“Come on, now,” Candace interjects. “Anything with a man this hot could never be called boring.”
“Thanks, Candace,” I say before I realize what exactly I’m thanking her for.
Candace continues. “I stayed up way past my bedtime to watch, and I gotta be honest, Will. You two don’t seem to see eye to eye on anything. You only got, like, one question right the entire time. Ouch.”
“Yeah, Will,” Dan says. “What was that car ride like on the way home?”
“Honestly, it was—”
“Oh snap!” Bowser says. “He’s going to pretend it was fine, but we all know the truth, don’t we? There is no way they are in a good place right now.”
“I don’t know,” Dopey Dan says. “I’d let a woman that hot get away with insulting me on national television too.”
“Of course you would,” Bowser says. “But that’s only because you wouldn’t have understood what she was saying.”
Audience laughter and irritating car horn again.
“Okay, okay, you two,” Candace the Cutie says. “We need to let the man talk. Willie, did you guys have lots of makeup sex last night or what?”
“Well, since I’m a gentleman…”
“Snap! They totally did!”
Dan and Bowser high-five each other.
“You totally got it made, mate. I mean, here you are, hooking up with a beautiful princess who is not only a major career boost for you, but she’s so rich, she bought you a yacht.”
“Yeah, tell us about the yacht. What did you have to do to score a gift like that?” Bowser asks. “Because I gotta tell you, I’d be up for anything if that was the payday.”
Stay calm. Don’t let them win. “I can’t really get into specifics because—”
“Her dad made you sign an NDA?” Dan asks.
“You don’t want your girlfriend to cut you off?” Bowser adds.
“Hey, don’t give him a hard time,” Candace says. “I’d want to keep them happy too if I was him. He never has to work again. Isn’t that right, Will? If you keep the princess happy, you can live off of her daddy from now on.”
Oh, this sucks big hairy balls. “Well, obviously I have no intention of—”
“Sure you do,” Bowser says, laughing. “I know I would.”
Bugger. They’re going to make me look like a giant arse, aren’t they? “Well, when you have self-respect and you love what you do for a living as much as I do—”
“Nobody loves their job,” Bowser says. “That’s why they have to pay you to do it,”
I raise my voice and talk over him. “—Then you definitely wouldn’t want to give that up for anything. Luckily for me, Princess Arabella doesn’t expect me to.”
Bowser raises his voice over mine. “Oh, sure, that’s what she says now, but once you get that ring on her finger, ooohhheee!”
“Speaking of rings on fingers, are you going to make an honest woman of her or what?” Candace asks.
“Well, that’s a rather old-fashioned way of thinking about—”
“Yeah, baby! They’re doing it all right.” Inappropriate moaning sound.
Annnddd… I’m done. “All right. That’s about enough. I came here to talk about our upcoming show,” I say. “But clearly your goal is to have a go at me, which I don’t mind, but you’re also having a go at Princess Arabella, and that’s where I draw the line.”
“Look at you taking charge of the interview,” Candace says. “Mummy likey!”
“Great,” I say. “Anyway, the show airs for the next five weeks starting this Thursday at 8 p.m. on ABN. I’m really proud of the work we did and how Princess Arabella rose to the challenge. We were dropped into the Congo and we had to make our way out of the jungle with only each other and a small supply of survival gear. No food, no water, not even a proper first-aid kit, which would’ve been helpful because we faced some potentially fatal situations out there.”
“Our audience is probably more interested in the positions you found yourselves in rather than the deadly situations,” Dan says before squeezing the car horn again. Uh-ROO-Gah!
“Okay, very funny. We all get it, but I would remind you that the princess is deserving of respect as both a member of the royal family and as a woman.” Now I sound like the principal at a stuffy private school, so I guess they win, but sod it. I really don’t care at this point.
“Somebody’s getting defensive!” Candace says. “As a woman, I have to say I really wouldn’t mind talking about having sex with you. In fact, if you want to head down into the break room with me, I’d be happy to come back and tell everybody all about it.”
Moaning sound.
“Well, that’s all the time I have,” I snap. “I have a very busy day ahead so thank you for having me, and I wish all your listeners a wonderful day.”
“Oh, he’s standing up and walking out, folks. Looks like we’ve managed to upset the unflappable Mr. Adventure Pants.”
“Oh, he’s gone. He’s a bit of a sensitive Sally, isn’t he?”
“He’s a whiny Wilma.”
“I’d still do him.”
“So would I.”
8
Trolls Be Trollin’…
Arabella
Will’s Wild Fangirls Blog Post Entry #912
September 16th Edition
Hey fellow fangirls,
I finally did it. I finally met my future husband in-person. That’s right! Last night, yours truly had the thrill of a lifetime as an audience member at the ABN studios for the season three pre-show of The Wild World (I’m still calling it that because I REFUSE to give her top billing). In a surprisingly smart move by the network, they invited all the applicants for the co-host position to be in the audience so we could meet Will live and in-person.
And I have to say, he is every bit as delicious in-person as he is on screen—even more so. He radiates a masculine energy that is like catnip or chocolate or like Pierce Brosnan for my mum.
The only problem was that she had to be there (and we all know who I’m talking about, so don’t make me use her name). Oh well, what the hell? Let’s give her a name, shall we? Princess Useless Face?
Princess Pukes-A-Lot?
You decide. I’ll post a poll at the bottom and the one with the most votes becomes her new moniker here on WillsWildFangirls.com.
Anyway, SHE was there messing the entire thing up for poor Will, who had to eat all kinds of disgusting things just because she couldn’t seem to get any answers right. I mean, honestly, does she not know him at all? Clearly a man like him would want more than two children (which was her stupid answer). And he SHOULD have more than two. In the event of an apocalypse, he should be solely responsible for repopulating the planet with his perfect genes.
But I digress because I was talking about the disaster that is Princess Pukes-A-Lot. (That one’s growing on me).
IMHO, last night was definitely the beginning of the end for them. Not only is she horrible under pressure, but she also made so many disparaging remarks about Will, I wouldn’t be surprised if they broke up before they left the building. My favourite part was the bit when she called him a know-it-all who actually knows very little. I’m basing that last bit on her not picking him as her phone-a-friend. Can you believe it? She’d pick Prince Arthur, that total wanker, over WILL FREAKING BANKS?
Seriously stupid.
Anyway, onto me and Will’s moment together when I was selected to ask him a question during the Q&A at the end of the show. The way his eyes locked on mine when I was questioning their relationship—there was DEFINITELY something between us. It’s like the entire world disappeared and it was the two of us alone and he just knew that I’m the one who truly gets him. Sigh.
That was the single greatest moment of my young life. It was the beginning for us. I know it was.
He’ll dump her sorry arse so we can be together forever. There’s no way someone who grew up so spoiled and sheltered could ever be the right girl for him.
An
d to my darling Will, I say this:
It’s fine if you want to have your fling with the pretty princess. I don’t mind, really. Because soon you’ll grow bored of her pathetic, weak-stomached, boring self, and you’ll be ready for a real adventure girl—and that’s where I come in. I’ll be waiting right here for you, Will. Always. Knowing my chance with you is right around the corner,
The future Mrs. Will Banks
COMMENTS:
WillGirl25: Get in line. I was there last night too, and I didn’t notice any spark between the two of you. But truth be told, there was no spark between the two of them either, so I guess there’s hope for the rest of us. Princess Pukes-A-Lot all the way for me.
Reply: FutureMrsBanks: You’re clearly blind if you didn’t see what was going on between us. Blind, I say!
ChickPea411: She was awful last night. A total disaster. I can’t believe how quickly she sold him down the river after everything he’s tried to do for her. And honestly, how much dramatic vomiting can one person do? And the gagging? Pu-lease! She should just go back to her daddy’s house and live out the rest of her days cross-stitching and sipping tea. My vote is for Princess Useless Face.
Reply: FutureMrsBanks: Right??! Seriously! She might as well have called him stupid to his face. And she bought him a yacht? How desperate does a woman have to be to buy a guy a yacht? Like for reals.
RealHouseWivesRock: LOL! You nailed it. I’ve never seen two people worse for each other in my life. I give it a week, tops. Also, I vote for Princess Pukeface. It has a better ring to it.
Reply by FutureMrsBanks: Haha! That’s a good one too. I’ll throw it in the poll.
WillGirl25: A week? I’m sure it’s already over, based on their body language when they were walking out to the limo. He couldn’t even look at her. Whatever they’re pretending to have is solely for ratings.
ChickPea411: But what about their yacht trip? You really believe they’d spend all that time floating around the ocean together if they weren’t really an item?
WillGirl25: As if they even got on a yacht together. FAKE NEWS!
Text from Arthur to Me: Do yourself a favour and don’t go online for a while. Reading the comments about your interview will not do you any favours.
Me: Too late. Just reading what Will’s Wild Fangirls have to say about me.
Arthur: Close the page immediately! Do NOT torture yourself with the words of the jealous and sad. And whatever you do, do NOT respond to any of it! Take it from me, you’ll only get sucked into an unwinnable negativity vortex.
Me: Don’t worry. I’m not a complete idiot. (No offence.)
Arthur: Some taken.
Me: Your ego is large enough to survive that little jab.
Arthur: You’re welcome for looking out for you.
Me: Thank you.
9
How to Lose Friends and Upset People…
Will
“I need your help,” I say into the speakerphone.
“Trying to figure out how to end things with Arabella after that disastrous interview?” Emma asks.
“Ha. I’m serious, Emma.”
“So am I. It was awful, and as your big sister, it’s incumbent upon me to let you know when I see some red flags in my baby brother’s relationship. Two kids versus five? That’s a pretty big difference. Plus, she didn’t even pick you as her phone-a-friend.”
“We’re fine. She’s just not good under pressure. Now listen, I need to talk to Pierce if he’s around.”
“He’s right here listening. We’re still in bed.”
Pierce is a famous author from Avonia who happens to have grown up with Prince Arthur and his crowd so he’s the perfect guy to go to for advice.
“Hi, Pierce.”
“Hi, Will. Don’t listen to Emma. The interview wasn’t that bad,” Pierce says.
“Thanks. I’m glad I have one ally. Listen, I’m going to meet the family and I need to know what to wear.”
“Ooh! Meeting the family,” Emma says. “That is a big step. You only get one chance to make a first impression.”
“And that’s why I need your help. I have no idea how to dress or what to say or what to bring. I mean, what kind of gift do you give a king?”
“Generally speaking, they love paintings of themselves commissioned by famous artists,” Pierce says. “Or quasi-meaningful bronze statues.”
“Well, since that’s not exactly in my budget or my time frame, we may have to think outside the box.”
“Right. When’s the big meet?”
“I’m heading over there in two hours.”
“In that case, stop at Porter’s Fine Liquors and pick up the most expensive bottle of cognac they’ve got.”
“Okay, good. I can probably swing that. King Winston likes cognac?”
“No idea, but it’s a classy drink,” Pierce says. “To be honest, it’ll likely get passed on to a servant at Christmastime, but the effort will at least count for something.”
“Ooh! What about something for the babies?” Emma says. “People love that when you spoil their children.”
“Good. Okay,” I say, jotting down ‘baby gifts’ on a scrap of paper I found in Dwight’s recycle bin. “But what would you get for toddlers?”
“Let me text Libby,” Emma answers. “She’ll have loads of ideas.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that. So what should I wear, Pierce?”
“Depends on what the invite said.”
“Verbal invitation from Arabella.”
“Any clue what you’ll be doing?” Pierce asks.
“Obviously they’re watching the premiere of Princess in The Wild together…” Emma says in a ‘you should’ve known that’ tone.
“Righto. Congratulations on that, by the way,” Pierce says. “I hope it’s a massive hit.”
“Pierce is going to tweet about it later,” Emma says.
“I am?” Pierce asks.
“Of course you are. Because you want my baby brother to succeed so he doesn’t end up living in our guest room, right?”
“Excellent point. We’ve already had to suffer through my brother living with us. I don’t know if I can handle yours.”
“Thanks for that,” I say, pretending to be offended. “Now what do you hoity-toities wear when you’re heading over to watch telly with the royal family?”
“I’d go sports event casual, myself,” Pierce says.
“Could you be more specific? I seem to have forgotten my chart of appropriate attire for visiting the upper crust.”
“Huge mistake. You should probably laminate it and tether it to your suitcase from now on,” Pierce answers. “Sports event casual includes a sports jacket, obviously, in a casual colour such as navy or light brown. No black. Button up shirt by either House of Bijan or Brioni, preferably in a light blue. Starched and ironed.”
“Obviously,” I say, scrawling notes as quickly as possible with a shaky hand. “And what? A nice pair of dark jeans?”
“God, no. The most casual I would go would be chinos in light tan, starched and ironed with a crease down the front at dead centre, and matching socks. Add a pair of brown leather dress shoes in matte, not shiny—shiny’s too dressy—and you should be good to go.”
“Tell him what kind of belt to wear,” Emma adds.
“Oh right. A belt. I almost forgot,” I say. “Should it match my shoes or what?”
“That would be a safe choice,” he says. “You do sound nervous. What time is it there?”
“5:42.”
“Hmm, that really doesn’t give you much time. Tell you what, Boccino’s Men’s Wear will still be open for another eighteen minutes. I’ll ring them up and have them stay open late for you. It won’t be cheap, but they’ll make sure you’re royalty-ready.”
“Thanks, Pierce. I really appreciate it. I need everything to go perfectly tonight.”
“Will, this sounds serious,” Emma teases. “I’ve never heard you like this before. ‘What gifts should I bring? What belt
should I wear?’ You might just love this woman.”
“That’s the problem. Anything from Libby yet?”
“Yes, she wrote back with three options: Brio’s My First Railway, Fisher-Price Bounce and Spin Puppy, or a Radio Flyer 3-in-1 wagon with canopy. Whatever you do, don’t get anything that plays Baby Shark. They’ll hate you forever.”
“No Baby Shark,” I mutter as I flip the paper over and write that down.
Emma starts humming the tune, then says, “Oh for…! Now I’ve got it in my head. It’ll be there for days. Thanks a lot, Libby.”
Pierce laughs and sings, “Mommy shark! Do-do-do-do-do-do…”
“Pierce! That is not funny!”
“Okay, thank you guys so much. I better run if I’m going to make it to the fancy liquor store, the clothes shop, and the toy store. Crap. I forgot I should pick up something for the Princess Dowager as well. What do you get a woman in her eighties?”
“That one I know—she’s a big gin drinker,” Pierce says. “Grab a bottle of Spring Gin Gentlemen’s Cut if you can or Ferdinand’s, but only if they have Goldcap.”
“I should probably have started this yesterday,” I say.
“No,” Emma says. “A few weeks ago is more like it.”
“Thanks for that very helpful bit of hindsight,” I say.
“You’re welcome,” she says. “Text us to let us know how it goes.”
“I probably won’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate your help.”
Royally Wild (Crazy Royal Love Romantic Comedy Book 2) Page 7
