Highness (The Lonely Heart Series)

by Latrivia S. Nelson

  Hope rolled her eyes despite not being able to see him. One thing they had never agreed upon was the fact that she was a liberal democrat and he a conservative republican. It was only fitting that he’d find a way to push his agenda down her throat even while blind.

  “That’s what the trucker’s insurance is for,” she answered.

  “I’ve been doing research on your behalf. He’s spent. He doesn’t have a dime more. He went to sleep while driving his truck. He’s a small business owner. Your bills and some other expenses have basically run him out of business, won’t be long before he’s run out of town.”

  Moving in front of her, he bent down and looked her in her eyes. “Damn you, Hope. You’re breaking my heart into little bitty pieces. If you have any mercy at all, do this for me. I need to know that someone is over here taking care of you. If you don’t like LouAnn, I’ll do it myself.”

  “No,” Hope said quickly. She huffed.

  Bree leaned into the door and cleared her throat. “Take it, Hope. He owes you.”

  Sean shook his head. What was it with that woman?

  Hope ducked her head and pulled her fists tight to her. “Send her over tomorrow. If I like her and if Bree likes her, then she can stay.”

  Sean broke into a bright smile. Dipping into her, he kissed her forehead. “Thank you for this.”

  “Don’t ever put your lips on me again.”

  He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Walking to the door, he looked back at her one last time. “I really am sorry, Hope.”

  Chapter 5

  Southaven, Mississippi

  In Michael’s very privileged life, he had had the opportunity to visit every continent in the world, travel every ocean; he had sat with royalty from over fifty countries and dined at their personal tables; he had stood on battle fields and observed destruction and victory; he had drunk champagne 8,850 meters above sea level atop Mount Everest; he had played volley ball with a sheik on sun bleached sand with exotic beauties and charted a $4.8 billion yacht with a Malaysian general across the Baltic Sea, but never once had he had the pleasure of visiting a Super Wal-Mart.

  This dynamic retailer was packed with everything from sugar cookies to radio tires to double-barrel shotguns, all in one very convenient location, all reasonable priced, all on sale 24 hours a day and all under devil-awful florescent lights. This place was so liked by Americans until it only closed on Christmas Day.

  And he could see why.

  He loved this place.

  The only thing that he didn’t love was having to wait in line like the rest of the working-class blokes.

  As he passed by the many families scurrying about the large store in deep conversation or maneuvering with their cell phones stuck to their faces and hands, he found himself completely entertained by the varying wardrobes, the deep southern drawls and overall informality of the place.

  To his amazement, he was knee deep in common life. He saw sagging pants, too tight skirts, shorts that were more like briefs, women wearing way too much makeup, old women with bad wigs, and kids with offensively snotty noses. So not only could one get everything that was on their shopping list, they could also get a communicable disease.

  Genius.

  In a leisurely stroll with a gentle smile on his face, Michael walked beside Geoff as they loaded up their shopping cart to the top with miscellaneous things they would need for their newly rented house in Hernando. There was something calming about shopping for all of his own personal items, cleaning needs and food. He got a chance, first hand, to decide each and everything that went into his home, unlike the mansion that he had grown up came pre-furnished with centuries-old wares, and maids and butlers, chefs and designers that decided on his daily life.

  This had been there second run to the adult toy store, but he rather enjoyed it and found any reason at all to come back. Plus, it wasn’t like someone else was going to do the work for them. They were supposed to be incognito. Commoners. The only people who knew where they actually where was his brother, his mother and MI6, who had posted up not far from their home in case of emergency. However, they had strict orders to stay out of the way unless a situation became a concern for national security.

  In their process of vetting an ideal place for him to stay, it had been a sheer turn of luck that an old man by the name of Rousey Jernigan with a broken hearing aid needed to rent out the smaller home on his 5-acre lot.

  It was a nice, late-model, bricked home that had been built for Jernigan’s daughter and her husband when they were first married. But since then, they had moved out and there was no one else to manage it. Mr. Jernigan was a widower and an anti-social butterfly, so he never bothered them as he was sure that they weren’t funny people.

  Upon answering the ad in the paper and seeing the home for himself, Michael thought it was perfect for his exploits. It was a charming three-bedroom closet of a house with all the updated amenities and even Wi-Fi. He’d blend into the small sleepy town flawlessly with his set up.

  Geoff, however, was completely unnerved. He thought that Michael’s arrangement with his brother was reckless and potentially dangerous. He thought the house was ridiculous, and he wanted nothing more than to return to his native country. But he was just his liege’s man, not his counselor. So, he settled for sharp looks and heavy sighs of discontentment, which Michael happily ignored.

  A young woman, barely in her 20s, with red hair glanced over at Michael and gave a flirty smile. Unfortunately, Michael had not noticed her until now, but she seemed awfully close to be shopping. He stepped back a foot and smiled.

  “Hi,” she said, reaching beside him to pick up something from the shelf.

  Geoff audibly huffed in the background.

  “Ma’am,” Michael said, using his southern accent. “Pleasant day.”

  “Pleasant enough,” she answered, sweeping her eyes across his broad chest.

  Instantly, Michael felt cheap, like a steak on a paper plate, but he rolled with it. “Am I in your way?” he asked.

  “No, you’re fine,” she said with mischief in her tone.

  Geoff quickly stepped in, hitting Michael’s chest with his rolls of toilet paper. “Dear, he’s taken,” he said, baritone stern.

  Michael blinked hard, but stayed quiet.

  Geoff shrugged. “It’s a new day. What can I say? Find someone else to flirt with on the ass-wiping aisle. This one is batting for the other side.”

  Michael tried hard not to laugh and dipped his head in the customary southern way and winked at her. He rather liked playing a southern gent in his jeans, t-shirts, John Deere baseball cap and leather work boots. He had gotten his motivation from a country music video and mimicked it down to the last detail. And too his surprise, with his faux southern accent, his face always covered by low-brimmed hats and an absolutely 180 degree-appearance, no one anywhere had noticed who he really was.

  The woman quickly turned on her heels and threw her toilet paper in her cart leaving the men alone.

  “Now that wasn’t nice,” Michael said, returning to his shopping.

  “We’re not here for you to go on a southern panty raid,” Geoff reminded.

  Geoff on the other hand, chose something more to his liking and closer to his true character. Khakis, plaid button down, loafers and a smug glare that he wore better than most women wore makeup.

  “You stick out,” Michael said, turning from the woman as she pushed her cart away to the opposite direction.

  Geoff turned from picking out his own selection and narrowed his eyes at Michael. “Begging your pardon, your majesty…your highness…sir?”

  Michael knew the slip was more of a slap in the face as Geoff was supposed to just call him by his name, but he couldn’t help but be entertained by the fish-out-of-water experience that his friend was having. “Michael will do just fine,” he answered with a smirk. He looked Geoff up and down with disapproval. “And you stick out in that get up. You look like a Brooks Brothers ad. What happened to jeans an
d simple t-shirt?”

  “Based upon the love for camouflage in this community, I think that anything goes,” Geoff said under his breath. He picked up a 12-pack roll of Charmin and looked at it.

  “Oh, I like that brand,” Michael said, setting his brand down. “It’s supposed to be softer for your bum.”

  Geoff raised a brow. “I’m only getting it because it’s on sale.”

  “So the little bears don’t do anything for you?” Michael joked.

  ***

  As soon as Michael and Geoff arrived back to their new little house from Wal-Mart, they saw Mr. Jernigan checking the mailbox at the end of the drive. He waved them down as they approached and fiddled with his hearing aid before the conversation could commence.

  Dressed in tattered denim overalls and flannel shirt, he bent in to their brand new Ford F-150 and smiled at both men.

  “How are you boys doing today?” he asked, scanning both of them, still not sure if they were a couple or not, despite their denial, especially the quiet English one, Geoff.

  “Doing well,” Michael answered first from the passenger side. He dipped his cap in Jernigan’s direction.

  Geoff simply nodded, refusing to take part in any southern gentile behaviors that Michael had so quickly adopted.

  Mr. Jernigan swatted a bug in front of his leathery tan face and hid his tired green eyes from the sun. “The post lady dropped off the wrong mail again. I was hoping that one of you might run this over and put it into my neighbor’s box. She’s not doing well. So, I don’t expect her to come down here and get it herself.”

  “Of course,” Geoff answered. He took the envelopes and set them in the middle compartment. “We’ll take care of it directly, Mr. Jernigan.”

  “How are you getting settled back there?” he asked, ready to go back inside out of the heat.

  “Just fine,” Michael answered. “The house is very nice. Thank you. We’ve just come from Wal-Mart getting more supplies. It’s a very accommodating place.”

  Accommodating? They behaved as though they’d never been to a Wal-Mart. One was just the same as any other. “Good,” Mr. Jernigan said, tapping the door. “Well, you boys have a nice one. Since the wife passed a year ago, I go into town for Saturday dinner. Not much for cooking, myself.” He spat tobacco on the ground and wiped the side of his silver beard. “So, I’m going to get ready. I might be able to get some lemon ice box pie if I hurry.”

  “Well, enjoy your trip,” Geoff answered, sensibilities raring quietly. Spitting tobacco was yet another vile tradition that he did not care for.

  “If you can call it that,” Mr. Jernigan said, slowly moving away from the truck so that they could pass.

  Pulling off, Geoff huffed. “I’ll take the neighbor the mail after I’m done unloading the truck.”

  “No, I’ll do it,” Michael said, taking the mail. He clutched the envelopes in his hand. “I haven’t been for a run or walk in weeks. It will do me well. Plus, it would be nice to see a new face. I’m sure she’s just some old lady who likes to talk a lot.”

  Geoff didn’t complain. He was ready to retire for the day. “Very well, I’ll take out all of the groceries and put them away. Then I’ll run over and check in with the team. They might have news from your brother.”

  “Oh yes, our friends at MI6. Seems hilarious really, don’t you think? They’re doing nothing at all over there but searching the Internet for porn.” Michael looked down at his phone. He was used to a hundred text messages; it seemed now that he barely got one.

  “Expecting a caller?” Geoff asked curiously.

  “No.” Michael opened the door as soon as Geoff parked. “I’m bored. I need something else to immerse myself in besides the riveting sights of Mississippi.”

  “Like?”

  “A job,” Michael answered. “Something that will allow me to be put to good use.”

  Geoff raised a brow. “Don’t blow your cover? The whole point of this is to keep you out of the media.”

  “Yes, yes, I know.” Looking across the way at the white house on the hill, Michael rotated his broad shoulders. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

  ***

  Bree hated to have to leave Hope so quickly, but she had to return home to Dallas and get back to work in the next day or so. And considering that Hope was only a friend by law even though in every other way she was family, she had not been able to file for FMLA in order to stay for an extended period of time. Plus with Hope unwilling to go back with her, she had no choice to make sure that she had adequate care in her absence.

  It had been a knuckle sandwich to swallow. The same man who had caused all of this was now in a position to be her friend’s savior. She knew that taking Sean’s help was not what Hope wanted, but it was the only plausible option that they had.

  Sitting in the living room perched on her favorite window seat, Hope allowed the sun to soak through her skin while they listened to D’Angelo on the stereo. He had a new CD out that Hope was dying to hear.

  Bree, on the other hand, cooked up a storm, preparing plate after plate of ready-made dishes that Hope would be able to simply pull out of the refrigerator and put into the microwave for the next few days.

  “What time is it?” Hope called out for the third time.

  “She should be here in just a few minutes,” Bree called out from the kitchen.

  Hope huffed. “I hope that she’s nice. I know that I’m getting on your nerves. Sorry, I’m just nervous.”

  Bree looked around at the finely decorated kitchen and all of the crystal, pottery and fine pots and smirked. “I’m sure she’ll be nice, I just pray that she’s not a thief.”

  Hope heard Bree mumbling under her breath and laughed.

  “Can you hear me?” Bree asked, amused.

  “I can hear everything now that I can’t see,” Hope answered. “It’s strange. I never thought so much about the five senses until I lost one.”

  “Well, at least you’re up in spirits. It seems that being home has made you feel better. Before you know it, you’ll have your sight back.”

  Going rigidly straight when she heard the front steps creek, she paused. “She’s here,” Hope said, standing up.

  Bree quickly stood up from the stove, placed the hot bread on the oven and pulled off her oven mitten. “Okay. Here I come. Just sit down.” Hearing Bree breeze past her and her perfume linger, Hope followed her friend’s footsteps to the front door.

  “I’m coming with,” Hope insisted.

  As they came to the door, Bree saw a shadow behind the white linen drapes. Opening the door up slowly, she saw a boney little woman in teddy bear scrubs and a painted smile on her thin lips stood in front of her. The woman’s hair was pulled back in a bun, streaked with gray. She looked at Bree and then at Hope.

  “Hi, I’m LouAnn. The Prichard’s sent me over,” she said waiting for them to invite her in.

  Bree looked her over while Hope simply looked passed her.

  “Thank you for coming,” Hope said first, “please come in.”

  Bree smiled and moved, allowing the woman to come into the open foyer of the home.

  “You have a lovely place here,” LouAnn said, tucking her purse under her arm. She looked up above her at the crystal chandelier.

  “Thank you,” Hope answered. “It’s been passed down for generations.”

  “Please come have a seat in the living room,” Bree said, grabbing Hope to guide her.

  Hope liked LouAnn’s voice, although she could do without the loud perfume. It smelled like a knock-off of Sunflower by Elizabeth Arden.

  “How have you ladies been managing?” LouAnn asked sitting down on the brown antique Allistair sofa. She looked around as she talked, admiring everything, perfectly placed in the house.

  Hope sat across from her on the wing-backed chair directly under the painting of her great grandmother. “We’ve been doing okay considering…”

  “She’s doing much better now that she’s at home,” Bree f
ollowed up by saying, taking a seat in the opposite chair.

  “Well, Sean told me about the situation. He said that Hope might need some in-home assistance for a while…indefinitely.” She reached inside her purse and pulled out a small folded piece of paper. “I have about 27 years in home health as a nurse. I recently retired, but I’m looking for work now that my grandson is in private school. I need to help my daughter out. She’s a single mother.”

  Hope smiled. A saint.

  Bree took the folded paper and read it out loud to ensure that Hope could hear her. When she was done, she set it on the coffee table and nodded at LouAnn, pleased with her experience.

  “Well, you have all the proper training,” Hope said impressed.

  “When can you start?” Bree asked.

  Hope frowned. That was a bit premature. She didn’t know if she wanted this woman in the same house with her…at least not yet. “Would you like some tea or coffee so that we can talk? Get to know each other,” she said, turning toward Bree’s voice.

  “Coffee would be fine,” LouAnn said, standing up. “Why don’t you tell me where it is and I can fix us all a nice cup.” LouAnn was a simple woman who believed a lot stronger in actions than pretty words.

  “I’ll show you were it is,” Bree said standing.

  As they walked off, Hope sat in the living room listening to birds chirping out in the trees near the open windows and contemplated how she could find out more about LouAnn and make a serious decision before Bree left for Dallas. Normally, she would have liked the woman, but the mere fact that Sean had sent her over made her feel uncomfortable, especially since she knew how his mother felt about her in general.

  Hearing the doorbell ring again, she rose up. She wasn’t expecting anyone else, and if Sean had shown up to oversee this, she’d kick him out herself.

  “I’m coming.” Bree called out.

  “No, I’ve got it.” Hope said, eager to do something on her own. She loved her friend, but Bree had to give her an opportunity to see how much of her own life she could manage.