Page 60 of Prince Charmless
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”
Taylor rests his hand on my forearm before he leaves, like he wants to touch me one last time before he’s gone for a few minutes. The gesture feels unintentional yet unwarranted. I don’t mind, it’s just a little confusing.
19
Taylor
“Everyone keeps asking me about you and that girl,” Dad hisses into my ear. “What do I tell them?”
“Nothing. I’m just using her as a prop.” As the sentence leaves my mouth, I realize how dickish it sounds. “Consensually, of course. Has anyone asked you about Tom?”
“No, actually, they haven’t.”
Somehow, my crazy plan is working. And better yet, my dad knows it’s working. Not that I endlessly strive to gain the approval of my father, but I can’t force myself to throw up the organ that’s been making me want to please him all these years.
“What’s she like?” he asks.
“Who?”
Dad rolls his eyes. “Your date,” he grumbles.
“She’s friend. I mean, she’s fine.”
He waits for me to go on.
“Her name is Melina, by the way. Notthat girl.”
I expect him to ask more questions, but he just nods mystically. Weird.
Hopefully, tomorrow it will be my face in the news, not Tom looking like a jackass wearing sunglasses indoors. Though I’m very much dreading it, for my sake and Melina’s. I asked him earlier how he was doing at the tournament, and his text back was filled with a bunch of technical poker terms I don’t understand. It sounded positive, though.
If there’s one thing Tom’s great at, it’s being the life of the party. I’ve been doing a lot of the talking now that he’s not here to balance out our sibling dynamic. Tom’s the fun brother whohas put in the work to render his presence young and exciting, always arriving fashionably late and leaving as soon as thevibes are lame. The master socialite is a fickle creature. If people attend events like these, they’re coming for either him or my father. They’re better at peopling because they like doing it. I can be cordial, but being just cordial is boring.
Dad points to the podium at the front of the room. “I should get this show on the road.”
Though I’ve been running this charity for the last four years, most people still think he’s in charge. I don’t care if he takes the credit in the speech as long as I don’t have to make it. The party feels more important when it seems he’s the one throwing it, anyway.
Dad’s speech is a longer and politer version of ‘Hello fellow one-percenters, keep donating your money to us so teachers and children can have basic school supplies, our government should’ve solved this problem decades ago, but they’re incompetent, you probably don’t need the cash, anyway’. I scan the room for Melina. She must be camouflaged amongst the plants. Hopefully, she’s not bored. I certainly am. Seeing Jamie was a bit eventful, but in the way that events make the news for having multiple casualties. Of course, he married some nouveau riche CEO who probably has a stupid open-concept office where everyone sits on bean bag chairs and pretends to be okay about it. I thought I already gave him enough money.
After Dad’s done, I get roped into talking with Ga?l (sans husband) and then three more people after that. My impatience grows the longer I’m away from Melina. Eventually, I slide myself out of a conversation about the stock market and begin my trek through the jungle. Soon enough, I hear her voice followed by Dad’s embittered one.
Christ. They’re talking to each other again. I should’ve found a waiter to keep him distracted with hors d’oeuvres or a pole to tie his wrist.
Amongst a crowd of about eight people, I find my father pointing at Melina. “... calling me old?”
Melina puts her hands up. “No. I’m saying age can make one biased.”
“Then who would you pick?”
“Santi,” she mumbles.
I look to Alex in the crowd for an explanation. He only shrugs.
My father crosses his arms. “I don’t understand you kids. You and Tom, getting blindsided by charisma alone. I’ve met Santi and he’s a bit of an ass.”
“An ass that almost won us the World Cup,” she argues.
