Xavier
The girl behind the counter curses as she stands abruptly and hits her head.
"Holy fucking balls," she says, still wincing, when she sees me. Then she starts. "Shit—I mean, fuck—I mean! Your Highness." She dips into a small, ungraceful curtsy.
"No, no," I stop her. "Please don't. I'm trying to keep a low profile."
She snorts and gives me a look, clearly amused. "Shit, I didn't mean to laugh."
"It's fine," I say. "You're right." On second thought, maybe normal clothes aren't enough of a disguise. Even a pair of sunglasses would have helped.
There's a pause, and I gesture to the counter. "Can I...?"
"Yes! Yes, of course. Sit wherever," she says, backing toward the kitchen. "I'll get... a tablet... and I'll be with you in a second."
I take a seat at the counter and spin around once on the stool.
I can hear squeals and excited conversation from the back and try unsuccessfully to make out the muffled words. Giving up, I drum my fingers and glance around. I hadn't been hungry until I walked past this place. Nothing about it suggests good food, and there's no ambiance whatsoever, but something about the girl with dyed hair playing with a towel drew me in. She's an odd character, her piercings and scowl contrasting with her pink waitress dress, but blending with the leather jacket she wore on top of it all.
She interrupts my thoughts by barging out of the kitchen, trying to keep a tall boy back. He's wearing a greasy apron, so I assume he's the chef.
"Um," she grunts, trying to hold him back with all the strength her tiny body can muster, "this is our chef, Danny. He was just leaving." She tries and fails to give him a final shove.
I attempt to hide my smile.
"Pleased to meet you, Your Highness." Danny salutes me with two fingers.
"Pleasure's all mine," I reply, amused.
Danny finally allows the girl to push him into the kitchen. She comes back a second later, smoothing out her pink dress and taking a tablet from her apron pocket.
"Can I start you off with something to drink?" she asks nervously. It's obvious she doesn't know quite how to act around me, but I'm used to it.
I glance at the menu in front of me and order a soda. She nods, makes a note, and steps into the back. It's so quiet in the café that I can hear her dump ice into a cup and fill it with my drink. She returns and hovers in front of me, hesitating before she places the drink gingerly to my right.
"Thank you, uh...?"
"Oh! I'm Janice. Janice Elliot," she says.
"Janice. Nice to meet you."
"Um, thanks." She laughs, clearly unsure of how to respond. "Do you know what you'd like or do you need a minute?" she says eventually.
"What do you recommend?" I ask.
She thinks for a minute. "You probably wouldn't like it, but the best thing Danny's ever made is a grilled cheese sandwich. Not very fit for royalty, though."
Good thing I'm taking the day off from being royalty. "I'll try it."
Janice seems surprised, but types my order down. "Fries or coleslaw? Or I can have him make a soup or salad. Anything you want."
"Fries are fine."
She makes another note and sends the order to the kitchen. "So, uh, what brings you all the way out here?"
I weigh my options. I don't think I'm legally allowed to tell her about the publicity stunt my parents are organizing to distract the public from the Zinnan War's very negative downturn, so I tell her a partial truth: "Family stuff. I just needed a break."
"You probably could've picked a safer neighborhood to sneak out to," Janice remarks. "I mean, we've got punks, criminals, hackers, Dics, you name it."
"Dicks?"
"Dics. Anti-Dictators. We call them Dics."
"Oh yeah. Those Dics." How could I forget the crazy extremist group with a grudge against the monarchy? They think of us as dictators with a fancy title, and while I've never encountered them, they're supposed to be violent and irrational. "I should have disguised better," I sigh, considering the possibility of being jumped. "Or brought a bodyguard." Which would have defeated the purpose of sneaking out.
"I have some eyeliner you can borrow," Janice jokes. "You'll fit right in."
"Actually, that's not a bad idea..." I muse, recalling the extreme makeup and dark fashion I've seen out here.
"Really?" She perks up, a glint appearing in her eyes like I've just told her to pick anything she wants from the toy store. "Cause I have, like everything here."
"Sure." I don't have to be out in the open the whole way back to the palace, but it does take me a while to make it to the passage back. Plus, Janice seems... fun.
She claps in excitement. "You're gonna look so gorgeous. Stay there—uh, please," she adds. She dashes into the back and returns a minute later with a small messenger bag, which she plops onto the counter. She digs inside it and pulls out more makeup supplies than I knew existed, no longer seeming intimidated by my presence. I wonder why she keeps so many materials in her work bag.
"Am I gonna regret this?" I ask, slightly concerned by all the brushes and sponges and pencils.
"Shh, it's beyond your control now," she whispers, grinning. "Don't worry, you're in excellent hands. Look here." She points at a spot on her forehead, and I stare straight at it. She sits on her knees atop the counter and starts to poke and prod my face with materials I can't identify.
I consider for a moment why the hell I'm letting her do this, but let it go and study her face. Her brow is furrowed in concentration and her blue eyes are completely fixed on me, yet they don't meet my gaze. Her mouth is slightly parted as she works, and every so often she leans back to admire her craft.
The doorbell rings and a customer steps in. Janice glances at him for a second, then turns her attention back to me.
"Do you need to—"
"Don't talk, I need you to stay still," she interrupts me. "The usual, Max?"
"Yes, ma'am," the guy says, and I see him sit at the counter out of the corner of my eye.
Janice's tablet pings, signaling that my lunch is ready. "Stay there and please don't touch your face," she orders, and dashes to the kitchen.
I glance over at the guy now sitting a few stools away from me. Bangs streaked with neon cover his eyes almost completely, and the color continues throughout his messy, spiked hair. Sleeve tattoos cover his arms, running from his neck to his knuckles.
He gives me a funny look. "Janice convinced you to be her subject, huh?"
I stifle a laugh, because technically, she is my subject.
"Yep."
He chuckles. "You'll be here for a while, then. I'm Max."
The door to the kitchen slams open again as Janice returns with my grilled cheese and a cup of coffee, which she slides over to Max.
"Max, Danny'll bring your burger out when it's done," she says.
She gets back up on the counter and continues her work. A while later, Danny emerges and and puts a plate in front of Max. He leans against the counter, and the two chat quietly as they watch Janice conduct her impromptu makeover.
Finally, Janice leans back, taking in what I assume is her finished product.
"Perfect," she says, stuffing everything back into her bag. "Come see!"
Max and Danny oblige and come a little closer.
"You've done it again," Danny praises.
"Let me do you next," she begs him, sliding down off the counter.
"Hell yeah, where's the pink lip gloss? And I'll need your biggest fake lashes, too."
"What did she do to me?" I ask, a little concerned by the look Danny requested. Janice digs a mirror out of her bag and holds it up to me.
"Wow." It's all I can say. I look totally different. She's covered my face in different shades of foundation, making me look pale and a little more gaunt, like most people in the outskirts of the city. My eyes are blacked, and I'm baffled that she could have layered so much makeup on me without making me look feminine.
"Oh we're not finished," she says, handing me a pair of scissors. "You're gonna need to rip those jeans."
"Is this necessary?"
She answers my question by pointing outside, where some men in masks are spray-painting a red crown with an arrow through it on a wall across the street. Recognizing it as the Anti-Dictator symbol I reach for the scissors and start snipping away the fabric on my knees. When I finish, Janice does her best to spike my hair with a little water. Thankfully, it's already black, which should help me blend in.
"I'm sorry, I was late to this thing—who is this and why are we disguising him?" Max asks.
"Oh, this? This is His Highness, Prince Xavier Cullen," Janice says with exaggerated nonchalance.
Max's jaw drops. "Fuck."
Janice smirks and asks, "Now tell me, is this someone you'd recognize walking down the street or is my job done?"
"I-" Max starts. "He looks like a nobody in a terrible flannel."
"Hey!" I exclaim. Max blanches.
"I meant...! Um."
"I'm kidding, it's fine."
Janice stifles a laugh. "We should probably fix that. If the Dics don't get you, the fashion police will."
"Okay, ouch."
"Here." She slides off her leather jacket and hands it to me. "Now. This jacket was crazy expensive, so if you bring it back with so much as a crease, I will hunt you down if it's the last thing I do."
I gape for a second. I've never been threatened before—part of the whole prince thing—and I don't know exactly how to respond, so I just nod. Max and Danny snicker.
I put the jacket on. It was big on her, so it's only a little small on me. Janice lets me finish my sandwich—which is astoundingly good considering it's just cheese and bread—in peace, and when I finish, she tells me not to worry about paying, just about getting her jacket back.
"I think I can handle both," I say, holding out my bar code, which she scans reluctantly. She hands me tablet so I can finish my payment. I tap around, adding a tip, and hand it back to her.
"Thank you for this," I tell Janice, gesturing to myself.
"Anytime," she says with a smile. "But you'll definitely want one of these." She hands me a packet of makeup wipes. "So you don't look out of place trying to get into the palace."
"Thanks," I say again. Part of me wants to hug her, but I just put out my hand for her to shake. She does, and gives me a small wave as I step out of the café, praying no one recognizes me.
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*cue the Twilight jokes because yes his last name is Cullen and it is SO intentional*
Thoughts on Twilight? Personally it's my favorite comedy.
Thank you for reading! Please don't be afraid to drop a comment and let me know if you're enjoying this so far! And if you're not, don't hesitate to tell me why—I'm always looking to improve!