Page 30 of Prince Charmless
He twists the gold signet ring on his pinky. “That’s not a yes, though, is it?”
“It’s just, with the amount of privilege you have, being insulted bythePrince Taylor just makes it feel ten times worse, like you’re punching down.”
“It doesn’t mean anything, being prince. I’m just a mascot doing a pseudo-job. Doesn’t every smart person know that? You especially?”
Is that what he really thinks?
“You’re not a pointless grift, Taylor.” My voice lowers in pitch. “Listen, you may not have a lot of influence, but you have more than me. More than a lot. The type of influence people work hard for, and it just landed in your lap. You can’t take that for granted.”
Taylor chews the inside of his lip, hopefully, to stop himself from saying something I’m not going to like. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Or if he’s thinking.
Finally, he opens his mouth. “I can’t cook for you next week. I’m going to be gone.”
Oh. “That’s fine. Where are you going?”
“London.”
He grabs his suit jacket from the chair next to mine.
“Don’t miss me too much. Send me a pic of a red phone booth, ooh, or a shepherd’s pie.”
In exchange for my toothy smile, I get Taylor’s quiet hum as he walks out.
10
Taylor
Something is licking my face.
When I open my eyes, a bead of drool slowly drips onto my forehead.
I’m not sure how the four-legged beast got into my bedroom. I must have left my door open last night. Sometimes, if I don’t close it all the way, Vinnie will paw it open and watch me sleep. At any rate, it means Tom is back. He takes the dog everywhere he can.
Thomas and I live on opposite ends of Clément Manor. It’s easier to walk outside to get to his wing. Our places are virtually the same on the inside, full of hallways and rooms that only exist to be dusted. The scent-hound follows a foot behind me from one end of the courtyard to the other. When I let him into the house, he sits down and stares at me as if he’s waiting for some sort of direction.
“Where is he? I know, you know.”
Vinnie takes off beside me to the end of the hallway. Though he first leads me to the kitchen (I gave him a piece of cheese, I’m not a monster), I remain patient and follow him to the living room. Sure enough, Tom’s on the couch watchingAttack on Titanat full volume. My brother’s decor choice is very much bachelor’s pad meets Marie Antoinette’s salon. I don’t think sleek black furniture and leather upholstery goes well with lavender walls and flowery crown molding, but who am I to judge?
“Where did you disappear to?” I ask. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.” He hasn’t been answering my texts or even been home for me to bother.
Tom doesn’t turn to acknowledge me. Instead, he takes the slobbery tennis ball Vinnie has fetched for him and tosses it across the room.
“The silent treatment, are you five?”
Still nothing. I storm over to steal the remote off his stomach and turn off the TV.
He whips his head around to me. “What the hell is wrong with you, man!”
“Listen, I know you’re frustrated because I didn’t know about your poker thing, and I’m sorry, all right? Go to Vegas. I think I have something figured out.”
He stands up. “Really? You’re not going to try to convince me to stay?”
“No, but you need to find yourself a replacement. A woman, preferably, and one that doesn’t expect me to talk with them the whole night. Just pick the least problematic one from your list.”
Tom keeps a database of the women he meets in his notes app and tends to it like a misogynistic Pokédex.
“You’re looking for a date,” he realizes after a while.
