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"We stand like that, close, connected, staring at the same sky. I wonder what he's thinking right now; I wonder if we're looking at the same patch of blue or grey or green."
-Marcello Marino-Flores.
-Lydia Hephzibah, A Beginner's Guide to the American West.
👓🏹👓🏹👓🏹👓🏹👓🏹
Chapter 20 | A Marionette.
Grifter.
Pronunciation
*(RP) IPA: /ˈɡɹɪftə/
Noun. (plural grifters)
1. A con artist; someone who pulls confidence games.
There's two guards stationed outside my hotel room and my room has a handful of people I have never seen before, discussing all the aspects of my appearance. I've never had this many people fuss over me, especially people I don't know.
I can't believe this is happening right now. When we arrived, I didn't have to check in, it had already been done for me. I was immediately surrounded -poorly, if I might add- by people whose sole purpose was currently my safety. Seriously, do these people think they are doing a good job of protecting me. Hunter could do this better than these guys. It's all elaborate for something that was organised just last night. Maybe that's the excuse for the poor security.
"Princess, we need you to pick a dress," a woman with a pencil lodged behind her ear informed me, holding out an open folder that contained photographs of at least 5 fancy gowns. It told me of the colour, the fabric, what each gown symbolises and all sorts of other things I found interesting but useless. Everything meant something somehow down to the length and beadwork. My goodness. I'm exhausted just looking at it.
"Please, call me Remi." My mom would be in Disneyland if she was here. She knows more about this than anyone I know. I wish she was here to do all this picking for me. We could've even saved money and just picked something suitable from her closet if I'd been told sooner. I'm out of my league here.
It's all too overwhelming to take in all at once. I'm out of my league here. "Which one do you recommend?" Better ask someone who looks like they know what they're doing. She doesn't look frustrated by my lengthy blank stare at the folder and she seems to know what she's doing.
She gestures me over to the mirror, where I take a seat as she thoughtfully scrolls through the folder, taking short glances at me with each page flip. See, now that's someone who knows what he's doing.
"For your first appearance in public, I would suggest the blueberry gown. It portrays a gentle strength. It will complement your eyes with some light make-up and your hair styled simply to not draw attention away from your face," she lists, holding up the photograph of the gown in question. It's beautiful.
"Then so be it. I just have one request." She's halfway through turning towards a large rack in the corner of the room when I add the second sentence. Her attention quickly flits back to me, letting me know I had her attention. "Could we possibly skip it? Or tone it down?"
She smiles gently, "Of course, ma'am. I do suggest we keep the lip colour." I nod, thanking her and sighing in relief. I'm guessing Remi wouldn't do so she's switched tactics.
Another woman takes her place and begins doing my hair. I actively attempt not to shudder when someone else takes hold of my hand and begins to rub off the nail colour I had. Free manicure. One good thing out of all of this so far. The pencil lady comes back from the rack and both the hair and nail ladies ask for her approval on their work. She's in charge by the looks of things.
"What's your name?," I ask as she shows me the shade of lipstick she had previously mentioned. I nod my approval.
"It's Blair, ma'am," she supplies handing the colour to who I assume is the make-up artist.
I proceed to get to know the rest of the crew as they help me get dressed. When my nails are finally dry, the one person who hadn't done anything stands, grabs a small bag plus the lipstick and proceeds to put it on my lips. "I guess I made your job a lot less interesting," I joke when she's done applying the colour.
She laughs, picking up a few of her brushes and dusts them across my cheeks artfully. "To be honest, I was never planning to cake you in make-up. You're naturally beautiful. As soon as I saw you, my plan was to accentuate," she informs me, now brushing lightly over my eyebrows and lashes. After removing my earrings, she clasps a beautiful necklace around my neck then grins. "Done."
Standing up, I look myself over in the giant mirror. I look the part now the big question is: Can I act the part?
"You look wonderful, ma'am," Blair praises clutching her clipboard to her chest.
There's a knock on the door and a man I don't know strolls confidently into the room. He gives me a short curt bow of his head before introducing himself. "Arthur Okuda, at your service, Your Royal Highness."
"Pleasure to meet you." At least he looks somewhat capable.
"It's time to go, Your Royal Highness," he informs, holding the door open for me to walk through. I nod.
"Thank you ladies for being my fairies. I love what you've done with the little time you had to prepare. I do hope you will be with me next time. Thank you, Anna for the effortless look, Bethany for the art in my hair, Mia for these nails, Zora for the gowns and of course, Blair for making sure the ship sailed smoothly." I haven't been doing this long but implanting foundations with people around you helps keep their trust.
"You're quite welcome, Your Royal Highness," they chime as they curtsy. The bowing and curtsying is going to take time to get used to. I nod, turning towards the door to leave.
Arthur addresses the ladies, "What just happened in this room must not leave this room. Thank you ladies." Short and to the point. Effectively sending his message loud and clear.
"Oh wait," Zora says abruptly, handing me my phone. "Your gown has pockets," she informs, bowing and retreating back into the room. I should really stop forgetting my phone everywhere.
I'm led down a hallway towards the elevator. Hunter comes out of a room in the same hallway as mine and joins me on my walk. He's wearing a tailored tuxedo that looks like it was made for him. However, all of his clothes always seem to say, 'I was made specifically for my owner, Hunter Knight.' Stop drooling, Archer.
"You clean up nice," I joke as we pack into the elevator. Hunter and I in the back, Arthur and 2 my little ponies with guns in front, shielding us from view. He gives me a small smile, nodding at my comment, letting me know he heard me. Oh yeah, I'm Princess Lateef Remi Gamal-Khan right now. Stoic.
The elevator stops before we get to the ground floor only to have Arthur tell whoever it was to take the next lift. At least now I have someone looking out for me who's good at their job. I'm loaded into a heavily tinted SUV along with Hunter by my side.
"Guess who's your private secretary?," he speaks out of the blue after tucking his phone into his pocket.
"You." I deadpan playing with the necklace. "This thing is so cold," I note out loud to myself, rubbing the jewels in hopes that they'll warm up.
"Well diamonds tend to be like that," he shrugs, fixing his sleeves. What'd he say?
"What'd you say?" It's got to be a joke.
"Diamonds take a while to warm up," he says as the car passes through the palace gates.
"Am I wearing diamonds around my neck?" Clearly the answer is obvious but I just had to ask.
"Yes, Bow. You are wearing diamonds." I knew it. Lie.
"Why?" I'm going to die.
"You're a princess, Bow. Frankly, compared to everyone else inside, you're going to be under dressed." In my opinion, I'm too dressed up. I thought this was supposed to be a chill birthday party. "That's all I could manage so last minute. It'll do."
The car comes to a stop and I don't have time to get Hunter to remove this noose around my neck. A man wearing a red coat opens the door for me, proceeding to help me out. Soon, Hunter is by my side with his hands behind his back. That's new. I miss the way he puts his hand on the small of my back like he's been doing for weeks now. I hate Prince Siad and now I can add Private Secretary Hunter to that list. On the bright side, all versions of him are still handsome as hell.
We're led to a grand ballroom and yet another man in a red coat disrupts the people in the room by ringing a small bell and announcing, "Presenting Her Royal Highness Princess Remi of Tregoe." The room bustles with chatter immediately after the announcement with a small group migrating towards us.
"That's Prince Malik, he wants to send a few soldiers to my country to be trained there as a show of our two countries union. Do not engage him on that matter. The jury is still out on the verdict." Hunter coaches me and I nod in understanding. The way he says my country with ease just shows how much this has been drilled into his head.
"Princess, it's a pleasure to finally meet you in person," he breathes extending his hand. I know a weasel when I see one. I'm definitely not letting him touch me.
"Pleasures all mine." I place my hand on my chest, grazing some of the skin showing and bumping lightly onto the collar I'm wearing. Playing it off, he withdraws his hand, tucking it inside his pocket. I address the rest of his entourage politely as I dodge his enquiry about the deployment of his soldiers. "Let's not ruin this joyous celebration by talking shop. I'm sure we can have that conversation at a more suitable and appropriate time." Who comes to a birthday party and decides it's the right time to talk soldiers?
Con artist.
Etymology
A contraction of confidence artist.
Noun. (plural con artists)
1. A person who defrauds or swindles others after first gaining their trust; a scam operator.
Well half the job has been done by the trustworthy real heir who has gained most of these people's favour whilst successfully keeping his anonymity. A very hard line to walk yet here we are. My job now is to dry the already laid out cement. I've got to build the rest of the house which should be easy because the foundation is pretty solid and firm. The last piece of the puzzle.
Hunter continues to give me information on people as I make my way through the party. Wishing Prince Edward a happy birthday and indulging him in a customary birthday dance; we part on the promise of a later conversation and I make a beeline for the food. I have to keep my fuel tank filled up if I'm going to make it through the whole night.
"Where's Eames?" My plate is literally spilling over. The food is so good and there's so many different things. I want everything. I start putting the rest of the food not on my plate onto Hunters plate. Another good thing about being here: the food.
"Close by," is his short reply as he plucks something into his mouth.
Even though the spotlight is on me a this moment, I can't help but keep an eye on Hunter. I'm the one with a giant target on my back and here I am, worried about someone with enough protection. The only person who's got my back at the moment is Arthur. He's proven himself capable but I don't know him nor trust him with half a hair on my head.
Confidence game.
Noun. (plural confidence games)
1. A swindle in which the mark, or victim, is defrauded after his or her trust has been won.
Isn't it ironic coming from me? I think it's ironic. So forking ironic I could laugh.
So far so good. No one is questioning my legitimacy which I'm assuming to mean I'm probably doing a good job of building the house. I shouldn't pat myself on the back for that but the end at this point do justify the means. This is for the best.
All the definitions seem to be leading in the theft direction. Where will we end up if we keep going down this rabbit hole?
As I munch on my snacks, Hunter continues to give me details about guests I have yet to interact with.
We have Prince Maximus who preferred to be called Max -which is understandable cause Maximus really. Did his parents want him to be bullied?- from Northern Ireland. He is really friendly and extremely good at horse riding. The list of royals, be it princes, princesses, lords, dukes, duchesses as well as ambassadors children was endless.
Surprisingly, even having to digest the information Hunter is feeding me and having to retain it for later regurgitation in a more elegant manner, I'm enjoying myself; I have developed a new tactic that involves me doing my very best to actually have a wonderful time. From what I can gather, I'm not the only one employing this tactic but you'll always have the outliers here and there like Prince Malik trying to push some sort of agenda.
The birthday boy has taken a liking to me as I somehow agree to a tour of the palace with which he leads with a knowledgeable aura. He's somehow done to earth for someone next in line for such a huge role. He laughs, almost trips on the stairs which I try my best to stifle but fail and he wholeheartedly joins me. I have to hand it to him, he also somehow managed to make me feel at ease. Apparently, Hunter thought so too for he spoke highly of the prince in his short debrief before the dance and once again before I was whisked away for the tour.
When we return from the tour, I spot Eames amongst the suited and stoic men that lined the walls. That's just so weird. Who thinks that's a good idea? I part from the prince as he has to mingle with the rest of his guests with, "Thank you for accommodating me on such short notice."
He laughs it off. "It was my pleasure. Who wouldn't want an extra gift as well as to be the event of your debut. To be honest, when I received word of your acceptance to the invitation, I thought it was a mistake," he explains with an easy smile. "Since then, I've been anxious to meet you with all the secrecy surrounding your identity."
"Nevertheless, I am very grateful. I too could not wait to meet you. I do hope I did not disappoint your expectations." I joke.
"If anything, you did quite the opposite." I blush. "I do hope you come back soon for a visit with much less eyes and ears around," he adds, leaving me with a kiss to my hand.
Swindle.
Pronunciation
*IPA: /ˈswɪnd(ə)l/
Verb. (swindles, present participle swindling; past and past participle swindled)
1. (transitive) To defraud.
2. (ambitransitive) To obtain money or property by fraudulent or deceitful methods.
I did not expect that wicked turn of events. I'm not gaining money from this, at least I'm not trying to gain money or property from this. This rabbit hole has become useless. Somehow all of this is leading to money.
That was basically useless. In fact, it is absolutely nothing. I should probably download a game onto this phone. Reading the dictionary is not as informatively calming as it began as. It was actually fun. It's not anymore.
Hunter is by my side in a flash at the verge of drilling me about how my tour with the young prince went. He needs to tone down his excitement a smidge. I glare at his as discreetly as I can and he quickly reigns himself in.
This whole night I've picked up on people Hunter likes and those he does not. Evidently, the birthday boy is at the top of the list of people he genuinely wanted to meet. Thankfully, his enthusiasm is reciprocated. A simple bromance. A friendship created solely on personality.
Living in isolation and keeping his anonymity must be tough and here he is, having created a genuine reciprocated friendship.
My eyes take in the whole room, stopping momentarily at Eames who looks so serious I'm beginning to think someone else is in his body. That's chilling and impressive at the very same time.
I've spoken to enough people to have left an impression and I'm pretty certain we aren't going to leave this palace the same way we arrived. The things I go through for this boy.
To avoid being followed, I have to pull a Cinderella. I have to disappear without a trace.
Aw, shucks. I can't even leave behind a glass slipper for my prince charming to find me by. Who would've thought I'd be the one girl to remove the essence of the whole Cinderella gambit. I'm not even wearing heels. My fairy godmother, Blair, was not too pleased when I vito'ed the pumps and opted for some converse. As if the brothers Grimm didn't kill Aschenputtel enough.
Glancing at the time on my phone, it's almost time for the magic to expire.
Eames' priority no matter the circumstances is Hunter so I watch as he glances at his watch then moving to square his shoulders. He's ready.
The bell that had been used to grab everyone's attention when I had arrived chimes somewhere to the left and my eyes move towards the source of the sound. The red coated man who had introduced me places the bell on it's table and gestures towards the prince.
He smiles. "A display of fireworks has been prepared for us. Please follow me."
The group begins to migrate towards the now open balcony windows to watch the fireworks display. Perfect.
With everyone focused on acquiring a good view for the display, I exit through the door we entered in, headed straight for the bathrooms were I found Arthur in a stall, holding a bag. We're putting a lot of faith in this guy.
"Your Royal Highness," he breathes upon my arrival and hands me the bag. He moves to the door, giving me his back.
I change as fast as I can and glance at my phones clock yet again, 23:57. He leads me through the hidden corridors of the palace until we are walking out of a small hidden gate in what seemed like a deserted part of the palace walls.
We promenade for a few minutes til he walks us to a fairly crowded place were I notice a familiar cap as well as one I hadn't seen in a very long time. Eames used to run in our cul-de-sac before Hunter arrived. Probably making sure the house was in a safe neighbourhood. It's insane how good he is at his job.
Arthur notices the two, turns towards me and says, "It's been a pleasure working with you, Your Royal Highness." On that note, he drowns into the crowd and disappears. I don't give compliments out often but he is impressive. The exit was flawless, the route we walked on was secure and the drop off was perfect. He waited until I was arms length from Hunter and Eames before he left without a glitch in his demeanour.
"Isn't he great?," Eames notes with a smile on his face that was oddly very proud.
"Very impressive." I breathe.
"I pulled him from special forces on a favour. We used to be in the same unit before I got assigned to him," he gestures to Hunter. Very good at his job. Good enough to manage to provide protection for his main priority as well as lil ol me.
"Really? I like him," I say, watching the rest of the fireworks display. Checking my phone again, it reports 00:23. I like him a lot.
My phone vibrates with a message. I wait for the fireworks to end before it. It turns out to be an email I'd been hoping to get sooner but better late than never.
Dear Miss Harrison,
My daughter tells me you'd like to come over to the site. You're more than welcome to visit. I've reserved this coming Saturday for you. See you then.
Nicholas Callaghan.
When we're back in the car on our way back home is when I type a quick response to the email, making sure that Hunter didn't see.
Dear Mr Callaghan,
Thank you so much for accommodating me on such short notice. Saturday is perfect. See you then.
Archer Harrison.
I can't wait for next weekend.
Defraud.
Pronunciation.
*(British) IPA: /dɪ.ˈfɹɔːd/
Verb. (defrauds, present participle defrauding; past and past participle defrauded)
1. (transitive) To obtain money or property from (a person) by fraud, to swindle.
2. (archaic) To deprive.
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It was a little past 02:00 when I snuck into the Emmons house.
Thankfully, Dré had a habit of leaving her house on late night walks when she couldn't sleep. Her insomnia was my saving grace as I meet up with her a few houses down from her own where Hunter drops me off. When we both walked through the front door on our return startling her mother all the way upstairs, it looks like I had accompanied Dré on her walk as she shouts, "It's me Mom. Just went out on a walk." I was going to have to pay for disturbing her beauty sleep later because Dré did suffer from insomnia on some nights. Unfortunately for me, today wasn't one of them.
My blankets are pulled away from my body, successfully sending a chill up my spine. I'm going to hate this. I dramatically groan and make my body into a ball. "Get up, Archer." Brie commands.
"No." I tighten my ball.
"You asked for it," Dré says and not a second later, ice cold water is thrown on my back. I shriek.
Jumping off the bed, I glare at my lovely friends. "Morning," I say through grit teeth as they both smile at me. I'm in trouble.
Having gotten their message across, they sashay out of the room. I definitely deserved that. Changing out of my wet sleep shirt, I follow them to their room as I mentally prep myself for some of the lies I might have to tell. This is the part about the job I hate the most. Omissions. Half truths. White lies.
"Sit." Brie orders.
"Spill." Dré adds.
I take my time before I throw myself on the beanbag chair with a loud sigh.
They sit opposite me on the floor. Two against one.
Here come the armada of lies.
"Hunter and I kissed yesterday." I rush out causing both girl's eyes to almost pop out their sockets. Shockingly and uncharacteristically, they stay silent so I continue. "Then he took me to London." I feel the need to pause between each sentence. "We talked and walked, site seeing around the city." They both look at each other then back at me. "Then we watched the fireworks for the prince's birthday before driving back home." I finish with clasping my hands in my lap.
My eyes move from one pair to the other just waiting for them to say something. Oddly enough, they look at each other again for a whole minute, they're doing they're weird twin thing, then back at me before locking their gazes on me once more.
"You had the night!," they almost yell, now genuinely beaming at me. I blush.
Deprive.
Pronunciation
*IPA: /dɪˈpɹaɪv/
Verb. (deprives, present participle depriving; past and past participle deprived)
1. (transitive) To take something away from (someone) and keep it away, to deny someone something.
2. (transitive) To degrade.
3. (transitive) To bereave.
That's what I just did.
"How was it?" Brie asks now inches away from my face in excitement.
"How was what?"
"The kiss, duh." Dré rolls her eyes at her sisters choice of words.
"In a word," she adds nonetheless.
I actually haven't thought about it that much but only one word would describe that kiss. I would never tell Hunter this little bit of information. My first kiss.
"Electric."
On that note, they start to scream in glee and I can't help but laugh at their antics.
"What's all this screaming about?" Mrs. E asks from the doorway, silencing the banshees.
"Archer had her first kiss," Brie tells her mother who immediately gushes. Noise complaint now completely forgotten, she takes a seat beside me on the floor and plants a kiss to my temple lovingly.
"Was it with that Hunter boy?," she asks, making herself comfortable with her back to the wall.
"Yes, it was." Dré answers for me. I am about to overheat from the blush that has taken over my body.
"Oh, I knew he had it bad for you," she supplies, pushing hair away from her face. Was I the only one who didn't see his apparent obvious affection for me? "Now girls, remember to always be safe when you're with a boy." That cooled me down fast.
"Mom!," we all whine simultaneously. 0 to 100 real quick.
"I'm just saying. Don't ever feel like you have to do anything you don't want to do." She points at each of us and says, "Consent. Consent. Consent."
One after the other we reply with an, "I know," begrudgingly.
Satisfied, she stands up and breathes, "Good," as she leaves the room. Within a minute, she's back. "Almost forgot. Breakfast is ready," then she leaves again.
"Mom sure knows how to kill a party," Dré notes, standing up.
"Tell me about it," Brie supports as we make our way to the kitchen.
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Due to the impromptu drop of information about my whereabouts last night, I have to break tradition and skip today. The repercussions will be dire but I couldn't disappear on Brie and Dré today. I promised them a girls day and I'd be damned if I didn't stay true to my word. That is what we did all day.
They took me shopping, which I pushed through, managing to snag a few items for myself. They took me to the spa where I got a pedicure as they got massages. A massage is touching I cannot handle.
I walk into my house at 17:26 shouting, "I'm home," to mother who is banging things in the kitchen. She doesn't answer as I make my way to my room.
Dear heavenly father, please give my stomach strength to digest whatever it is my mother has cooked up.
Amen.
I throw the shopping bags onto the floor then myself onto the bed, kick off my shoes and lazily watch Gnomeo and Juliet swim in their aquarium. I'm so exhausted.
"Dinners ready!," mom shouts from downstairs. I groan and start making my way to the kitchen. She has pots stacked in the sink and two plates sit on the island. Presentation. A.
I timidly sit and serve myself a little bit of everything as she watches expectantly. Smell. C. Pouring myself a generous amount of pineapple juice, I finally bring my fork full of rice, some veggies, soup and roast chicken to my mouth. Taste. D.
I inwardly cringe, chew slowly before swallowing and chasing it down with half the glass of pineapple juice. Honestly, she's gotten better. I'm definitely not going to die but this is bad. How do you fail at boiling rice? How is that even possible? My taste buds!
"How is it?," she asks with a smile.
"It's so tasty mamacita. I would just say less salt for next time." I complement and positively criticise as I shovel more food into my mouth making sure to follow it with a generous amount of pineapple juice. I feel good about this lie. The happy smile on her face is worth the punishment.
Fraud.
Pronunciation
*(British) IPA: /fɹɔːd/
Noun.
1. (law) The crime of stealing or otherwise illegally obtaining money by use of deception tactics.
2. Any act of deception carried out for the purpose of unfair, undeserved and/or unlawful gain.
3. The assumption of a false identity to such deceptive end.
4. A person who performs any such trick.
5. (obsolete) A trap or snare.
Ding, ding, ding, ding. We have a winner. That's some cute full circle bullshirt.
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SJ talking
If there was a chapter I hated whilst writing it, it would be this chapter right here. This is the most rewritten, rethought and rearranged chapter in the entire book. I cut passion fruit on the first page. I ate cheese puffs then wet my fingers and touched the first page. All the pages are covered in notes, things to remove and things to add. Pages 4 and 5 are covered in tea spotches and teabag prints from when I just left it there. Moral of the story, writing this chapter was difficult and snack filled.
I hope you like it. Enjoy, comment, vote and share. Let's make it to 1k and further. I love this book and I hope you do too.
xoxo SJ signing off