesn’t escape.”

  I scratched my chin. “How about you go up there, and I’ll wait here. You are my manservant, after all. A man paid to take a bullet for me.”

&n
bsp; “No, sir.” Karl straightened to his full five-foot-seven height, bald head gleaming in the dim light. “I’m paid to scrub the stains from your boxer shorts, not risk my life, even though the two seem mutually inclusive at times.” Karl pointed to his knee. “But alas, I can’t go upstairs for you. Old college football injury.”

  “Oh. In that case . . . ,” I said, taking a step toward the staircase. “Hey, wait a minute. You didn’t go to college.”

  “You got me.” He grinned. “I see your Ivy League education was money well spent, sir. Your father must be so proud.”

  I snatched the flashlight from his grip. “Mock me if you will. But I’m not the one wearing tights.”

  “Touché.” His smile widened. “That’s French, in case they didn’t teach you that at Olly, Olly, Oxford, Not-So-Free.”

  Ignoring Karl, I slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor, scanning the dark interior. My foot slipped a few times, but I stayed upright.

  “Sir,” Karl called from below. “As much as I’m enjoying this adventure, would you climb a wee bit faster? Surely it’s been over an hour and you’re only three feet up.”

  “It’s only been a few minutes!” I shouted back, continuing my ascent.

  By the time I reached the top step, I was out of breath and regretting my late-night amorous activities. Princes weren’t made for endurance, even frog princes as fine as myself.

  Switching off the flashlight to make myself less conspicuous, I stepped into the darkness of the second floor of the warehouse. A small squeak echoed somewhere to my right. I jumped at the sound. Images of blind man-eating mice flashed through my brain.

  A loud thump followed another tiny squeal. I flipped on the flashlight and shone it around the room. Cobwebs covered every inch of the space, except for the corner, where an old rocking chair sat, eerily rocking back and forth. If I was any other prince, the whole empty but still moving chair might’ve freaked me out. But I was the Frog Prince, damn it. It took a lot more to scare me.