Royally Damaged

by Crowne, K. C.

  "I love it," he laughed, stubbing out his cigarette. "It's like a real life rom-com. A secret prince and the girl next door. Although if I'm being honest, I'd say you look nothing like Adam Sandler."

  "I should hope not. Anyway, you got any advice, Don? I mean, you've been married for years. How did you catch your wife?"

  "Ah, the good old-fashioned way. I sold her cocaine in a New York nightclub toilet when she was twenty-one and the rest was history."

  "Somehow I don't think that's gonna be good enough for Lizzie."

  Behind the bar, a group of people began congregating, speaking in hushed tones as they looked around the room suspiciously.

  "What's going on there?" asked Donald.

  "You tell me. Aren't you supposed to be the researcher?"

  He narrowed his eyes and adjusted his glasses, squinting off into the distance.

  "That Richard is one sketchy looking son of a bitch."

  "Tell me about it."

  He appeared at the center of the group as though he was giving orders. Every few seconds, his eyes would dart in our direction. He knew he was being watched.

  "What the hell is he up to?" asked Donald.

  He crouched down low in his seat so he could hide behind his bottle of wine.

  "I swear to God that guy looks dodgier every day."

  Peeking around the edge of my seat, I tried to get a closer look.

  Richard's beady eyes met mine across the bar, his long, spindly fingers closing around a brown envelope.

  “What is he up to?” I said to myself.

  When he saw I wasn't going to stop watching him any time soon, he turned his back to me and ushered his group of cronies into the back office.

  “He should have his ass out of this hotel already,” I said. “But he's hanging around like a bad smell.”

  “Can't you royals just do away with people?” asked Donald. “Can't he suddenly just, you know, have an accident?”

  “We're the royal family,” I replied. “Not the fucking mafia.”

  Donald laughed and raised his hands to the ceiling.

  “Sorry, I always thought that was the same thing.”

  I shot him a look to shut him up, and by the time I looked back at the bar, Richard was gone and the only people left were the two young girls and their new targets. The blonde one was playing with the oldest guy's tie, draping it around her neck and sticking out her chest to give him a good show.

  “So what are you going to do?” asked Donald.

  “About Lizzie?”

  “About the bar manager. He's clearly behind the robberies at the hotel and by the looks of it, the police aren't doing a fucking thing. Doesn't that mean it's up to you?”

  He was right, and I'd had my head so much up my ass with Lizzie that I'd failed to keep on top with everything at the hotel. And by the looks of it, no one else was going to find out what was happening.

  “It is up to me,” I said, “Please excuse me a moment. I need to find out what's going on.”

  Walking out the VIP suite, I edged my way around the girls who didn't even bother to notice me.

  Upstairs in my suite, I called a meeting with my security team. The lot of them looked as though they'd had a better vacation than me over the last few weeks with tans that could rival mine.

  Stephen and Dylan stood on either side of the door, guarding the entrance to the room like they always did. Meanwhile, Angelo and Damien stood at the windows. Angelo had said about three words since we arrived on the island and even now, when there was an obvious emergency to discuss, he still remained silent and stone-faced. Sometimes, I wondered if he was even alive.

  Beside him, Damien rolled up his sleeves to reveal the tattoos he received from his old punk days. With his shaved head and immense height, he looked like a formidable character, what people didn't realize until he opened his mouth was that he had a voice so high it made Mickey Mouse sound like Barry White.

  “So, what's the emergency, boss?”

  I tried not to laugh and put on my most serious voice.

  “I think we have an infiltrator in the hotel. That creepy bar manager, Richard. As you're all aware, we've all had our eye on him for some time, and it has been our intention that he make a swift departure from the premises. But as you will have seen tonight, he's still here.”

  “We know, we've been watching him,” said Stephen.

  “So why didn't you boot his balls out the door?” I asked, incredulous.

  “Because it's better to keep your enemies close,” he said. “Kick him out of the hotel and who knows where he'll disappear to. It's easier to know what he's up to if he's nearby.”

  “Good point,” I said. “There's a reason I pay you so much. So, what's the plan?”

  “Relay all information back to head of palace security,” said Dylan. “And make sure the King is as informed as possible on matters. At the end of the day, it's him who makes the decisions.”

  “Well, at least it's not my antics dad will be worried about for once.”

  “Yep, that's a first,” squeaked Damien.

  “But what if something happens before my old man steps in?” I asked. “What if that asshole Richard tries to get this room robbed? Or worse, what if he realizes we're onto him and tries to hurt one of us?”

  “Then we break his fucking neck,” said Angelo.

  We all turned to him, startled by the sound of his voice. None of us were going to argue with him.

  “Well, that settles that then,” I said. “Now who's hungry for dinner?”

  Lizzie

  “I've got to say Lizzie, you've really come through with all this. When I asked you to organize a rum tasting night I didn't think it would be anything as grand as this.”

  Christy was half drunk already and bopping around the room from guest to guest. Her cheeks were rosy, and she'd put on a few pounds over the last few days, but she's never looked happier. I had to say I was starting to get a little jealous as I watched her dance around attracting admiring glances from all the guests.

  She sidled up to me again and thrust a glass of sweet brown rum into my hand.

  “Have you tried this one?”

  “I've only been here five minutes,” I said. “And it looks as though you've had a head start on me.”

  I took a sip of the drink and felt it relax me, but I couldn't help looking over my shoulder at the door every few minutes. Christy could sense my unease and rubbed at my back.

  “Where is he?” she asked.

  “How should I know?”

  She frowned and followed my gaze to the entrance.

  “He'll be here any minute,” she assured me.

  But I looked back towards the bar and pretended not to care.

  “Pffft... I don't need him to have a good time. I have you, don't I?”

  “Of course,” she laughed drunkenly and gave me a playful punch in the arm.

  I sauntered over to the pop-up bar that was situated in the center of the room. All last night Christy was intent and telling me all about the rum tasting event she wanted as a special surprise for Josh. Of course, she hadn't arranged a thing, and as maid of honor had expected me to do all the work. This meant that within twelve hours I basically had to pull the most glamorous rum tasting night out of my ass. I looked around at my handiwork and felt I had done a pretty good job considering what I had to work with.

  A young waiter no older than twenty-one stood wearing a tuxedo as he poured glass after glass with an expert's ease. For a second, his eyes met mine. They were dark, deep and chocolaty. There was a hint of mischief in the way he looked at me.

  Is he flirting?

  To confirm my suspicions he went and flashed a smile. I couldn't help but smile back. He was hot alright. Not as good looking as Phil obviously, but definitely a worthy second best.

  I wondered if I should go up and talk to him. Ask him to give me a lesson or two about all the fancy bottles of liquor in front of him, but before I could, a figure strutted throug
h the door. I took note of the swagger, the perfect posture, the arrogance, and how everyone stared at him. As always he commanded everyone's attention.

  I could see him looking around the room for me, but I made no attempt to walk over to him.

  Let him wait. Let him look for me.

  At last, he spotted me. He came over, saw me looking over at the waiter and narrowed his eyes. I waited for him to say something, to show how jealous he was, but he said nothing. Instead, he simply plucked a glass off the table, took a sip and said, “Hey, how's it going?”

  “Not bad. But you're late.”

  “Had a meeting,” he replied, but didn't elaborate.

  He glanced away, and his eyes moved over to where Christy was dancing and kissing Josh. If I wasn't mistaken, his gaze moved over her curves to where Josh had his hand on her waist. I wasn't sure what he was thinking. Did he find her attractive? Or was he simply looking at their public display of affection?

  “Nice suit,” I said to him.

  It was impossible to ignore the fine fabric and perfect cut. It was obviously tailored and designer, and definitely not something your average guy could afford. I wondered how he was able to afford it.

  “Yeah,” he said, his eyes darting around the room.

  “Where did you get it? Don't tell me, you stole it.”

  It was supposed to be a joke, but it came across a tad too rude. He looked down at me unimpressed and didn't even answer.

  “I hate to suggest this,” I said, trying to change the subject, “But you look as though you don't want to be here.”

  “No, I want to be here,” he replied. “Why wouldn't I? It's a rum free-for-all.”

  So he's here for the rum and not me. Nice, real nice.

  At least that's what it looked like. He'd barely looked at me since he arrived. Hadn't touched me or held my hand. Hadn't so much as kissed me.

  Screw him. I don't need him to have a good time.

  But as much as I tried to convince myself of this, I hated that for the first time since we met, he wasn't all over me.

  Was I maybe too harsh on him yesterday?

  No, I reasoned. I have a right to be honest and tell him the truth. We can't be together. He's just going to have to handle it.

  I took another drink, smiled at the waiter and said, “Excuse me, Christy needs me.”

  “Doesn't look like she needs you,” he said, but I ignored him and walked away.

  Over at Christy's table I pretended to have a great time, laughing and joking with everyone, but Christy was no fool and saw the look in my eyes. Pulling me to the side, she whispered in my ear,

  “What's wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm having a great time.”

  But she wasn't convinced.

  “Don't talk crap,” she said. “You've been weird all night. You were looking out for him for ages and now he's here you're ignoring him. What are you trying to do? Make him jealous? Because you don't need to do that. He's clearly into you already.”

  “He doesn't seem to be,” I said. “He's barely looked at me.”

  From out of nowhere I started to feel sad, and I was beginning to think I'd maybe drank too much rum.

  “Here. Have another drink,” said Christy.

  “No, really. I shouldn't.”

  “Go on. Another one won't hurt.”

  “Urgh. Fine.”

  I took another glass from her and knocked it back. When I looked back at Phil, he was propping up the bar looking as suave as always like something straight out of an old movie. One of Christy's cousins was talking to him, and I was surprised to see there wasn't a mineral water in her hands, but a glass of Captain Morgan's. She was throwing her head back and laughing hysterically. Phil noticed me looking and winked. Too drunk to care, I ignored him.

  When at last Christys cousin walked away, her cheeks flashing red from her experience with Phil, he made a move toward me.

  “You should have seen the look on your face,” he said.

  “What look?”

  “Like you wanted to kill me with your mind.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?” I asked. “You trying to say I'm jealous?”

  “Well it pretty much looked like it.”

  “I don't think so.”

  I slammed my glass down on the bar and grew unsteady on my feet.

  “Hey, maybe you should relax with the rum,” he said.

  “No, I'm fine.”

  “Look, just take it easy for a while. Get a drink of water.”

  “I said I'm fine.”

  He got me a glass of water anyway, and took me into the corner of the room.

  “What's got into you?” he asked. “You've been acting really weird all night.”

  “Me acting weird? You're the one that was late. And you haven't even kissed me,” I moaned drunkenly.

  “So that's it? Why would I kiss you after all the things you said yesterday? After you pretty much said what we had was a joke. I get the hint. There's no you and me. And I'm not gonna chase after you.”

  The full effects of all the rum started to hit me, and as I sipped on the water, it felt as though the room was closing in on me.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “You don't look so good.”

  “I think I'm going to go up to my room for a while. Would you mind walking me up?”

  “Of course not,” he said.

  Taking my hand, we slipped out the busy room and walked upstairs in silence. There was a heavy tension between us, but I said nothing until we reached my door. I fumbled drunkenly with my key card.

  “Wait, I've got it,” he said taking it out my fingers.

  He pushed it into the slot and the door opened. I walked in expecting him to follow me but he hung back in the hallway.

  “Are you not coming in?” I asked.

  “I don't think that would be best.”

  I stared at him and saw the passion that was usually in his eyes had gone. If anything, he looked as though he was eager to get away.

  “So now you don't want me,” I said. “Am I not good enough for you?”

  “Where did that come from? What makes you think that?”

  “You've been acting like a jerk all night!”

  To my surprise my voice was louder than I had anticipated. It echoed off the walls and reverberated around my head.

  “Woah, calm down,” he said. “Take a nap and sober up or something.”

  “I don't need to sober up. I'm fine!”

  But even I knew I clearly wasn't. I could hear a door creak open down the hall followed by hurried footsteps.

  “What's going on here?” came a voice.

  A second later, Adam was standing in the doorway.

  “What have you done to her?” he yelled at Phil.

  I looked between them and saw the anger on both their faces.

  “I haven't done a thing,” insisted Phil. “Now why don't you mind your own business?”

  Philip

  “Mind my own business? How can I do that when you're assaulting my fiance!”

  “I'm not your fiance!” screamed Lizzie.

  She was obviously too drunk to handle this. I tried to usher her back inside her room but she wasn't having it. Meanwhile, Adam was intent on starting a fight.

  “Don't touch her!” he shouted and pushed me in this back.

  “Get your fucking hands off me!” I yelled and slapped him away.

  He was raging mad, nostrils flaring like a bull's and his face turning the color of beetroot. He pulled his lips into a tight line as his eyes widened. He probably thought I should have been scared of him, but he looked ridiculous. If it wasn't so tragic I would have laughed.

  “Look, just get outta here,” I said to him. “Lizzie doesn't want you here and neither do I.”

  “Just who do you think you're talking to?” he prodded me hard in the chest, and once again I slapped his hand away.

  “Don't touch me. You don't know who you're playing with.” />
  He laughed and threw back his head.

  “Oh, I know who I'm playing with alright. Some prick trying to get in my fiance's pants.”

  “I'm not your fiance!” she screamed again.

  We both looked at her as she cradled her head in her hands.

  “The two of you just stop it,” she said. “Stop it now.”

  I was fine with that. I didn't want the extra attention of fighting with this jerk anyway. I just wanted to get away, but he was intent I'm flexing his machismo for Lizzy. As though if he could fight me he could get her back.

  “What's wrong with you?” he said. “Don't want to throw a punch in case you mess up your hair?”

  “Just fuck off,” I told him. “Your insults belong in the playground.”

  “What did you say to me?”

  “Jesus, you really don't give up, do you? You can't take the hint.”

  I decided the night was going to come to an early end and turned my back on him.

  “Goodnight, Lizzie,” I said, but before I could walk away, I felt something bony and sharp hit me between the shoulder blades.

  I turned round and realized Adam had thrown a punch into my back like a coward. It felt as though I'd been assaulted by a 6 year old. I looked down, wanting to choke the life out of him. I wanted to flatten him right there and then. God knows I could have. I could have knocked him out with a single punch if I wanted to. But I knew that if I did, and word got back to my security team and then my dad, then everyone would know. And the last thing I needed now was another scandal. So I took a deep breath, counted to ten in my head and said, “You're pathetic. Just walk away now.”

  I was hoping the barb would have just embarrassed him, and made him realize just how stupid he looked, but it did no such thing.

  “I'm pathetic?” he said. “You're the one trying to get into bed with a drunk girl.”

  “No way. I was just leaving her here alone.”

  “Yeah sure you are, pal.”

  I fixed my eyes on him, hoping to God his bravado would fizzle out, but it only looked as though it was getting stronger. So I tried a new angle.

  “I get it,” I said. “You've had a drink too many and you're trying to win your girl back. But I got news for you buddy. She doesn't want you back, and you throw a measly punch. Now get the fuck out my face.”