Part-time Princess

by Pamela DuMond

  I giggled. The next thing I knew we were on the ground. I said goodbye to Jane Dawson as they helped her off the plane first and plopped her in a wheelchair.

  “And thank you, Nick,” Jane said. “I will never forget your kindness.”

  “My pleasure ma’am,” he said. “There’s no greater honor than to rescue a true lady.”

  I looked up at Nick and shivers ran up and down my spine. He was totally growing on me. But my part-time job didn’t include falling for a gorgeous man who happened to be someone Elizabeth used to be involved with. It totally didn’t. Like no way. Not in a million years. Not if he delivered the best pizza ever. Nope. Wasn’t happening. You could forget about it. Seriously.

  Let’s get this straight. Nick and I were both travelling on the next leg of my journey—the hopper flight to Fredonia’s capitol city, Sauerhausen. And he had graciously offered to help me with my luggage. But I wasn’t sure if Lady and the Damp wanted me to be seen with some smoking hot boy toy from Elizabeth’s past.

  So I thanked him politely for his time and his camaraderie but declined his offer to help me with my luggage. I would handle that on my own.

  But by the time I cleared customs it was too late to check my—I mean—Elizabeth’s bags through to Fredonia. I spotted a luggage cart vending machine, inserted the weird-looking bills and wrestled a trolley out of the contraption. I hoisted her bags onto it and pushed it forward only to watch in horror as two suitcases crashed to the floor and flipped over.

  I lifted the cases off the ground and realized the bulky ones needed to go on the bottom. So I yanked the remaining suitcases off the cart, re-stacked them, wiped my sweaty brow and peered at my diamond-encrusted watch. Crap, I needed to get my ass in gear or I’d miss my connector to Fredonia.

  “Based on your leisurely pace, I take it you’re planning on staying over in London tonight,” Nick said as he walked next to me pulling his one tiny suitcase.

  “No.” I pushed the cart forward. “I’m going to make that flight.” But the wheels wobbled and it veered to the right as if it had a mind of its own. It clipped the heels of a dapper, elderly man pulling two suitcases and nearly took him out. “Sorry! So sorry!” I said.

  He wobbled but Nick raced to his side, grabbed his arm and stopped him from falling. “I think this means she likes you,” he said.

  “Oh!” the geezer said. “You can bump into me anytime, love. That’s the most excitement I’ve had since TSA did a full-body search on me last month. Wait until I tell the Missus.” He toddled off.

  Nick pushed and prodded a few of my suitcases so they lined up more evenly. “Let me push this thing,” he said.

  “Thanks. I will totally take you up on that offer.”

  “Fredonia Airways is in Terminal Two,” he said and placed his suitcase on top of the pile. “Which is about fifteen minutes away from here—and that’s if we sprint.” He checked his watch. “Flight 711 to Sauerhausen starts boarding in five minutes. I know you hate to exercise, Lizzie, but you need to pick up those pretty toes and run if you want to make this flight.”

  He started jogging. “And as much as I’d love to spend another night alone with you in London?” He looked through the airport’s windows at the gathering storm clouds. “This is the last flight out before the storm hits. We could be grounded for…um… days. Hmm…”

  “I’m on it!” I threw my tote over one shoulder, my purse over the other and jogged. I sped past a couple of slow-moving tourists. “We can make it!” I swiveled my head—but Nick wasn’t even near me.

  He stood motionless ten yards back in the wide airport aisle filled with passengers who were coming and going. His head was tilted to the side, a curious look on his face.

  “What are you waiting for?” I threw my hands up in the air. “Christmas?”

  “Lizzie. Would it kill us to relax in London for a couple of days? We could get a suite at the Savoy. Take in some theatre. Visit a museum. Meet up with my friend Harry and his blokes. Get massages at a spa. Try out a new restaurant. Visit some galleries.”

  I strode toward him exasperated. “I’m the one who’s supposed to race to catch a plane but instead I’m losing yards and valuable time because I’m running in the opposite direction—back to you. Hurry it up or just hand me that cart. Because I’m making that flight and I’m boarding that plane to Fredonia if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “Okay.” He shoved back a grin, picked up the pace and jogged toward me pushing the cart filled with suitcases. “But I don’t want to hear any complaints when you realize we could have been all cozy and happy if we stayed in London for a few extra days.”

  “No complaints. Glad to see your legs work as much as your mouth does.” I said. “I can’t even imagine what caused you to freeze like a Popsicle.”

  “Your breasts,” he said. “Your very beautiful breasts.”

  Five guys turned and stared at my chest. I slapped my hands over my boobs as my tote and purse slid down my arms. “Shut up!” I hissed. “Stop it!”

  Chapter 12

  “Stop what? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you run. Your breasts are totally bouncy in that outfit. And I mean this in a good way. Why did I never notice this before? Have you had a late growth spurt? Gone up a size? Maybe once we get back to Fredonia we could go on runs together …”

  I ground my teeth, forced myself not to look at him, flung my bags back over my shoulders and resumed jogging.

  “There are other forms of cardio workouts you know,” he said. “Should I remind you of that time our paths crossed in Paris?” He looked off into the distance and smiled. “Somehow I know what Bogy really meant when he said, ‘We’ll always have Paris.’”

  I was breathless, sweaty and nearly disheveled by the time I boarded Fredonia Airlines Flight 711 from London to Sauerhausen. The jet was small—approximately twelve seats—and the only other passengers was a posh, silver-haired couple that sat next to each other at the rear of the cabin.

  The lone male flight attendant was nattily attired in Fredonia’s royal colors: purple, white and gray. (I learned that word “nattily” from Mr. Philip Philips when I told him his sweater vest looked precious.)

  We arrived just moments before they were closing the door to the jet way. I looked at my boarding pass in the short aisle, glanced up at the markings overhead, located and took my seat. Nick started to sit next to me.

  I was sleep-deprived, jet-lagged, running on stress and simply needed to relax. The last thing I needed was to exchange sexually laden or cagey conversations with Mr. Gorgeous Cocky. So I slugged his shoulder. “Check your ticket, Nick. This isn’t your seat.”

  His eyes widened. “Physical violence, Lizzie? That’s so not like you? Or perhaps you’ve read the 50 Shades series since the last time our paths crossed.” He hovered somewhere between standing and sitting and pulled his ticket from his pocket.

  “I have not read… okay, fine, I read the first one. Look, Nick. You’re in 4D. I’m in 2A,” I said. “Do. Not. Sit. Next to me.”

  “Except for Grandma and Grandpa back there, we’re the only people on board. No one’s going to bump me out of the seat next to you.”

  “I’m going to bump you out of the seat next to me.”

  “You’re kidding me?”

  “I’m not kidding you. I need to get a little shut-eye. I’ve been awake since… forever. I’m going to see Dad—I mean—Papa and meet his new fiancé shortly after we land. I just need to chill and/or nap for an hour. Please? Please?”

  “But our naps were always fun.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  I was going to kill Elizabeth—who I should have code-named ‘Layed’—the next time I talked to her. Why didn’t she tell me in advance about Nick?

  “That’s exactly the kind-of-fun I don’t need right now,” I said. “I totally appreciate all your manly help getting me to the plane on time and assisting me with my bags and the um…” Oh what to call his sexual innuendos? “…compliments. But, I beg you. Just leave
me alone for a tiny bit. If I don’t relax for like a half hour, I predict that I’ll have a meltdown. Okay? I mean—yes?”

  “Oh.” He arched one eyebrow and stood up. “Got it. Yes, I’m all too familiar with your meltdowns, Elizabeth. Your last Chernobyl was why we haven’t seen each other in sixteen months. Not a problem.” He turned and walked down the very short aisle. Took a seat on the opposite side of the plane, several rows back from me.

  Oh God, this was it. Soon I’d be in Fredonia pretending to be Elizabeth for all her friends and family, not just one guy. I could feel my blood pressure rise. Could I do this on my own? What had I gotten myself into?

  The flight attendant stood at the front of the aircraft, clicked his heels and saluted. “Welcome to Fredonia Airlines Flight 711 from London to Sauerhausen, Fredonia. My name is Karl and I’ll be pleased to serve you during this flight. Our flying time is estimated to be one hour and thirty minutes. Please store your personal items under the seat in front of you or in the generous storage bins overhead. Place your trays in the upright position and fasten your seat belts low and tight across your laps. Please power off all electronic devices at this time. There is one exit door on this plane…”

  Which I stared at, fantasized about breaking through it and running across the tarmac.

  “Once the captain has given the all-clear sign, we will be serving complimentary soft drinks and snackies. Alcoholic beverages and organic Fredonia sausages can also be purchased at this time with your credit card. We invite you to sit back, relax and feel free with Fredonia Air.”

  I peered out the tiny window at all I would ever see of London: Heathrow Airport. The sky darkened as monstrous, storm clouds bore down on us at an alarming rate. But there were terrible storms when we left O’Hare, and except for a few bumps in the first half hour—we had smooth sailing.

  I predicted we’d fly through the European skies smoothly and soon we’d be touching down—soft like the skin on a baby’s bottom—in Sauerhausen. Once we landed, according to Mr. Philips’s instructions, there would be a car and driver waiting for me. And no, I was not going to share that with Nick. Mr. I’m-Too-Sexy-for-His-Everything could fend for himself.

  We pushed back from the gate, taxied and, after a few brief minutes in line on the runway, took off. I white-knuckled the armrests as the plane bumped and jostled a bit while we ascended through the clouds.

  And then we were above them. Sun shone through my small window as the tiny plane’s engine whirred loudly. I couldn’t really see anything of the large metropolis below because the cloud cover below was thick, like a comforting, fuzzy, gray blanket.

  “You are now free to move about the cabin,” Karl said on the intercom. Why he needed to use the intercom on a jet that had twelve seats was a mystery. “I will be coming through the plane at this time and taking your beverage and snack orders.”

  I glanced back at Nick: his handsome head was leaned back against the seat and he appeared to be power napping. Dear God, the man was totally out of my league. Obviously Elizabeth had a few secrets she hadn’t shared with me. Why hadn’t she told me about Nick when they obviously had a past?

  I pulled out my laptop, fired it up and clicked on my secret code-encrypted “Free Donna” file. I needed to find out more about Nick. Even though I never accessed the Internet, maybe there was something in the file that I had missed. When the plane shook abruptly from side to side.

  I rested one hand against my laptop and peered out the window. Those dark clouds were well below us. All I saw was sunshine and happiness.

  “The captain has informed me that we will be winging our way through a wee bit of choppy air.” Karl spoke into the intercom. “There’s the possibility of minor turbulence. Please fasten your seatbelts and remain in your seats until the captain gives us further notice. Unfortunately, this will delay the beverage and food service.”

  Yeah, whatever—not a problem. I was totally getting used to this flying thing, especially in minor turbulence. I pulled my seatbelt tight across my legs. When the plane plummeted and my laptop levitated six inches into the air. I grabbed it, slammed its lid shut and clutched it to my chest.

  “Air pocket!” Karl hollered, “Hang on!” He threw himself into the nearest seat and strapped himself in.

  “We’re all going to die! We’re all going to die!” The grandmother screamed from the rear of the jet.

  “Holy crap!” I’d marched a hundred miles to perfect a walk, practiced the royal wave until I developed tendonitis in my right wrist. I’d memorized faces and dates and names, had my skin insulted and survived an overly close encounter with an Eastern European waxer.

  Apparently all for nothing, because I was on a tiny jet diving toward my early death. Below me, piercing, rocky, snow-covered mountaintops drew closer outside my window. “Ack!” I screamed.

  I clutched my fancy laptop as I sobbed, hyperventilated and tried to remember how to cross myself. “Dear Jesus. I know it’s been a while since we’ve had a private moment. But—I’m still your biggest fan!”

  Nick bounced into the seat next to me and reached for my hand. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “Leave me alone!” I yanked my hand away. “I respectfully request, God, technically-I mean-pray, that I do not die here and now on this pitiful plane—” and just like that the plane leveled out but the bumping continued.

  “Pitiful my arse!” Karl swiveled his head toward me like Linda Blair in The Exorcist. “We just had the seats reupholstered.”

  We hit another air pocket and dropped another couple hundred feet. “Help me Jesus! I don’t want to die in a tiny, old, POS plane that disintegrates over the Swiss Alps!” I gritted my teeth as the small jet shook like a Shamrock Shake.

  “The French Alps.” Nick secured his seatbelt low and tight across his impressive lap.

  Oh for God’s sake, Lucy. A Come-to-Jesus moment should not include ogling a hot man’s package in the middle of a plane crash during the last moments of your young, pathetic life.

  “We’re going to die!” I said.

  “Yes we are.” He took my hand and squeezed it as the plane quivered and rattled as every ancient nut and bolt on the contraption shuddered to hold it together. Our shoulders bounced off each other. “But not today. It’s just a little bit of turbulence. We’ve been through worse.”

  We hit another air pocket and plummeted hundreds of feet. “Shit!” I rasped for breath and peered out the window and watched, horrified, as frosty white, razor sharp mountainous peaks drew closer to our plane as well as my Chanel outfit. “Forgive me God,” I hacked, “for I have sinned. It’s been fourteen years since my last confession.”

  Nick yanked the armrest that separated us backward and wrapped his arms around me. “That’s a great idea,” he said. “Pretend I’m a priest. I’m Father Nick O’Malley. Close your pretty eyes, confess all your sins to me and get them off your shapely chest. It’ll distract you.” He lowered his voice dramatically. “Fourteen years, you say, Lizzie. You haven’t confessed since you were ten years old? That’s an awful lot of sinning.”

  “Nooo—” The airbags popped out of the overhead containers and dropped toward our heads and I shrieked again. “I haven’t confessed since I was seven!” I grabbed a mask, placed it over my mouth and hyperventilated. Then remembered I was supposed to help others first, ripped the bag from my face and jammed it on top of Nick’s mouth.

  He gulped and his eyes bulged. He tore the contraption off his mouth and placed it firmly back over mine.

  We hit more wind and the plane jittered back and forth like a cockroach racing across my kitchen floor. I clung to Nick, my hands dug into his biceps that flexed hard under my grip.

  “But, love, that would mean you’re still twenty-one. And we both know you’re twenty-four.”

  I tore off the mask. “I’m only twenty-one! I’m too young to die!”

  I realized that probably the majority of folks who were dying also believed they were too young to die. An
d I also realized, a little too late, that Elizabeth was indeed twenty-four.

  Chapter 13

  “Oops, sorry, I suck at math,” I said. “I’m supposed to help what’s left of my family and people, like Artie, who are really having a hard time. I’m supposed to be the tough one. The person folks can rely on. And then some day, God’s going to smile down on me and I’m going to get my Happily-Ever-After.”

  “Tell me more.” Nick hugged me tight against him and kissed my cheek.

  The stubble on his chin tickled, then ground against my face, as shivers zapped over my body and my mouth suddenly grew jealous of my cheek.

  Get a grip, Lucy. Maybe, just maybe, you could hook up with Nick for just one night. Only if I had nothing what so ever to lose. And frankly—that was totally not right now.

  “I predict that you’re going to get your Happily-Ever-After Lizzie. Because you are smart, have worked hard for it and, basically, this is relatively minor turbulence.” He pulled me closer to him.

  “I can’t die yet! Some day, I’m supposed to fall in love with a great guy and walk down the aisle and get married and maybe even have a kid or two. And then we get to change dirty diapers and cry when we send our girl to her first day of school. And my husband hides next the to school window and peeks inside to make sure she’s doing okay. And, and…” I looked out the window, “and—holy crap it’s snowing outside!”

  “I know.”

  “It’s July 1st!”

  “I know.”

  “It’s not supposed to snow in the summer.”

  “It does in the Alps. Remember?”

  “We’re in the middle of a freaking snow storm?” I asked.

  He squeezed my hand. “We survived more than a couple in the past. I predict we’ll make it through a few more.”

  “Hold me?”

  He wrapped his strong arms even tighter around me as I buried my face in his chest and trembled. “Whatever happens, Nick? I just want you to know that right here and now, I think you’re a great guy. Thank you for this.”