The Royal Pain (12 page)

“C
ome,” the king called.

The knock on the door, quick and firm, came again.

“Come on
in,
” the king called, louder.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

“Jesus!” the king screamed. “Come in, for Christ's sake!”

“Come,” Alex said, and the door opened. “Hi, Shel.”

“That's gonna get real fuckin' old real quick,” the king said.

“It's
her
room,” Shel retorted. He walked in, slung his pack on an empty chair—to Alex's extreme relief, it didn't clink—and sat down beside Alex on the small couch. Her father was sprawled behind one of the desks, doing another of his dratted puzzles…the crossword, this time. “So, am I interrupting anything?”

“Naw,” Al replied. “We're just talking about some upcoming stuff. Weddings and shit. What's a four-letter word for to hit or push against?”

“Butt,” Shel said.

“Hmmm.” He scribbled it down. “So, you two going out tonight, or what?”

“We usually stay in,” Alex said smoothly. “Order room service, watch a movie.”

“Sounds like plenty.”

“How long are
you
staying?” Shel asked pointedly.

Her father gave him a look she knew well. “Dunno. I just got here. It's real pretty here. I might stay a while. Now quit buggin' me, I gotta think. Four letter word,” he mused aloud, “for advance.”

“Come,” Sheldon said.

Alex chewed on her lower lip so she wouldn't burst into hysterical giggles. Shel shot her a look and she could see by the way his eyes were watering that he was having trouble swallowing his own laughter.

“You okay?” the king asked. “You look a little constipated.”

“I'm fine, King Al.”

“Hump!”

“What, Dad?”

“A rounded mass, i.e., the structure on the back of a camel. Hump. Damn, I've just about got this thing licked. Next time I'm doing it in pen.” He looked up at Shel. “I'm pretty fuckin' smart, you know.”

“Yes, King Al.”

“No, really. I mean, we don't all have hotshot PhDs but that doesn't mean we're stupid.”

“Dad, please.” Alex tried to mask her exasperation. Although her father had insisted all his children get at least a four-year degree, he himself had never indulged. So his attitude toward those with degrees was mixed: admiration and envy. Good work, but don't let it go to your head. “Everybody knows you're smart. Almost as smart as me, even.”

“Har, har.”

There was a discreet rap at the door, which opened at Al's absent, “Come!”

Edmund, the king's right hand man, entered after a polite pause. Alex could see Shel gaping at him, which was perfectly understandable. Her sister called him Ichabod Brain. Tall as the king, but much thinner, he looked as though he'd be at home in the starched suits and powdered wigs of two hundred years ago. As it was, he looked plenty starched in the severe gray suit and highly polished black shoes.

“Hey, Eds, what's a nine-letter word for creating an obstacle?”

“L-O-O-K-I-T-U-P.”

“Har fucking har.”

Edmund bowed. “Your Majesty. Your Highness. Dr. Rivers.”

“Uh, hi,” Shel said.

“Don't freak,” Alex said. “He knows everybody's name.”

“That's true, Your Highness.” He stepped up to the desk. “I've brought some correspondence, my king, but the thing you desire most has not shown up.”

“The ring of Sauron?” Alex guessed.

“Oh, like I couldn't have about ten of those made if I wanted. No, I'm waiting for the invite. We better figure out which one of us is going to go.”

“Where?” Alex asked.

“William's wedding.”

“
Prince
William? From England?” Shel shook his head, which Alex found understandable. Her father talked about the Windsors like they were neighbors. In fact, he had a charming blind spot about Queen Elizabeth, the matriarch, which prevented him from—

“So, which one of us is going? Alex? You want to? Maybe I should, though. Head of the family and all. But Charles and Christina really hit it off at her wedding, maybe I should send her and David.”

“Um, Dad, have you thought—have you considered—” She looked up; Edmund's eyes were pleading with her. The coward! He hadn't brought up the possibility. Once again, it was up to her to save the family honor. Nuts! “Maybe the queen won't be sending us an invitation.”

Her father looked honestly puzzled. “What? Why?”

“Well…because she hates you and thinks you're a boorish clown.”

“Oh, that.” He waved away with one blocky hand his attempted murder of the queen's favorite corgi. “We got that straightened out when I was in the hospital.”

“When you tried to seduce her.”

“Hey, she likes me!”

“You tried to have sex with the queen of—”

“Quiet, boy. You really don't think she'll invite us? How can she not invite us? I've known her my whole life!”

“Perhaps,” Edmund suggested, “that is part of the problem.”

“You don't think she's mad because we didn't invite her to Dara's christening, do you?” he asked anxiously. “Because that was just family and
really
close friends. There were only about forty people there. She wouldn't take that personal, right?”

“I'm certain not, Your Majesty.”

“No,” Alex agreed, “that's definitely not it.”

“I was at
her
wedding,
and
Charles's, and you're saying she won't invite me to the kid's? Fucking Joan Rivers is going, but not me? Not that I think he should be getting married,” he added in a mutter, “not at his age.”

“Dad, he's almost as old as I am.”

“Tell me. Kid should run around a little more; trust me, the girls will wait.”

“Perhaps the mail has been delayed,” Edmund said. “It has to come from England, after all, and then be routed to the States.”

King Alexander visibly perked up. “Sure, that's what it is.”

Alex glared at Edmund, who was only making it worse. Getting the man's hopes up! Queen Elizabeth wouldn't invite her father if it meant getting Ireland back. “She'd probably invite you,” Alex said, “if she knew you wouldn't come.”

“Well, somebody has to go.”

“No, really. Dad. I don't think she'd mind if the Baranov family skipped a Windsor wedding.”

“It's kind of mean.”

“She'll understand.”

“Well, I'll think about it.”

“That's all I'm saying.” Then, “Edmund,” she asked sweetly, “may I see you in the other room for a moment?”

“Now just a minute,” her father said. “It was all me, kiddo. He didn't do anything.”

“You lie,” she told the monarch, “like old people fuck.”

“I am, of course, at Her Highness's disposal.”

“Good. Hallway. Now.”

“You're not
leaving
me with him?” Shel asked, horrified, just as she stepped into the hall with Edmund and pulled the door shut.

“What can I do for you, Prin—”

“Edmund, you suck!”

“Tone, Princess. ‘A member of the royal family must always—'”

“
How
could you bring him here, how,
how?
Are you
trying
to ruin my life?”

“No,” he admitted, “it just happens on its own, sometimes.”

“You got me to come out here, no doubt some loser plan you and Dr. Pohl cooked up, then you showed him the
Minot Daily News
—”

“The king likes to keep up with current events.”

“Oh, bullshit! He never would have seen that if you hadn't stuck it under his nose, not with all the junk he has to wade through every day, and sure as shit not when it's fishing season. So did you send me out here to have a good time, or not?”

“I confess,” he confessed, “the picture startled me. I—we—were concerned you were perhaps…confused. Possibly from lack of sleep.”

“That's very flattering, Edmund, you—you—” She couldn't do it. He was
staff,
he worked for
them,
but she could no more insult him, fire him, smack him, then she could drench her hair with gasoline and light a match. “I'm not confused! Okay, I am. But bringing my dad—my
dad!
—out here is not helping.”

“Perhaps you will come to a decision about Dr. Rivers.”

“Perhaps I've only known him a week! We can't
date,
you never heard of dating? What, I've got to drop him or marry him? There's nothing in the middle? What is this, an episode of
Beat the Clock?
”

“Princess, you don't date. Quite frankly, until I saw that picture, I had assumed you were still…ah…never mind.”

She buried her fists in her hair and fought the urge to pull out heavy chunks. “God…God…I'm not telling you when I lost my virginity, that's for damned sure.”

“Thank heavens.”

“In fact, we're not having this conversation at all.”

“Also good, Your Highness.”

She stuck a finger under his nose. He raised his brows at her, but didn't flinch. She practically had to stretch to
reach
his nose, which made it difficult to exude authority. “For the record, buster, I'm
very
disappointed in you. I could have been spared that whole scene the other night if you weren't such a fucking meddler.”

“Language, Princess.”

“Stop it! What I do—or don't do—or do—with Dr. Rivers is my own business. Not yours, not the king's. Got it?”

“Yes, Princess.”

“I know you're the king's man, just like Jenny's first loyalty is to me, but—”

“Ah, Jenny,” Edmund mused, staring into space. “I must speak to her. She's managed to avoid me thus far.”

“Don't you say a damned word to her! And you can consider that a
royal command.
Got it?”

“Yes, Princess.”

It worked! She'd never given a royal command before. But the situation was dire. To put it mildly. “All right. We're done.”

“May I take my leave, Your Highness?”

“You can take a long walk off a short pier for all I care.”

“Tone, Princess. And good night.”

“F
inally,” she groaned, flopping down on the bed. “I didn't think they'd ever leave.”

“
You
didn't think?” Sheldon was slumped in the chair in the corner. Her father had left typical chaos in his wake—papers, invitations, crossword puzzles, word finds. She had gladly shut the door on the mess, and led Shel to the bedroom. “You should have seen me and your dad trying to pretend like we couldn't hear you ripping Ed a new one. Awkward.”

“Never Ed. Edmund.” Then she realized what he had said. “You could?” She was instantly appalled. “You heard the whole thing?”

“No, just when you screamed,” he said matter-of-factly. “A royal command, eh? Does that actually work?”

“We'll find out. Maybe I'll give you one.”

“Sorry, sunshine. American citizen.”

“Mmph.” She studied her bare toes for a moment, then said, “It's so hard to yell at him. It's like yelling at my dad. I mean, I can do it, but it's tricky.”

“Grew up with him?”

“Oh, yes. In fact, I saw much more of him than my mother.”

“Yeah, but if he gets really out of line you could just…you know. Fire him.”

“No I can't.”

“Sure you can. I mean, end of the day, he's just another employee, right?”

She had the impression he was baiting her. Testing her. Which she had no interest in, or time for. “No,” she said coldly, “and don't talk about him like that.”

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “You wouldn't do that, huh?”

“Shel, having people work for you isn't quite the song-and-dance you think it is. And when you're us—the people who work for you, they do it for generations. They're like family. I know it's a cliché, but it's true. I'd never fire Edmund, I'd never fire Jenny. Her mom worked for my mom, you know? I played with her when we were kids.”

“So you've never fired anybody at your castle?”

“Well, of course, we—Sheldon. Are we going to fight, or fuck?”

“Can't we do both?”

“Well, I'd rather do the latter, but if you want to pick a fight—”

“Okay, okay. You're pissy, I'm pissy…we're stressed out because your dad's here.”

“To put it mildly,” she admitted.

“God, that scene! And then dinner last night!” He slapped his forehead. “I don't know which was worse. And can you imagine if he'd showed up half an hour earlier? Jesus! My dick wants to fall off just thinking about it.”

“If you ever want to have sex with me again, we'll
stop
talking about it.”

“Done and done.”

She watched as he got up and went to his backpack. “Are you hungry?”

“Only for depraved lovemaking. Whoops, sorry. I meant sex.”

She giggled. “Depraved? Is that what it is?”

He pulled out a wad of cloth, brought it to the bed, and separated it. She realized the wad was neckties. Four of them.

“Genius,” she said approvingly. “I'm so glad your bag didn't clink while my dad was here.”

“Not fucking likely, no pun intended. Besides, I half thought he was going to have me strip-searched. The last thing I wanted him to find was our toys. Ties, I could try to explain.”

She laughed again. “Depraved…is that the word of the day? Like I said, I haven't thought of it like that. I've just been enjoying it. You know?”

“You have to admit,” he said, smoothing out the ties, “most people start with vanilla and work their way up to kink.”

“Yes, I have to admit that. Bring those over here.” After a minute, she said, “Ugh.”

“Hey, not everybody can afford silk, Princess.”

“Don't start.”