"I worked very hard that night," I murmured, sliding a hand over her plump rear. "Do you need me to remind you?"
She darted forward, giggling. Like the dog I was, I gave in to the thrill of the chase. By the time I caught her, we were both panting and out of breath. We didn't have any condoms, and Veronika was watching from somewhere, so it didn’t go any further than that. Not that I minded Veronika watching, probably wouldn’t be the first time a member of the palace guard saw a royal getting frisky, but it wasn’t fair to Ally. I know she wouldn’t have appreciated the audience.
But our little play certainly helped bring me out of my trouble headspace. For the next couple of hours, I baked in the sun and listened to music with Ally without a care in the world.
Until I received a text from Veronika.
I frowned at the screen, rolling over so Ally wouldn't be able to read it.
Heard back from my friend. We should talk.
It wasn't like Veronika to be dramatic. That meant whatever was going on was serious.
Just tell me. Ally will get suspicious if I leave now and I can't wait.
A moment later, I received my answer.
Your father has illness. They don't tell you until they know more, but I think they're going to ask you to come home.
I dropped the phone onto the blanket and rolled onto my back. Of course they were going to ask me to come home. They always asked me to come home. But I knew what she meant. If my father really was sick, their ask would be less of a request and more of a demand.
If I didn't return and father died, Juris would inherit the throne and I knew that they didn’t think he was ready. They were probably right. He was only a couple of years younger than me, but I knew all about the selfish and entitled streak my mother had been complaining about on our last call. I’d seen signs of it myself, before I even left. Those qualities would be disastrous in a ruler.
Ally peered over at me. "What's wrong?"
I really wanted to tell her. Spill everything right there and then and be done with it. I’d already avoided too many questions today, and she definitely noticed. Continuing to keep secrets from her wasn’t a good idea.
But I couldn't. At least, not everything.
"I just found out that my father is sick," I said. "It's a bit of a blow to the family."
She sat up. Her wide, blue eyes were filled with so much concern that my chest ached.
"That's horrible! What's he sick with?"
I rolled my head to the side, gaze landing on the tanned legs jutting from her jean shorts. I ran a finger up the side of her thigh thoughtfully.
"I don't know. They haven't officially told me yet."
"What?" I was glad I didn't have to see her puzzled expression. It made my half-truths easier. "Why not?"
"They know I'll feel obligated to come home right away and they're waiting to see if it's serious enough for that, is my guess."
"Of course it's serious enough," Ally said. “Why wouldn’t you go back to visit him if he’s sick?”
She didn't understand. If my father died, that was the end of my American "experiment". There would be no coming back.
And there would be no more Ally.
The thought of having to leave her beautiful face behind sliced into me like a wicked blade. But I would cross that bridge if and when I got to it.
"It’s probably not as serious as they say. My family tends to over-react to things. Anyway, let's go home," I said finally. "I'm tired. I could use a good nap."
Ally didn't question me, but I could tell she knew I was still holding back. She rolled up the blanket and slung it over her arm, then began picking her way back toward the parking lot. In the silence, I mulled over my situation.
Aside from how it might affect my life, I felt terrible for my father. Guilt poured in from all sides, threatening to drown me. What if something did happen to him, and I had spent all this time away just because I couldn't handle a little responsibility? How many things had I missed out on from being here?
But did I want to leave?
No, I didn't.
And that meant I had no fucking idea what to do.
20
Ally
I wasn't the type to panic. Generally, things turned out better when approached calmly and logically. But Matt had acted weird on the beach. Even before he’d gotten that message about his father, he was being evasive and never really answering my questions. Like he was hiding something. And then he gets that message out of the blue about his father, doesn’t seem concerned enough to want to go home for a visit, but then decides he’s tired and needs a nap.
Something more was going on. Was that message even about his sick father at all?
My mind bounced from one possibility to the next as we drove back home.
Did he have a girlfriend? His suggestion to meet today had been completely out of the blue, and he’d made that cryptic comment about needing to fix something on the drive to the beach. Maybe he had a fight with her and decided to call me as a consolation prize? I had seen that tall, blonde girl watching him at his strip show that first night, and she couldn’t take her eyes off of him.
Or was there someone back home he was trying to avoid, since the subject of Caspierre and his past seemed the one he avoided the most.
Was he married?
Matthias was silent on the drive, which made me even more suspicious.
Matthias was never quiet.
He was the type of guy that liked to hear himself speak, and normally that was a turn off because guys like that typically always wanted to just talk about themselves. Matthias was different though. He always asked about me and my life, and seemed genuinely interested. I liked that. But with him quiet now, it just left me to brood over my own thoughts, and the thinking brought me places I didn't want to go.
I wasn’t even sure what we had going on between us. Was it really any of my business whether he had a girlfriend or a wife. Well, if he did, then it made him a complete asshole. So in that sense it was my business. I didn’t want to believe he was that type of guy. Not now, after getting to know him. After everything we’d done with and to each other.
Yet I did peg him as an asshole that first night, and first impressions are often the correct ones. Did I really let my lust for his hot and hard body ignore all the signs? That was unlike me.
But so was banging a stripper I’d just met in the spare bedroom at a party full of people.
The cool air that had felt like a balm before now sapped all the moisture from my lips, leaving them to dry and crack, but I was too focused on all the whirring anxieties in my head to care.
Matthias didn't even notice my state. Or if he did, he didn't mention anything. I wished he would. I wished he would say something, anything, to make me feel better.
"Do you need me to stop anywhere on the way back into town?" I asked, just before our turn off on the highway. It was mainly an attempt to see if I could get him to start talking again.
Matthias shook his head grimly. Something was definitely on his mind. Was it really just his father’s illness. He said himself he thought it was nothing.
I dropped him off in front of his apartment building. The place was even grimier looking on the outside than it was on the inside. I'd been in worse places, granted, but it didn't suit Matt for some reason. Despite his less than glamorous job as a stripper, he almost seemed too classy for this place. He spoke well. He dressed well. He seemed like he would be more at home in an urban loft or fancy downtown townhouse.
But the way he spent money, this was probably the best he could afford.
Unless it’s just his cover apartment, where he takes women like me so that they don’t run into his wife or girlfriend back at his real house.
It was a ridiculously paranoid thought, but maybe an explanation would put my mind at ease.
"Hey, can I ask you a question?"
"What's that?" Matthias paused with his hand on the door handle.
I gestured
to the front of the building. In particular, I was referring to the cracked and uneven facade, though I waved my hands around to take in the whole thing.
"This place... I feel like, I don’t know… it just doesn’t suit you. Any particular reason you live here? "
I felt stupid and rude as soon as the words left my mouth. Maybe this really was all he could afford, especially if he made a habit of spending so much on expensive dinners with reluctant and ungrateful librarians.
Matthias didn't seem irritated by the question, but he wasn't amused either. And since amused was his default setting, that reaction alone said more than his response.
"It's not such a bad place," he reasoned, looking up at the building. “Besides,” he continued with a shrug, “my father always said that hard work builds character. I kind of feel like living here is its own sort of hard work." Then he smiled at me, though it didn't seem entirely genuine. "I'll talk to you later, Ally."
Matthias leaned over the console and gave me a quick kiss before slipping out of the car. I idled on the side of the road while he walked up to the front door, mulling over his words.
There were a lot of things I didn't understand about Matthias, so in a way, this was just something new I could add to that list. Why would anyone want to live somewhere like this just because it built character? There were probably much easier, and safer, ways to do that.
Again, I was left wondering whether Matthias was being truthful with me. If he couldn’t even give me a straight answer about where he lived, what chance did we have with any of this? If there really was anything here in the first place.
Was I just wasting my time? Was he playing me for a fool?
I put the car into drive and cruised back onto the main street, thoughts consumed by the everyday enigma of Matthias Janis.
I never quite got over the unsettling feeling I had about Matt after our day at the beach. The cagey response about his apartment probably wouldn’t have normally seemed that odd to me, if I wasn’t already suspecting something about him—but that was the problem. If I couldn’t trust the man, then I was always going to be analyzing and judging everything he did and said.
And the fact was, at this point, I really didn’t trust him.
So the next day, when he texted me after I got home from work, I did what I probably should have done when he’d called to go to the beach. I ignored it.
It was completely unlike me.
Candace claimed she could rely more on the promptness of my replies than she could the passing of time. I normally had a weird, OCD-like compulsion to respond to any notification display immediately. Texts, phone calls, emails, even app notifications were all very hard for me to ignore.
And yet I didn't text him back.
Candace was home with me. We were playing Crib—a game I'd been trying to teach her. She looked at the flashing screen, then back to me, then back to the screen. Then she put down her cards.
"What are you doing?"
I looked up at her, trying to plan which two cards I should discard into the crib. I had a good hand, so it was tricky.
"I'm trying to figure out whether I want to skunk you now or later," I replied.
She furrowed her brow. "You've got a text."
"I can see that."
"It's from Matthias."
I pressed my lips firmly together. "Yes. I can see that too."
Candace fell silent, though I could see that she was positively bursting with confusion. I decided to ease up on her before she exploded.
"I'm taking some time to think about some stuff. It's easier if I just cut off contact in the meantime."
"Doesn't seem easier. Seems way more complicated." She muttered it under her breath, but I know she meant for me to hear it. I ignored her.
I discarded my two cards and we continued. Candace had a ten-point hand, but she only saw six. I decided not to tell her about the others out of spite.
I also didn’t go any further into my issues with Matthias. It was obvious she was going to take his side, and I didn’t want to deal with that.
On Tuesday morning, two days after our beach date, my grand total of unanswered texts from Matthias was four. Unanswered calls: two. It probably would have been more if I hadn’t finally texted back, telling him I needed space and asking him not to text or call anymore. He didn't know where I lived, so at least I didn't have to worry about him showing up unexpectedly. As long as Candace hadn’t told him that, too. She promised me she hadn’t.
I tried to throw myself into my work as much as possible. Not an easy job in a quiet library.
There were books to reshelf, people to help, new books to enter into the system, errant returns to follow up on, but my mind wasn’t on any of it. All I could think about was Matthias. I hated it.
It’s hard to get space from someone when they’re constantly on your mind.
Glen came in to use the computer. For once, I didn't mind when he asked me to help him. Apparently someone had told him he could order groceries online, and he wanted me to help him with that. At least while I was being grossed out by the amount of fish sticks that he was ordering, I wasn't thinking about Matthias.
About halfway through the day, while I was stacking and organizing new magazines, a FedEx deliveryman came and stood beside me. He was holding a fairly large box.
"They can sign for that at the front desk," I told him, unwilling to go walk the package over myself. The magazines were providing a useful distraction.
"It's for Ally Dylan," the man replied. "I was told by the woman at the desk that that's you."
I raised a brow. Normally it didn't matter who signed for a package, as long as it was at the correct address. Maybe this guy was new.
"Fine, I'll sign." I grabbed the little console and pen he held toward me.
FedEx guy broke into a huge grin. "Good. If you didn't sign, I was going to have to start telling jokes until you did."
I paused over the screen. "What?"
He nodded excitedly. "Normally we aren't allowed to take on such specific special delivery requests, but whomever sent the package must have somehow paid for special permission. All I know is that I get a bonus just for delivery." His expression wavered, and he looked down at the package. "Shoot. I don't think I was supposed to tell you that."
I quickly signed and snatched the box from his hand. It was addressed to me, c/o the Hampstead Public Library. And, surprise, it was from Matthias.
"I knew it," I mumbled to myself, weighing it in my hands to try to figure out what was inside. It was very light.
The FedEx guy continued watching me. His beady gray eyes still filled with delight.
"Is there something else you need from me?" I asked.
He shook his head. "No, but I was hoping I'd get to find out what's inside. You know, it's not every day that you get a big bonus just for telling a few jokes."
Least professional FedEx employee ever.
I wondered if Matthias had somehow picked him out on purpose.
"What's in here could be personal." I tried to sound as friendly as possible. I had a hard time snubbing anyone—even somebody like this guy.
Harry—the name on his nametag—nodded. "That's okay. I don't mind."
Oh, for heaven's sake.
"Don't you have other deliveries to do?"
His smile brightened. "Nope! The sender paid for my whole day's deliveries. In case I needed to stay here and tell jokes for a while."
Goodie.
I should have just told him to leave, but I was anxious to find out what was in the box and for all I knew, it was better that I had a witness. Like what if he'd set me up for a crime somehow, by sending me evidence? It would be good to have someone who could corroborate my story that whatever was in here wasn’t mine.
I read far too many books.
I peeled the tape off the top and pulled apart the flaps.
21
Ally
Colors flew into my face. No, not colors—colored balloons.
"Awesome!" Harry cried.
I could only watch, mouth gaping, as several small balloons drifted up toward the library's ceiling. I heard children point them out across the room in shrill tones to their parents.
"Look mommy! The library has balloons! Can I get one?"
Crap. Now I was going to have to tell a bunch of little kids that the only balloons we had were the ones currently on the fifteen-foot high ceiling. And like hell I was going up there to retrieve them.
"Look, there's a note." Harry bent down and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to me with an enthusiastic grin.
Worst. FedEx. Employee. Ever.
Nonetheless, it would be good to have him there to tell my supervisor that I didn't release a bunch of balloons on purpose.
I looked at the card first. It was a simple, one sided piece of notepaper that Matthias had scrawled a quick message on.
You said not to call or text. Does this count?
Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Call me.
Matthias
“That’s so sweet,” Harry commented, reading over my shoulder. “You should call him.”
I dropped the box at my feet and walked away.
"He did what?”
I slid the note across the counter toward her. “I would have brought home the balloons, but we still haven’t been able to get them down. I guess they’ll deflate eventually…”
Candace read the note and then passed it back to me. “You could always try hitting them with darts. That could be fun.”
“Somehow I don’t think throwing sharp projectiles around a building filled with children is a good idea.”
Candace ignored me, halfway into the living room. "And all this because you didn't reply to his texts or phone calls?" She collapsed back onto the sofa with a sigh. "I need to try pulling that on my next boyfriend."
Royal Stripper Page 11