Royal S.O.B. (A Bad Boy Romance) (19 page)

Addie
woke up with a headache.

The
night had been a bitch. She'd done everything possible – including counting
threads on her expensive Egyptian cotton sheets – but sleep remained far away.
Slumber, she realized, was the luxury of simple, ordinary folk, and she had
ceased to be one of them. Recently.

Back
in her middle class neighborhood, when her world was limited to her mom and
Cate, sleep was taken for granted. The way they had lived out their lives, with
so much fun and activity, they were dog-tired by the time they hit the hay.
Mentally they were spent, physically they were exhausted, and all that was left
to do was collapse on the bed, which sunk just right to suck them into a
fantasy world of sleep. Then they would only open their eyes in the morning,
having rested well, and ready for another glorious day.

Now,
in contrast, the heaviness from her lack of sleep played around her eyelids.
She could not open them, and yet could not keep them closed. And her head felt
like she was carrying a huge weight inside it.
If this was the royal life
, she said to herself,
give me the pauper's life any day
.

Her
mobile buzzed between her legs. She had kept it on silent for the night.

"Yes
Cate," she said into the phone.

"Hi
Addie," Cate's tone suggested urgency.

"How's
the princess doing on this bright and sunny morning?"

"Not
good," Addie answered.

"I
had a terrible night."

"What,
thoughts of the prince-turned-commoner again?"

"Catie!
No mention of him, we said."

"Oops;
sorry, sorry," replied Cate.

"You're
right, we did agree to that. I've called to tell you something."

"Go
on."

"There's
this painting exhibition at the Royal Gallery. I'm told that a lot of new
painters are showcasing their work. Care to go?"

"Mmm,"
Addie was thinking.

"If
you want a break from studies, that is."

"I
need a break from other things, Cate," said Addie.

"So
that I can get back to studying."

Cate
laughed.

"I
just thought I'd let you know. If you're not keen, forget it–"

"No,
no," interjected Addie.

"Will
you come?"

"Of
course."

"Great.
It'll refresh our jaded minds," Addie affirmed.

"I've
been missing my regular dose of the arts anyway."

"Okay."

*****

Cate
landed up in exactly an hour, courtesy of royal transport, arranged by the kind
and good Mrs. Bradford. They each enjoyed a nice cup of hot coffee and some
biscuits, again thanks to the old governess, and they were ready to go.

"Do
you think you'll run into–" Cate bit her tongue.

"Run
into?" Addie asked.

"Any
of our friends from university?" she quickly corrected her sentence.

"Now,
with the exams on our head?" Addie exclaimed, oblivious of Cate's real
question.

"I
think everyone except the two of us are busy preparing. We're the only jokers
gallivanting on the palace lawns."

Cate
laughed in relief. She definitely did not want a rebuke from her friend early
in the morning.
 

Addie,
unlike Cate, was into the arts on a deeper level. Her sensitive nature was well
suited for the finer things in life. Poetry was her first love, of course, but
the other arts followed. Though she was not a painter, paintings were close to
her heart. She had even taken a small course in painting appreciation.

That
was Addie. If she was keen on something, she would go to any lengths to learn
it and understand its intricacies. And painting was not the only interest that
she'd self-taught herself. She'd tried her hand at such disparate subjects like
hypnotism and cartooning, palmistry and cooking. It needed to be a creative
discipline, and it needed to intrigue her. Then Addie would buy the books required,
do the research necessary, and burn midnight oil poring over it.

"I
think the absence of exams makes every subject interesting," she once
famously said.

And
each subject she studied, her favorite – and only – guinea pig was Cate. She
was her automatic choice to try out what she had learnt, and her friend was the
willing victim.
That was how Addie tried to hypnotize Catie once. It did not work and, after an
hour of repeating "you're now drifting into a deep sleep", she gave
up, complaining that her friend was a tough subject. Her mother was a possible
next subject, but precisely at that moment, her mum suddenly had a 'headache'
and retired to bed.

Indeed,
for everything, she needed Cate. When she wanted to try her hand at cartooning,
she caught hold of her best friend again and made her the model for her
doodling. She sat Cate by the window and started sketching her caricature.

"But
why me, am I really so funny looking?" Cate had protested.

"Not
particularly," replied Addie, giving Cate's nose a final stroke.

"Just
that every one of us has a trait that can be exaggerated."

"And
what would that be in my case?" Her best friend was curious.

"Why,
your nose!" Addie said and showed her masterpiece to her friend.

There
it was, a reasonably good cartoon, but a terrible representation of Cate. Her
pretty face was distorted beyond recognition, and there was a huge bulbous nose
in place of her true cutie pie button one. That was the last straw – she chased
Addie all over the house, caught hold of the sheet of paper with the cartoon on
it, and shred it into bits. And that was the only cartoon Addie ever did in her
life.

With
palmistry, it was a slightly different story. Addie read all the books on the
subject, learnt about the lines on the palm and what they signified, and so on.
She waited for Cate to arrive, and sat for hours with her palm open in her lap.
Then she started listing out events from her past.

"Is
this true, Catie?" she asked her friend after mentioning an event.

"No,"
came the reply.

"Are
you sure this never happened in your life?" Addie insisted.

"Yes,
Addie, I'm dead sure."

"But…
the line shows it so clearly… it can't be wrong. Palmistry is an accurate
science. It's the wrong kind of practitioners that are giving it a bad
name."

"That's
all right, Addie," Cate would say.

"But
what about my past?"

"Here's
what I told you about it, but you refute it. It's what the lifeline clearly
says."

"But
you said it was the heart line!"

Silence.

"Did
I say that?" Now Addie was not so sure.

"Yes,
you were referring to it as the heart line…"

"Oh
oh. Just hold on, wait here. I'll get my books…"

And
that was how it went, Sunday after Sunday, till finally Cate got tennis elbow,
somewhat serendipitously, and her hand was painful to lift. A sad end, indeed,
to Addie's ambition of becoming a celebrated palmist.

That
was around the time when Addie got into cooking.

"Culinary
arts, wow!" she was beaming to Cate.

"You
know what, Cate. Cooking is the most creative you can be right here in the
kitchen."

"Yes,"
agreed Cate.

"It's
the most useful, anyway. At least you get to eat the art you create."

"Today
I'm going to make this exquisite pasta delicacy for you!" Addie was all
excited.

"Today?
Pasta?" Cate was thinking hard.

"Oops,
I just remembered. I have a dentist's appointment in thirty minutes time. 'Bye,
Addie!"

And
she was gone.

With
painting, however, there was no such danger. Addie was not a painter, only
someone who understood and appreciated the fruits of their craft. As long as
she stayed that way, Cate was safe.

By
now they had entered the gallery and were already looking at the art on show.
Seeing Addie there, the staff made a fuss, but she dispatched them away double
quick. She wanted to be alone with her friend, she told them, and they withdrew
politely.

They
were appreciating this avant-garde painting when Cate elbowed Addie. Someone
was standing next to them.

It
was Kenrick.

Suddenly
Kenrick started believing in God. And in His grand design.

Because,
without such a design, how was he to account for this chance encounter with
Addie. Was it mere coincidence? Or could it be the stars aligning?

The
thought had to come, that morning, to Pat that they ought to go to the Gallery
to see the paintings. Two rank outsiders, as far as the arts were concerned.
Their knowledge of colors was perhaps limited to a small handful – red, yellow,
green, and of course, blue – and they had to the traffic department to thank
for that, in addition to Kenrick's royal blood.
Why would they ever want to see high art?
And now Addie was
standing in front of him. There had to be a god.

"Hey."
She was the one who addressed him first.

That
in itself was a miracle.

"Hello,
Princess Adelaide!"

He
watched her face curl up.

"I
mean, hi Addie!"

A
lot of faces – simple, commoner faces – turned at this peculiar way of address.
By now, Addie's was a face that was well known enough for people to recognize
it. Kenrick himself was a head turner, even with no royalty tag on him.
Courtesy of his magnetic good looks.

"And
what brings you to these parts?" Kenrick asked, redundantly. His royal
mask had not come off fully.

Addie,
concealing her amusement, just waved at the paintings hanging along the walls.

"By
the way, Kenrick," said Addie.

"This
is my best friend Cate. Cate, this is His Royal Highness, Prince Kenrick Royce.
And also my stepbrother."

"Hello
Cate, we're glad to meet you," came from Kenrick, his royalty back in
action.

"And
here, this is Pat, my best mate. Pat, you know Princess Adelaide, of course.
And that is her friend…"

"Cate,"
said Cate.

All
of them shook hands. Yet again, Pat had a look of familiarity for Cate, similar
to the feeling he had the day he'd seen her for the first time.

There
was a moment of awkward silence. Kenrick, his antenna up now, swung into
action. He raised his hand and waved to the staff, waiting some distance away.
The head of the Gallery came running.

"Can
we retire to the lounge please?" Kenrick asked.

It
sounded more like an order.

"Yes
of course, Your Royal Highness," the man obliged.

"This
way, please."

He
led them through a short corridor to a large, expansive lounge that had the
word 'Lounge' printed on a metal plate by the closed door. It was so tastefully
furnished, with little private cubicles meant for one-on-ones, that Addie liked
it instantly.

"Please
be seated, Your Royal Highnesses, and sir, and lady," the head of the
Gallery stated.

"Shall
I call for some refreshments, Your Royal Highness?"

"Ah,
yes please," answered Kenrick thoughtfully.

"Something
to drink, and munch."

And
with that, the man vanished. They all settled down on the luxurious sofas.
Here, they could chat as much as they wished, without disturbing the avid art
lovers back in the gallery.

"So,"
Kenrick began the conversation, in the fitness of things.

"What
have you girls been up to?" He aimed the question at the two ladies.

"Well,"
started Addie, looking at Cate.

"We're
supposed to be studying, aren't we, Cate?"

"Y-yes,"
replied Cate.

She
was nervous in the presence of the prince, who was quite unlike a prince right
now. He had never been seen this way, not this close, and definitely not this
casual.

"But
for some reason," Addie was saying.

"We're
unable to focus. Lots of interruptions, you see."

Kenrick
absorbed that, nudging Pat as if to say, "This is the kind of jibe she
unleashes on you". But Pat never got it anyway, lost as he was in some
recollection of his own.

The
food and drink arrived, and Kenrick motioned to them to start having it. But
none of them was in a hurry to consume it. Each had his or her own thinking to
do. A few moments passed by.

Kenrick
knew that he had to do something to break the ice. He also saw that both Pat
and Cate were looking at each other, and both were thoughtful, so he tried
something.

"Pat,
looks like you know Cate. Is that true?" he asked.

"What?"
Pat was flabbergasted.

"How
would I know Cate?"

"I
have no idea," replied Kenrick.

"Cate,
do you imagine you've seen Pat before?"

Cate
was too stunned to speak. This was the prince, the future king himself,
addressing her.

"I…
I don't think so," she stammered.

There
was a moment of silence yet again.

"Unless…"
It was Pat.

Kenrick
looked at him.

"Cate,
did you ever happen to live in Dockyard Green, by the docks?"

"Um…"
she shot a glance at Kenrick, who trained his eyes on her.

"Yes…
that is where I spent my childhood."

Kenrick
looked back at Pat, whose eyes now turned brighter.

"Yes,
yes," said Pat, excited now.

"We
were staying there too… before we moved to Cotton Common."

"Really?"
Cate, whose nervousness was showing now, averted her look and sat closer still
to Addie.

Kenrick
shot a look at Adelaide. She was calm and composed, her eyes set on the table
in front. She seemed not to be thinking about anything in particular.

"I
remember dating a Cate way back when I was in high school," announced Pat.

"Could
that be you, Cate?" He barely recognized her.

Cate
appeared to be shaken with that revelation.

"Yeah…
are you the same Pat, Pat?" she asked, less awkward than before.

"Cate,"
said Pat.

"Pat,"
said Cate.

Kenrick's
gaze went from one to the other; it was a long shot, but it hit the bullseye
all right. He looked at Addie again. She was the same. Though she overheard the
Cate-Pat reunion, she seemed unperturbed in the least. What a controlled woman!

On
an impulse, his hand reached over and touched Addie's.

It
was the first ever time he had ever touched her. And it happened as an
involuntary act, a reflex action responding to his thoughts about her.

To
his surprise, Addie did not react. She did not even look at him. She just left
his hand be, over hers, but only for a moment. A second later, she quietly
withdrew her hand and hid it below the table for the rest of the meeting.

Neither
Cate nor Pat had witnessed it. The two of them were talking, and it seemed that
they had a lot more to share than a residential address in the past.

That
touch. It remained a sweet secret between Kenrick and Addie.