The Peacemaker

by Schuyler Thorpe

  “Negative. I was having one of my normal days—reading some tech books and talking to Ted’s company over transportation surcharges, the recession, and a few other things—before all of this went down badly.”

  “So nothing unusual…” my uncle mulled quietly. “Hmm…”

  “Yep.” I continued to prattle on uselessly—trying to make it appear that I was having a normal conversation without appearing to sound to interesting to any potential outside agency.

  Or party.

  Bart was nursing a third drink on his own—I couldn’t tell what it was from where I stood. But things looked normal. Both he and Lisa were still talking gaily and without fear of anything.

  I certainly wished that were true of the entire world we all lived in. But that was not to be.

  “Kee?” My uncle broke into my thoughts. “You still there?”

  I dragged myself back to the conversation at hand. “Still here.”

  “I’ll get in touch with my contacts within the British government and the Royal Navy and see what’s going on. In the meantime, you be careful—okay? Make sure nothing happens to you, the prince, or that jet. Your mother would be ticked off if he were to lose you both in an unfortunate accident.”

  “I read you loud and clear, Major…‘Dad’.” I teased—knowing that my uncle never particularly liked that old joke.

  But today, I got lucky.

  I could hear him chuckling over the line.

  “Take care, Kee. I’ll be in touch with you soon.” He said.

  “Love you, Uncle Gary.” I told him and then hung up without ceremony.

  Leaning against the phone booth, I sighed out loud.

  So one thing is on the mend and the other is being checked upon.

  It left me wondering if there weren’t any more surprises waiting for me.

  Glancing over at Bart, I caught him looking at me and he turned away—blushing a little.

  “Okay…” I said. “Scratch that idea.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

  Joining up with Bart, I slid in a seat next to him—looking at what he had for a drink.

  “Gin and tonic.” Lisa informed me as I pondered over what I wanted. Either a virgin daiquiri or a Red River.

  “Give me a Red River, Lisa. Heavy on the raspberry sauce.”

  The younger woman winked at me in passing. “Sweet tooth today, Kee?”

  I blushed vividly at someone else calling me by my nickname. I had totally forgot for a second that Lisa and I were best friends 10 years running.

  I didn’t need to tell that Bart was looking at me curiously, however, he didn’t say anything about it.

  Which I was eternally grateful for.

  “Pretty much.” I called after her, looking at the clean bar and the widescreen mirror in front of it.

  Neither one of us passed for pilots because we both ditched our uniforms after we landed and switched over to the civvies I had packed into the aft cargo sling behind Bart‘s seat.

  There was no need to rile the interest of the locals or anyone whom might come gunning for us.

  “I told her that I was a visiting cousin—straight from good ol’ England.” Bart quietly told me out of earshot.

  My face warmed up just a bit at the sudden appreciation I had for the smart prince.

  I turned and grabbed him by the shoulder.

  “Thanks.” I said earnestly. “That means a lot to me.”

  Bart nodded and then slung back the remnants of his gin and tonic, while my Red River arrived chilled with a couple of scoops of Rocky Road, whip cream, raspberry sauce, and still bubbling from all the Bud Lite poured into it.

  Leaning over, I took a long sip from the straw and suddenly slumped forward in complete contentment.

  “Ahhh…” I said aloud—drawing a couple of curious onlooker’s glances—including Bart’s. “That hits the spot.”

  “What is that—I may inquire?” Bart asked in a hushed tone.

  Toying with my drink, I said, “Nature’s sweet ambrosia, my dear prince.” I pushed the drink towards him as an afterthought. “Care for a swig?”

  The prince stared at my whipped concoction and then shook his head.

  “I think I’ll pass—thank you. I just realized that American beer never sat well with me. Not like a good ol’ gin and tonic with some crackers on the side.”

  “Spoil sport.” I fired back affectionately, then went back to my drink.

  Lisa came back and asked us if we were ready to order.

  “Order…as in…food?” I queried, then covered up a burp in the process. “Excuse me. That didn’t go down as well as I’d hoped.”

  The bartender smiled and then asked Bart if he would like anything to eat.

  “A Monte Cristo—if you would my fair lady. And a side order of your best fries.” Tipping his glass towards her, he added, “and could you get me another?”

  The young barkeep grinned. “Any more and you’re going to be too pasted to go home, kind sir.” And gave a paper slip to one of her co-workers. Then started working on his third gin and tonic from behind the bar.

  I chuckled. “Don’t get him started. He’s only eighteen. And still wet behind the ears.”

  The brunette’s dark eyebrows went up a notch. “Eighteen, eh?” And licked her lips a little appreciatively. “I like my men young.”

  I scoffed at that one. “You lie pretty good for a single 28-year-old whom hasn’t had a date in four years.” I threw back at her.

  Lisa’s expression turned to hurt and then mock shock.

  “And you haven’t had a date in what…? Ten years by my reckoning?”

  I belched a little after taking a healthy draw on my tall, frosted, drink.

  “Men are such fucking pigs.” I declared with some pained indignation. “All they want from women these days is a good hump, followed by some really dirty sex, and after that—? They go on the prowl looking for more women to fuck. It‘s a never ending cycle of immorality with girls like me getting the short end of the stick.”

  I artfully scooped some of the whip cream out with the end of my straw and sucked it in—a tad bit obscenely to the prince’s watchful gaze.

  I laughed, thinking that this whole exercise in depravity was funnier than hell.

  “In my case…your royal Highness…I got the short end of a real…dick. And believe me…he wasn‘t fucking worth it.” I smiled a little before I continued.

  “Even after I kicked his sorry ass. First with a bat and then with my fists…”

  My friend Lisa turned away for a second, the look on her face speaking volumes. But she was in no position to step in and say something about it.

  Either out of pity or concern, Bart tried his best to reason with me instead.

  “Kina…please…”

  I stared at him blankly for a second and frowned.

  I wasn’t going to listen to one word he was saying.

  Not today. My pain was going to rule me.

  “Who the fuck told you that you…could talk…back to…me?” I bit out angrily.

  Bart’s eyes widened and he swallowed with some difficulty.

  At this point, he tried again to say something in my defense, but I couldn’t care less what was passing for wisdom between these ears of mine.

  “Go…away…” I ground out. “Leave me…alone…”

  The alcohol in me had my brain loosened up faster than an incoming bogey and all I wanted to do now was crawl back into my cockpit and sleep it off.

  Hard to believe, but I was suddenly that tired.

  God…the flight home was going to be a bitch.

  “What about Bart here?” Lisa piped up out of the blue—hoping to change the subject line.

  I looked at him stupidly for a second and then shook my head.

  “I’d be in such trouble if I tried anything with him. His parents would kill me for sure.”

  “Why?” She asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

  With sudden clarity, I picked my
straw out of the glass and pointed its dripping end at the prince in question.

  “The kid here is of a royal bloodline. I’m just his schnookered taxi driver.” Then I started laughing—leaving poor Bart here in a real pickle.

  But he handled it surprisingly well—I gave him that.

  Turning to the bar tender, he asked: “She always like this when she drinks?”

  Lisa sighed slowly and then nodded. “Yep. It doesn’t take much to get her hammered. Kee never could handle alcohol very well. Not like her old man and brother anyways. And believe me: They were hard-core drinkers.”

  Bart nodded to himself, wondering if he should tell Lisa the truth about himself after all—seeing how the cat was out of the bag.

  “So…” he began carefully. “Why does she do it?”

  Lisa looked over at her friend—seeing her head buried in her arms next to the still cold glass of Red River.

  Half of it was already gone.

  Then she shook her head.

  “She had a deep and emotional relationship with a man about three years younger than she was. She was 26 at the time—you understand…right?”

  Bart made a solemn gesture over his chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die, my lady. I shan’t tell a soul—I swear.”

  Lisa nodded and pulled up a seat after she handed him his fourth gin and tonic.

  “Well, what happened was the worst betrayal ever for poor Kee. The guy she had fallen madly in love with and spent many a romantic flings with over the next three years…? Turned out to be someone whom was having affairs with two other women besides her.”

  Bart’s eyes widened in horror.

  “Truly?”

  Lisa nodded slowly. “Yes. When she found out…?”

  “Complete devastation.” Bart guessed correctly.

  Another nod.

  “Because of what happened, Kee could never trust herself in another relationship. And she could never allow herself to fall in love again. But it never stopped her flirtatious nature though. She still likes to look at guys from time to time, but whenever she feels the least bit adventurous—she gets scared and backs off.”

  Bart looked over at the still sleeping woman and felt nothing but pity and profound sympathy for her cause.

  “A tragedy befitting poor Admiral Nelson.”

  Lisa raised an empty glass she was cleaning towards him.

  “Yup. Just like Trafalgar.”

  Bart’s lunch arrived and the boy bit into his Monte Cristo while thinking over what Lisa had shared in him.

  And trusted him with.

  Glancing up, he just happened to catch something on the TV overhead, with a banner splashed across the widescreen at the bottom.

  POWERFUL SPRING STORMS CANCELS AUGUSTA NATIONALS.

  Raising his glass, he said, “that tears it then. No golf tourney for this young turk.”

  Lisa glanced up at the TV and then the teenager himself.

  “Come again?”

  Bart swallowed what he had in his mouth.

  “I came all the way from England to meet my sports idol, Tiger Woods. But it looks like the weather had other plans for this day in question.” He explained.

  “You like golf?” Lisa inquired, her face animated with interest.

  “Yes,” the prince answered in a guarded tone. “Why?”

  “There’s a local country club just a few blocks down the ways from this tavern. I would love it if you played a round or two with me.”

  Bart bowed slightly. “It would be my distinct honor to accompany you, my fair lady.” Then he looked at Kina and asked, “What about her?”

  “What about her?”

  “It’s clear that I can’t go today to Augusta, um…so would you have a place for her to sleep it off?”

  “I have a bedroom upstairs in the apartment I am currently renting. I could have her crash there for the time being.”

  Bart nodded. “That would be a good idea. Would you mind waiting until after I ate?”

  “No,” Lisa said. “I have no problem at all.”

  The prince snorted ever so lightly. “Good. Because I don’t think my traveling companion here is going anywhere at the moment.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

  April 24th.

  5:35 AM.

  I don’t know what woke me up first: The sudden urge to use the bathroom or the damned ringing inside my head?

  Rolling over on the soft bed I was presently on, my hand brushed something even softer than before.

  “What—?” I muttered dazedly—trying to calm the awful pounding in my head.

  “W-where am I?”

  I tightened my fingers a little in the lucid darkness and came away with something that practically erased any doubt who was in the bed with me!

  “Lisa!” I hissed—shaking her with the other hand. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

  The other woman moved on her own accord in a sleepy manner and smiled in the darkness.

  “Kee…? She answered. “Oh…so you’re…” there was a yawn and then the feeling of her body stretch out next to my bent knee.

  “—awake…”

  I abruptly got up then and leaned over my side of the bed—suddenly realizing that that in itself was a bad idea.

  My head still pounded in concert to the blood rush from yesterday and I had fleeting recollections of arguing with somebody and that was…it.

  “What…what happened?” I asked slowly.

  “What else…?” My friend answered. “You got drunk and decided to piss off a really good day with your friend.”

  “Bart?”

  Lisa stretched a little more to the left, her joints cracking and popping.

  “He’s a very good golfer and has…really good hands.” She purred.

  I blushed beet red—thinking about how I wanted him to…do the same..?

  But I pushed that thought away and focused on the present.

  “I’ll bet.” I sniped irritably.

  “Don’t get your blue panties in a bind, Kee.” Lisa offered in defense of herself. “All he did was show me some tricky golf shots.”

  “With his driver or his sand wedge?” I jabbed sourly.

  Lisa got quiet for a second..

  “Kee…he’s a nice kid. Really. But I…I like my men to be a bit more mature and easy-going.”

  I didn’t know whether or not to take comfort from that or not.

  For Chrissakes! I thought miserably. I’m 36 years old! I have no business getting mixed up with an 18-year-old prince from England! No matter how cute he may be!

  Then an all too familiar fear welled up inside me and I started to shake a little.

  “No…not…now…” I whined softly. “I don’t need this feeling!”

  Lisa rolled up next to me and laid a hand on my shoulder.

  “Kee…don’t you think it’s time that you stopped being afraid and start listening to your heart?”

  I shuddered. “It’s…not easy. Every guy I look at…I can‘t risk getting close to—even when I‘m thinking that I can.”

  “Bart seems very concerned about you. He thinks that you’ve been through enough suffering and its time for you to heal.”

  I laughed softly. “He told you that—did he?”

  “That he did.” Lisa said.

  Pain flared up inside my head, forcing me to rub my temples in an blind attempt to make the pounding in my head go away.

  Nothing worked. The pain was still there.

  “Got anything for a fucking hangover?” I asked quietly—trying to forget what she said about Bart and focus on something else entirely.

  Pain was such an easy crutch to grab a hold of. It presented so many possibilities when reality itself failed to hold up to life’s little expectations.

  Or failures.

  “I’ve got some Motrin, maybe some leftover Vicadin. It’s your call.”

  I nodded. “Right. Your hip surgery last November. Motrin it is.”

  “I also got some Pampr
in too…?”

  “I’m not pregnant!” I fired off.

  There was the sound of flesh hitting bare skin. Then I heard my friend laughing her ass off.

  The urge to kill her suddenly surfaced and I nearly turned on her at this point.

  “I wasn’t—saying…you…were—” she giggled—fighting back tears. “I was just…asking!”

  My restraint blew its collective top and I pounced—throwing myself on top of her with my hands wrapped around her neck in the next split-second.

  Despite the pounding going on in my skull, despite the heavy blood-rush I was experiencing, I couldn’t keep the exhilarating delight in tormenting my best friend like a long-lost sibling would.

  I bounced myself around as she broke out of my fake choke hold and soon I found myself at her mercies as she turned the tables and had me pinned.

  A tickling match ensued, with the two of us trying to wear down the other, but it soon became apparent that I was going to be the loser—after I balled myself into the fetal position; trying to ward off a flurry of attacks from her.

  “Okay, okay, okay…!” I screamed out in laughter. “I capitulate! I surrender! I give up!”

  Lisa stopped in her attacks—flustered, sweaty, and full of giddy energy.

  Then she surprised me by kissing me on the mouth.

  “You’re so easy,” she said teasingly—before sliding off onto the floor.

  “Bite me.” I challenged her playfully, before I got up myself. I needed to get dressed and get to the airfield.

  “Where’s my clothes?” I asked in a puzzled tone.

  “Being washed,” my friend said. “Both me and Bart had to strip you after your glass tipped over and spilled all over the front of you.”

  Still a little turned on by the recent game we played, I felt my nips harden even more under the short tee that I had on.

  Covering myself instinctively, I shrieked, “What?!”

  Lisa laughed at my discomfort.

  “Not to worry, girl friend. I was the one taking your clothes off while your were propped up in the bathroom. All he got was sloppy seconds.”

  “So he didn’t try to peek in?” I dared to ask, then shook my head in disgust. Once again—my flirtatious imagination kicked in.