Royal Baby

by Layla Valentine

  I managed to sidestep her at the last possible second, fighting a smile at the star-struck look she had fixed upon me. I made a brief assessment, taking in her chestnut-colored curls, the warm chocolate hues of her eyes. That wasn't even to mention that body, man, Jesus Christ. I had no time to introduce myself; I was so crunched for time that I couldn’t even entertain the idea of laying some girl in the midst of my brilliant plan.

  I would consider making an exception, depending on how the meeting at the entertainment hall went, but as it stood, I had places to be and people to see. I checked my watch again, trying to remember what exact time we were supposed to meet to check in with the other performers on board the ship. As far as I was aware, we were expected to run through a quick routine to gauge each person’s compatibility with each other.

  I hadn’t met the other entertainers yet, and I thought it strange that there hadn’t been any rehearsal before my hiring—I had only been required to run through a short solo routine—but I wasn’t about to complain and draw more attention to myself. The director was so flamboyant that I was certain he could burst into flames at any given moment, and there was no question that he had the hots for me. Not that I could blame him…

  The director having a raging boner for me suited my purposes better than I could have anticipated. He’d tried to give me the lead in the show, but I’d played the shy little wallflower and asked to be placed on the sidelines a bit. No one would question the sweet, bashful little circus boy when the flash drive came up missing.

  The whole sweet and timid act was pressing all the wrong buttons for me, but at least I only had to maintain it in front of these bucks with bigger wallets than brains. I couldn’t wait to get off of this damned ship.

  I stepped into the entertainment hall, startled to see the place empty, save for the director. He seemed to be taking down the props, and I approached him mock-warily.

  “Sir?” I started, cursing how shy I had to act.

  The director jolted, turning to face me with wide eyes. He brightened immediately upon seeing me, and I shuffled uncomfortably as his eyes roved my exposed skin. Maybe going shirtless wasn’t the best plan.

  “Ah, Paul. We were wondering where you had gone off to.” He smiled, stepping closer to me, and I resisted the urge to jolt back, gesturing vaguely towards the props he was taking down.

  “I thought we had a rehearsal thing,” I said, unable to keep the boredom from creeping into my tone.

  Keep it together, Paul, keep it together.

  The director chuckled, waving me off.

  “Well, we did! That’s why we were wondering where you were. Some of the others suggested we fetch you from your cabin, but I was certain you would show up. I must say, I’m a little disappointed, Paul. I expected more from you.” He pouted, poking his finger into my chest.

  I stared at him in horror, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind. Had I blown it? Was I screwed out of this job? It’s not like they could kick me off the boat, could they?

  “Oh, don’t panic, buttercup. I’ll have a place for you in the show. Don’t worry your pretty little head,” the director crooned, tracing his finger down my chest before drawing away.

  Unpleasant shivers ran through my body, but he looked delighted. Probably thought I was getting my rocks off or something.

  “Thanks. I’ll be here for the show. Actually on time. Heh,” I managed, and he quirked his lips in a smile.

  Before he could keep me any longer, I turned on my heel and ran out of there as quickly as my feet would take me.

  Well, that was one crisis averted. Now…back to Martha Beck.

  Chapter Three

  Ella

  My mother considered me with a bemused expression, and it was all I could do not to snap. At least Jerry had taken the hint to hit the bricks. For all I cared, he could be fantasizing about me in a full dominatrix get-up, complete with black heels to crush his…

  Never mind.

  “Ella, I swear, I have no idea what’s gotten into you lately. If you’re going to be in control of EBgen someday, you’ll have to earn the respect of your workers. Not their fear,” she huffed melodramatically.

  I rolled my eyes, fighting the urge to bite back that she could use that way of thinking in her family life. Instead, I steeled myself for the conversation I’d been simultaneously dreading and looking forward to for years.

  “Mom, I don’t give a damn about Jerry. We need to have a talk, just you and me,” I implored, only for her to consider me much like a bug for her to squish underfoot.

  She tapped on the bar with her fake nails, ordering a shot of bourbon. I sighed, sipping my gin and tonic as she slugged back the harsh liquor. She slammed the glass back down on the bar, crossing her arms and tilting her head towards me.

  “It would be rude for me to leave the festivities for whatever foolish thing is bothering you this time. If you can’t talk to me about it here, it can wait,” she said dismissively, and I felt an angry flush bloom on my cheeks.

  I downed my drink with more desperation than I would like to admit, ignoring the desire to scream at the woman before me. I couldn’t forget that she was my mother, and this was a business trip—even if she was a crappy mom, and I couldn’t care less about the firm.

  “I think it’s better if we go somewhere private,” I tried again, in spite of knowing it wouldn’t work. If there was one thing I knew about my mother, it was that she would not let me win so easily. Even a loss to her daughter was inexcusable.

  “Ella, for the last time,” she began, her voice rising. “Please, do not make me lose my cool. You act so much like your father sometimes, I swear,” she announced, glancing to the bartender as if for affirmation.

  The young man simply looked between us before shuffling away. I was becoming increasingly aware of the eyes of literally everyone on the ship fixing on the mother-daughter brawl that was about to go down.

  At this rate, it wouldn’t be Jerry alone picturing me in full fetish getup. Hell, they probably already fantasized about my mom crushing their junk on a regular basis. It wasn’t something in which I'd like to get caught up.

  I tossed back the last of my second drink, with the vague hope that it might clear my mind, and set the glass on the bar, looking at my mother with a pleading expression. I knew she cared nothing about my feelings, but I hoped she would at least try to remain professional in front of her workers.

  “All right. Well…the thing is, Mom, I’ve been thinking a lot,” I began, and she rolled her eyes as if to say ‘here we go.’ “Mom, I know you’ve worked hard to lay out a plan for me. I know you’ve done your best to prepare me for the responsibility of taking over EBgen, and I can’t begin to express how much I appreciate it,” I murmured.

  She quirked a brow at me before smiling warmly, reaching out to touch my cheek.

  “Oh, heavens, honey. It’s so nice to receive a bit of recognition. I have to say, sometimes it seems as if my hard work will be for nothing, and you’ll end up a hopeless deadbeat like your father.” She laughed, signaling to the bartender for another drink.

  I could already tell this was going to turn out great. Perhaps if I was lucky, she’d refrain from throwing me off the ship. I certainly wasn’t dressed for a cold swim in the ocean.

  “I’ve always appreciated what you do for me, Mom. You know I’ve worked hard my entire life to see that you’re happy with the direction in which I'm heading. It’s just that I’ve been thinking…about my life, and whether I’m satisfied with the direction it’s taking…”

  She looked at me strangely, knocking back another shot of bourbon. God only knew how many shots she’d already had, and I was not looking forward to her getting blackout drunk before this conversation was over. She burbled a laugh as the shot went down. Fantastic. Things were only getting better from here.

  “How could you not be satisfied? Oh, Ella, I’ll admit the life of a businesswoman isn’t for everyone, but you’ve been so carefully groomed to take my place
. The places you’ll go, the things you’ll see…” She paused, hiccuping before laughing again. “Sorry, dear. You know how bourbon tends to get to me,” she breathed, fanning herself and signaling for another shot.

  “Mom…I think you’ve had enough. You’re not listening to what I’m trying to say here. I, uh, I have something important to tell you. And I don’t want you to be angry at me, but it’s something I really have to get off my chest. I’ve held it in for too long,” I sputtered, reaching out to grab the shot before she could.

  She stared at me as if I had already committed the ultimate betrayal, and as I downed the shot, I could only think it would all be downhill from here.

  “Well, spit it out. You’ve always been very wordy. One thing you’ll need to learn before you can dream of taking my place is keeping your thoughts succinct. The men who work for you won’t want to listen to you babble on, and on, and on, and on…” She trailed off, looking entirely too inebriated for this conversation.

  To tell the truth, I was feeling a bit sick from the liquor myself, so I could only imagine how foggy her head must have been. Then again, she’d been walking the fine line of alcoholism for years, whereas until I turned twenty-one, all I’d had were sips of champagne I snuck at her work parties. Admittedly, I was a bit of a lightweight. I was beginning to reconsider that status as she waved for another shot, and I quickly snatched it out of her hands before she could drink it.

  “Ella, for the love of God! Mommy needs her shots, or you’re asking for trouble,” she slurred, taking a step towards me that was likely intended to be threatening.

  Instead, she nearly stumbled into me, just managing to keep her balance. I gritted my teeth against the swimming in my head, reaching out to grab her by the wrist and dragging her to one of the tables on the deck. Her employees glanced at us as we passed by, apparently not used to seeing either of us in such unsteady states.

  “Mom, sit down,” I ordered, and she bucked up as if to argue. “I mean it! Sit down, right now!” I snapped, anger creeping into my tone.

  She narrowed her eyes at me but collapsed into one of the chairs, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “How…h-how dare you speak to your mother like that,” she grumbled, resting her chin in her hand. She looked prepared to drift off, and I had to work quickly to get my confession out before she became dead to the world.

  “Mom, listen very carefully. I’m only going to say this once, okay?”

  “Ella, you’re mumbling. Before you can take over EBgen, you’ll have to learn…to speak…clearly…” She trailed off in a mutter that I could scarcely make out, which only served to enrage me further.

  How could she be so blind? How could she be so oblivious? I knew I wasn’t the most confident woman in the world, but I wasn’t exactly the meekest, either. At least, I didn’t think so…

  Was I?

  No—the way Jerry was watching me with something akin to fear in his eyes reassured me that I could be plenty bold when I needed to be. It was simply that my mother was so impossible to deal with, so unreceptive to any change.

  “Mom. You keep talking about all these things I’ll have to change if I take over EBgen. That’s all well and good. I know I’m not perfect, at least not by your high standards. But I have some tough news to break to you,” I said darkly.

  She seemed to be paying little mind. Desperate, I grabbed a glass of water off of the table next to me. I threw it in my mother’s face, and she jolted from the shock immediately.

  “Ella!” she screeched, rising to her feet and seeming to sober up, all at once.

  “You’ve treated me like a child for too long. Not even a child—you’ve treated me like a slave. You’ve always cared more about this damn company than your daughter,” I all but screamed, stepping towards her.

  She refused to step back, holding my gaze with her angry one.

  “I’ve worked so hard for this company so that someday it may be yours, but you’re pushing my limits to the point that I’m beginning to reconsider,” she hissed.

  I tried to control myself, but nothing could stop the peal of laughter that spilled past my lips at her threat. I clutched my stomach, feeling amused and nauseous like I’d just come off of some carnival ride.

  “What on earth is so funny? You're an entitled brat, you know; do you not realize how quickly I could take everything away from you?”

  I giggled for a moment longer, leaning in until our faces were almost uncomfortably close. I could smell the booze on her breath, mingling with the fetid aroma of cigarettes.

  “You want to know what’s funny? Do you want to know what I find hilarious? The fact that you think I would care if you took away my rights to EBgen. Because guess what, Mom? I don’t want to run your stupid company! I want my life. I want to travel the world, see amazing things, and sleep with exotic men,” I shouted.

  I didn’t entirely intend for that last bit to slip out, but at this rate, it was too late to take anything back.

  My mother looked stunned, taking a step back and considering me with concerned eyes. I could feel myself breathing heavily, and all eyes were upon us as I waited for my mother’s reply.

  “Ella,” she began, reaching out to touch my cheek. I flinched, expecting her to slap me. “Honey, is that what all this is about?”

  Well, no shit. Why else would I be screaming at her on the upper deck of a cruise ship, in front of all of her employees? I could make a fool of myself on my own time; I wasn’t doing it in front of everyone for my health. I swallowed those responses, however, managing to nod my head silently.

  “Oh, baby girl. You think I wouldn’t allow you to have your dreams? What kind of mother do you think I am?”

  I felt my heart skip a beat. There was no way she was going to be that agreeable. There was no way she would set me free so quickly. But it seemed that, perhaps, my mother did care. Maybe she did care about me more than she cared about her company. Maybe she did care about my dreams. Maybe…

  “It’s all well and good to dream. I have my share of dreams as well. The important thing is to stay rooted in reality. Dreams are meant to be just that. Dreams. Now, will you fetch me a towel? You’ve made both of us look silly in front of all these people,” she murmured, brushing her hair away from her eyes.

  I felt tears well up in my eyes, unbidden. How could I have been so stupid? Of course, she would never care about what I wanted. The company was her baby, not me. It even bore my initials, and while it was an irrational thought, I couldn’t help wondering if she was indeed trying to fill a void with her job.

  Was I not enough? Had I never been sufficient?

  “The towel, Ella?” she repeated sourly. Tears trickled down my cheeks, and she looked at me as if I’d grown another head.

  “Take one and shove it up your ass,” I snapped, turning my back on her and rushing away from the scene.

  I heard a collective gasp, as well as a fair share of murmurs among the employees. I couldn’t find it within me to care, however. I needed to escape. I just didn’t know how.

  Chapter Four

  Ella

  As I stormed off, I mused that a sane person might have been embarrassed. I wasn’t awfully surprised by the colossal shit-show that had gone down, though—it seemed I was doomed to disappoint everyone around me.

  Okay, maybe that’s a touch melodramatic, but to tell the truth, I couldn’t care less what the employees of EBgen thought of me. They could think I was a spoiled bitch if they felt inclined. I wasn’t going to be the one they worked for in the long term, regardless of what my mother might have thought. While I still cared deeply about my mom and detested the idea of being such a disappointment to her, I had to forge my own path.

  I considered retiring to my room to sleep off the alcohol, but that would have been all too responsible. I had defied my mother; I should be going all in with the rebellious teenager act and find a keg to chug, or a hot bad boy to bang.

  Except I was on a boat. In the middle of the oc
ean. And my only company seemed to be dozens of balding, beer-bellied, middle-aged men, and possibly one cute shirtless guy who I hadn’t seen in far too long…

  At that point, I wasn’t sure I hadn’t hallucinated the entire meeting. Even if he was real, he was probably gay. Men that handsome were always gay, or taken. Possibly both, but almost always one or the other.

  Regardless, I would not tuck my tail between my legs and slink off to my room to sleep off the humiliation. There was a large pool on the upper deck, and I could only imagine that it was deserted at that moment, as everyone else on board was celebrating the imminent expansion of my mother’s company. I was beginning to feel like a resentful sibling, but it wasn’t as if I could hold my own against a Fortune 500 company.

  I had to stop thinking about it. I had to do something, anything, to take my mind off of the company and that cursed woman who seemed to haunt my thoughts. Where had that shirtless guy gotten to?

  I imagined my mother berating me for thinking I stood a chance with him. ‘Oh Ella, he’s out of your league! Men don’t like funny women!’

  She’d have been right, on some level at least; while I’d had boyfriends in the past who’d found my sense of humor to be to their liking, my snappy one-liners and sarcasm weren’t well received by the average businessman, or business man-child. The men I’d been set up with by my mother could hardly be considered real men, in any sense of the word. They were a bunch of entitled pricks who expected me to drop my panties as soon as they mentioned the phrase ‘stock brokerage.’ I enjoyed money just as much as the next girl, but I had plenty of my own.

  Not to brag, but there had been numerous times when I’d been forced to wonder if the men I dated were the male equivalent of gold diggers. The wonders of living in the lap of luxury: nothing was real. Most women had breast implants, most men had hour-long grooming routines, and love was the sort of thing you read about in fairy tales.