Page 56 of Prince Charmless
“Sorry about the stairs,” Taylor says. “I’d like to make it known that I’d take your hand if I could. I am very much a gentleman.”
“Sure,” I humor him. “Are you not allowed to take my hand?”
“I can’t, uh, touch women. Grandma’s rules for the unbetrothed.”
“You touch me all the time.”
Taylor smirks. “Do I?” he asks like he’s naive.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell her.”
If I had a water bottle, I’d spray myself in the face. That stupid tie is making me all flirty.
Taylor gracefully ignores the questions launched at us by the paparazzi.Who are you with tonight? Is this a new girlfriend?I attempt to ignore them, but my curiosity gets the best of me.
“You don’t want to be a penguin,” Taylor says as soon as I peek to the left. He’s trying to distract me.
“Why?” I ask, refocusing on his tie. “What’s wrong with penguins? The males warm the eggs between their feet. What can you do that’s that adorable?”
“They’re notorious for being sexually depraved animals.”
I frown. “How so?”
“They’re necrophiliacs.”
Hopefully, none of these reporters can read lips.
“How do you know that?”
“I think I read it in a book once when I was a child.”
“You were reading about penguin sex as a kid?”
Taylor feigns being taken aback. “You weren’t?”
Before I can answer him, we arrive at the glass doors. I didn’t trip once.
18
Melina
While the greenhouse is filled with flora from all over the world, my attention is stolen by the much more exotic fauna. Rich people. Well, mostly rich people, I assume. They’re all drinking champagne, posturing, and looking like they smell really nice. Though the small crowd calms my nerves, the not-so-subtle looks everyone is giving us do the opposite.
Three men in tuxes immediately approach Taylor to shake his hand. He thanks two of them for coming in English and one of them in French. They shake my hand as well, for some reason. As we weave through high-top tables and planters, Taylor gets interrupted by about ten people along the way. Some actually call him ‘Your Highness’ and he acts like it’s not weird at all. In fact, he embodies it. It takes all my effort to keep my jaw off the floor watching him make small talk with guests and journalists. He navigates each interaction like a social savant, listening intently to everyone’s banalities, knowing which women to la bise and which not to, remembering which men to formally handshake and which men to do that complicated back-slapping dude handshake some guys prefer.
But he’s a complete faker. For some reason, nobody notices the dutiful Alex whispering in his ear every once in a while to remind him who everyone is.
Sooner or later, people begin asking about me. Taylor keeps his responses vague with ‘this is Melina,’ and I don’t say much besides my hellos,‘enchantées’,and a few‘no, we are not together’.One couple asks what I do for a living, then seemsconfused after I tell them.What the hell is she doing next to the prince?I can hear them thinking.
When we’re finally left alone, a waiter offers us champagne. Taylor takes a glass for me without asking if I want any. He’s right, though, I do want champagne.
“Do you have worms in your brain?” I ask him. “I was watching this medical drama once, and this girl cheated on her husband because of a parasite that completely changed her personality.”
“What are you going on about?”
“You’re being all smiley and nice. What the hell has gotten into you?”
“No worms,” he says. “I truly care about people’s jobs, babies, and new yachts.” He can’t even finish the sentence without laughing.
