Royal S.O.B. (A Bad Boy Romance) Read online

  The royal family had been on the lookout for a woman to fill this extraordinary position for some time. Addie had been reading about it all over the newspapers, but she would have never guessed her own mother would be chosen as that woman.

  How exactly they zeroed in on her mum was a mystery to Addie. Maybe the royals had their own ways and means to do these things surreptitiously. The stealth agents – perhaps they were pressed into action. In times of peace – and these were times of peace – this was probably how they kept His Majesty's Secret Service busy. That, however, was enough to end her personal peace, mused Addie.

  Why they opted for a widow for a widower was inexplicable. The way Addie saw it, any number of spinsters would have been ready to become the next queen, and yet the mantle fell on a single parent with a twenty-year-old daughter. Strange were the ways of royalty, she surmised.

  "Addie!" someone called her.

  Chapter Three

  "Hey, Phantom!"

  There was only one person on Earth who called him that: Patrick. That clever boy who had, years ago, nicknamed Kenrick this after the luxury limousine.

  "Pat! Where the hell in the world are you?!"

  "I'm here, soaking in the soothing blue waters of Mauritius. I knew you were hiding in that enormous mansion of yours in the country."

  "Come on over here, we'll have a blast," suggested a desperate Kenrick.

  "I'm bored already."

  "In just three days? Got nothing to do?"

  "Right. Not for me, not for my dick."

  "Shall I bring some exciting pussy over for His Highness?"

  "Nah – not that again. I… I need something else."

  "Don't tell me you're swinging the other way!"

  "No, you bastard. I want some honest fun. And I don't know where to get it."

  "Just stay right there. I'll take a flight tonight."

  "So you'll be here early morning," confirmed Kenrick.

  "I'll send the limo."

  "Do that, Your Royal Highness."

  *****

  Suddenly the world looked a brighter place for Kenrick.

  That was the kind of fun Pat was. Kenrick would be down in the dumps, for no particular reason, and Pat – by his sheer presence – would light up, and lighten up, the proceedings. They had met in school as young chaps.

  He still remembered it vaguely, like a fading soft focus film clip – the first day that they had met, in year two. When a shy, seven-year-old Pat walked into the class and sat next to him, he had no idea that Kenrick was a royal. Quite unwittingly, he proffered a Phantom comic book to Royce, another echo to the name that he would use to address him later in life. So, in a sense, it all started with that name.

  That was the beginning of a friendship that carried on all throughout school, the university and the Air Force. Gradually, as they grew up, little Pat understood that his friend Kenrick was somehow superior to others.

  His teacher instructed all of the children to address Kenrick as Your Royal Highness. It seemed a rather long name for a little kid. He just liked to call him Kenrick, or even Ken – and he did it, secretly, when no one was around. And his friend "Ken" didn't seem to mind.

  Pat could never understand why such a long car pulled up at the school for such a small boy. Often Kenrick could never even be seen through the car window – he would disappear somewhere below, sinking into the plush leather seat.

  Then there were the two governesses and half a dozen tall, big men who accompanied this little boy. Security, his mum said, when he told her about the fearsome looking hulks. Mom also told him that Kenrick was the son of a king, hence all the fuss.

  "Is my dad a king, too?" little Pat had asked.

  "No my dear," answered his mum, giving him a hug.

  "Your dad is a commoner, and so are you and me."

  "What does that mean, Mummy?" he asked again.

  "It means your friend will become a king when he grows up."

  "And what will I become?"

  "Why, you'll become a handsome young man, my dear!"

  "But I'll never be a king."

  "No my sweet, that's only for the royal family."

  *****

  The following day, he discussed this with Kenrick. His friend seemed upset.

  "But I want to be a fireman," he confided to Pat.

  "That's not possible," replied Pat.

  "You have to become king."

  "And do what?"

  "And rule all of us."

  "How do you do that?" Kenrick wanted to know.

  "I have no idea," answered Pat.

  "But I can ask my mum about it."

  "But I like firemen," Kenrick persisted.

  "And I like their uniform. I'll look big and strong in it."

  "Okay," offered Pat.

  Kenrick seemed thoughtful.

  "Do kings have a uniform?" he asked his friend.

  "I'm not sure. I'll ask my–"

  "You'll ask your mum about it. Right, got it," interrupted Ken.

  The next day Pat confirmed: Kings do have a uniform.

  "But it may not be as good as a fireman's," he warned Kenrick.

  "It's better to be a fireman than a king," Kenrick responded, with finality.

  Sitting there in the present moment, dwarfed by the tall blades of grass, Kenrick laughed. Thank God he'd remained a king – okay, a king-in-waiting.

  Firemen never had half the fun.

  *****

  The following morning, Kenrick arose early. He wanted to go receive his friend from the airport.

  "I'd advise against it, Your Royal Highness," informed the Chief Security Officer, coming in to the guests' reception area of the manor.

  "And why is that?" asked Kenrick, biting his tongue to suppress the tide of expletives rising inside his mouth.

  "There's a terror threat at the airport, Your Royal Highness," replied the man.

  "We have orders to not let you leave the manor."

  "No shit!" Kenrick could contain himself no longer.

  "What the fuck man!"

  The officer just stood there, his head hung, studying the ancient tiling on the floor.

  "Don't you know he's my best mate?! In fact, my only mate?" Kenrick yelled at him.

  "Yes, I understand, Your Royal Highness… We'll bring Patrick to the manor safe and sound – and fast."

  "I know you will, you moron," snarled the prince, his voice deliberately low now.

  "But is it the same as me going to welcome him, you bum?"

  "It's not, Your Royal Highness," the officer replied promptly.

  Kenrick gave a pause, still fuming.

  "So… nothing can be done about my going personally?" he asked, finally, his voice still low.

  "I'm afraid not, Your Royal Highness."

  "Then go fuck yourself!" he yelled, the entire manor shaking under the impact of his disgust.

  *****

  The officer kept his word. They retrieved Pat and brought him to the manor faster than usual. He was probably rushed through the immigration, assumed Kenrick.

  Their reunion was tumultuous.

  "Hey Phantom!" Pat yelled, momentarily oblivious of his new surroundings.

  "You bastard!" Kenrick yelled back, throwing royal protocol to the winds.

  They hugged each other, lifting each other up in turns – they were meeting after a year.

  "Come, let's go to my chambers," suggested Kenrick, when they were done with the excitement of the welcome.

  "Can I go to my room, need to have a wash first?" asked Pat. Unlike Kenrick, he was always a stickler for hygiene and cleanliness.

  "Okay, have it your way," conceded the prince, and joined the head housekeeper who would take them to Pat's room.

  *****

  "So… my dear Phantom has been experiencing 'the royal boredom'," announced Pat.

  He had had a wash, they'd eaten breakfast, and now they were in Kenrick's chambers – relaxed and all by themselves.

  "Oh my word," re
plied Kenrick.

  "Thank God you landed up. One more day and the kingdom would've lost its heir."

  "That means – 'Pat saved the king!' Please send Letters Patent to amend the anthem."

  Kenrick laughed. Already he was feeling better.

  "So tell me," he thumped Pat on the shoulder.

  "Been fucking around a lot?"

  "Me, no!" replied Pat.

  "You know I've been traveling. And I have a golden rule: When with a backpack, never have two people on your bedroll."

  "Oh – why's that?"

  "These days, Phantom, you can never tell. I've been all over Asia, and while the girls are nubile and sexy, hygiene is a casualty. I want my dick going into safe nooks and crannies."

  Kenrick laughed again.

  "If I was like you," the prince said through laughter.

  "I'd never have my ticker ticking."

  "Ticker?" asked Pat.

  "Yup, my pussy counter."

  "Ah that," smiled Pat in acknowledgment.

  "What's the score – I want up-to-the-minute."

  "Well… up-to-the-minute…" Kenrick pretended to read an imaginary meter.

  "It says three-hundred-and-ninety-two."

  Both friends roared wildly.

  Pat, who was sitting by the large Victorian window, suddenly seemed distracted. He was looking outside.

  "What is it?" asked Kenrick.

  "My word," swallowed Pat.

  "And who might these birds be?"

  "Birds?"

  Kenrick got up from his grandfather chair and went up to the window.

  Chapter Four

  It was Cate.

  "Catie!"

  Addie was overjoyed at finding her best friend.

  When she told her mum that she was going to the library, what Addie was really doing was escaping from it all. With this new royal thingy happening, her life had become a complete whirligig. The media on one side, the relatives on the other – she never knew they had so many relations. Must have something to do with the sudden elevation in their social status, she concluded. What was it they said: Success is relative; the more successful you are, the more relatives you end up with!

  She needed to run away from that royal nonsense; her best place to hide being the university. And now to meet Cate – who never told her she'd be there too, by the way – was a true blessing.

  "Hi Cate. I'd no idea you'd be here too," she said, her tone indicating a mild relief.

  "I was not intending to," replied Cate.

  "But with all of those television cameras outside your house, I knew you would be fleeing to the university. And once here, where else but the library? So I thought I'd pay you a visit."

  "And thank you for that, my dear Catie," Addie said as she gave her best friend a tight hug.

  "You've no idea how much I've needed you today."

  "Why, what's up – more protocols?" Cate asked.

  "I don't know, and I don't care. They were all around my mum at home, blokes in suits in one room, and an ocean of old birds in another. God, how I hate it!"

  "So you run away into the welcoming arms of your best mate, Cate."

  "Precisely!"

  They ran into the library building.

  "How about a cup of coffee first?" Cate suggested.

  "Caffeine before literature, you think I should coin that?"

  Addie laughed.

  "What a wonderful idea," she agreed through her laughter.

  "Also, we can't talk much in the library," whispered Cate.

  "That's why the café was invented for gossip."

  They took a right towards the campus café.

  "So what's the latest on the royal front exactly?" Cate asked as they settled down at a table in a corner. Addie was concerned about the paparazzi hounding her even here.

  "Well, you should start practicing calling me 'Her Royal Highness', for one," replied Addie, in all seriousness.

  Cate, who knew her friend's wry humor, laughed.

  "I'll remember that," she grinned.

  "When is the wedding supposed to be?"

  "I've no clue," answered Addie.

  "But I'd rather it'd be over and done with."

  She didn't want this stress. And Cate realized it.

  "My life's been turned upside-down. And for no fault of my own."

  Addie caught a flash from the corner of her eye. It looked like someone had trained a camera through the window.

  "There goes my privacy," she said, shielding her face with her textbook.

  Cate looked out; indeed, there was a man with a camera on the lawn.

  "Come, let's lose this bloke," announced Addie, getting up at once.

  They took a back door from the café kitchen, much to the surprise of the chefs and baristas, and slipped away.

  *****

  It was evening when Adelaide was done at the library. In reality, the library closed at six, and she had to get out anyway. Cate had gone by about three.

  With no place to occupy herself, she had no option but to head home. The sheer thought of facing the army of reporters and photographers filled her with nausea.

  She took the bus back. Even before she alighted, she could see the crowds. If only she could turn invisible and snake her way through and somehow get inside their modest apartment, she wished. Easier said than done, she knew.

  "Quite a crowd, Miss," said the driver as she was getting off the bus.

  "Don't know how you'll get in."

  Though he said it without knowing her identity, how true that was! She walked at full speed, taking the multitude head on, puncturing the mob, piercing the congregation and finding her way.

  In front of her apartment building, the people had left a semi-circle of empty space. Lining its periphery was an army of media people – announcers, cameramen, journalists. Many of the talking heads were already recording their stories in a hurry.

  And now there was another group – the bobbies, the cops. They had set up their black-and-yellow Do Not Cross barricades and were patrolling the property.

  No wonder the crowd was so well behaved.

  A roar erupted from the mob as the princess-to-be made her way into the semi-circle. The cops, with an air of superior knowledge, removed the barricade and let her pass.

  Addie could feel the heat of a hundred cameras focused on her, and the collective chatter of the talking heads – all of them announcing the arrival of the daughter of the woman who would be queen.

  Minutes later, she was in her living room. Thankfully, the people that had been in there in the morning had gone.

  Her mother came in from the kitchen, greeting her.

  "Hello darling," she gave her daughter a peck on the cheek.

  Addie was in no mood to reciprocate. And yet she did.

  "Hi Mum."

  "How's my girl today?"

  That was a redundant question.

  "I'm okay, Mum," replied Addie, suppressing her frustration. That was her upbringing – to never be rude, whatever the circumstances.

  Her mother sighed. She understood exactly what her daughter was going through.

  "Your trauma will end soon, my girl," she assured her, holding Addie's chin lovingly.

  "The wedding date has been fixed."