Pretending to Be Us Page 10

  “So, tell me, Your Highness, how are you liking the states?” Wallace asked me as we settled in on the plane. Less than an hour had elapsed, and I already felt out of my depth. I surveyed my plush surroundings and wondered what the hell I was doing here.

  “Oh, um, I actually grew up here,” I told the tech billionaire uneasily. He’d chosen the seat next to me. “And please call me Lucy. Just Lucy. No princess nonsense, please.”

  “Princess nonsense?” he asked, sitting back as if scandalized.

  Bill, Daniel’s poodle, looked up at me in surprise at the sudden movement. He was with us because, well, there was no one else to watch him with Daniel and me suddenly going to Europe. I prayed he’d be a good boy and not embarrass me too much. He’d never been on a plane, so it would be an adventure. I patted his curly mop of white hair and tried to compose a good response to Wallace.

  “I’m just an actress named Lucy.” I shrugged, attempting to look casual and sophisticated. “I don’t want any pomp and circumstance. It’s really unnecessary and I hate it.”

  “Are you sure?” He looked vaguely... disappointed? Peter looked like he was on the verge of laughter.

  “Yes. Absolutely,” I replied uncertainly. “I just want to be normal.”

  Peter hid a smirk when his dad turned to look at him in obvious surprise. I frowned, confused. What did he expect? This guy was richer than God and expected me to demand to be called by a royal title? Even if I had been Swedish royalty, they were a pretty laid-back bunch, at least according to my research. It was not even required to call the King anything fancy except at court. It’s not like they had any real power.

  Daniel was on my left with Peter next to Wallace on the other side. Nearby, Darcy and Santiago were whispering together. Vanessa had to bow out because she already had something planned with her husband, who I recently learned was an actual rock star, Ian Conroe. He was the former drummer from the now-retired mega rock band Axial Tilt. He’d shown up in a surprisingly un-rock star SUV to pick her up from the private airfield with their kids. I was having to suspend a lot of disbelief this afternoon.

  The plane hummed to life and shot down the runway more powerfully than any commercial airline I’d ever been on. Which numbered exactly two. One to go visit my great-grandmother in Sweden before she died, and one to come home. Were we supposed to be going so fast? Weren‘t there usually more safety checks? We weren’t even wearing seatbelts.

  “You don’t like flying?” Peter asked, correctly interpreting my look of concern.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s not my favorite,” I answered honestly.

  He just nodded like my reaction made sense. He looked totally at home on the private plane, which I guess made sense. He’d probably never flown commercial in his entire life. He’d been born rich and only gotten richer. That must be nice. “I don’t like it either,” he replied. “It’s boring.”

  I fought the urge to grip my armrests with a death-grip. Boredom was not the feeling I was experiencing, but I faked it. I nodded, and then jumped when my phone rang.

  I answered it hurriedly. It was my mom, so I answered in Swedish.

  “Hi Mom, I’m sorry but I can’t talk right now. I’m going to be out of town for a couple of days on work.”

  “Oh,” she answered, sounding crestfallen. “When will you be home?”

  “Tuesday, I think.” Wallace had said this would be a quick trip.

  Peter and his father were staring at me interestedly. It occurred to me that they’d never heard me speak Swedish before. I could feel myself blushing at the attention, but my mom was continuing to talk, and the dread quickly overtook the embarrassment.

  “Someone from the sheriff’s office came by today,” she was saying. “They said we have until next week to pay our mortgage or we’ll be evicted.”

  I swallowed. My next paycheck would hit the day after tomorrow. We’d been keeping things together, but it felt like every time I put out one financial fire, another one popped up. It was like debt whack-a-mole.

  “I’ll have the money for you then.”

  I was sure that Darcy didn’t speak Swedish, but I could swear she was smirking at me. She probably knew this production delay would hurt me. Hell, it’s probably why she arranged it in the first place. That or she wanted to publicly expose me in front of Wallace. Either way, I had to just go with it.

  “I’m sorry...” my mom said, trailing off. I knew it hurt her pride to depend on me, but it hurt me twice as much not to be dependable.

  “Don’t say that,” I told her. “Families are supposed to stick together. Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll fix this.”

  We hung up and Peter looked over his magazine at me. I couldn’t read his expression, but he was probably reading mine. I was worried.

  “Everything okay?” Daniel whispered.

  “Yeah. Fine.” I stared out the window, just wanting to pretend I was a princess for a while. Worrying about my family being on the street while I was on a private jet with a billionaire was beyond bizarre. It would be nice to have either one life or the other. Trying to live both was impossible.

  “You sound just like Swedish Chef,” Peter told me eventually and I bit back a laugh. “It’s totally unintelligible. Do you know what Swedish Chef is? From The Muppet Show? Do they have him in Sweden?”

  Because I’d been seven years old the last time I went to Sweden, I actually knew this one. I nodded, remembering.

  “They do have Swedish Chef in Sweden. He speaks Norwegian gibberish though.”

  Peter and Daniel laughed, and I smiled shyly. Bill perked up, reading our moods and wagging his tail. He was all done up for the occasion, wearing a little vest and a bowtie. He clearly thought he looked good.

  “I can’t believe you have a huge, white poodle that wears people clothes,” Peter said eventually. “It’s like something out of a movie.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You don’t like dogs?”

  Peter looked at Bill dubiously. At my side, I could feel Daniel hiding defensiveness. Daniel loved his dog dearly. “It just seems like a very princess-type dog.”

  “You won’t be saying that when he humps your leg,” I replied.

  Peter laughed and Wallace looked scandalized again. “Does he do that?” Peter asked.

  “Only if he likes you,” I told him with a wink. His answering smile was real.

  “Poodles are fun dogs,” Daniel interjected, “They’re not nearly as prissy as people think they are.”

  “I like poodles,” Wallace added. Peter raised his eyebrows at him. “I do!” he insisted. “They’re supposed to be smart dogs.”

  Daniel and I exchanged a small smile. Bill wasn’t the brightest, but I think that was more of a Bill thing than a poodle thing. He was just special. Short bus special.

  “So, where are we going anyway?” I asked no one in particular to change the subject. The fact that the actual destination hadn’t been communicated yet didn’t seem to bother anybody else, but I wanted to know. I was raised not to get on planes with strangers, after all.

  “Avignon,” Wallace answered. “Have you ever been?”

  I shook my head. “Never.”

  “Don’t you speak French?” he followed up. He was clearly expecting the answer to be yes, but he was in for disappointment. Ma Français is très mauvais.

  “I can ask for a baguette or a bathroom, or simple directions, but I'm far from being fluent,” I replied, dimly remembering my three years of high school French. I made a C minus. “Beyond the basics and I'm totally lost. It’s not similar to English or Swedish at all.”

  “Well, you’re going to love Avignon,” Wallace said, smiling broadly. “And Peter speaks French. He’ll be your interpreter while we’re there. Won’t you, Peter?”

  Peter looked surprised to be volunteered, but he nodded pleasantly. “Sure.”

  I got the distinct impression that Wallace was trying to set me up with his son. Surreal didn’t begin to describe this trip so far.
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br />   “Do I get an interpreter too?” Darcy asked, looking jealous and grumpy when I glanced over.

  Yeah. She wanted him. Badly too by the looks of it. Wallace, of course, was oblivious.

  “Of course, Darcy,” the older tech guru replied. “I’ll be happy to see you around personally.”

  I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at her, but just barely. I was a princess, after all.

  “So,” Wallace said, turning back to me. His eyes shone with enthusiasm. “Tell me about the King and Queen, your great-grandparents. What are they like?”

  19

  Peter

  As soon as we touched down, my dad whisked Darcy away to a “production meeting” and arranged some cockamamie errand for Santiago and Daniel to go on. Too conveniently, I was left to take Lucy to breakfast, since it was now early morning. He wasn’t exactly the most subtle guy when it came to his setups. He was effective though. We were alone together but still under his control. That, at least as far as I could tell, was the entire point of this entire trip.

  Usually I’d be irritated, but today... I looked over at Lucy. It wasn’t so bad. Not at all.

  “Are you cold?” I asked as we walked around the city center. She shrugged, but I could tell that she was. I shrugged out of my jacket and she took it with a shy smile. I settled it around her shoulders and the look in her eyes made my heart pound. Then she looked away and frowned. I knew she was thinking about our encounter in my trailer. I was too.

  “Thanks,” she said, looking back at me briefly and then anywhere else.

  “I’m sorry about my dad,” I’d been unsure where to take Lucy for breakfast, but then it occurred to me. I knew just the place.

  “Why are you sorry about him?” Lucy asked. “He seems lovely. And this trip is very generous.”

  “He likes you.”

  She shrugged. “It seems like he likes the idea of me more than he likes me.”

  I paused. “Why would you say that?”

  “He only likes me because of the princess thing, doesn’t he?”

  She’d been very diplomatic on the flight, but it was obvious that my dad wanted to talk about the Swedish royal family a lot more than Lucy wanted to talk about it. She dodged every question as much as possible and dispensed only a minimum amount of information when pressed. Her assistant Daniel tried valiantly to help, and I’d attempted to do so as well, but it was futile. Nothing gets between my dad and his goal. She only got away from his pestering questions by pretending to sleep.

  “I don’t think that’s it, exactly,” I told her as we walked. “He’s just curious.”

  “I never would have been cast if I weren’t a princess,” she said, staring around herself as if fascinated by every detail. She reached out and touched a stone wall covered in ivy like it was out of a fairy tale. “I see that now. It wasn’t because I’m talented, it’s just because of something I was born into. And that sucks.”

  “I know how you feel,” I told her.

  She looked over at me in disbelief. “I doubt that very much.”

  I laughed. “Did you forget my last name was Prince? I may not have the title, but I know a thing or two about family expectations.” My smile fell off my face. “You don’t think I got my first film roles because of my talent, do you? It was all my family connections.”

  Her lips parted and then snapped shut. “I did forget, actually. I was thinking about you as a regular person for a second.”

  I bit back a sarcastic laugh. For some reason, it was always easier when we could banter. “I like that you treat me like a regular person, Lucy. Most people, frankly, lose their shit when they meet a member of the Prince family. I guess the only person who isn’t impressed would be a princess.”

  Her eyes flashed back up to mine. “I never said I wasn’t impressed.” A little ghost of a smile played around her full lips. “But are you a regular person, Peter? Or did they make you in a lab somewhere after a focus group on maximum audience appeal?”

  “Are you saying you find me appealing?” I teased.

  “Every woman and man between eight and dead find you appealing, Peter.” She shook her head at me like she was scolding me.

  “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

  “Good. It was one.” Her blue eyes were mischievous. “But it doesn’t mean you’re regular. Far from it.”

  “And you are?” I questioned.

  She shook her head and her blonde hair caught the light. People stared at her everywhere we went. Regular was miles from wherever Lucy was. She was clearly extraordinary, and she knew it. “No,” she admitted. “Probably not. But you can’t blame a girl for trying. It sucks to get something only because of who you are and not what you can do. There are a lot of people out there with talent.”

  “You can have both, you know.”

  “Talent and family connections? Of course. It just feels like I’m cutting in line no matter what I do. I think there’s something to be said for earning success.”

  “Nobody earns their success alone. There’s always luck involved,” I argued. It had taken me a long time to come to terms with my own inborn privilege. It was surprising to learn that Lucy was still learning to deal with hers.

  “Yeah, but some people have a lot more luck than others.” Her expression was oddly wistful.

  “That’s not your fault. Or your problem.”

  “I guess you’re right,” she said after a moment. “Well, then at least we can be bizarre and lucky together.”

  “I like the sound of that.” I said, drawing us to a stop. “We’re here.”

  Lucy looked around. We were standing in front of a tiny hole in the wall restaurant called the ‘Texas Café and Inn.' The sign had a huge, blue longhorn drawn on it, wreathed by a bunch of Texas flags and bluebonnets. They advertised Lone Star beer and ‘authentic Texas delicacies’ such as enchiladas and bar-b-que. Lucy burst out laughing and the sound of it made my heart pound.

  “For real?” she asked me when she calmed down. “You take me across the world to take me here?”

  I grinned at her. It was the only ‘American’ food for thousands of miles in any direction that wasn’t a McDonalds. I thought she’d get a kick out of it.

  “What? Too much of a prim princess to slum it at the American food café?”

  She pouted. “That’s unfair. I’m not prim.”

  “It’s actually not bad.” I grinned at her. “They serve margaritas with breakfast and they have some of the best breakfast tacos you’ve ever had. Their tequila selection is insane. My dad is going to feed us fancy French food for dinner, I guarantee it. So, I thought I'd bring you somewhere more... eccentric.”

  She giggled. “Alright. You had me at the tequila selection. Let’s try it.”

  20

  Peter

  “How does a Swedish princess learn to shoot tequila like that?” I asked, watching Lucy throw back her shot and suck on a lime wedge like a pro.

  She shrugged. “A princess never tells her secrets.”

  I finished off my own shot, wondering if she could drink me under the table. I bet she could. This princess knew her tequila.

  We’d been here for hours and were getting progressively more drunk. My dad had texted me saying the ‘production meeting’ had run over and we shouldn’t come back until sunset. He knew what he was doing. I knew what he was doing. And it no longer mattered. I was, for the moment, perfectly happy to be set up on a day-long date with Lucy.

  “Should we leave this table?” Lucy asked, looking around to see that the lunch crowd was beginning to filter in. “It looks like they’re getting busy and I don’t want to be in the way.”

  “Sure,” I said, throwing a few Euro on the table and rising. “What do you want to do?”

  She raised and then dropped her shoulders in a big, semi-drunk shrug. She was still wearing my jacket and it hung around her slender shoulders like a cape. “What are my options?”

  Lucy looked far more relaxed than I’
d seen her so far, probably courtesy of the tequila. It was nice to see her this way.

  I regarded her seriously, and then looked outside. It had gotten cloudy while we’d been eating. It looked like rain.

  “We could go shopping, go look at the castle, go for a walk on the river,” I suggested. Then the tequila kicked in and I found some guts. “Or we could get a room and go upstairs.”

  Her pink lips parted. “Okay.” Her voice was a tiny whisper. The timid version of Lucy was back. Gone was the brassy, plucky girl who shot tequila and insisted I was made in a focus group. This Lucy was shy and elusive. I still wasn’t sure which one was real.

  I also wasn’t entirely sure if I’d heard her. “Which one?” I asked.

  “Option four,” she mumbled.

  “What was that?” I teased.

  Her face turned red and then that stubborn streak I loved drawing out of her reappeared. “You heard me.”

  I grinned and faked a bow, which made her scowl and then laugh again. I’d been saving up my Princess Bride quote for the perfect opportunity. Now, finally, it had arrived.

  “As you wish, Princess.”

  The rain started right about the time we got upstairs. The old building shook with the pounding, and thunder rattled the windows. But we were safe and warm inside.

  Lucy and I stared at each other. This felt strange. Good strange, though. I couldn’t believe my luck. Was any of this real? I almost didn’t care as long as it kept going for a while longer.

  “Now what?” Lucy asked me. She bit her lip and stared at the ground.

  “Huh?”

  “You’re going to have to tell me what to do. Like, step by step.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. She stared back at me steadily. Then she looked at the ground.

  She wanted... direction? Did she want me to order her around in bed? I smiled at her although she couldn’t see it if she kept staring at my feet. I could do give her direction. Better than she could possibly know. All she could stand, and more.