Dethroning Crown

by Lila Felix

  Her back was turned to me. Something really creepy or really sexy must’ve been happening in the book she held because her feet were rubbing one another and one of her hands was gripping the life out of the stack next to her.

  Making a librarian go against the ‘Shhh’ rule was some of the best fun anyone could have.

  I crept up behind her and poked my fingers into her slender waist.

  Of course, she wailed so loud that the other librarians came to check on her, sure that she’d been murdered on the James Patterson aisle.

  Finally after whisper soft reassuring everyone that she was fine, she turned on me.

  “Lyra Marchand, I should ban you from the library!” She had a way of reeling me without ever raising her voice—a gifted librarian.

  “You were the one sneaking a little vampire love in between the stacks.”

  “Hey, I’m old—I’m not dead, or undead”

  Vampire jokes—wow.

  “Well, I just wanted to say hi and scare the bejesus out of you.”

  “Thanks for that. I appreciate it.”

  Walking through the stacks, I smiled to myself remembering college. I’d attempted to go to college. It lasted all of one semester. I constantly skipped class in favor of sitting in the library for hours and hours. Once the place closed on me and I had to call campus security from a phone inside the library.

  It made the school newspaper.

  I bet that was a drip compared to the flood of Crown’s fame.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  No. Today is not about him. It’s about me and normalcy. Complete and total non-Crownness.

  I pushed thoughts of him aside, or tried to, as I ran errands and got groceries. Tonight called for a bread fest.

  Everything was ready but Tippi was a no show. I’d set up our dinner outside since the nights were getting colder. Thirty minutes after she was supposed to arrive, she called.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, I’m sorry. I was tied up with meetings. I’ll stop by tomorrow, okay?”

  “No problem. Be careful going home.”

  “I will. See you later.”

  I hung up and sighed.

  “Got stood up?”

  A cringe crawled down my spine at the sound. His voice startled me, but I slapped my hand over my mouth just in time to stop the scream. Payback sucked.

  “Yep. Seems I’m going through a stream of jerks lately.”

  It was only Tippi coming over for dinner, but he didn’t know that. I could feel him get closer. The air around me always seemed to change density when Crown came near. “Me included, I’m guessing.”

  “Good guess. Real sharp.”

  I began picking up the plates and glasses hoping he’d take the hint.

  “I’m—you know—I shouldn’t have—last night.”

  Good Lord, the man quaked with any showing of basic manners. I shouldn’t forgive him or even acknowledge he was in my presence. He didn’t deserve my acknowledgement. He deserved to be kicked in the nuts for assuming.

  I felt sorry for Crown Sterling.

  Being an asshole was no way to live.

  “I see you have trouble with all forms of basic manners, including apologies.”

  Come on, I deserved one dig after his shenanigans the night before.

  “I do. Never had to use them before.”

  I turned around quickly, ready to refute that claim. He obviously had relatives that came from the south. Someone, sometime in his life had to have tried to instill manners in him. When I did, he was closer than I’d thought. He had a white t-shirt on that accentuated his caramel skin. My breath became labored and I begged it to calm. His eyes looked tired and I wondered if for one second if the man who fronted a solid core might just be fallible.

  “You’re not the king around here. You’re just a guy whose ego is bigger than reality. Not one person who isn’t related to you or works for you has visited and I’ve never heard your phone ring once.”

  The veins in his neck pulsed and I knew that in my anger, anger that I wished would just push him away for good, that I’d hurt him. Yes, he’d pissed me off multiple times. Yes, he’d assumed I was one of his fans or whatever kind of girl that just gave it up on his command. But standing there, facing him, seeing the pang of pain I’d caused, renewed my hope. He wasn’t all he pretended to be. There was a person in there that had nothing to do with soccer or girls or fame.

  He just didn’t know it yet.

  I just had to be resilient enough to find it.

  Sometimes we don’t know how heavily we bleed until our skin is peeled back.

  And I’d just peeled back a big layer of royal big-headedness.

  “Maybe I’m not the king of anything.” He shifted to look out at the yard.

  Oh shit, I’d broken him. I didn’t mean to. Whoever his fans are would kill me.

  “Do you have to be the king to be happy?”

  “Never been anything but the king.”

  I sighed a little too loudly. The plates were heavy in my hands and I could’ve kicked myself for what I was contemplating. He didn’t deserve a second chance. He didn’t deserve any of my time.

  I’d made sure to avoid looking directly in his eyes. His eyes seemed to call out to me.

  “I’d ask you to eat with me but I feel like I’m always trying to feed you.”

  “Everybody’s got to eat, right?”

  “Come on, sit down. Tell me more about this king.”

  He fiddled with the hem of his shirt and then sat down reluctantly. “I can’t just talk like that. It doesn’t work. Ask me questions, but only if I get to ask you questions too.”

  I nodded and hurried up with my first question before he changed his mind. “What’s your Dad’s name?”

  “Franklin. People called him Frank. My mom’s name was Catherine. She died when I was a baby.”

  It must’ve been tough growing up without a mother. As kooky as mine was, I loved her and wouldn’t trade her for anything.

  “Your dad never remarried?”

  He chuckled. “No way. My turn. Why are the mirrors covered?” Taking a bite of the spinach and artichoke bread I’d made especially for Tippi, he groaned. “This is good.”

  I was glad he was enjoying my food as I shriveled up inside myself at the poignancy of his question. I wasn’t used to it. My family and Tippi danced around the issue, never really addressing it head on. He didn’t waste any time. That much was sure.

  “They scare me. What do you like to do besides soccer?”

  That’s all he was getting unless he chose to dig deeper. He wouldn’t. No one did.

  “I don’t even know. In high school I liked English class. I had to keep up my grades to stay on the team. It didn’t hurt that I liked a class or two. Gave me something to think about when I was on the field other than listening to my dad scream at me from the stands.”

  “So, English, you like to read?”

  This whole conversation felt like pulling teeth.

  “Not your turn. Why are you scared of mirrors?”

  I dropped my fork at that question. Intensity burned in his eyes again. It was like he was examining me from the inside out. Even when I was being watched I never felt that exposed.

  “I’m not scared of the mirrors. I’m scared of what’s in them, behind them. I’m scared that they’re not simply mirrors at all.”

  His eyes darted around us. He was trying to untangle my riddle.

  “If they’re not mirrors, what are they?”

  I didn’t think it was his turn again, but I couldn’t really think straight about anything. My throat had tightened turning more and more concave by the second.

  “Sometimes they’re cameras.”

  “I don’t understand, Lyra.”

  Of course he didn’t understand. I didn’t, so why in the hell should he? At least he was asking me to my face instead of being a willing participant of the gossip—or the lesser evil, the ones who listened on the sidelines just ab
sorbing all the lies like a sponge.

  This wasn’t a story Crown had earned yet. More than just a childhood tale, this was baring my scars—a retelling of an autobiographical horror story.

  “You don’t have to understand, Crown. You don’t like it, don’t go into my bathroom.”

  How was it that I found it difficult to retort anyone’s insults but his? I could cut Crown Sterling down with a sentence without a drop of sweat on my brow.

  I hated residual feeling it gave me, like the bitter aftertaste of burned garlic.

  He didn’t seemed as fazed by it as I did.

  “Okay. New subject. So, let’s say I like to read. What would you recommend? I think I can get books on my tablet.”

  I shuddered at the thought of electronic books. I could never read on one of those things. I would feel like it was reading me instead of me reading it.

  Mr. Sterling needed some humbling reading material for sure.

  “Thoreau.”

  His jaw worked overtime for a few seconds. I thought he might protest. Thoreau was pretty heavy for a person whose life revolved around a ball and a field.

  “The guy that lived in the woods?”

  A giggle broke free and it loosened my whole being. There was more to him after all, it just needed to be brought forth little by little. It made me wonder what secrets I’d find. There was a man inside him who was capable of a lot more than he was admitting. I just knew it.

  “He lived in the woods, but that wasn’t really the point.”

  “What was the point?”

  “You tell me. I have Walden inside if you want to read it. Might help you pass the time.”

  “Sure.”

  Not wanting to look overly eager, I continued eating. Looking over at Crown, a piece of his black hair being defiant in the back, I wanted to ask more.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Crown

  I don’t like cabins or woods.

  My knee was killing me the day after what I’d originally deemed a wimp workout with Blake. Sitting there with Lyra, listening to her questions, and asking more of my own, I’d hoped to progress with her. After the night before, I knew that pursuing her by my routine means wasn’t going to work.

  I needed her.

  I needed her push to get back on top.

  My tactics needed to change.

  Though I hadn’t lied to her. I’d answered all of the questions honestly, but I still felt the tug of deceit. Why, I didn’t know. I’d run over people from the time I was a kid to get the better position on the field, make the better grade, and mostly earn the approval of my father. So, this shouldn’t matter. I should be able to do whatever it took to get Lyra on team Crown, use it to my advantage and then end it before anyone got hurt. And by anyone, I meant her.

  I didn’t get hurt—at least not emotionally. But this breath of a girl—that tug inside me didn’t want her hurt. And there was only one way to ensure it. She had to know beforehand. Everything I wanted and everything I could give her had to be laid on the table. It was the only way.

  “Lyra, I have a proposal for you.”

  She giggled, thinking I was joking. In fact, I’d never been so sure of anything in my life.

  “Crown has a proposal for me? Do tell.”

  “Well, right now, with my knee out, my career is kind of in a slump.” Her expression morphed from joyous to inquisitive. “And you said that your work a little slow right now. I thought maybe we could strike a deal.

  “I didn’t really say that. But, go on.”

  “If my public thought that I had met a girl while I was recuperating—a model perhaps—that would get me back in the news. It would actually keep me in the news until I could get back on the field.”

  Even in the dim light of the candles lit on the table, I could see her face pale little by little as I propositioned her. That was what it felt like, like a cold, harsh, legal deal.

  Cold and harsh would protect her from me.

  There would be no expectations.

  “And that model would be me.”

  “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a deal to me, Crown. It sounds like you using me.”

  I sat back and crossed my arms over my chest. “No, a deal is a deal. In exchange for the story, because it would only be a story to sell to the tabloids, I would use my connections to get you more jobs. Plus, once your name was out there, the jobs would start rolling in so fast, you wouldn’t be able to think straight.”

  “Give me a second.” She got up and with her hands on her hips, paced around the yard. I pretended not to gauge her reaction, but I was. It had to be this way for her. Didn’t she get it? I had to protect her—from me. She took one huge breath, her cheeks puffing out when she exhaled.

  “Before I even entertain this idea…There would have to be rules, Crown.”

  “Rules?”

  “Yes. I have rules for my modeling. There’s some things I won’t budge on.”

  “Name them.”

  “I’d have to think about it.”

  “Think fast, Halo. I’m only here for a certain amount of time.”

  “Why do you call me that?”

  I shrugged. “You always act like an angel.”

  “Oh. Fine. I’ll let you know my decision tomorrow. Can we talk about something else?” Her tone had taken on a slight dip of disappointment and I was thankful for it. I’d rather her be disappointed now than heartbroken later.

  “Is there anything else to do around here except eat and go to the grocery store?”

  Lyra laughed and though this was all a game, I had to admit, this pretending to be a relationship with her, if she accepted, wouldn’t be an imposition. Of course she was beautiful, she was a model. But that defiance against normality, or what the rest of us considered normality, was what drew me in. I kind of liked that she thought everything I was about was bullshit.

  “There’s swamp tours and the movie theatre, but I don’t go to the movies. Other than that, there’s nothing else to do.”

  Something was up with this girl and mirrors and now she had issues with the movies too.

  “What’s wrong with the movies?”

  She bit down hard on the corner of her bottom lip and looked down to her right. It wasn’t the first time she’d done that and I needed to pay better attention to what kinds of things triggered the move.

  “Come on, Crown, we’re not back on this tired subject, are we?” She deflected with ease.

  “Well, what else do you do? I haven’t seen you go to the swamp. You don’t hunt alligators in your spare time, do you?”

  “All the time.” Her face was as serious as a funeral.

  “No shit?”

  “Really, Crown? As if I could find a dress for that.” She ducked her head. Her hair flowed around her face. She was kidding and as much as I hated to admit it, it was kind of cute. I didn’t need to find anything she did cute. I needed to move in on her smooth and swift with no strings attached. It was her sassy angelic nature that continued to reel me in time after time.

  “What’s the last movie you saw?”

  Looking to the sky, she squinted. I wasn’t much better. I hadn’t seen a movie in years.

  “Tippi and I went to see that new Spider-Man movie. The one with the new guy. It had to have been five years ago. We went to the old theatre.”

  “What’s a Tippi?”

  Now she was really laughing. Her nostrils moved when she laughed and there was something catching about it. I found myself laughing as well.

  “Tippi is my best friend. She’s the one who stood me up tonight.”

  That was good news. For a minute there, I’d thought I would have to shove a boyfriend out of the way. Not that it would be a problem, just a little hassle. A best friend I could deal with. Once she saw me, she’d fall under the spell like the rest.

  I hadn’t had a best friend since elementary school. We played after school in his tree house. One time, we got distracted and I was late fo
r practice.

  I no longer had a best friend, or any friends, beyond that. My dad made sure of that.

  “I don’t have a best friend.” I blurted.

  For the love of all that’s holy, every time I was around this girl, I made these random admissions that made me sound like a cross between that donkey from Winnie the Pooh and Fester Addams. I had to stop doing that. Random confessions weren’t going to get me anywhere with her.

  “Not even at home?”

  “No. I have teammates and coaches. But no one that I hang out with or anything.”

  “So who do you talk to?”

  Tingling realization crawled down my being. I couldn’t have coaxed my mouth to find the words if I wanted to. I talked to no one, unless you counted the greetings and orders to my maid and managers.

  My silence stifled the conversation.

  “I don’t talk to anyone, really.”

  The look on her face resembled pity and the last thing I needed was that pathetic emotion.

  “So, the swamp. What’s fun about the swamp?”

  “The airboats.”

  When she said airboat, the only thing I pictured was a hovercraft. This place was like a country in itself.

  She was egging me on. No one ever egged me on. People gave me what I wanted when I wanted, no questions asked.

  I didn’t mind it from her.

  “How do we get to the airboats?”

  “That,” she stood and began gathering dishes. I thought it was the longest time I’d sat at a meal in years. “Is a question for your uncle Eric. He owns the most famous airboat tour company this side of the Mississippi.”

  I’d dug that hole all by myself.

  “I’ll call him tonight.”

  “You do that.” She went inside, balancing a stack of plates. Barely turning the knob, she waivered a bit, but kept everything still. Then she did the most basic, simple, and sexiest thing I’d seen a woman do—ever. It took me off guard. She turned around to face me, and while bumping the door open with her hip, she smiled and winked. Don’t get me wrong, I’d been winked at a million times before, but this was different. This wasn’t an overly dramatic full-facial wink where you end up concerned about whether or not their face is going to stick that way.