Page 27 of Prince Charmless
Saying that makes it worse, doesn’t it?
After returning the rest of the items to my purse, I try to steal them from him, but he steps back and inspects the handcuffs like they’re an extraterrestrial artifact. “They were in your bag,” he says.
I wish I could wipe that stupid grin off his face.
“They’re for work.”
“You’re a web developer.”
“Amongst other things.”
Taylor drops his smirk and hands me back the handcuffs. “I see. Sorry, I was just, uh, joking around. How you make your income is none of my business.” He goes back to dicing the shallots.
I rest my elbows on the counter. “What do you mean ‘I see’?”
“Well, I can only think of two professions that would use those, and I know you’re not an officer of the law.” He stares intently at the now very finely diced shallots.
I cackle. “No! No, I’m notthat.”
Although, he wishes. Taylor might need to be whipped into shape.
“Then what are you?”
I don’t feel like explaining this to him right now. He probably won’t understand. “I’ll tell you if you tell me why you’re having a bad day?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t know. I’m stalling.” And I do care a little.
“Three things.” He scoops the shallots into a pan as bitterly as one can scoop shallots into a pan. “One, someone scheduled me two very important meetings at the same time, so now I have to cancel one of them, two, my father has started smoking again, which is the most stupid decision he could make at his age. And three, my brother won’t text me back, and I have no idea where he is.”
I start with the easiest subject. “Why won’t your brother text you back?”
“There’s this party for a charity I run. I’m trying to convince Tom to come, but he’s mad at me for some unknown reason. Now I’ll have to answer questions about why he isn’t there raising money for schools and instead gambling in a poker tournament.”
I think I’ve heard of Prince Thomas being a good poker player. I pull out my phone to type in his name and ‘poker’ into Google and tap on the first result. A bunch of statistics pop up I don’t understand, but I do have some knowledge of dollar signs.
“Woah, I don’t think he’s gambling.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know what all these stats mean, but it says his winnings total over a million euros. He also has a bracelet for a celebrity tournament in Monte-Carlo. That means he won.”
“I know what it means,” Taylor says quickly. He snatches the phone out of my hand and scrolls through it. “I didn’t realize he was this serious of a player.”
“Really? He never mentioned winning a poker tournament to you?”
I don’t see my brother all the time, but we tell each other about the major things going on in our lives.
Taylor hands me back my phone, then looks me straight in the eyes. “You know what, I think I do remember him telling me something about it.”
I’ve noticed Taylor is a very forgetful person. He probably only remembers people’s names when he deems them important enough to remember.
He rubs his hand against his forehead.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m going to have to let him go to Vegas, aren’t I? That would be, like, the brotherly thing to do?”
