The Jaguar Prince

by Karen Kelley

  Callie looked around and saw there wasn’t room for her.

  “Freddie, why don’t you take Callie to the table over there. I’m sure you two have a lot of catching up to do.” She waved her hand toward the only table that was still empty. Probably because it was in the far corner.

  “This table seems a little too crowded,” Rogar said. “I think I’ll join them at the other one.” He bowed, then tucked Callie’s arm in his, and they walked away.

  Freddie grabbed his drink. “Outsmarted again, old girl.”

  “Shut up, Freddie,” Constance hissed.

  Callie couldn’t resist looking over her shoulder. Definitely a Kodak moment. Constance looked as though she was about to blow a gasket. Callie hoped she did.

  “She’s a bitch,” Freddie said nonchalantly.

  “So why do you hang out with her?” Callie asked as Rogar pulled her chair out. As soon as she was seated, they followed suit.

  “I love watching just how much of a snob she can be. It’s kind of like a train wreck as it’s happening.” He turned to Rogar. “Get ready for a lot of train wrecks tonight. I want to apologize ahead of time because they’re too stupid, and too full of themselves, to know how cruel they can be.”

  Rogar leaned back in his chair. “But not you.”

  “Touché. But you see, I only live on the fringes of this group. I do have my moments, though. It comes from the people I keep company with.”

  She’d always thought of Freddie as one of the nice ones. There were a few at the Camp in the Pines that she could stomach being around.

  Freddie leaned back in his chair. “My mother was my father’s secretary, so I’m not a pure blueblood. He divorced his socialite wife, and married my mother. It was true love until a few years later, when my father found someone younger, and divorced my mother. She had thought it would last forever. One day, she hung herself. Checked out without even saying good-bye. No note, nothing.” He twirled the olive on a toothpick around in his glass.

  “I’m so sorry, Freddie,” Callie said. “I didn’t know.”

  “Depressed people are not always aware of what they do,” Rogar said.

  Freddie suddenly smiled. “It would seem that I’ve depressed everyone.” He frowned. “Not sure why I opened up like that. Don’t normally. I guess I wanted you to know I’ve felt their barbs, too.” He downed his drink, then motioned for a nearby waiter.

  “Then walk away from them,” Rogar said.

  “When my father kicked the bucket, he left me a considerable fortune, since he was between wives at the moment. The only thing he didn’t bother to teach me was how exactly to live.” He waved his arm. “This is all I know.”

  The waiter took their drink orders. Callie had a feeling she knew why Freddie had opened up—he was drinking double martinis, and she doubted that had been his first. She and Rogar ordered wine.

  Ms. Crane walked to the center of the dance floor. She wore a poofy-pink dress that sparkled almost as much as the chandeliers, and like deer that had been caught in headlights, everyone shifted their attention to her.

  Her hair was almost as poofy as her dress. All that might not have been so bad, but her bony shoulders were bare, her rouge too dark, and it looked as though she wore false eyelashes. She reminded Callie of a scarecrow coming off a week of hard drugs.

  “That’s enough to give everyone nightmares for a few weeks,” Freddie murmured.

  Callie snorted, then quickly covered it with a cough.

  “Is she ill?” Rogar asked.

  Freddie shook his head. “No, that’s how she usually dresses for these things. She just has more money than everyone else, so no one has the nerve to say anything to her face.”

  One of the waiters handed Ms. Crane a microphone. She tapped it once, the sound bouncing off the walls, followed by a loud screech. The waiter hurried to turn it down, then handed it back.

  “It works,” she said, stating the obvious. “Before we get started tonight, I want to let everyone know that we have royalty with us tonight.” She beamed like a lighthouse on a foggy night. “Prince Rogar Valkyir. Please give him a warm welcome. We’re so happy to have him join us.” She waved her arm toward him.

  Callie felt as if she might as well have faded into the wallpaper. Why was she even here? She didn’t even like these people. Sure, she was wearing fancy clothes and expensive jewels, but she was still the same Callie.

  Rogar stood, bowed slightly, then held his hand out for Callie. She really wished he hadn’t done that, but she smiled and stood.

  “Oh, yes, forgive me. And his fiancée is also with him,” Ms. Crane said nervously.

  They sat back down as their drinks arrived. Freddie took a long swallow of his. “Notice how they accidentally leave us unimportant hangers on out of the mix? Ah, yes, they are taught from birth how to let the undesirables stand on the fringes of their circle.” He grinned and winked at her. “While we just sit back and enjoy their antics. Great sport, really.”

  Callie laughed. She couldn’t help it. Freddie had a good sense of humor.

  “I’m sorry,” Freddie spoke to Rogar. “You obviously have wealth, and prestige, and here I am putting down the bluebloods. I apologize.”

  “We don’t have class distinction where I’m from,” Rogar said.

  “But you’re a prince. I find that hard to believe.”

  He shrugged. “Everyone works toward the common good of all the people. We’re a simple…country.”

  “It sounds like paradise.”

  Rogar’s gaze fell on Callie. “It is.”

  As warmth crawled up her cheeks, she quickly took a drink of her wine.

  “Enjoy your meal, because as soon as it’s over,” Ms. Crane spoke into the microphone, “—we’ll start the auction. I expect to raise a lot of money for the local zoo.”

  Zoo? Callie perked up. Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be a total loss. She liked the idea the money raised tonight would actually go for something good. Not that they would stick around long.

  Their food was brought out. Since it was catered, they didn’t have a choice, but it tasted a lot better than the food they’d been eating. She wasn’t much of a cook, and Rogar had already shown his talents in the kitchen, which she’d just as soon he not repeat.

  Rogar and Freddie talked during the three courses, and she mostly listened.

  “So, you have a lot of brothers and sisters?” Freddie asked.

  Rogar grimaced as though it pained him to talk about them. “More than I like to think about.”

  She cocked an eyebrow.

  “I have two brothers and three sisters. They’re all very stubborn,” Rogar said.

  “Oh, much like you then,” she said with wide-eyed innocence.

  “I think you’re making a joke at my expense,” Rogar said.

  Had she offended him? Nope, there was that twinkle in his eye again. “And I did it very well, too,” she said. She started laughing. Rogar and Freddie joined in.

  Callie reached for her wineglass, glancing around the room as she did. Constance was looking straight at her, venom spitting from her eyes, but she quickly glanced away when their gazes locked. After tonight, Callie had better watch her back. Not that she planned on associating with these people again.

  As the waiters cleared the tables, Ms. Crane made her way back to the center of the dance floor. One of the staff wheeled out a cart that was covered with a pretty blue silk scarf.

  Callie leaned closer to Rogar. “We can sneak away any time,” she whispered.

  “I’d like to see what happens.”

  “All they’ll do is bid on stuff that is brought out, the highest bidder wins the item, then the money will be donated to the local zoo.”

  “It sounds interesting.”

  Did it really matter if they stayed a bit longer? “Okay, then we’ll hang around for a while.”

  Ms. Crane removed the scarf to reveal a vase. “First up we have a lovely china vase donated by the Burberrys.”

&
nbsp; As Ms. Crane continued to extol the quality of such a fine vase, Freddie leaned over. “Everyone cleans out their attic for this event. It’s a good way to get rid of junk they don’t want anymore,” he whispered, then shrugged. “But it is for a good cause.” He raised his paddle. “One thousand.”

  Ms. Crane beamed. “Going once, twice, sold to Freddie Danbury!”

  “Well, I’ve done my duty for the night.”

  Several more pieces were sold. Then another item was brought out. Ms. Crane whisked off the scarf. Callie sat straighter in her chair, drawing in a breath. It was a beautiful tawny statue of a jaguar, and it looked just like Sheba.

  The bidding started. How much did she have in her savings?

  “We have one thousand, one thousand five, are there any more bids? Going once.” Ms. Crane looked around the room. “Going twice.”

  It was a shame. She would’ve really liked to have the jaguar. Her savings account was practically nil. Besides, she’d promised herself that she would never touch it for any reason, even if it meant eating tuna every day until she got her next paycheck.

  But it was a really beautiful piece. She sighed, wishing for once in her life that the fairy tale was real.

  Rogar raised his paddle. “One million dollars.”

  Chapter 24

  There was a collective gasp from the crowd. Callie’s head whipped around, her mouth dropped open.

  “Good show.” Freddie began to clap.

  “Did I understand you correctly, Prince Valkyir?” Ms. Crane squeaked. She quickly cleared her throat without moving the microphone away. It sounded like a roll of thunder barreled across the room. “You bid one million dollars?”

  “One million, yes. Is that acceptable? Callie seemed particularly fond of the little statue.”

  “Oh, that’s…yes…wonderful. Well done!” She laid down her microphone, and clapped her hands. Everyone in the room joined in.

  “This isn’t keeping a low profile,” Callie frantically whispered as she leaned over, keeping a smiled pasted on her face.

  Ms. Crane marched over, and personally handed the jaguar to Callie.

  “I will have someone deliver the money tomorrow, if that is acceptable?” Rogar told her.

  Ms. Crane still seemed to be in a daze. “Yes, that will be fine.”

  “I think I’ll just go and freshen up a bit,” Callie said as the people in the room settled back into their seats. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts. Sheesh, Rogar was going to give Ms. Crane a million in counterfeit money. If she ever discovered the ruse, Callie was sure to go to jail. This was definitely not good.

  She went inside one of the stalls and closed the door, plopping down on the toilet seat. They shouldn’t have come. So what if they would’ve been snubbing the cream of society. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t snubbed her a zillion times or more.

  She dropped her head down to her hands. She knew exactly why she’d wanted to come tonight—to get a little back. She wanted to be the one who came out on top for a change.

  It had felt good, too. It probably shouldn’t have, but it did. Did that make her a bad person? Probably.

  But she hadn’t known Rogar was going to bid a million dollars on the jaguar. She sighed deeply. It was a beautiful piece. A smile curved her lips. And he’d gotten it for her. He must’ve sensed how much she wanted it.

  There was the little matter of buying it with fake money, but it really was the thought that counted.

  She was as bad as him.

  Maybe she could give it back and say they had changed their minds. That might work. She would probably have to grovel. Bleh, that left a sour taste in her mouth.

  She stilled when some women came into the bathroom talking about the auction.

  “Can you believe how much was bid on the little tiger figurine?”

  It was a jaguar you idiot, Callie thought to herself.

  “Don’t you think he’s just the hottest guy in the room?” One of the women asked. Callie didn’t recognize her voice, but her words made her preen just a bit. Rogar was hot. And even better, he was all hers—for a little while.

  “Soooo hot! He must love Callie a lot to spend that much on her.”

  Pfftt. Of course he didn’t love her. Liked maybe, but certainly not love. Still, warm tingles swirled inside her stomach.

  “I doubt it’s love. More like infatuation.”

  Callie grimaced. She recognized that voice—Constance.

  “I mean, really, he’s scraping the bottom of the barrel to claim her as his fiancée,” Constance continued. “He’s a prince from a foreign country. What the hell does she know about polite society?”

  “True,” one of the women chimed in. “Remember when she showed up the first time with DeeDee? I really doubt she’d ever had a manicure in her life.”

  “And her bathing suit had to have come from Wal-Mart,” another giggled.

  Callie knew they were right. Her suit had come from a discount store, and she had never had a manicure. She always did them herself because it was all she could afford.

  “He’ll dump her,” Constance continued. “Just wait and see. She’s a little slut pretending to be something she’s not.”

  They left the bathroom.

  Callie sat there. They were right. Except about the slut part. And even if she went back to New Symtaria with Rogar, they wouldn’t be a couple or anything. He was a prince, and she wasn’t anything, except a pauper.

  Just plain Callie Jordon. Even her name had been given to her by the woman who ran the orphanage. Maybe she had known red tape would keep Callie from being adopted, so it was better to go ahead and give her at least that.

  But damn it, Constance had no right to put her down. She was a mean bitch who thought every one was beneath her. Poor Freddie had been taking her crap for years. Someone should put a stop to her behavior. Make her see what it’s like to feel embarrassed and out of place.

  She gritted her teeth and curled her hands into fists, imagining what it would feel like to punch her lights out. If she could she’d…

  Callie gasped, doubling over and grabbing her middle. Oh, God, what was happening? She was dying. The food had been tainted. Maybe Constance had added poison to Callie’s. She wouldn’t put it past her.

  Through a haze of pain, she felt something familiar. Oh, no, this wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. Not here, not now. She hadn’t been thinking about an animal. Why was she shifting? Fog filled the stall. She drew in her arms and legs close to her body as the room began to go dark.

  Slowly the deep ache inside her began to subside, and everything returned to normal. Well, except everything was dark. She blinked, then looked down at her feet. Only, she didn’t have any. Had something gone wrong? Maybe she’d lost her legs during the transition, and she’d have to drag herself out to Rogar…eww…with stumps where her legs used to be.

  No, wait, there they were, except she was apparently standing on the toilet. Her legs were actually long…and skinny. She raised her arm.

  Wings?

  She was a bird. Bird wasn’t bad. It sure beat rhino, although the thought of squashing Constance had merit.

  She experimented and flapped her wings, almost losing her balance. That was a close call. Okay, she needed to see what had happened. She wobbled, but made it to the top of the stall door, and bumped her head on the ceiling. What the hell? She perched there for a few moments while she regained her balance.

  Better.

  Now to get to the counter. She took a deep breath, then took off. It turned out to be more of a long jump, rather than bird in flight.

  She stared at the mirror.

  Oh, this was just freakin’ great. She couldn’t have shifted into a pretty little dove, or a cute parakeet? No, she was a pink flamingo with long spindly legs. She turned to the right and got a full side view. Her plumage was a soft pink and, in some places, deep red. She looked like a Vegas showgirl. Minus the sexy part.

  Callie pranced down th
e counter, then turned, tail feathers ruffling. Not bad, for a novice.

  The bathroom door opened and a very matronly woman ploughed inside. She took one look at Callie, and screamed as she fled. The door swung violently back and forth. Callie caught glimpses of the people at the tables watching the woman, their expressions a mixture of shock and surprise.

  Not good! Everyone would be in the bathroom in just a few seconds. How the hell would she explain she’d shifted into a bird? No, not good! As the door swung out, she went the same direction.

  Maybe this wasn’t good, either. Everyone stared at her. She was so not the life of the party. She looked at Rogar, who hurried to the French doors and opened them wide. Bless him.

  She flapped her wings and took flight. Probably not as graceful as a real flamingo, but not too bad if she said so herself.

  This was cool. The screams from the women, and some of the men, were rather annoying, but flying was cool. She flew over Constance and her bitches, then turned back. When she flew over the next time, Constance looked up.

  Bombs away!

  Constance screamed.

  Making a poo deposit probably wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but that’s what birds did. She looked back once. Bull’s eye! Revenge was damned sweet.

  The French doors were right in front of her. She swooped down and out. Flying was great! The wind rushed past her as she glided through the air. Maybe this was her guide. It felt good, right.

  Hey, guide, are you there?

  Silence.

  Maybe not, but she could get used to this. She flapped her wings, closed her eyes, and became one with the night.

  Splat!

  Her eyes flew open.

  Splat again!

  Ugh, a swarm of bugs zipped past, but she could barely see them. She had bug guts splattered on her face. Oh, yuck!

  She aimed in the general direction of the cabin. So much for flying. At least her beak hadn’t been open. She landed on the front porch, then began to meditate about her human side. It didn’t take nearly as long to change back, or to realize how chilly it was outside. The fog that always accompanied the change hadn’t made things any warmer. Shivering, she hurried to the backdoor, found the key under the flowerpot, and flung it open.