Page 23 of Protecting Mr. Fine

He reached for his phone and started making notes in his songwriting app as he continued to hum the new tune.

The sound of his voice wove in and out of the sound of people downstairs. Periodic shouts of victory interspersed with collective groans of defeat came from the group in the family room, while women’s laughter came from the kitchen and a few shouts from younger kids accompanied the rhythmic, hollow-soundingbapbapof a basketball being dribbled on the driveway outside the bedroom window.

I understood why Zane craved being here. It made him feel as close to “normal” as he could get these days. But he was so desperate for that normalcy he refused to see how many of those “friends and family members” were mercenary users. Almost every single one of them, with the exceptions of his grandmother and one aunt, was desperate to trade on his celebrity image or take advantage of his wealth.

I hated it for him. The man wanted to be loved for who he was on the inside—as Zane Hendley—when all of the people downstairs only wanted to see Zee Barlo, the megastar.

“You’re brooding,” he teased without looking up from his phone. “A big, broody Bear.”

“Mpfh. I do not brood.”

Zane chuckled. “You hate ithere.”

“I don’t,” I insisted. “There are things I like here. And people.” Namely, Zane himself.

“You’re itching to leave.”

I hesitated. “I’m itching to boot most of those jackasses out,” I admitted. “Your gran and Rinny can stay.”

Zane laughed again. “Generous of you.”

“Sorry. That was unprofessional.”

He flicked his eyes at me. “Bear, pretty sure we passed professional about ten months ago. We’re friends, aren’t we? Or do you want to go back to the days when I called you Ryan and you tried really hard not to swear in my presence because it was unprofessional?”

My lips twitched. “No. I fucking don’t.”

He laughed lightly. “Good. Then don’t censor yourself with me. I have enough people in my life who only tell me what I want to hear.”

I let out a huff. “None of them are downstairs.”

Zane tossed his phone down and turned over to prop himself up against the headboard. “Not true. Farrah’s friends would be more than happy to tell me what I want to hear.” I could tell by his grin he was enjoying arguing with me.

“Your cousin JK needs to take a long walk off a short pier.”

“My cousin JK will never get out of Barlo, Georgia. And that makes me feel sorry for him. I love that he’s dreaming about starting his own business. Growing up poor in a small town means you don’t have a whole lototherthan dreams of something better, Bear. Nothing wrong with him trying to make his dream a reality.”

“You sound like an inspirational poster sold at the dollar store.”

Zane barked out a laugh. “Since when haveyoubeen to a dollar store?”

I couldn’t hold back a matching grin. “Since King Asger wanted the royal family and their entourage to experience, quote, ‘the real America’ on their tour here six years ago. I took them to all kinds of places. We even went bowling and had those upside-down ice creams at Dairy Queen. The kids loved it. I think the king did, too. CrownPrince Gerhard and the rest of the staff… less so. Distinct lack of formal protocol here, let alone Ventdestinian mysticism. When the ‘winds of fate’ don’t blow as predicted, it ruffles their feathers.” I gave him a half smile. “But I liked that the king tried.”

Zane chuckled. “I can only imagine what the royal chef thought of a set of yellow-and-green-painted corn handles.”

“And the bendy straws,” I added.

“And the off-brand Tupperware whose lids never fit right, even from day one.”

I shook my head. “The worst were the chip clips. He was fascinated by them, even though I’m not sure the man had ever seen a bag of chips in his life.”

Zane’s smile softened. “We always used wooden clothespins. You could get a pack of a hundred for five bucks at the Walmart over in Tipton. Gran used to share them with the neighbors like she was royalty. She would have done the Ventdestinian royal family proud.”

I thought about the stark difference between the way the Ventdestinian princes and princess were raised compared to how Zane had been brought up here in Barlo. I’d joined the royal guard when Asger’s oldest grandson was only ten, and I’d seen just how stifling his upbringing was.

Money didn’t always solve everything, as Zane… and the royal children… well knew.

“You know, every time I see that horseshoe over the front door, I think how your gran would actually get a kick out of the superstitions in Ventdestine,” I said. “The royal family in particular are a little over-the-top with certain things.”

---