by Kyle Baxter
“Show-off,” Joel called after him. God, I missed him. Silly, he knew. He sat with him only hours ago on the train. But there it was.
Joel cooled his heels for a few minutes in the stairwell before venturing out. As he did, he caught Luc’s disapproving eye from across the room.
Well, that’s not good.
Chapter Fourteen
Rumor
After a fitful night’s sleep, Joel woke up the next morning with the hotel bedside alarm clock going off. It had been beeping over half an hour and he slept through it. Shit shit shit. The people in the next rooms must hate him. God, what is my problem? He promised his mother he’d share breakfast with them—every day. One more thing I failed at.
After a quick shower, he stood in front of the mirror to shave. Razor in hand, he stared into his own eyes. What am I going to do about Freddie—Prince Frederick? All his insecurities fired up last night once he got back to the hotel and he spent half the night ruminating.
Did Freddie even like him like that? He flirted with him to be sure, but Freddie was a flirty, gregarious guy. That didn’t mean . . . Okay, stop, he told himself. He likes you. Freddie wants to spend time with you, and you want to spend time with him. So do that. See where it leads.
He nodded to the face in the mirror. I can do that.
He ran downstairs to the hotel restaurant to meet his family for the Etreusteiner Breakfast Buffet. It offered a wide selection of food, including muesli and cold cuts, boiled and scrambled eggs, ham, smoked bacon, and sausages. Joel suspected the scrambled eggs were for the American clientele. There was also semmeln, butter, coffee, tea, and juices. The waiter in him appreciated the impressive layout.
Joel decided he’d definitely have to watch the carbs on this trip. And maybe hit the hotel gym.
Joining his family at the table, he found everyone too busy eating and checking their various devices to offer more than cursory greetings. His father was deep in a conversation on the phone; it really was a business trip for him. Too bad. He works too much.
When he finished, he turned off his earbud and gave Joel a grumbled, “Good morning.”
“Look,” Joel began. Where do I start? An apology is always good. “I’m sorry I left so abruptly last night . . .”
“No, I apologize,” his father said softly and pushed his napkin under his plate. He let out a sigh. “This trip, these meetings are important to me, but I shouldn’t have asked you to trade on your friendship with the prince.”
That surprised Joel, but he had to proceed. Freddie wanted to use this as cover for them to see each other. But did he need to use it as cover with his own parents? “Thank you, but if you like, I will.” Joel’s eyes met his father’s briefly. Then he lowered his gaze. “I mean, I will talk to him for you. I mean, if I ever see him again.” Okay, that did not sound weird at all. He would talk to Freddie about his Dad’s business. So it’s not a lie. I’m not lying.
“Wait, what? You will?” His father eyed him carefully. “What brought this on?”
Joel waved a hand in the air. “Well, you arranged this nice holiday for us. And I just want to do my part and, you know, everything.” Everyone at the table stopped and looked at him, save for Caty. She stared intently at her phone. Clearly no one bought it. He cleared his throat.
Mariah set her iPad down and arched a thick eyebrow. “Fascinating.”
“Indeed,” his father said. “Especially since the prince’s people called and asked for a meeting—with you.”
“Wow, that’s odd.” Joel struggled to keep his expression blank. “What did you tell them?”
“They’ll be calling you.”
“Huh.” Joel looked down, and while he ate, he picked up his phone and tried to ignore his family’s stares.
“I still can’t believe the same man who gave up his seat for us is the prince we met last night,” Mom chirped, leaning in his direction.
“You and me both,” Joel said. It boggled the mind.
“I’m going back to the museum to read up more on their family,” Mariah said. “Are you coming with me, Joel?”
“Uhm . . .” What did he say to that? He hoped for a call from Freddie, but he wouldn’t put everything on hold for that.
“It’s not fair,” Caty muttered.
“Finally she speaks.” Mom turned to her oldest daughter.
“She’s just jealous,” Mariah offered and went back to her iPad.
“Why didn’t I meet a nice prince?” Caty whined. She stood up, threw her napkin down, and stomped off. Mariah rolled her eyes and Mom and Dad ignored her; they were all used to her antics.
Dad folded his newspaper and, setting it aside, picked up his phone. “I forwarded you a cheat sheet about my business.”
“What is it you do again?” Joel played innocent.
His father ignored the bait—this time—and folded his arms across his barrel chest. “In case you just happen to run into the prince again.”
“I still can’t believe it.” Mom put a hand to her chin. “He looked so refined last night but so rough at Heathrow.”
“Joel likes ’em rough,” Mariah said without raising her head.
Joel’s phone picked that moment to chime its incoming text tone. He glanced down to check the caller ID and grinned. Every head at the table turned to him.
“Is that . . . ?” his mother asked with bright eyes.
“No, it’s Larry,” Joel said, holding up his phone.
Mom clapped her hands. “Oh, say hi for me. I miss seeing that face of his.” She turned to her husband. “We need to make a trip to New Orleans soon. I miss my old friends.”
His father squeezed her hand and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “That we can do, dear. How about around Christmas?”
Mom giggled. “That would be wonderful. I always love Christmas in New Orleans.”
Joel smiled, watching her. He and Larry were friends since grade school and their mothers were always close. Looking down, he saw a photo Larry had forwarded from the party.
Larry: Is this your trooper?
Joel: Yeah, where’d you see that?
Larry: It’s in the style section. Your handsome trooper is a prince???
Joel: How’d you figure that out?
Larry: ¯_(ツ)_/¯ You said the name of the trooper you met was Freddie. Then mysterious Prince Frederick returns after a long absence. IT’S NOT ROCKET SCIENCE. He’s gorgeous. I want to know EVERYTHING.
Joel’s phone chimed an incoming text.
Number 34: Sending a car for you, be outside the hotel in 10. Don’t be late. :-)
Joel: K
He giggled and looked up to find every eye on him again. “Sorry.” He fought to keep the smile off his face and went back to the text chain with Larry.
Joel: I gotta go.
Larry: Is that him? Are you seeing him? I want details, emphasis on the D.
Joel: You’re terrible. You can’t tell anyone . . . please?
Larry: Now that’s just mean.
Panic hit Joel and he typed quickly.
Joel: I’m serious, dude. PLS I don’t want to screw this up . . . whatever it is.
Larry: • • •
Larry: Okay, fine. But I’m telling Robert you have to allow me that.
Joel let out a breath of relief as he typed.
Joel: ONLY if he promises he won’t tell anyone. Make him swear on Judy Garland.
Larry: You bitch, >:-|
Joel laughed out loud, and his head shot up after his father asked, “Plans?”
“Just taking a tour.” Joel shifted in his chair.
Mariah snorted. He stared daggers at her and his mother laughed into her napkin.
“Gotta go.” He jumped out of his chair and darted for the elevator. He wasn’t sure where this thing with Freddie was going, but he wanted to find out. That in itself was exciting; this wasn’t how he planned for his vacation to go. Fifteen minutes later, he climbed into the limousine waiting outside.
“You’re late.
” Freddie smiled as Joel slid into the back seat beside him.
“Where are we going?” Joel asked sheepishly. He looked forward, embarrassed suddenly, but the privacy screen was up, so no one could see. This seemed covert and scandalous, like they were sneaking around. Maybe we are.
“It’s a surprise.” Freddie tickled him in the stomach.
“Stop,” Joel squealed, bent over as Freddie kept at it. “But I thought you had meetings?”
Freddie pulled back and got serious for a moment. “My parents won’t be back until tonight, so I put them all off. Luc is not amused.” He caught Joel staring at him, scrutinizing him. “What?”
“I’m still not used to seeing you without a beard.”
“Which do you prefer?” Freddie rubbed his stubbly chin. “Freshly shorn like last night or bearded like at the airport?”
“I like this.” Joel reached up and put a hand on the prince’s cheek. “In the middle. You need a little scruff. You were far too pretty last night.” He grinned as Freddie turned a bright red.
The prince was still blushing when they climbed out of the limo in a parking garage. Luc slid out of the front of the luxury car. Of course he was here. Where else would he be?
“This is not a wise idea, sire,” the faithful retainer clucked.
“Nonsense,” Freddie said over his shoulder as he led Joel to an SUV. “We’re only going for a little tour of the countryside. You can keep track of the GPS on the truck.”
“We should drive you,” the man protested.
“Then that would defeat the purpose.”
Luc’s forehead puckered. “What purpose?”
“Of this car exchange.” Freddie climbed into the front seat and waved goodbye. Joel hurried after him and was thrown backward in the passenger seat as they sped out of the garage.
“Are we really driving to the countryside?”
Freddie gave him a sideways grin. “No, not today.”
“Then where . . . ?”
They pulled around the corner and down the street. Taking a quick, sharp turn, they rounded one corner and then another, finally getting out of sight of Luc. After slamming on the brakes, Freddie jumped out of the truck. Surprised, Joel rushed after him and watched as he threw the SUV keys to two young men who were clearly waiting for them.
“Have a great time, Your Highness,” the driver said, and they got in the SUV and drove off.
❖
“Okay, so they were a decoy?” Joel pointed after the receding car. What was going on?
Freddie gave him a thumbs-up. “Exactly. They’ll lead Luc on a merry chase for a little bit, maybe even most of the afternoon.”
We are sneaking around! “What are we going to do?” Joel grinned. This was exciting. There never was the start of a tour like this!
Freddie took his hand. “Anything we want. I’m going to show you the city.” They walked out of the parking garage and into the slushy streets.
Joel stopped short. “Wait, aren’t you afraid people will see you?”
“One, we aren’t the UK royal family.” Freddie raised a finger with each point he made. “Two, I’m the fourth child. Three, I’ve been away for a really long time, and four, I’m not nearly as interesting to the media as you might think.”
Joel was certain he was being naïve but only said, “That handsome mug of yours was all over the news this morning. And didn’t you go out of your way to avoid photographers the other day?”
“All true, but tomorrow, someone else’s face will be all over the telly. London . . . that was reflex. I’ve avoided photographers and media most of my life. You have to if you want to have a little peace. And in the Regiment, you never let them take your photo. Besides, there’s number five . . .” He pulled a baseball cap over his head and pulled his scarf up. “This does wonders. Now I look just like an American tourist.”
“Yeah, but the Boston Red Sox?” Joel pointed at his cap. “Really?”
“What’s wrong with Boston?” Freddie took off the hat and examined it.
Joel pointed at himself. “I’m a New York Yankees fan all the way.”
Freddie’s brow creased. “I don’t . . .”
“Long-standing rivalry,” Joel explained quickly and left it at that. Truthfully, even he did not know all the ins and outs of it.
Freddie considered that for a long moment, then shrugged and put it back on. “I like it. An American in the camp gave it to me. He was a good chap.”
“In that case, you get a pass.” Joel nudged his shoulder. “This time.”
They walked through the city, hand in hand. Freddie showed him what was left of the Roman town the city was built on. It was only the skeleton of a temple with a few standing pillars and the remains of a wall, but Joel was gobsmacked. He took a lot of photos on his smartphone.
“There’s an amphitheater on the other side of town, but it’s closed off at the moment. There’s a group in the middle of an excavation,” Freddie told him and walked away.
“You’re kidding,” Joel hissed and followed quickly after him. Do I ask if we can go? Is that too much?
“If you’re good, we may go over there another day,” Freddie teased over his shoulder. The prince already knew how to get to him. Joel loved this stuff.
The pair blended into one of the tours for a bit. There was a moment in the crowded, tight group when Freddie stiffened up. Joel took his hand and they held back, following them until Freddie relaxed again. Eventually the tour guide caught on and chased them off. The guided tours were for paying customers, the old man yelled after them in German. They ran away laughing. Joel confessed he felt guilty about it.
“We should have paid.” He hung his head. It was silly, he knew. It wasn’t like they were hurting anyone, just hanging out with the group.
Freddie stared at him. “You really are a goody-goody, aren’t you?”
“WWSD.” Joel shrugged. He wanted to do the right thing.
“For life,” Freddie agreed with a smile. “Will you feel better if I send the tour company a donation later?”
Joel scrunched up his nose. “A bit, yeah, but I can do that myself. Thanks anyway. And I mean that I appreciate the thought.”
“As you wish.” Freddie bowed his head. His hair, no longer gelled in place like the night before, bounced as he moved. Joel found it very distracting. He really is a fairy-tale prince.
Afterward, they went to the Fontaine Frédéric, named after Freddie’s namesake. An impressive piece cast in iron and coated in bronze.
“Do you want me to take a picture of you in front of it?” Freddie held out his hand for the device as Joel took more photos.
“Why would I want a photo of me?” Joel asked and started laughing. “I’m sorry. That’s just never been my jam. I mean, I wouldn’t mind a photo with you, but we aren’t doing that.” He looked down at the smartphone and adjusted the settings in the camera app. Freddie snatched it from him. “Wha . . . ? No, Freddie. I wasn’t asking.”
“Let’s take a photo of us here together.” The prince held the phone at arm’s length, ready for a selfie of the two of them.
Joel shook his head and stepped out of frame. “You don’t like photographers taking your photo.”
“This is different.” Freddie moved near him again.
“No.” Joel held out his hand until Freddie gave the phone back. “I don’t need a photo of this.” He motioned between the two of them. A nice gesture on Freddie’s part, but the day was not half over and already stamped in Joel’s memory. And more, he felt protective of the man and his privacy; he did not want Freddie to worry that Joel might take it to the tabloids. That was not what he was about.
“As you wish,” Freddie said again with a smirk and walked away. “You’re really not like anyone else I’ve known.”
“Thank you, I think.” Joel trotted after the prince. I hope that’s good.
Freddie took his hand again and led him away. They rushed past the parliament building at the edge of the admi
nistrative district and its modern Romanesque architecture. “Now, someone here would definitely notice me,” the prince explained.
Altstadt was the capital city and the largest one in the country, but it was still relatively small and they covered a lot of ground. Near noon, they stopped at a small tavern on the promenade.
“Beer, this early?” Joel asked in disbelief as the waitress brought them hourglass-shaped Weizen glasses, full and foamy. He was not protesting. On vacation, he didn’t mind a little day drinking.
“This is Frühschoppen. It’s an old tradition, just a little stop before noon and a second breakfast called Brotzeit,” Freddie explained as an older woman brought them each a little wooden cutting board with a knife and bread, butter, cheese, veal sausage, sweet mustard, and pickles. She gave Freddie a kiss on the head as she left, and Joel realized she knew him. Probably everyone knew him. Outside of the business and tourist area, Altstadt was more like a small town than a city. He had to remind himself that much of the wealth of this country lay in it being a tax haven, not industry or commerce.
“Hey, I googled you but nothing came up, certainly not you being the prince of a sovereign nation. What’s up with that?” Joel asked between bites.
“What did you google?” Freddie picked apart the bread and stuffed a piece in his mouth.
“Frederick d’Pierrepont,” Joel said.
“Oh, well, that’s not my proper legal name. It’s the name I used in the service. Like the UK royals have used Windsor or Wales as last names? My”—his thick, calloused fingers made air quotes—“real name is Leopold Frederick Wenceslaus Franz-Adam von Etreustein II. D’Pierrepont was my maternal grandmother’s maiden name.”
Joel blew out a puff of air. “That’s a mouthful. I can see why you just went with the abbreviated version.”
Freddie’s face flushed a little. “Sorry, I did not mean to mislead you. But to me, Frederick d’Pierrepont is my real name.”
“No, really, I dig it. No harm, no foul.” Joel took a swig of his beer.
Joel was sure they were noticed as they walked around that afternoon, and he thought he caught people taking pictures of them. Freddie didn’t seem to care. The prince was probably inured to it on a primal level. No doubt there were cameras around him most of his life. And there was a difference between tourists with cameras and paparazzi, though the distinction in the modern age grew increasingly blurred.