by B. E. Baker
I only care about Paisley.
And I have to tell her we failed. I don’t even care about that, not so much, but I’m terribly, terribly concerned about what happens to our fake relationship when there’s nothing to keep us in contact anymore. Plus, she’s flying home to her friends in Atlanta, most of whom wouldn’t let me on their boat in the middle of a flood.
I’m pretty sure this is when fake boyfriends drown.
15
Paisley
Bing. Bing. Bing. I blink and blink and blink. My eyes burn. What time is it? I pick up my phone and blink a few more times.
WE LOST THE BID.
My eyes swim. We lost. I have no idea why this comes as such a shock. I was up late last night. Late enough that I thought if our bid was bad, Paul would have let me know. I told him we sent it.
He sent me a thumbs up text.
Why did I think this was a lock? Because I live in a world of sunbeams and rainbows. Where princesses always get the prince, and hard work always pays off.
Disney sold me a lie.
Because in the real world, the guy doesn’t call. In the real world, hard work often goes entirely unrewarded. The villain wins. The little guy gets buried. And when you shoot for the stars, you crash to the ground. Your bid loses, and all your people lose their jobs. I got greedy and I wanted to make my boyfriend happy, and I hurt every person that works for us. All those little people, paying the price because I’m an idiot.
I roll over and pull the covers up over my head. I cry until I fall back to sleep again.
When I wake up, I force myself to give the bad news to my parents.
Mom doesn’t even flinch. “Well, it was in trouble for a while,” she says.
“You tried your hardest,” Dad says. “And we really appreciate that.”
“Did you hear me?” I ask. “We’ve been doing the Annual Distribution for more than two centuries. The company that funded that whole thing just went belly up.”
“James will sell the factories?” Dad asks.
I gulp. “That’s the plan. Not the factory so much as the land, the component parts, and the tech.”
“Doubt he’ll get much for the tech.” Cole smirks.
“This is not funny,” I say. “This is a disaster.” I don’t stomp my foot or kick and scream, but I feel very much like throwing a tantrum. Why aren’t they upset?
“Here’s the thing,” Dad says. “I’ve learned in my long years on this earth that some things are outside of our control.”
“What about our people?” I ask, incensed. “They’re losing their jobs.”
Dad shrugs. “They’ll get new ones.”
“Doing what?” I ask. “And living where? What if they move?”
“We’ll get proceeds from the sale,” Dad says. “And our advisors will help us invest it. We can scale back on the scope of the distribution, or we invade principal of the sale proceeds until we figure out a way to contribute more and find another sustainable method to fund it.”
“We aren’t giving up,” Mom says. “But we try not to get too upset about things we can’t control.”
I’m upset about all kinds of things I can’t control.
“Was James angry?” Cole asks.
“I haven’t talked to him about it,” I say.
“Why not?” Mom asks. “Is it too early there?”
I burst into tears and run to my room.
“Oh man,” Cole says. “They totally broke up.”
I cry for a long time. When I finally stop, I look at the other messages on my phone.
SORRY, Paul texts. I COULDN’T TALK TO ANYONE WHO WAS BIDDING. CONFIDENTIALITY AGREEMENT.
OF COURSE, I text back. I UNDERSTAND. THANKS FOR THE CHANCE.
I’ve been ignoring the texts from James. I’m not ready to know what he has to say. Not yet. I shower. But after that, I make myself open the chain.
WE CAN LOOK INTO OTHER OPTIONS.
WE CAN BID ON OTHER CONTRACTS.
I HAVE A FEW PEOPLE I CAN REACH OUT TO.
I think about what he’s saying, and what he’s not saying. He has one name left on his list. Maybe that’s why he didn’t call me after the wedding. He’s not ready to change. He’s a hawk. He has talons. I get it.
But have I really thought about what that means since seeing him again?
I flop back on my bed. James did something epically stupid and had the means by which to cheat on a test. He wasn’t going to do it, but if he had needed to, he would have without any qualms. I got the impression it wasn’t a one time thing. He was mad at Paul for turning him in, mad enough to hold a grudge more than a decade and make Paul pay when he saw the chance. Which means he’s vindictive and patient.
Instead of seeing being kicked out as a wake-up call, or taking his parents’ cutting him off as some kind of cold water to the face, he went to his rich-as-sin grandfather whom he despised and asked for a loan. I think getting that loan might have been the worst thing that could have happened, but he got it. And his entire worldview paid off. He made a list of people who screwed him, and systematically punished each and every one. Except one of them, but he has that guy in his cross-hairs. Never mind that it’s his own father.
That’s my fake boyfriend.
He’s never had a real relationship of any kind. He was willing to give me time, sure. He was willing to allow me to look into ways to save my family business, but for all the wrong reasons. He didn’t want to save the jobs for the people employed. He’s not motivated to keep the two hundred year old charity running. No, he was only in Liechtenstein at all because his horrible grandfather wants him to learn to “grow” something. He’s only doing that so he can beat his dad and cross that last name off his list.
Plus, the three billion and change, but that felt like a bonus.
Liechtenstein doesn’t have zoos, but I’ve been to the Atlanta zoo, and once I went when they were feeding the red-tailed hawks. They tossed a few mice inside the enclosure, and those hawks swooped down and nabbed them immediately. Then they proceeded to tear the mice limb from limb and eat them. It’s what they do. They can’t change it. James is offering to delay what he would have done to Berg Telecom. He’s willing to allow me a little more time to scramble around and try to make a belly-up company viable.
But it’s not what he wants to do, it’s not what he’s been trained to do, it’s not what he’s done his entire life.
I’ve been giggling like a teenager over his texts. I’ve been gushing on the phone. Is it any wonder he’s reacting strangely? Even if this has moved past being fake, I’m still the first girlfriend he has ever had. He has no idea what to do for people he loves, because he’s never loved anyone. I think about that for a moment. I’ve become so caught up in the thrill of a new relationship with a hot guy, with a smart guy, with a wealthy and refined guy, that I forgot that I need a good guy.
Mary and Luke’s marriage works, not because Luke’s so smart and handsome and rich.
They work because Luke cleans the counters and sweeps the floor. He takes care of her, and he pitches in with everything that needs to be done, high and low.
Geo and Trig work, not because Trig comes from money, created his own company, and would give it all up for Geo.
It’s nice that he cares about her that much, but they work because Trig puts his love for Geo above all else in his daily actions.
Trudy and Paul work, not because Paul broke off and made his own company. Not because Paul could beat up Trudy’s ex. Not even because Paul is a fantastic father to Troy.
They work because Paul was willing to wait three lifetimes until Trudy was finally ready for him. She was his priority, always, above everything else.
But Trudy and Paul and Mary have all warned me away from James. There’s a reason for that. Falcons don’t sheathe their claws. They don’t make nice with mice, not for long. And they never, ever marry rabbits.
Before the thrill I feel around James can confuse me, before I can change my mind, I
pull out my phone.
DON’T BOTHER. THIS DEAL IS DOA. SELL IT OFF AND WE WILL RECOVER.
I turn my phone off after that, and I don’t turn it back on the entire time I’m traveling. The only way I survive the flight is thanks to the miracle of waterproof mascara. Also, the woman next to me looks like she has a bunch of grandkids, and she pats my shoulder periodically. I pretend not to speak English so I can’t be drawn into some kind of conversation. She would have tried to help, and this problem can’t be fixed.
When I power my phone back up, I don’t read my texts. I don’t read my emails. I don’t listen to my voicemails. I do text my brother. BREAKUPS SUCK. DO ME A FAVOR AND HANDLE THE DETAILS WITH JAMES FROM HERE. I’M TOO TIRED.
Then, before I can waver in my resolve, I block James’ number. It’s the only way I will hold the line. My hands shake so badly that the second it’s done, my phone drops to my bed.
I dodge dozens of reporters on my way to work the next day. I have to avoid even more on my way home. On the second day, I make the mistake of blubbering to one reporter that I’ve broken up with James, thinking maybe they’ll leave me alone after that. When I leave the next day, there are ten times as many reporters. Apparently the only thing more exciting than a princess in America dating a rich guy is a princess in America who is newly single. But after a week or so of no real news and zero interaction from me, they thin out a bit. I wrap up in scarves and go down the fire escape, and I babysit for my favorite niece and nephews several times. Spending time with Amy, Troy, and Chase is the only bright spot for a lot of days in a row.
But one day, about two weeks after I block James’ number, I walk to the mailbox, and no one is milling around. Wouldn’t it be nice if they were done? I pull out a stack of mail and notice a letter. I’ve gotten a letter just like this every single month for nine years. Ever since my eighteenth birthday.
It’s a statement.
I throw it away every month, because it’s made out to Holly Paisley von und zu Liechtenstein. But this month, I don’t throw it away. I hold it in my hand for a few minutes, and set it next to me on the table while I eat my TV dinner. I carry it into my room and set it on my bed. I stick it in my purse when I walk down the street to the pie shop.
I order two pieces of pie, and I eat almost all of both. I wouldn’t have dared with the media watching. I suppose the clerk could still snap a photo. I can already see tomorrow’s headline: EUROPEAN PRINCESS EATS HER FEELINGS.
When I don’t see anyone paying any attention to me at all, I pull out that statement. I hold it in my hands for a moment, and then I do something I haven’t done in almost ten years.
I open it.
Noel left me every dime he had in his will. He didn’t leave it to our parents, or to a charity, or to our older brother. He left it all to me. Plus, we’re technically the heirs of the family, anyway. Thanks to Noel’s will, my trust is exactly twice as large as Cole’s. Even so, it’s not a lot compared to my family’s wealth. It came from my maternal grandfather, from the sale of his personal assets when he died. Which means this is mine to do whatever I want, without any interference from my parents, or my brother, or my friends. The number on the statement is much larger than I expect.
Oh, Noel.
Like the flash of a paparazzi camera, I realize what I need to do. I’ve always thought that this would be my retirement. It allowed me to splurge on extravagant shoes, concerts, and dresses I shouldn’t have bought on a secretary’s salary, not if I wanted to retire, ever. But I think about all the Liechtenstein citizens, so many good people, none of whom have a retirement now. I’m not a hawk—I don’t pounce on mice and tear them apart.
And I’m staring at the means to set this great wrong to rights.
I call Trig without even thinking and explain my plan to him.
“I can help with that,” he asks. “But wouldn’t it be easier to just call James?”
“Why?” I ask, noticing a note of panic in my tone and trying to eliminate it. “Why would I need to call him?”
“He literally just sold the factories and all the stuff. I’m sure he could apply some pressure and get them back for the same amount as he paid, or maybe a tiny bit more.”
I swallow hard. “What happens if I don’t want to call him?”
Trig sighs. “Well, the sale of the factories is public record. We can buy the land back, probably, but it’s going to cost you more.”
“Okay.” I tell him the amount of my trust, and what we got for our half of the sale. “Is that enough?”
He whistles. “It’s more than enough, but are you sure you want to dump your entire inheritance into this? You won’t get much back, and from what you’re telling me, it’s well invested right now.”
“I’m sure,” I say. “It shouldn’t have been mine anyway, at least, half of it shouldn’t have been, and I don’t want the rest.”
“You really are the strangest princess I’ve ever met,” he says.
“I’m the only princess you’ve ever met, aren’t I?”
He laughs. “I suppose so, unless you count the many, many times Amy has subjected us to Brave, Frozen and Cinderella.”
“Those movies are delightful, and you’ll never convince me otherwise,” I say.
“Well,” he says. “The music isn’t so bad.”
“So what do I need to do?”
“I can handle the approach, and my office can get the paperwork lined up. But you’ll need to talk to your parents about their share, and you’ll need to figure out what exactly the factory will be producing.”
And. . . I’m back to square one. “Well.” I choke and cough a little. I have to be able to say his name. This is pathetic. I force it out. “James said we had a good setup for making medical equipment.”
“You need to call Luke,” Trig says. “He can set you on the right path there.”
“Thank you Trig,” I say.
“No, thank you,” he says. “For being there for Geo for all those years, before I was around. You’ve been the best friend anyone could imagine, and she needed you a lot. This, what you’re asking me to do, it’s nothing.”
It’s not nothing to me, but I understand what he’s saying. “Okay.”
I stink at business stuff. Like, I really stink. And I’m so busy with the tax firm, the Sub-for-Santa charity, and talking to my own family that finding time to work on bids for contracts is hard. I spend a lot of hours pulling out my hair, and even more crying.
But I submit five different bids over the next six weeks. And Berg actually wins two of them.
Cole calls me after I send him the news about the second one. “You,” he says, “are amazing. Noel would be so proud of you.”
“Thank you.” When I think about Noel this time, I don’t even cry. Maybe he would be proud.
“Mom and Dad can’t talk about anything else.”
I reach up and grab the locket Noel gave me. I couldn’t have done it without his trust fund. I ended up using all but seventy-five thousand. Which is still more than most people have saved, so I don’t regret my decision.
“We made you a thirty percent partner, you know,” Cole says. “Trig’s numbers say that seventy percent of the profits should more than cover anything we might need for the Distribution each year, especially if we can maintain these contracts. If we can bring in more, then the citizens of Liechtenstein can expect a very exciting year.”
That news pushes me over the edge and I swipe at my wet cheeks. “I’m so happy to hear it, but I didn’t need any portion at all.”
“It will take decades to repay your trust for what you did,” Cole says. “But you’re young. Maybe one day you’ll get there.”
I sigh. “I don’t care about that.”
“Even now, your share is valued at almost twenty million,” Cole says. “So that’s nothing to turn your nose up at. And hey, Mom and Dad are throwing a huge ball to celebrate.”
“To celebrate what?”
“Saving Berg Telecom. A
lthough, they’re not saying that’s the reason. They’re calling it a Winter Ball. It’s set to happen almost two weeks before Christmas. If you can come that early, they’d love to have you as the guest of honor. And mother promises faithfully not to throw anyone at you, even if she’s still mourning that you and James broke up.”
“I can’t get that much time off work,” I say. “Which is too bad. I’m sure the party will be gorgeous.”
“I’m pretty sure she will have bought every single poinsettia, and every white and red rose from every hothouse in Europe,” Cole says. “Mom has outdone herself on this one, judging by her mock-ups.”
“You do know that normal people don’t have mock-ups for parties. That’s, like, really weird.”
“Most people aren’t princesses.”
“Don’t I know it,” I say.
“Where are you going for Thanksgiving?” he asks. “That’s a big holiday in America, and it’s tomorrow, right?”
“I’m going to Mary and Luke’s. They’re hosting, but the whole crew will be there.”
“Who is the crew?”
“Trudy and Paul, who are the most disgusting engaged couple you’ve ever seen, and Trig and Geo, who by the way are pregnant, and also Brekka and Rob, who you don’t know, but they’re almost as sickening as Trudy and Paul.”
“So, two engaged couples, and two married couples?” Cole could be asking me whether I’m going to like prison, from his tone.
“And me. Don’t forget little old me. And three kids. So it goes without saying that I’ll be celebrating at the kids’ table so that all the romantic innuendo and smoldering looks don’t destroy me.”
Cole laughs. “Well, have a double helping of pie for me.”
“I’m picking up my contribution, three pies from that pie shop you tried, in ten minutes.”
“Well done.”
I’m strangely sad when I hang up with Cole. I mean, we never celebrated Thanksgiving. It’s an American holiday, so I’ve never missed my family on Thanksgiving. I have a new family, one that loves me, right here. But now that I’m talking to Mom and Dad regularly, and Cole too, I miss them. I wish they were here with us, sharing out plates of dry turkey, sloppy stuffing, and overcooked yams.