Royal S.O.B. (A Bad Boy Romance) (16 page)

"He's
the worst specimen of manhood!" declared Addie.

Sitting
across her was Cate, and they were seated in their usual secluded corner in the
café at the university.

"Are
you sure about that, Addie?" Cate asked.

"He
is your stepbrother, after all."

"That's
incidental. In fact, he wasn't – till six months ago."

"Okay,
agreed," replied Cate.

"So
what do you want to prove?"

"Nothing,"
Addie shrugged.

"Addie,
he's the prince and the king in waiting. He can do what he jolly well pleases.
And that includes taking any and every woman he wants."

"Well,
he can have his way then," said Addie, a hint of pride in her voice.

"But
his charms won't work on me."

"What
do you mean?" Cate was quick to ask.

"Well,
what do you think he was trying to do with me?"

"To
you
? Didn't you just affirm he's your
stepbrother?"

"I
did," conceded Addie.

"And
therein lies the rub."

Cate
gave her a quizzical look.

"Catie,
please understand my position," Addie explained patiently.

"By
virtue of being a so-called 'princess', I'm always in the palace complex. And
being his stepsister, I'm always accessible. Imagine the kind of freedom that
allows him."

Cate
remained silent.

"He's
smooth as butter, Catie. Remember that evening at the Annual Day? He was
speaking with me on the stage…
God, what
charm!
I almost fell for him right there!"

"Oh,
did you now?" Cate's eyes were sparking.

"Don't
be silly, Cate," Addie corrected her friend.

"If
he's chalk, I'm cheese."

Unwittingly,
her metaphor was identical to the one used by the prince earlier.

"Yes
my dear, but opposites attract – remember that," Cate reminded her.

"And
parallels never meet," a quick rejoinder came from Addie.

"Siblings
are like two parallel lines that go together till the ends of the earth,
without crossing paths even once."

"Siblings
– agreed. But what about stepsiblings?"

"What
do you want, Catie?!" cried Addie, exasperated.

"Us
to have an affair??"

Cate
laughed.

"I
just want you not to obsess about him so much," said Cate.

"Oh,
I don't care about him," Addie replied, unconvincingly.

"Your
obsession is what's worrying me," her friend noted.

"If
you really don't care about him, why is he in all our conversations?"

That
put a speed breaker in their talk.
Probably
there was a grain of truth in that
, thought Addie. And she was the last one
to turn away from the truth.
 

"Okay,"
declared Addie, determination in her voice.

"No
more mention of Prince Kenrick."

"No
more," seconded Cate.

"What
about the invitation, I wonder," asked Addie.

"Which
invitation?"

"The
one the prince sent me. I honored it the first time. If he had other business
to attend, it isn't my concern."

"Addie!
You said you'd not mention him ever again?!"

Addie
laughed out loudly.

"Yes,
I must watch myself better," she agreed.

"How's
your preparation for the exams getting on?" Cate asked, after a pause.

"Not
very well," replied Addie.

"I
haven't touched my books yet."

"You've
been busy."

"With
all this claptrap of visiting the prince and catching him fucking his servant
women."

"There
she goes again!" Cate exclaimed.

Addie,
suddenly realizing, bit her tongue and placed her index finger on her lips.

"Seriously
Cate," she said suddenly.

"We
need to focus on our exams."

"Yes."
Cate looked thoughtful.

"Would
you like to come over, so we can study together?" Addie asked.

"Great
idea," agreed Cate.

"But
do you think we will actually study when together?"

"Whyever
not?"

"Because
we'll be talking and talking and talking… and we've plenty of things to talk
about."

"Cate,
please," Addie pleaded.

"I
need you… I just can't bring myself to study alone in that golden cage."

Cate
livened up at the unwitting mention of the poem read aloud by Addie.

"I'll
come," agreed Cate – and Addie jumped up from her chair, leaned across
towards her best friend, and pinched both her cheeks.

"That's
my darling Catie!" Addie exclaimed.

"But
under one condition," clarified her friend.

"We
must really study."

Addie
laughed.

"That's
the whole idea, Cate," she said.

"You're
coming over so that we can study."

"Okay,"
replied her friend, somewhat disbelievingly.

*****

As
was her wont, Addie arranged all the required textbooks and notes on the desk
in her study. She also kept her tablet in case she needed to refer to something
online. Then the usual iPod, if she felt like some music. She was all set.

The
first subject she wanted to attack was Criticism. She found it difficult to
grasp, the various concepts and theories. She also found it absurd.

Liking
or not liking a piece of writing – or any creative pursuit – was a matter of
personal preference.
How and when did
that function become institutionalized
, she wondered. The 'groundlings' –
the poor folk sitting on the ground in front of the stage at The Globe Theatre
back during Shakespeare's time – just enjoyed the great bard's writing at an
instinctive level. They never sat and analyzed on whether to laugh at a line or
not – they just broke into splits at the wit.

How
did critics, who could never write anything themselves, sit in judgment of the
work of people who were divinely talented? In fact, they went one step ahead.
They made it into a science – a science that judged art – and created a
dedicated discipline out of it. And today, students had to learn it to pass–

There
was a mild rap on the door of the study. Both she and Cate looked up.

Standing
there, with that dashing smile on his face, was Prince Kenrick.

"I
need you to find a solution for me."

It
was Kenrick's voice, and the ears were Pat's.

They
were both seated on the terrace, having breakfast. It was a beautiful morning,
a gentle breeze was blowing, and the sky was full of tiny clusters of clouds
traveling somewhere in a hurry.

"What
do you want me to do, Phantom?"

"Show
me a way out of this Princess Adelaide conundrum," said Kenrick.

"You
know the jam I'm in."

"Yes,"
replied Pat.

"I
invited her to my chambers with a lot of fanfare. She never came, but her
excuse did. So I went to her chambers. Acted high and mighty. Returned, got
smitten by her. Met her again, quite a happenstance, at the university Annual
Day. She read a poem against royalty – the same royalty that welcomed her with
open arms, the same royalty she's now a part of."

He
took a breather. Then:

"But
I forgave her for that. I even gave her the QSS, the most coveted shield, in
return. Then I met her again that same evening, privately. Renewed my invite.
Then I waited and waited and waited. In frustration, I went and screwed those
'regular' servant women. Having done the deed, I was stepping out. And I was
caught by the princess herself, in whose honor – in a manner of speaking – I
had ventured into it. Net-net, I had egg on my face. And now I can't face her.
Nor do I know what do to with my invitation. I'm stuck."

That
long spiel from Kenrick was a faithful summary of events thus far. And Pat was
aware of most of it. Now all Kenrick wanted was to get out of the mess he had
created for himself. It was a peculiar trait of the royals – create a mess and
ask others to get them out of it.

"So
I'm asking you to get me out of this mess," said Kenrick, right on cue.

"Let
me think," replied Pat, who fell into deep contemplation.

For
a while, the clang and clack of cutlery were the only sounds heard. Pat
finished his breakfast, and waited for Kenrick to finish his. He was still in
his thinking mode.

"The
weak link here," pronounced Pat, with all the precision of a scientist.

"Is
the fact that you invited her and she came. So you can't fault her."

"Yes,"
conceded Kenrick.

"And
obviously you can't invite her again, having been careless enough to be absent
when she visited the first time."

Kenrick
was irritated with the mild reproach in that statement. But he rode with it for
the time being.

"Yes,"
he answered.

"But
that still leaves one avenue open."

"What's
that?"

Pat
shifted in his chair, training his eyes on Kenrick.

"Kenrick,"
he began.

"Who's
stopping you from visiting her?"

"What?"

"Yes,"
reiterated Pat.

"You
missed her when she came. You are apologetic. You visit her. You express your
apology. What's wrong with that? It's well within the fitness of things to
return her visit."

Kenrick
was listening, and thinking.

"I'd
go as far as to say that it'd paint you in a good light. You're being this
upright host who takes all the trouble to visit his guest whose visit he
missed."

It
was making sense to Kenrick. Such an obvious solution had escaped him! He was
secretly thankful for Pat.

"And
this time," continued Pat.

"You'll
go alone, without me."

"Why
so?" pondered Kenrick.

"Well,
you are the guilty party. I'm not referring to your fuckfest here. You were
guilty of not being there when she arrived in your chambers. You messed up
alone, you atone for it alone. Simple."

Kenrick
liked the idea. He also loved the fact that he would go alone – that seemed so
full of possibilities. He only had to account for the old hag who always hung
around the princess. Maybe he could choose a time when the old fart was busy
with administrative work. And once inside, he knew how to take things from
there…

"Bravo,
my genius, bravo!" He sang praises of Pat.

"Now
you know why you're irreplaceable."

Pat
took a bow. He had saved the day.

*****

Later,
as they were resting post lunch that same day, Kenrick had another question for
Pat.

"Okay,
assuming I go into her chambers and meet her," he started.

"What
is it that I should ask her?"

"God,
Phantom," exclaimed Pat.

"You
sound like a nervous rookie lover. Do I really need to tell you this as
well?"

"No
Pat," Kenrick's voice dropped many notches.

"I
can't afford to go wrong this time. This will be my third crack at meeting her,
after so many aborted attempts. So I want to be sure."

"Phantom,
obviously you're the expert here," offered Pat.

"But
I'll tell you what works for me."

"Yeah,
I want to know."

"Don't
do the obvious. Don't start inviting her yet again and make a further mess of
that. Treat it as bygones and move on."

"Okay,
so what should I do?"

"You
should take charge and call the shots. Talk about something else. Ask her out.
Whatever."

"You
mean I don't even apologize?"

"Of
course you do. You do say sorry. But that's about it, don't dwell too much on
that, and on the invitation that went so horribly wrong."

Suddenly
Kenrick was reminded of the state he was in when Princess Adelaide saw him
last. It filled his every pore with shame.

"Pat,
I have another query."

"Yes,
Phantom."

"I'm
seeing her for the first time after that fucking binge down there. How should I
react to that?"

"React?"
Pat asked.

"Why
react, Phantom? This is why I feel she's smarter than all of us put
together."

"Why?"

"See,
she saw you in that, ah, highly compromising position. Did she react to it? No.
Did she refer to it in her little note? No. That's a sign of true class."

"So
what do you want me to do?"

"Do
the same thing. Pretend it never happened."

"Really?"

"Of
course, Phantom. She hasn't seen it. You haven't done it. Matter closed."

"I…
I don't know."

It
was a sight to watch, the mighty Kenrick squirming like a little kid.

"I'm…
rather nervous."

"No
need to be," said Pat with conviction.

"You
see certain things, you don't see certain things. You do certain things, you
don't do certain things. That's life."

"Are
you sure, Pat?"

"Cent
per cent," replied Pat.

"Of
such stuff is royalty made."