“Trust me, there’s no one who can compete with you,” he says. He’s sounding all princely and regal again, and it’s turning me on, not to mention making me fall even harder for him. I’m picturing his perfect face right now, with his head slightly bent down as he concentrates on our conversation. The same sun that’s glinting off my necklace is shining down on Luke. He’s not too far away right now. If I could only touch him. If he were only right next to me.
But he’s coming back in an hour or two. It’s not like he’s in another country or continent. We’ll be together soon.
“Does this mean we’re headed to the next level or something,” I say, trying to laugh, as if I’m telling a joke, but I know that I’m deadly serious. “Are we, like, a couple now?”
There’s no answer, just some heavy static on the line.
“Luke? You there, Luke?”
There’s no answer.
“Fuck,” I say, closing the phone.
I bite my nails for a couple minutes, waiting to see if the phone rings again. I try calling him again, but there’s just hiss on the other end when the call goes through. Fucking Liserian cell phone companies.
Well, I might as well enjoy the time I have until he and Sebastian get back. I wonder how long Sebastian’s going to be staying in Liseria?
I hope not too long. I want to have plenty of time with the prince all to myself.
“Oh,” says someone. “I didn’t know you were out here.”
I spin around, not sure who I’m expecting to see. It doesn’t sound like Eugene, or the Queen or King.
“Oh, hi,” I say. “You’re Belinda, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she says.
She’s wearing a perfect little dress, and she looks like she’s a model in one of those spring fashion catalogues for impossibly thin women.
“What’s up?” I say, realizing as I say it that my French is starting to sound a little slangy itself. Maybe that’s a sign it’s getting better, or maybe that it’s getting worse, I’m not sure.
“Were you talking to Lucas on the phone?”
“Yeah,” I say, slowly. What fucking business is it of hers? I’d sure feel a lot more threatened, tough, if Luke hadn’t told me how silly he though she was.
“I just…well, it seems like you two are getting along really well, and I just wanted to hear from you what your intentions are with him.”
“My intentions? What?” I’m completely dumbstruck, and don’t know what to say or what she means.
She doesn’t say anything. She’s clearly waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know,” I say. “We just met not too long ago.”
“But it’s going pretty fast, isn’t it?”
I don’t say anything. I don’t like her attitude or her line of questioning.
“Excuse me,” I say. “But how is this any of your business?” I silently congratulate myself for saying this, since only a month ago, I would have felt too crippled by my constant anxiety to say anything this confrontational, even if it was well within my rights.
“Well,” she says, huffing a little.
Even though I’m not feeling anxious, I still hope this doesn’t turn nasty.
“I’ve been a close friend of the royal family for almost a decade. And I think I have it coming to me.”
“Have what coming to you?”
She laughs haughtily. “What do you think this is all about?” The demeanor she wore during the royal lunch was apparently nothing more than a mask. Now her true nature is coming out. “This isn’t just fun and games. I know that for you this is just a fun little romp with a hot foreign guy. But I’ve been dreaming about this my whole life. This is about joining the royal family. This isn’t a game.”
“It’s not a game for me, either, Belinda,” I say, very seriously, making sure to annunciate my French words carefully.
23.
Luke
“Where you going dude?”
“I think I recognize that guy, man. He’s a friend from back home.”
“What? That doesn’t make any sense. I bet you and Rebecca are the only two Americans in the entire country, and Liserians aren’t exactly known for traveling abroad very often.”
“No, really, I think it’s my buddy Mike.”
“Dude, I’m 100% certain there’s no one in this bar, let alone Liseria, named Mike.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“Whatever, man,” I say, and order a second beer from the bartender. He brings it over and slams it down on the counter. Not out of anger or anything—but that’s just the way things are done at this bar, to try to give you more of a feel for it.
I watch out of the corner of my eye as Sebastian saunters over to a darkened corner where there’s a lone hulking guy who looks like he really doesn’t want to be approached by some American tourist.
Well, Sebastian’s just going to fucking have to deal with the consequences for being such a fucking idiot. It’s my country after all, and he might at least listen to me.
“Hey,” I say to the bartender, after about ten minutes of just staring at the wall and waiting for Sebastian to return. “Who’s that guy over there in the corner? The big guy?”
He shakes his head, like he has no idea.
“Come on,” I say. “Don’t play dumb with me. Tell me who he is.”
“Is this a royal investigation?”
Generally, all Liserians recognize my face, but most are too reserved to acknowledge my title.
I shake my head. “No fucking way. I’m just wondering what my friend is up to over there.”
“Ok,” he says. “That’s Sven.”
“Sven?” There aren’t a lot of guys named Sven in Liseria.
“Yeah, he’s from somewhere else.”
Wow, it’s like prying fucking nails, or whatever the expression is. Did I mention that Liserians aren’t always that talkative?
“And what does Sven do?”
“He’s a drug dealer.”
“Yeah?”
He nods his head, and retreats to another corner of the bar where he can stand in silence. Apparently he’s tired of my questions.
OK, so this guy Sebastian’s talking to probably isn’t Liserian, but that actually lines up with Sebastian’s story. And it’s not that out of character for Sebastian to talk to a drug dealer. I know he likes to have a good time.
I turn my head ever so slightly to see what Sebastian’s up to now. Last time I looked over, sneaking a glance, he and Sven were leaning in and speaking conspiratorially.
But when I look over now, there’s no one there.
Fuck.
This might not be good
But, wait. Sebastian’s probably just getting high in the bathroom or something with this Sven character.
But that’d be out of character. Wouldn’t Sebastian have invited me along? Not that I’d partake. I’m starting to feel like those days of getting fucked up are long behind me. Well, not too long, but they’re behind me and that’s the important thing.
Another ten minutes go buy, and I’m peeling the label off my beer.
“You going to have another?” says the bartender, giving me a look that says if I don’t have another beer, I’m going to be in trouble if I don’t leave. So much for getting what you want as a prince. In a place like this, my title doesn’t mean much.
“I’m heading out,” I say, throwing down some Euros on the counter.
The bartender nods ever so slightly as I head towards the bathroom.
“Sebastian?” I say. “You in here, man? We’ve got to head out soon.”
There’s no answer. Shit, where the fuck is he?
I take out my cell phone before remembering that Liserian cell service sucks—I could barely talk to Rebecca—and anyway Sebastian’s SIM card isn’t going to work here in Liseria.
Fuck.
I head out the steel back door into an impossibly filthy alley tha
t the sun doesn’t seem to reach.
“Sebastian?” I call.
“What’s up, man?” says a voice coming from behind a dumpster.
“What the hell’s going on?” I say, poking my head around the dumpster.
I’m immediately met by hands that grip my throat and throw me against the rough brick wall. I react instinctively by kneeing the guy in the stomach with a swift blow.
He releases me, and I put my fists up. What the fuck is going on?
My mind is spinning. Is Sebastian trying to rob me? If he is, he’d have better luck coming back to the palace where there’s actually stuff to rob. All I’ve got here is the car and a little money. Well, it’s not a little. I’m a prince after all.
“What the fuck?” says a guy in heavily accented French.
I look down at the guy, whose clutching his stomach, right where I kneed him. It’s Sven. Not that I have any idea who Sven actually is.
“Why the fuck did you grab my neck, dude?” I say to him in French.
“Calm the fuck down, both of you,” says Sebastian in English, putting up his hands as if to hold us apart from fighting, but Sven is still just clutching his stomach.
“Don’t fucking surprise me like that, grabbing my throat,” I say, in English. “That’s not cool. Sebastian, what the hell are you doing out here with this asshole? You just getting high or something?”
“No, dude, it’s something bigger. Much bigger.”
“Bigger?” What the hell is he talking about?
“I’ll be right back, dude. Just give me the keys to the car, will you?”
‘No fucking way, not until you tell me what the hell’s going on out here?”
“Dude, I got a sick deal set up here. You going to blow it for me?”
“A deal? Like a drug deal?”
“Yeah,” says Sebastian. “What did you think was in that duffel bag.”
“Oh,” I say. “Look, man, I don’t think this is such a good idea.”
“Come on, man. I’m fucking broke. How do you think I financed my trip to Europe?”
“I thought maybe some chick gave you the money, honestly.”
“Dude, I may get a lot of pussy, but none of them are trying to give me money. Wake the fuck up. Hey man, I’m doing this so I can come visit you. And we don’t all have prince money, you know? And I know you got up to this when you were a teen or whatever.”
That’s true, but it was pretty small scale. I don’t know how much he’s got in that duffel bag, but it sure felt heavy—more than just a few kilos.
“Sebastian, this isn’t a good idea,” I say.
“Fine, but I need the fucking money, man. Are you going to cock block me on this thing or what?”
“I don’t think that’s how that expression is used…” I say, smiling slightly, despite the circumstances, because this is the first time I’ve ever gotten to correct an American on their own slang.
“Whatever, man, you know what I mean. Listen, this really doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
“But that’s why you wanted me to escort you across the border, so you wouldn’t get searched?”
“Yeah, but it’s not like you’re going to get in trouble.”
Sebastian’s looking at me with pleading eyes, and I realize he doesn’t have much else going on in his life. And I feel fucking bad for the guy.
“Fine, whatever,” I say, tossing him the keys. “Go get it, but I don’t want to be involved at all.”
“You don’t want a small cut of the profits?”
I shake my head. “No,” I say.
Sebastian dashes off and returns a minute later lugging the huge duffel bag over his shoulder.
“You got the money, Sven?” he says.
Sven nods, and pulls out an old battered envelope from his pocket. It’s pretty thick, and it looks like it holds a lot of bills. “Give me the bag first,” he says, in his heavily accented English.
“The money first,” says Sebastian, giving him a cold stare.
I can tell this is going to take forever.
“Fuck, man,” I say. “Just give him the fucking drugs. Let’s get this over with. He’s not going anywhere.”
Sebastian nods, conceding, and hands the duffel bag over to Sven, who takes it and places it on the ground. He kneels down and unzips the bag, revealing a shitload of white plastic bags.
Shit, it’s coke! I thought Sebastian was just bringing in some weed or something. I’ve never been interested in coke myself since it sound so fucking addictive and fucking dangerous. Shit, Sebastian’s getting into some really serious shit.
And he’s dragging me along with him.
I wonder what Rebecca’s doing right now? Probably not standing in a sketchy alley watching a big coke deal go down. I just hope we can get this shit over with fast and I can get back to her.
“Looks like good stuff,” says Sven, pulling a big knife from his pocket and jabbing a package.
Sebastian looks a little worried at the site of the knife, but it’s nothing unusual for me. I go hunting, after all.
I’m guessing Sven was in the military, judging by the make of the knife. Not a lot of regular citizens, even drug smugglers, walk around with that kind of high quality steel. The thing is made for military and police use only.
Wait a second…
Alarm bells start going off in my head.
There’s something weird about this Sven guy, and why does he have a police knife?
Sven takes a taste of the white powder.
“Yup,” he says. “It’s cocaine all right.”
“Of course it is, mother fucker,” says Sebastian. “Now give me the money.”
“You’re under arrest,” says Sven, standing up suddenly, and pulling a pistol out of nowhere. He points it right in Sebastian’s face, who puts his hands up high above his head.
“Whoah,” says Sebastian. “I don’t want any trouble man. Shit, you can keep the coke if you want.”
“You think you can bribe me?” says Sven, dropping what was apparently a phony accent. Now he sounds just like Liserians speaking English. Shit, this guy really is a cop then, and a Liserian one to boot.
“Hey,” I say to Sven, in Liserian French. “I think there’s been a big misunderstanding. I’m the prince, you see, and we can’t have any more bad press. So why don’t you just confiscate the drugs, and let us go back to the palace? This man’s here in on a royal invitation.”
“I know who you are,” says Sven back to me, in perfect Liserian French. Shit, he really is a native. He pulls out his badge to prove he’s a cop, flashing it briefly in our faces. “And I’m tired of you royals getting away with whatever you want. You two are coming with me to the station.”
What the hell’s he talking about? I thought I was the only misbehaving royal. Who’s he talking about?
But if there’s one thing I know it’s that I can’t have another press scandal. If I’m picked up for a huge coke deal like this in my own country, that’s going to be the end of the entire thing. My parents will never forgive me, and I’ll have everything stripped away from me. They won’t have any choice, given how harsh the press has already been on me these last few years. This will be the final straw, and I already know the Liserian police are incorruptible these days, unfortunately, no matter whether I’m the prince or not. The political situation is confusing, but, shit, basically all it means is I’m fucked.
I’ve got to act fast if I want out of this.
“OK,” I say, keeping my hands above my head for the time being. “We’ll go with you to the station.”
“Good,” says Sven, starting to smile a wicked smile.
Meanwhile, my foot is sliding towards a big bag of trash that’s only a couple inches away from my foot.
Let’s hope I still remember my training…
With a swift and well-aimed kicked, I send the trash bag flying right at Sven’s face.
“What the fuck?” he yells in Liserian French.
“Go!” I scream, at Sebastian, who doesn’t need to be told twice.
Looks like there was some heavy shit in that trash bag, because it sure took a lot of effort to kick it, and Sven’s momentarily holding his hands over his face, having dropped the gun.
Sebastian goes for the gun.
“Just fucking run,” I scream at him. “Leave the gun, asshole.” What a fucking dick. He wants to get us in even more trouble?
We sprint through the alley towards the car.
I jam myself into the driver’s seat and Sebastian gets inside too. In seconds, the engine is roaring, and I’ve shifted into first. We’re roaring off, burning rubber.
“Is he behind us?” I say.
Sebastian checks the mirror.
“Can’t see him anywhere,” he says. “Fuck that asshole. You know how much money I just lost?”
“Dude, are you serious? We’re lucky to not have handcuffs on right now. How could you be so fucking stupid?”
“You calling me stupid?”
“Fucking right I am. That was about the stupidest fucking drug deal I’ve ever heard of. How did you find that Sven guy anyway?”
“Whatever, man. We got away didn’t we? That was some sick shit you pulled with that kick.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Without me, we’d be in prison. But you know what? We’re still fucked. It’s not like he doesn’t know who I am. I’m the fucking prince. Even if they don’t act like it, everyone knows who I am. I can’t go pulling drug deals like that in Liseria, asshole. And when did you become like a coke smuggler anyway? We never got up to anything that serious back in the States.”
Sebastian shrugs. “I thought I could make some money,” he says.
“Is that why you came to Liseria in the first place?”
Sebastian shrugs.
Shit, what a fucking asshole. I should have known he didn’t want to come visit me. He’s just using me and my royalty, just like everyone else. Everyone except Rebecca, that is.
“Dude,” says Sebastian, sounding really worried. His voice goes all high-pitched and funny sounding, like he got kicked in the balls. “There’s cops behind us.”
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