Secret: The Maid And The Sheikh

by Lara Hunter

  “How in the world did you end up there?” Kate whispered, tapping her finger against the Prince’s cheek on the screen. She eyed the woman beside him and noted that the photo caption didn’t include her name.

  She did a reverse-image search in attempts to find the identity of the woman, and a moment later, an ad for teenage acne medicine popped up on her screen. The woman was smearing white ointment over her smooth, blemish-free cheeks, giving a knowing look to the camera. In another ad, she wore a chef’s hat and carried a baby on her hip, advertising a new food processor. According to Kate’s search results, the woman didn’t appear in public with the Prince after that night—meaning he’d already tossed her out with the trash. He probably didn’t even remember her name.

  Kate snapped her laptop closed, suddenly frustrated at having wasted the last of her evening. She collected her purse and marched to the door, shivering. She hopped into her Porsche and revved the engine, feeling vaguely manic. She hoped Ella would help calm her down; her friend’s reassuring smile always made her heart rate decrease and filled her with laughter.

  Tonight, of all nights, she really needed it.

  FOUR

  Kate arrived at the Mexican restaurant about ten minutes early and agreed to be seated alone. The interior was bright and gaudy, with sombreros hanging from the walls and paintings of beautiful women in traditional garb lining the bar. Kate ordered a margarita with salt, and immediately began counting the calories in her mind.

  Ella entered the restaurant a few minutes later, looking trim and confident in a knee-length red dress. Her dark brown hair was chopped into a neat bob, her eyes large and bright. Kate stood quickly and hugged her friend, feeling the bones of her back.

  “I feel what you’re doing,” Ella said, pulling away. “You’re feeling how skinny I am right now.”

  Kate pressed her lips together before shrugging. “You look great,” she said.

  “Don’t get all bogged down about my weight,” Ella said, sitting at the table and stretching a napkin over her thighs. “I had the flu last week and lost ten pounds. I’m not proud of this. You’re looking too thin yourself.”

  Kate shifted uneasily and sat once more, hating this topic. “You know, for my career—”

  “I know, I know,” Ella said, waving her hand. “But the point is, we’re going to eat as much as we can tonight. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Kate said, her lips stretching into a smile. “And I’ve already ordered you a margarita.”

  “Thank God,” Ella said, sighing. “It’s been the longest day ever. I had four stories due today, two of which were about that one actor’s new engagement. Ugh, I can’t even remember which one anymore. I mean, how many times does that creep need to get married until we stop talking about it?”

  “You’re the celebrity writer here, not me,” Kate said. “You keep this information going. You feed it to the people.”

  “True, true,” Ella said, smiling. “But the people don’t know what they want, now do they?”

  “If they still want images of me wearing new kinds of mascara, then I’m sure they don’t.” Kate laughed. “Now, do you want to share the quesadilla or the burrito?”

  “Let’s get both and share them,” Ella said. “As mentioned, I know how hungry you are right now.”

  After they ordered, Ella sipped her margarita and frowned, eyeing her friend. “You’re even quieter than normal today.”

  “Than normal?” Kate asked. “What does that mean?”

  “You always seem a little off after a photo shoot,” Ella said. “I normally have to build you up a little bit.”

  “I didn’t realize I was such a burden after my jobs,” Kate said.

  “Not a burden. I just worry about you,” Ella said. “Did something happen?”

  “They sent me home without taking the pictures, if that’s what you mean,” Kate blurted out. She closed her eyes and took a long sip of her drink. The margarita glided over her tongue, sour, with just a touch of sweetness. “Made me sit on set for hours and hours and then just sent me home, like I don’t matter.”

  Ella placed her fingers over her friend’s hand, her expression wounded. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry, Katie,” she murmured. “Don’t they know you could have been doing anything else with your time?”

  “Exactly,” Kate said. “I’m not just some piece of meat they hired to sit around all day. I could have been figuring out where my career is going, or figuring out another career altogether.”

  “That’s right. Have you thought any more about that?”

  “Not really,” Kate admitted. “I’m not exactly qualified for anything. I could probably be a bartender or a server for a while, but I don’t even really know how to deal with people.” She sighed heavily. “I’m worried that I’ll have to move back in with my parents if I don’t find something else soon.”

  “What?” Ella said, incredulous. “No way. I’m not letting you go back to Ohio. You’ve been away for too long. You’ll get moldy.”

  “Ha,” Kate said. “I’ve been offered this incredibly bizarre new position, actually, which would push back my return date for a while at least. The paycheck is fat.”

  “Interesting,” Ella said, tilting her head. “But you don’t sound terribly excited about it. Another makeup ad?”

  “No,” Kate said, shaking her head. “Actually, very different from anything I’ve done before. My instinct is to just reject it.”

  “But if it’s your last shot—”

  “I know, I know.” Kate sighed. “Do you know who Prince Francesco is?”

  Ella sniffed. “Of course I know him. I write for a celebrity website. We have to have at least three articles about him per week, otherwise we don’t meet our readership quota. People are really that obsessed with him.”

  As she spoke, the server approached with two large, steaming plates—one burrito, one quesadilla. Ella lifted her knife and fork and chopped the burrito in half, sending beans spilling out the side of the tortilla. She stabbed her fork into the back half of hers and shoved it into her mouth, sighing gratefully. “I’ve never tasted anything more delicious in my life,” she said.

  Kate laughed and followed suit. The spiced beans danced over her taste buds and warmed her from the inside out. She chewed slowly, her shoulders slumping.

  “What about Prince Francesco?” Ella finally asked. “I never knew you to be that into celebrity gossip.”

  “I’m not,” Kate said. “It’s just that he’s invited a bunch of models to attend one of his big Panama parties, and Monica wants me to go. As I said, the paycheck is fat, like, almost as big as the Ralph Lauren money I made as a teenager.”

  Ella’s jaw dropped. She stabbed her finger onto the center of the table, causing the plates to clink together. “Kate, don’t you realize what this means?”

  “That I can go and be gawked at for a few hours for far too much money? Yep. It means that humanity as we know it is crumbling.”

  Ella shook her head, incredulous. “No. It means you, Kate Adams, have privileged access to the Prince and his legendary Panama parties.”

  “Legendary is quite a word to use for this,” Kate said.

  “No,” Ella said. “They are legendary. No journalist has ever been allowed inside—all we really know about those parties are rumors. Nothing verified.”

  “So, that rumor about the orgy at the Panama mansion a few years ago?”

  “Could have been fabricated,” Ella said. “And about the celebrities he invites to the mansion—I mean, we don’t know who his actual friends are. Whenever the Prince goes to public events, he nearly always brings a model, and he makes a point not to speak with many people. He wants to remain elusive. He wants to remain a secret. That way we all continue to talk about him.”

  Kate shrugged, sipping her margarita. “Just because the party is legendary doesn’t mean I want to be a part of it. I have some level of class, you know. At least I used to, anyway.”

  Ella smashed her
fists onto the table, startling Kate. “You have to take this, Katie,” she said. “If only as a favor to me; I’m running out of story ideas, and I can feel myself becoming obsolete at my job.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  Silence hung between the two friends for a moment. Of all the people in the world, Ella was the only one who truly understood how painful the move to Miami had been on Kate. She was the only person who could comprehend just how alone and frightened Kate felt about her career’s direction.

  Ella bowed her head, taking a breath before she spoke. “I’m sorry, Katie. I know you feel that way, too, but hear me out. If you go to this party and take some photos for me—of the general debauchery, the décor, or of any celebrities wandering around—then I’ll give you half of whatever I can get for the photos.”

  Ella lifted her hand to Kate’s once more and squeezed her fingers, her expression almost pleading. “Seriously, you can’t even imagine how much money I would get for them. People in the industry are desperate to find out what goes on at these parties. And you have an invitation to one.”

  “But I have to sign a non-disclosure agreement,” Kate said, sighing. “What if they find out I broke it? I don’t want to go to jail over this—”

  “Oh, you won’t,” Ella said, waving her hand. “Working for a celebrity website like this, I constantly have to walk a thin line between legality and illegality. Trust me, they could never track it back to you.”

  “What if they figure out that we’re friends?”

  Ella shrugged. “If you don’t want to take this chance, Katie, then I can’t blame you. You have to live your life the way you choose. But keep in mind that you’d be waving goodbye to a serious chunk of change. Probably far more than you’re getting paid by this prince—a prince who won’t even remember your face the next day.”

  Kate hesitated. Ella was certainly onto something. The glint in her eyes was reflected in Kate’s own.

  “I really, really don’t want to go back to Ohio,” Kate said.

  Ella smacked her hands together, looking gleeful. “And you won’t go, not as long as we take this opportunity that’s been handed to us.”

  Kate pulled her cellphone out of her purse, suddenly losing her appetite. She shoved the quesadilla plate toward Ella, who began to ravage it.

  Kate texted her agent, then. Her fingers quivered as she typed. “Hey, Monica. I’ve thought it over, and I’ve decided to take the Panama job. Thank you for this opportunity. See you soon.”

  She pressed the send button. Then she closed her eyes and sat quietly, suddenly wishing she could take it all back. But in just a few moments, Monica responded: “WONDERFUL. I’m sending you the details now. Kisses.”

  “You did it,” Ella said, patting her napkin across her lips. “Now we’re a team.”

  Ella snuck her hand across the table, and Kate shook it, uniting them in their plot. But she didn’t eat much more after that. She moved through the motions of polite dinner conversation, she paid for her margarita and her dinner, and then she left the restaurant with Ella at her side. She hugged her friend, feeling the excitement bubbling up within Ella. She was unable to match it.

  “It’s going to be okay, I promise,” Ella told her. “No matter what happens, we’re in this together.”

  “If only you were the one wearing the bikini,” Kate said, anxiety clouding her face. “But it has to be me, doesn’t it?”

  “If I could replace you, I would,” Ella said. “But this is your talent. This is what you’ve been working towards, Katie. It’s the biggest job of your career, and it’s going to make us both rich. Just keep reminding yourself of that: that you won’t have to return to Ohio, all because some billionaire in Panama is having a party. Isn’t the world a strange place?”

  “It sure is,” Kate said quietly, not quite convinced. She unlocked her car and dipped into the driver’s seat, giving her friend a final smile. “I’ll message you when I get there. Drive home safe.”

  “Love you, girl,” Ella said, her voice bright.

  Kate didn’t respond. She closed her door and revved the engine, sweeping out onto the streets. She drove home too quickly, cutting corners and receiving yells from countless drivers, each with their middle finger up high.

  She parked in the lot behind her apartment building and went upstairs, collapsing into bed with her clothes still on. She found herself shuddering with tears, not quite able to pinpoint why she suddenly felt so rotten. She flicked on the television, just to have voices in her room to keep her company. Then she drifted off to sleep, the trip to Panama looming heavy in her mind. It was only five days away.

  FIVE

  Kate ignored phone calls from Ella over the next few days, finally responding with a text message: “Yes, we have an agreement. I’ll send the photos when I take them.”

  “I hope this isn’t going to affect our friendship?” Ella asked, via text.

  “No,” Kate responded, feeling more alone than she’d ever been. “It’ll be fine. I have to believe that.”

  She packed a small suitcase—just a change of clothes and toiletries—and received instructions from Monica. She was to take a plane from Miami to Panama City at noon on the day of the party. She wasn’t to pack a swimsuit, as one would be provided for her.

  “How do they know my size?” Kate asked.

  “Oh, darling, I gave them your measurements. It’s the only reason you were invited to come.”

  Kate burned with this knowledge but packed anyway, praying that the two-day “adventure” would end swiftly. Perhaps she could sleepwalk through it. She could grin and nod and flirt, all without being truly conscious of it.

  As she stood near the window, waiting for the taxi that would take her to the airport, she lifted her phone and dialed her mother, Jane.

  Far away in Ohio, she answered the call. Her voice was flowery, filled with the joy that came only with a phone call from her child.

  “Darling, how are you?” she asked. “I was hoping you’d call soon. How was the last photo shoot?”

  Kate hated discussing her modeling career with her mother. Sure, she’d been proud when Kate had graced the local billboard, advertising back-to-school backpacks, but the fact that her daughter was heading down a shaky career path filled her with dread. And she generally allowed Kate to know the extent of this dread at family holiday get-togethers after three glasses of wine.

  “Oh, it was fine,” Kate lied. “I’m about to go shoot on location in Panama, actually. Leaving in five minutes.”

  “Wow,” Jane said, clearly impressed. “You haven’t been able to travel for work for years, not since—”

  “Paris. Right,” Kate finished. “I’m looking forward to it. I’ve missed getting out of the country. Maybe I should take a few months off and see some things I’ve never seen before. Maybe I should go to Asia. Anywhere.”

  “You’re thinking you don’t want to model any longer, aren’t you?”

  How did she always know?

  “It’s not that I don’t want to model, Mom,” Kate said. “I’m getting too old for it, just as you said. I have to face reality. I have to become—something else. Anything else.”

  “Well, darling, you know you can always come home,” her mother said, ever supportive. “We have a room for you, any time you need it.”

  Kate felt tears well up in her eyes. She wanted to scream out, to tell her mother that she could never come home—that she’d come too far to go back. But in that moment, the taxi appeared downstairs. The driver popped out of his seat and waved at her window, grinning.

  “Mom, I have to get going. Taxi’s here.”

  “Okay. Well, I hope you heard what I said,” her mother said. “You really can come home, any time you want to, honey.”

  “I know. Thank you,” Kate said. “And, Mom?”

  “What is it?”

  “I love you,” Kate said.

  She ended the call before her mother could reply and then retreated out her door, sa
dness weighing heavily on her thin shoulders. She wanted to return home to her parents and abandon this meaningless party in Panama. But she also wanted to fulfill her duties to her friend and to her agent. She was in a bind.

  She grabbed her bag and darted down the stairs, meeting the driver at the bottom.

  “Kate Adams?” he asked, his accent lilting.