by Joey Anderle
Booker could sense the Princesses feeling of indifferences to his preferred course of action and sighed as he preheated the oven.
“So I can’t physically stop you, because there would go my entire paycheck for this weekend, and also because I would likely have to patch up a hole in my drywall about the size of my head. So here,” Booker picked up the keys to the borrowed car and tossed them on the ottoman next to his couch, “Good luck,” he wished her.
“Maybe I will,” Auralee threatened, “If you and Alphonse can drive it, why can’t I?”
“Well, Me, Alphonse, and only about eighteen percent of licensed American drivers can drive stick,” Booker informed.
“Do you doubt me?” Auralee twisted and poked her head from the side of the couch.
“Honestly, yeah I do,” Booker answered, “Sure, you can learn the basics in the afternoon but getting good will take months. Plus, where would you go? We know nothing.”
“Alphonse would know something,” Auralee stood up and picked up the keys staring at him.
“Let me tell you how that conversation would go,” He cleared his throat before launching into his imaginary debate.
“Alphonse, remember that Princess you wanted me to protect, the one that I totally shouldn’t be putting in harm's way?”
He turned his head to signal that he was now playing the role of Alphonse.
“Why yes, I do!”
“Well since she wants to go hunt down assassins, I guess I’ll disregard everything you wanted me to do and go play gopher hunter with her. But, instead of gophers they are actual, real trained killers because you know, in for a penny in for a pound.”
“Oh really!? That’s a great idea Sterling. Forget about her Father, the King, who’s expecting her home soon and in good health. Let’s throw those expectations away because, why not?” He looked back to his audience and gave jazz hands to show the end of his performance to an unamused Auralee.
He then watched as she slid his phone into a breast pocket, walked over to the wall and slid out his window.
“What is with you people and windows?” He wondered aloud, then turned back to making his breakfast.
Down below, Auralee landed gracefully and straightened herself back up. Strolling over to the dark green Mustang she stopped in front of the door. “Now how did he do it?”
Her eyes narrowed at the car, and she did her best to retrace Sterling’s steps from the night before. Pulling on the door handle to no avail. Soon, she figured out how to unlock the car and got in closing the door behind her.
Auralee looked around the driver's seat, unsure of her next steps, but unwilling to give Sterling any satisfaction by quitting.
Upstairs, Sterling slid the carton of eggs back in the fridge swapping it out for his tea, not having even opened the eggs. “If I start my day unhealthy, I can only go up,” he reasoned the decision and turned around. He set the timer on his oven for the pastries. With a glass in one hand, pitcher in the other, Sterling poured himself a drink. He walked over and looked out the window to check on Auralee’s progress.
Which wasn’t much.
“Turn on damn you,” She commanded the vehicle, repetitively twisting the key in the ignition, “Aargh!” She complained as her foot stamped about, pushing in the clutch as she turned the ignition again causing the car to sputter,
“Progress!” She chimed, a smile on her face.
“Progress,” Sterling lamented hearing the car engine start. “Now, she’ll take thirty minutes.” He folded his eyebrows together trying to recall, “Did I leave it in neutral or first?” He leaned out the window.
“How’s it going down there?” Auralee looked up to see Sterling in the window calling down.
Auralee rolled down the window, “Excellent,” she lied.
“You’re doing nothing but stalling the car, Aura,” Sterling informed her.
“So?” Auralee inquired.
“Well, the cinnamon rolls are about done so if you’d care to come back…”
“Will you help me now?” she asked him.
“No, not really, surely you’re hungry by now, you barely ate dinner.”
Auralee knew his words were true as her stomach started to ache now that he forced her to pay attention to it.
Reluctantly and after several more attempts, she retrieved the keys and walked back into the complex and up to Sterling’s apartment. She was greeted by the smell of freshly made breakfast, wafting down the front corridor as she walked down the hall and entered his apartment.
“You made it a lot farther than I expected,” Booker teased, “I’m lucky you didn’t rev the engine repeatedly and wake everyone up to the sounds of someone being a dick.”
“Bite me, Sterling,” Auralee replied pulling out her barstool.
“I’ll pass, I just made these,” Booker lifted one of the newly glazed rolls.
“Do you drink tea with everything?” She spotted his glass on the counter.
“No, I just made way too much tea the other day.” Booker admitted and placed a roll on a plate for his guest, “Have one.”
“How do you consume this?” She inspected the roll again, “Looks nothing like bread.”
“I consume it by not thinking about it. That's how most people get through their days,” Booker stated in a matter of fact tone.
The Princess took a bite and her eyes lit up. Looking from him down to the roll in her hand and back up to him. The pleasure on her face evident.
“See, good stuff,” Booker said proudly, smile on his face.
“Why is it so sweet, why is everything you eat so sweet,” Auralee asked as she proceeded to enjoy the cinnamon roll.
Booker opened his mouth to answer before his brain was able to catch up and silence him as his brain sent him into deep thought on the seemingly simple question.
“Probably because my parents can’t stop me,” he concluded and then carried on with his breakfast.
The duo went on to eat to the music his speaker played, with Booker devouring more than a fair share of the rolls.
“My phone, please,” Booker finally asked.
Auralee shrugged and dabbed her mouth with a paper towel.
“That's great, but I probably need to charge it if you plan on doing anything else,” Booker informed her.
“Will you help me if I give it back,” She bargained.
“Still no,” Booker answered. He asked out of curiosity, “Why are you so intent on doing this?”
“Because my life is so BORING!” Auralee finally admitted, “I’m a princess, so I’m tasked with staying in the castle and learning all sorts of boring stuff on the off chance I will have to act as an ambassador. The only reason I haven’t gone mad is because my teacher Ezra took enough pity and convinced my father to let him teach me and sneak in lessons on magic and self-defense.”
She heavily sighed and leaned back, reaching in her breast pocket, taking the phone out and then tossing it back to him.
He caught the phone, “Alright, but you're still a princess,” Booker plugged his phone into a nearby charger and started to clean up, “You’ve never had to worry about ends meeting or your safety much because you get other people,” he then gestured to himself. “To worry about that sort of thing,” he finished.
“So, that doesn’t invalidate what I’m saying, I’m still missing that sense of excitement and wonder from life experience that you seem to have. The Belleci incident was dinner table talk for months and I use to wonder what it would be like to be one of the cloaked members that pulled off the biggest heist in the last few centuries.”
Booker didn’t have an immediately available response as he internally thought on what she was going on about, able to see why she was so determined.
Imagine what he would do in her shoes.
Sterling had hot wired his first car at the ripe old age of twelve. She was probably learning how to bow or something similarly asinine. With a heavy sigh he looked back to Auralee, intensely tapping away
at a game he took for granted.
“There is a saying,” he started, “that some people take as a curse. It goes something along the lines of ‘may you live an interesting life.’”
“Oh?” she replied not knowing where he was going with this.
“Well,” Sterling shook his head and apologized to Alphonse mentally, “So, Princess, wanna have an adventure?” he asked her.
Her head turned up to look at him, “Are you serious?” she questioned.
“Are you going to teach me magic?” he countered.
She paused and thought about the proposition, “What do you want to learn?” she finally asked.
“What can you teach me?” he replied.
She nodded, “I’ll teach you some healing magic. That way you can deal with the injuries when you get beat to a pulp over and over again.”
“I love your confidence in me,” He said wryly.
She gave the trademark shrug of royal indifference, “Won’t Alphonse be upset with you?”
“I will let future Booker worry about future Alphonse,” he commented.
“Then how do we start?” she set the phone aside to give her full attention to Booker.
“Well I have to change,” He rubbed his thumb across his chin in thought, “…can’t be bringing high tops in case I actually have to run somewhere.”
“Didn’t you already change?” She stood up in the chair to look over the bar, looking at his outfit up and down.
“This?” Booker looked in the warped reflection his silvery fridge offered him, “Eh, switch back to joggers, lose the hoodie…”
Auralee rolled her eyes as Booker went on with his list.
She grabbed the phone, “You go take care of that, I will take care of these pigs,” she told him.
“Are you still on that?” Booker questioned, “Because there are much better games out there, even on mobile.”
Auralee thought about it for a second, “After the kidnappers,” she decided.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Alphonse paced around the first floor of his cabin as he spoke on his phone. “Yes sir, she’s with great care. Yes, I understand the gravity of the situation.” He finally got fed up and stopped in his tracks, “Your Majesty, Mathias, please we’ve known each other forever, you know I can handle this and I treat your request with the utmost care. I honestly doubt she’s at any risk right now.”
Well she’s with Sterling, He thought and shook his head. No, he’s not that irresponsible.
“Until next time.” Alphonse said his goodbyes, walked over to his couch and then dropped onto it, allowing himself to sink into the soft cushions.
“Goodness, next time this happens, I’m making myself scarce,” he promised.
His phone rang, and he brought it back up to his ear, expecting an immediate call back from his Royal Highness.
“Yes, your Majesty?” he greeted, anticipating a final wave of questions.
Alphonse then heard the voice and was relieved for only the briefest of moments, “Oh, good morning Sterling,” He thought about the situations in which he would receive a call from Sterling at this time of day.
“Sterling, you haven’t caused chaos yet, have you?” Alphonse stood up, took two steps and sunk into one of his vintage leather chairs that took a moment to adjust to his body.
He listened to Sterling, his voice becoming strung in frustration, “What do you mean they tried to kidnap her?” Alphonse pulled his phone away and started swearing out loud as Sterling continued providing a play-by-play of what had happened, with embellishment Alphonse didn’t doubt.
He put the phone back up to his ear, his voice still an octave high, “And she wants to WHAT!?” Alphonse slapped a hand over his eyes and groaned. Now wishing that the king had called back instead.
He stopped as what Sterling had just asked finally registered, “What? No! This doesn’t garner you a bonus, why would I grant you a bonus for actually putting her life in danger?”
Shaking his head, Alphonse now eyed a nearby bottle of primo whiskey as Sterling continued with his spiel.
His voice finally normal, he butted in on the fast-talking Runner, “No is the answer before you even finish. Why would I let you do this?” The elf threw one hand up in irritation and wished he had been on a burner phone he could throw in frustration. “Alright, I need you to tell me what you can about the intruder, and then Mathias and I will deal with this issue. Do you understand?”
“No Sterling, that wasn’t good enough for me. Do…You…Understand?” he asked slowly.
Alphonse then nodded along to the description and some of the more in-depth recounts of Booker’s scuffle.
“What was he wearing?” After a moment of listening, Alphonse’s eyes narrowed.
On the other side of the line, Sterling's eyes rolled up as he tried to recall the guy in his apartment. “Uhm, Blue and dark gold I think. Similar to that one score we did a little while back. Those guys and this guy had similar colors.” Looking over Auralee’s shoulder to see she was playing the tutorial to one of his games as he paced around his living area on the call with one of his burner phones.
“Real descriptive there Booker, well done.” Alphonse congratulated before looking around to think, “Blue and Gold,” Alphonse murmured, “Those are Belleci’s colors, why didn’t you bring this up earlier?”
“What? Why would I? I didn’t they were super important at the time considering how busy I was.” Booker defended.
“Busy? You? With what.” Alphonse frowned on the other end of the line.
“Not dying,” Booker reminded, “Something about getting the crap kicked out of you puts ones priorities in order.”
“Hello?” Booker pressed the phone harder against his ear as the line seemed to cut off, “He muted himself,” Booker put together why he couldn’t hear anything from the other side. “And I can almost feel him cackling away, too.”
Alphonse voice finally cut back in “I’m sorry, someone was at the do-“
“You were laughing at my pain, weren’t you?” Booker confronted Alphonse.
“Oh maliciously. I mean snapping your quarter into the assassin’s eye? Who would believe that would work, Sterling?” He chuckled.
“I would, I was there!” Booker defended his action.
“Putting that aside, that gives me somewhere to start, just sit tight. I don’t know where I could put you that is safer. So, stay where you are, and I’ll call back sooner or later.”
Then Alphonse hung up.
Booker looked at the burner, “Alright, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about Belleci would you?”
“One of the more powerful chancellors, lots of different and conflicting descriptions,” Auralee answered.
“Didn’t I help screw him over with the heist? You said it was the most interesting thing to happen in a year.”
“Wrong Belleci, you aided in screwing over his brother. He had lots of information on the entire political spectrum.”
“Hold on, he was a brother?” the curious Booker now waited for the drama to unfold.
