He gave a weak smile and said, “I wish you wouldn't have taken off by yourself. We need to know where you are in order to keep you safe. What if something happened?”
“As you saw when you arrived, I’d taken care of the situation.”
“You stumbled across a pirate camp and took them on yourself. It could have ended differently had there been more than two of them. It could have been you trussed up like a Christmas goose, or worse.”
Deep down, I knew he was right, but I didn't want to accept it. When I'd jumped on those guys, I’d had no other outcome in my mind than me overpowering them. I had power over everyone, didn't I?
Apart from Lizzie.
She was oblivious to my authority, and it was driving me insane.
“Your Highness,” continued Stephen. “May I suggest you stay within the confines of the hotel today? I'm going to have to report on today's events to your father.”
“Shit. Yeah, I’ll stick close.”
I felt exhausted at just the thought of my old man.
“Don't worry, I'll tell him what a hero you were today.”
“Except he won't believe you because once again, there wasn't a single paparazzi in sight when I did something good for once.”
“Don't worry, Your Highness. Next time I'll make sure to have my phone ready.” He flashed me a rare smile.
I left him in the foyer and ascended the stairs. Evening was starting to descend on the hotel and people were beginning to come out their rooms in their glamorous dinner attire. I didn't feel like joining them.
“Your Highness!” came a voice from behind me.
I turned around and saw Stephen jogging up the stairs.
“May I suggest you check on your new lady friend,” he said. “Or of course we can check on her for you. After all, if the pirates have been known to roam the hotel, perhaps you should check she is in possession of all her valuables.”
“Good idea,” I said, thinking I need a good excuse to see her anyway. “I'll go myself.”
She'd only grow suspicious if an entire security team arrived at her door, and I was still attempting to look as average as possible. Well, as average as a prince could look anyway.
Heading up to her floor, I thought about the right words to say. Lizzie, there are pirates on the island, just wanted to check they weren't lurking in your room. It sounded ludicrous.
I saw her door in the distance, and just the thought of seeing her again made my stomach clench up as though there were a thousand butterflies in there, and they were all breakdancing.
The woman was clearly a witch that had cast some sort of wicked spell on me. I reached out a hand, ready to knock on the door, but before my knuckles could connect with the wood, an almighty scream rang out.
“Lizzie!”
Another scream echoed out the room, this time louder followed by the sound of other women shrieking.
I’m too late, I thought. They're in there, robbing her blind, doing God knows what to her.
“Don't worry, Lizzie I'm coming!”
I burst through the door, blustering my way inside her room with my fists raised ready to save the day.
“Lizzie!”
The screaming grew into a crescendo as I entered. My eyes darted all over the place searching for an evil pirate with a gun to Lizzie's head. But that wasn't what I saw. What presented itself to me was something else entirely.
“What the actual fuck?”
Twenty pairs of female eyes stared at me from around the room. In the center of them all sat Lizzie in her own designated chair, but there was no pirate anywhere near her. There was, however, a bald guy that looked like Mr. Clean wearing nothing but a g-string with his ass right in her face.
He was gyrating like his life depended on it, his face pulled tight with concentration as Gloria Gaynor blasted out the speakers.
“Phil?” gasped Lizzie, clapping her hands to her face. “What the hell are you doing here?”
The stripper stopped dancing. The women stopped shrieking. Lizzie just sat there. All the while “I Will Survive” filled the air along with the smell of the guy's Old Spice and fake tan. He stood up straight and edged away from Lizzie sensing he was in trouble.
I took one last look at Lizzie and felt the blood rise to my head with embarrassment. What I should have done was laugh and let her get on with it, but instead, I was overcome with a feeling I hadn't had before; a feeling I had only ever heard of. Jealousy.
I wanted to hit that stripper right in his smirking mouth just for being close to her. But I knew I had no right to. He had done nothing wrong, and neither had she. So why did I feel this way?
Turning on my heel, I stormed out of the room slamming the door behind me. I was halfway down the hall when I heard footsteps hurrying behind me.
“Wait, where are you going? And why did you just break down my damn door?”
“It was nothing, Lizzie.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
“I said it’s fine!”
Lizzie
“His name is Hornman the Barbarian.”
“Please tell me you're joking, Christy.”
“I'm doing no such thing. Look at him.”
“No, thanks. I'm cool.”
“Seriously Lizzie, check him out!”
She thrust his business card at me, and I had no choice but to look at it. In the moment, I learned two things. Firstly, that male strippers had business cards, and secondly, that they didn't even have to be remotely attractive.
“He's not my type,” I said. “Don't you think he looks like Mr. Clean?”
“Yeah, that's why I hired him. Always thought he was hot.”
“You're a weirdo, Christy.”
We were in my suite, filling party bags with treats and making sure all the finishing touches were being made in preparation of her bachelorette party. On account of Christy's room being filled with endless bits and pieces of wedding detritus, it was agreed that the bachelorette party would take place in my room. It wasn't something I was thrilled with, but whatever made her happy.
Behind us, Louise was chattering about eating chocolates out of each bowl.
"Mom, there'll be none left for the girls if you keep doing that."
"I'm doing a taste test," she replied.
"Of course you are."
Louise chewed on an orange cream and came sauntering over. She took note of the flyer in my hand and said, "Oooh, I've always loved strippers."
"Mom!" cried Christy.
"What? You think I've never had fun before?"
She took the flyer out my hand so she could take a closer look.
"Could you not have picked someone with a bigger package, Christy?"
"Mom, I am not having this conversation with you. Now go back to eating chocolates."
"She's right," I said. "That g-string doesn't leave a lot to the imagination and well, it doesn't look like there's a lot anyway."
"Yeah," grumbled Christy as she arranged a set of drinks straws adorned with fake plastic penises. "Maybe I hired him for his personality."
"You hired a stripper for his personality? That would be like ordering a Big Mac for the lettuce."
Louise let out a sudden outburst of laughter from the back of the room as she threw another chocolate down her throat.
"Besides, aren't you worried about what Josh will think?"
Christy laughed and reached for the bottle of Prosecco.
"Why would I care what he thinks? Like he isn’t getting a stripper at his bachelor party?"
It all seemed a bit weird to me, but maybe that was because I just couldn't shake the idea that if I was getting married, the last thing I would want to see is some other guy's wang floating around in front of my face.
"Don't look so serious," said Christy, thrusting a glass of wine in my hand. "It's just a bit of harmless fun. Besides, you're not exactly the Virgin Mary, are you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean, you're fl
ouncing around with your new boy toy without a care in the world."
"He's not a boy toy."
"Yeah? Well what is he?"
"Just a..."
What was he? He wasn't really a fake date anymore, but he was definitely not my boyfriend either.
To my relief, the door flew open to reveal the girls.
"Christy!"
"Where have you been?"
Suddenly, the room was filled with a group of shrieking women, all air kissing, hugging dramatically, and in desperate need of Prosecco.
"Where's the stripper?" screamed Ava, an old friend from high school.
I hadn't seen her since I was at least seventeen, but Christy had insisted she was invited. She'd mentioned something about how they had become great friends at Pilates class. Although I couldn't remember the last time Christy had taken one of those.
The more I looked around the room, the more faces I saw who looked unfamiliar to me. Christy's super Christian cousins were huddled in the corner drinking sparkling mineral water while nibbling on cheese bites. I'd not seen them since I was a kid, and they kept glancing over at me as though they disapproved of my short skirt.
Let them look, I thought. I don't do all those squats every day so people don't see the results.
Meanwhile, beside them, some of the girls from Christy's office were giggling into their wine.
"Turn the music up!" one of them shouted.
"Yeah, put on Cindy Lauper."
"No! Madonna!"
Louise swanned around the room sharing snacks and drinks, loving every moment of being around the younger girls. “Like a Virgin” came through the speakers and I got a pounding sensation at the back of my skull.
I need more wine.
Shimmying over to the buffet table, I plopped a miniature cheese straw into my mouth and reached for the wine but changed my mind when I spied a bottle of vodka.
"Needing something stronger, eh?" came a voice right next to my ear.
I jumped and reeled back to see a face I hadn't seen in years.
"Lucy! My God I didn't know you were coming!"
"Of course! I wouldn't miss it for the world. It's been so long since I've seen you. How long has it been?"
"Oh, God. Since forever. Maybe our last year of high school."
"Jesus, that is a long time ago,” said Lucy, sipping gracefully on her drink with a raised pinky. “Please tell me you're married now too."
"Nope."
She tucked her golden hair behind her ear with a manicured hand and grimaced at me.
"Really? Almost all the girls from our class are."
She was saying it as though I should have been delighted for them, but for some reason I wasn't. Instead, I just felt as though I had failed.
"Babies?"
"Huh?"
"Do you have any babies?" asked Lucy. "I have four now. All boys. They're all just wild, but they're blessings, really they are."
"No babies," I said.
"Oh."
Her face fell as though I'd just dropped the news that I had six months to live.
"Okay, well, byeeee," she said and drifted away in search of someone with children who was more valid of her time.
I lingered at the back of the room for a while, watching the party unfold. My brain was telling me I should be happy for Christy, that I should be having the time of my life, but I my gut felt as though it was filled up with a lead balloon.
I should have been having a bachelorette party. I should be getting married too.
Shrinking back even further away from the girls, I watched from a distance as they got steadily drunker and louder. Louise was in the center of the room, dancing like a maniac while Christy began drinking white wine straight out the bottle. Even her hyper Christian cousins were starting to loosen up, graduating from sparkling water to cola. One of them even cracked a smile at one point.
I need air, I thought. This vodka's finally gone to my head.
Trying to be as stealthy as possible, I edged my way around to the door in an attempt to slip out.
"Hey!" yelled Christy. "Where the hell are you going?"
"I'm just going out for a minute I need-"
"Don't you dare leave."
She dragged me over to her seat and thrust her bottle of wine at me.
"What's up?"
"Nothing."
" There's clearly something wrong."
"There's nothing wrong. I just need some air. It’s hot in here."
"Is that why you look like you're at a funeral?"
No amount of alcohol could cheer me up. If anything, the vodka was just making me grumpier. I looked into Christy's glittering eyes and felt close to tears.
"I'm just a little drunk," I said, my throat closing up.
"Good," she said. "Now get a little drunker."
"No, really I shouldn't. I need to get out and -"
The door burst open and banged off the wall like a gunshot.
The room fell silent with nothing but the sound of Tiffany drifting out of the speakers. We all stared slack-jawed toward the door.
"Did anyone order a stripper?" asked Mr. Clean.
He stood wearing a cop's uniform that was so tight I could almost see what he had for breakfast. All the girls in the room were looking at him like he was the hottest guy they'd ever seen; like they would tear him to pieces and eat him up if they got the chance. Louise even licked her lips and rubbed her hands, eager to get her paws on him.
The girls began screaming as he bounded into the room. They were clapping and jumping up and down like an insane group of oversized toddlers.
Oh, my God. Was all I could think. I need outta here.
"I've got an idea," said Christy. "A lap dance will cheer you up."
"No, Christy. For the love of God, no!"
But it was too late, and she was dragging a chair into the center of the room.
"Sit," she told me.
"No!"
She wasn't taking no for an answer and pulled me onto it whether I liked it or not.
"Please, no."
I was filled with an intense terror as the guy started gyrating his way over to me, a boom box on his shoulder and his hand on his crotch.
I want to die.
"Smile," he told me, placing his boombox on the floor.
He balanced his foot on the arm of the chair and started wiggling his hips so his crotch was perilously close to my face. I was swamped in the scent of Old Spice which only made me feel queasier.
He began yanking at the buttons on his shirt and the girls grew wilder. They were like a pack of wild animals, screaming and hooting with ever bare piece of flesh they saw. One by one his buttons flew off until I was looking at a smooth chest with bulging pecs.
That’s actually not bad, I thought.
His hands moved to his belt. I could see beneath his pants that he was hard. As he rubbed himself against me, I closed my eyes.
Just pretend it's Phil, I told myself.
I began to relax. Thinking of him slowly peeling his pants off to reveal taught, muscular thighs. Below, I began to grow wet between my legs, and pressed my thighs together as my cheeks reddened.
This isn’t so bad. Just imagine it's Phil wriggling his junk in front of you.
The guy turned around and pressed his ass to me. It was perfectly smooth, tanned, and rock-solid. The vodka in my veins told me to reach a hand out and give it a smack. He seemed to like that, looking at me over his shoulder and winking as he flashed a cheesy, dazzling white smile.
He moved closer, his ass right up against me. I screamed and giggled. I was filled with a peculiar combination of embarrassment and extreme sexual arousal. If only this was Phil, and I could touch his body like this. If only he were here instead.
"Lizzie I'm coming!" came a voice.
Wait, was that actually Phil? I must be hearing things.
For the second time that night, the door flew open to reveal a gorgeous guy. Except Phil didn't look too excited to ent
er the party. He stood for a second, his face blanching as he watched the guy dance. For a second, I was sure he was going to vomit.
"Phil?"
He froze, his eyes widening the more he looked at the guy's ass that was only an inch away from my face. I was consumed by the kind of embarrassment that filled you with heat from your toes to your scalp. I wanted to curl up and roll away. I moved to push the guy out the way, but it was too late. Phil took off, bounding down the hall.
"Wait!" I called after him, edging my way through all the girls.
"Who was that?" one of the cousins asked.
"Can't he strip for us too?"
"Did you see those buns?"
I ignored them all and rushed out the room.
“Phil!”
He was storming away at lightning speed so I had to run to catch up.
“Hey! Wait, where are you going? And why did you just break down my damn door.?”
“It’s nothing, Lizzie.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
“I said it’s nothing!”
Even from behind I could see how angry he was. The tips of his ears were bright red, and as I latched on to the back of his jacket, I could see the rage on his face.
“What's the matter with you?”
“Nothing.”
He pulled himself away from me and carried on walking.
“Fine, walk away,” I said. “I'm not chasing after you just because you're throwing a little jealous hissy fit.”
“Jealous?” he raged, stopping dead in his tracks. “You think I'm jealous?”
“Well, you're acting pretty jealous.”
“Give me a break. What have I got to be jealous about? Some trashy stripper with a twig-let for a wiener?”
He could deny it all he wanted, but there was no mistaking the look on his face. It was the same one I used to give Adam when I saw him flirt with other girls.
“I think someone's been possessed by the green-eyed monster,” I said, sidling up to him.
“You're being ridiculous.”
Placing a hand on his chest, I could feel how hot with anger he was. I could feel his heart beating so fast it was ready to burst out of his chest.
“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted to beat the crap out of that stripper.”
“Do you really think I give a shit about that guy?”
Royally Damaged Page 9
