by J Santiago
“What made you pick this?” Ele asked as they stepped out of the car without Robert’s assistance.
“Don’t know really. Do you need a specific reason?” he asked, curious.
“Maybe?” Her answer sounded like a question, as if she really did need a reason but she didn’t want to admit to it.
He moved closer to her and slid his hand around her nape, pulling her in. “I wanted to do something ordinary with you. Something you might never think would be fun. I figure you don’t get a lot of ordinary.”
Those icy-blue eyes were locked on his. Her grin was secret, an expression he hadn’t earned before now. She tilted her head up, kissing him light and quick. “Well then, let’s go catch a baseball game.”
Tristan grabbed her hand, interlocking their fingers. He threw a glance over his shoulder, and with a nod from Robert, he and Ele jogged across the street to Wrigley Field. Tristan pulled the folded tickets from his pocket for them to enter the park. It was odd to be on the other side of the excitement. Normally, when he entered a stadium, it was as a member of a team, not as a spectator. It definitely wasn’t the same.
“Beer and hot dog?” Tristan asked Ele as they moved with the wave of people through the cement structure.
They hit the concession stand and found their way to the seats. The green plastic chairs were situated close together. And although Tristan hadn’t bought the cheapest seats, there was no mistaking this for the luxury boxes Ele was accustomed to. But like the adventurer she’d promised to be today, she slung herself into the seat. Maybe it had been the momentum or the excitement, but until that moment, Ele had been perfectly at ease. She glanced away from him though, and her body stiffened. He could almost hear her thoughts about all of the people and being out in the open. Her hand gripped the arm of the seat and tightened.
Tristan casually sat down and took a sip of his beer. Then, with deliberation, he set it at his feet before gently taking Ele’s from her hand. He placed hers on the ground next to his. Her nose wrinkled, and he stifled a laugh. Prying her fingers away from their death grip on the chair, he held them loosely.
Leaning over, he placed a light kiss on her cheek. “You got this,” he whispered.
He hadn’t meant to push really. But after her secret-spilling the night before, he could only think about all of the burdens she carried. Of course, it didn’t escape him that she was probably one of the wealthiest women in the world and certainly lived one of those lives people dreamed about. He got it. She was strong as hell too. But she never took the opportunity to do anything fun. There were pictures of her siblings out and about, without royal entourages, doing normal things. But there weren’t any of Ele. He’d looked. Every picture he could find of her was official. In the few hours between their talk and getting her to this game, this outing had become something of a quest for him. He’d never negotiated so hard—not even his last contract—as he had with Robert on the parameters of the date. Robert couldn’t have been more protective and intimidating than a father with a shotgun. But Tristan was nothing if not determined to get what he wanted.
She turned her head and gave him a bashful smile. Then, she nodded, like she’d made a decision. “So, what do we know about baseball?”
Tristan paused. He looked around at the stadium. There was a vibe, but it was different than watching football in Europe. For all the people, it seemed quieter. He was used to a sea of color, and while many of the people wore their team gear, it didn’t spill out of the stands in a ray of support.
He returned his gaze to her and rubbed his chin. “Not a lot actually.”
Ele snickered.
As if on cue, a vendor came through with programs. Tristan whipped out his wallet and bought one. He plopped it between them and flipped it open. They skimmed a couple of pages before Ele shifted closer to him. She tilted her head, and the brims of their hats bumped, making them giggle.
“What’s yours say?”
“My what?” Tristan whispered.
“Your bio.”
“You haven’t looked?”
The activity in the stadium increased—the voices of the people around, the announcements over the speaker, an occasional roar of the crowd. But Tristan had focused in, turned all of his attention to Ele. His vision and world narrowed to just her.
“No.” With the brim of the hat, it was hard to see her eyes. “I might have stalked you a bit after we met.”
He grinned. “A bit, huh?”
Squeezing his hand, she answered, “Maybe daily.”
He performed a quick scroll through the two months since they’d met. He’d been out on social media more than normal, which was saying a lot. He enjoyed hyping the National Team and generally raving about the opportunity. He participated in interviews and funny clips with his teammates. Tristan lived for the attention he received during that time. But thinking about Ele watching him flaunt himself in front of the world, he found he was uncomfortable. Rowan mercilessly teased him about his need for public adulation; Nico chided him on occasion. Ele did neither of those things, but he sensed something else—if not outright disapproval, then confused chagrin. Her own need to guard her privacy was in complete opposition to his urge to put it all out there.
“But not my bio?”
“No.”
The look he gave her called bullshit.
She ducked her head, turning it so they could look at each other. “It seemed more invasive somehow. Reading about your life.”
“Fair.” He leaned back in his seat and looked up to the scoreboard. It was the fifth inning already.
He’d wanted to get her outside, out beyond the four walls of the hotel, but now, he only wanted to go someplace quiet and talk to her.
He stood. She cocked her head, peering up at him.
Holding out his hand, he asked, “Ready?”
Confused but game, she grabbed on to his hand and stood.
They shuffled through the row of chairs, murmuring, “Excuse me,” and climbed the stairs to the main level and then out of the stadium into the street. They walked aimlessly, hand in hand, through Wrigleyville.
Tristan knew Robert and Michael were following, but he appreciated that he couldn’t see them. If Robert was upset about the abrupt departure from the game, Tristan was confident he would hear about it.
“What do you want to know?” Tristan asked.
“Tell me about your family.”
“You know I have a lot of sisters.” At her nod, he continued, “Sheena, my mate, is the oldest. Clementine, the youngest, is nine. In between, there’s Caro—she’s twenty-one—Amelia is nineteen, Amanda is sixteen, and Chelsea is fourteen.”
“What was it like, growing up with all those girls?”
“I didn’t really grow up with all of them. I moved in with a host family when I was fifteen. I saw my family less—they couldn’t afford to see me often.”
He’d never really thought about it before. His sisters were his sisters. Crazy sometimes, sweet others. But he didn’t have a traditional relationship with them. How did you describe what was normal to someone else?
“My parents are teachers. Clem was born after I was gone. I think I’m more a long-lost uncle to her than a brother.”
“Was it hard?”
“What?”
“Being away from your family?”
Tristan rubbed his jaw with his free hand. “I never really thought about it. I wanted to be one of the very small percentage of footballers who made it.” A shrug personified his attitude toward the life he’d led. He’d wanted to play football, so he’d had to sacrifice some things along the way. He didn’t regret it. And his family supported him, which made it easy.
“Are you close now?”
“Sheena and me are tight. And I talk to my mom and dad at least once a week. I keep up with my sisters.”
He remembered the day he had gotten his first contract at sixteen. His family, lifelong Hartesfield United fans, was ecstatic. The sense of accomplishment an
d excitement he’d experienced in that moment washed over him every time he entered the pitch. He had this infinite awe he carried with him. He tucked it away, a wallet full of wonderment—his favorite currency.
“Playing football at this level, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. I would have done just about anything to be able to do it. My family understood that and supported it.” His answer sounded defensive, even to himself.
“I was just asking. Are your parents much in love?”
He glanced over at her, trying to figure out where all this was going. “Yeah, I guess. A definite united front. My dad’s parents weren’t supportive of their marriage because my mother’s from Nava.” He gave it a quick thought before saying, “I think it made them closer. Kind of them against the world. What about your parents?”
“It was political union really. I think they respected each other, but I doubt they were ever in love.” It was her turn to be pensive. “I’m not sure you can be in a position like that—a country’s figurehead—and give yourself over to another person fully. Or at least, that’s the way it seems. There’s always some subtext going on, some motive governing every relationship.”
Tristan’s conversation with the crown prince came back to him. If Ele’s theory was correct, the prince had pushed them together for some reason other than his sister’s want. He glanced down at their intertwined fingers, the contrast of their skin color sharp. He hadn’t given any consideration to political machinations. He knew Rowan had probably analyzed this pairing from every angle and drawn conclusions. But Tris wasn’t open to hearing Rowan’s opinion on this. If there was something else at play here, he didn’t care.
The lightheartedness of the game faded, the mood between them introspective. Tristan wanted her to remember this day with fond memories of fun. He released her hand and slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head, the abrasiveness of the hat making him laugh.
“We’ve got some time. Wanna shake things up a bit?” A picture of an angry Robert flashed, but Tristan was determined to see this through.
“What are you thinking?”
“Navy Pier?”
Her face lit up with a brilliant smile.
Without another thought, he glanced around for a cab. Locating one back by the stadium, they changed directions. Scurrying inside the car, Tristan had no idea if Robert was behind them or how he would react to this. He imagined finding out one of Robert’s three hundred sixty ways to kill. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was giving Ele an afternoon free of motives and panic attacks and duty. All that mattered was inspiring another radiant smile and giving her a memory to pull up later, like a picture on a phone, to savor and enjoy.
22
11 July
Chicago
Although the queen had dispatched all of her grandchildren to America for the World Championship Cup, she didn’t miss the opportunity to capitalize on the patriotic fever engulfing the nation with each successive victory. Big screens were erected in populous squares throughout the country to encourage communal viewing. At a time of discord and uncertainty in Federacion de Estados Insulares, having a singular purpose brought reluctant solidarity. There were rumors that the queen had reached out to Sir Nicolas Ramsey with warm congratulations and solicitous words. Many of these stories Jamie corroborated when he spoke with Ele on the eve of the semifinal match.
“She also wants me to personally deliver a good-luck message to the gaffer, as if he has nothing better to do than entertain the crown prince the day of one of the biggest matches of his life.”
Ele had just managed to hold in her laughter. Jamie’s righteous edge of anger was unusual for him, and it was nice to be the one soothing for once.
“What is that supposed to look like?” Ele asked.
“Hell if I know. I’m sure he’ll be very open to an appearance from me. That woman, sometimes.”
Ele could hear the frustration in his voice, but it was out of character and out of proportion. “Can’t you just call him and wish him luck?”
“She wants it photographed. Wants the country to know we are fully supportive of the team’s endeavors. It’s helping—you know, having a single purpose to unite the country. The independence vote is still out there, like a guillotine poised to slice the head from the neck, but right now, it seems like the executor is holding on to the controls. We need to give the people what we can in the way of hope and togetherness.”
“Aren’t there press conferences before every match? Just tack it on to the front or the end of it, so he’s already in the public mindset.”
Jamie pinched the bridge of his nose. “She just doesn’t understand how much goes into coaching. Right? She just expects that if it isn’t governing, work is easy and without hardship.”
Ele was surprised by Jamie’s reluctance to comply with the queen’s wishes. As he was a lifelong football fan, meeting with one of the greats should have been desirable.
Before she could figure out what she was doing, she said, “I’ll go with you if you want me to.”
Jamie’s eyes widened, but he quickly hid any shock. “I would appreciate that,” he said instead. “Let me get with Will and Robert, and we’ll figure it out.”
And that was how Ele arrived in the media center hours before the game, with Jamie by her side, waiting for Nico Ramsey. Jamie was uncharacteristically fidgety, pacing the length of the room. Ele watched him, curious about his behavior. She exchanged a look with Robert, and a moment later, he and Will stepped outside of the room.
Ele leaned her hip against the table already set for the press conference. Behind her hung the World Championship Cup drape, littered with logos. Jamie made a pass in front of her, and she reached out a hand to stop him. He drew up short and lifted his head, a look of confusion on his face.
Ele’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”
His mouth quirked on the right side, a tiny glint of his familiar smile. “I think I might be nervous.”
Ele tucked the corner of her mouth in between her teeth, holding back a grin. “Seriously?” She wanted to point out Jamie had met kings and queens, presidents, managed quarterly meetings with the prime minister, and presented before the United Nations. But instead, she asked, “Haven’t you already met him?”
“I have.”
He didn’t offer any other explanation, and as a person who didn’t appreciate being pushed for information, she refrained from saying anything else.
“Do you have the pin?”
Jamie tapped his pocket. “I do.”
Two knocks sounded on the door, indicating the brief photo shoot was about to begin. Jamie and Ele ducked into an adjacent room, next to the dais. The door to the press room must have opened because the noise level rose as the press filtered in. The low din hit a crescendo, indicating Sir Nicolas had entered. There were questions and the familiar clicking of a collection of cameras.
With each distinctive wave of sound, Ele’s anxiety rose infinitesimally. But this wasn’t her appearance, so she was able to squash it. Still, being in the same public place as Jamie brought its own set of concerns.
When another tap sounded on the door, Jamie took an audible breath. Ele followed him to the door but waited in the room. With Will and Robert standing sentinel in front of the jamb, she was able to peek through the small space between them to watch.
Jamie climbed up on the dais as Nico stood. They shook, and Jamie reached with his opposite hand to clasp Nico’s arm. The words between them weren’t for public consumption, but their heads were bowed, close. The snick, snick, snick of flashes resounded in the room. They painted a picture of contrasts, and Ele knew immediately the photos would be plastered on the covers of newspapers and magazines all over the world.
They separated as Jamie reached into his pocket to retrieve the pin. The platinum trinket boasted their coat of arms, a symbol now synonymous with their country. Jamie said something, and Nico’s head tilted back as he laughed. The mot
ion made his eyes crinkle and dimples pop on his cheeks. Nico held out his hand, and Jamie dropped the pin onto his outstretched palm. Nico’s fingers closed around it. He slid it into his pocket before he and Jamie turned and posed for one final picture. They left the stage together, Jamie ducking into the gap made for him between Will and Robert and Nico walking behind the drape for the opposite exit.
Jamie’s nervousness abated, and he once again looked like his relaxed self.
“Great photo op,” Ele remarked as they waited for the room to clear.
“Yes. I’m sure the queen will be pleased.”
“What did you say to make him laugh?”
Jamie ignored her question, turning his attention to Robert. “Are we all set?”
“We are,” Robert answered.
Ele looked back and forth between the two of them.
Robert had been put out by her disappearing act with Tristan, so things between her and her head of security had been strained. She understood his annoyance, but she refused to apologize for one of the best days of her life. And she was pretty sure Robert wasn’t expecting an apology.
Will disappeared to check on the status of the room, and Ele waited patiently for the all clear.
“Are you comfortable with the plans for the game tonight?” Jamie asked, stepping closer to her.
She glanced over to him, aware of his concerned tone. Ele gave herself a moment to think through all of the elaborate plans for the evening’s game. It was really unprecedented to be in the same place as Jamie. And in true crazy fashion, she was anxious about not being worried. They’d debated about waiting for the finals to appear together, but with no guarantee to make it, they’d decided on tonight. Only Juliana would miss out, but she’d taken the news rather well. Ever since her disastrous kiss with Rowan Beckwith, she had been compliant and predictable.
