8th ♕

Bridgette.

Art had told me about her after the parade, but he didn't say that she would get on my nerves. He did warn me that she would likely lecture me every minute, but there was a difference between taking in Lenora's insights and digging right into the core of every single one of my nerves. When I thought Lenora was strict, she came walking in the door. Art had introduced her to me, and he said that she was like his big sister.

And he said we would get along, now look at us.

"No, I won't go in there. Don't expect me," I said it in a flat and unhappy voice.

"You have to, Georgiette. There's no other way around. You have to do the interview. What is so hard about that?" Bridgette asked me.

"Can't they just take pictures?" Or I would willingly go if they would change the topic.

"It's a talk show. What kind of talk show takes pictures only? Hmm?" Bridgette stressed out, folding her arms. Ever since we'd met three days ago, the only pair of clothes I saw her wore were black slacks and same color of blazers over a white polo shirt. Her straight blonde hair was pulled and tied at the back of her head. Aside from tinted lip gloss and a minimal amount of face powder, she also didn't put on any other makeup.

"Can we skip the talk show and do something else?" I asked, almost pleading. "Anything else will do."

"No, we can't. If there's another way out of this unwillingness of yours, do you think I won't work my ass off?" Bridgette asked, coldly.

She would, actually.

Bridgette was my personal secretary, and that was simply putting it. She basically controlled my life. In her planner was my schedule, from waking up to getting back to bed. I could just show up and she'd take care of my day.

Down to the very last details.

"Okay," I half-heartedly agreed, thinking of an easy way to get this done without endangering myself.

"Georgiette, I know it's personal, but why are you refusing the interview in the first place?" Bridgette sat in the empty chair beside me. "Is there a problem? We can talk about it. I can stop being your secretary for a moment if you need someone to talk to."

You could hear the crowd responding to the hosts all the way from the waiting room. The red light was beaming On Air.

I held my breath, closing my eyes. I was nervous. That was normal. But what I was anxious of was the list of questions. I wasn't sure I could still lie about it, afraid to be seen through.

"Just because," I answered.

"You were on the go with everything, and suddenly this? You know, I'm here to keep you in your place. I'm here for you. You do know that, right?" Bridgette emphasized, making sure that I got what she meant.

"Yeah. Art told me to trust you if I would ever be in the middle of doubting the whole world." I pulled the hem of the dress Lenora instructed me to wear. It fell a little above the knees. I wanted to stretch it a bit more.

"Art is like my brother, George. And since he asked me to watch over you, that's what I'm doing. So do me a favor and make this easier for both of us," she said.

"Okay, I'll do my best." This was the first time I would be interviewed as the princess-in-training.

"Do well. You don't have a failing option, okay?" Bridgette held me on both shoulders. If I was already five feet and seven inches, she landed another two inches.

"I know that. But thanks," I said, feeling more anxious.

"Ms. McAlden?" I heard someone call me.

"Go." Bridgette pushed me towards that door with the red light. "You'll be great."

So dead.

"Coming," I said, looking at the crew who was calling for me. "Why are they screaming?"

"Everybody's excited for you, Princess," he answered, opening the door for me, which I instantly held and sort of opened for him. He wanted to take the door from me, but I held it for him. There was nothing wrong with girls taking the door for guys as well.

"Good luck," he said.

"Thanks, man."

I was left alone for a while, until someone approached me and led me to the stage. I couldn't hear anything at first, as the sound that welcomed me was, once again, as ecstatic as it could possibly be.

Adjusting my eyes to the lightning, I looked at the center of the stage, where a man, who was wearing a blue short-sleeves polo shirt and jeans, was waiting for me. Beside her was a beautiful woman, who was wearing a corporate attire.

"Hello there, Princess," the man greeted me. So it was either I'd get used to this princess thing or puke whenever they said the word.

I should get used to it, though.

Ringing inside my head was the word paycheck. Sure, we hadn't gone through the details yet, but I was counting the days. I couldn't shake it off. Sorry about that. It was one of the shortcomings of being human and in need.

"You're so lovely," the female host said in compliment.

"Thanks," I replied, unsure.

"Come over here and take a seat. We have a lot to talk about." He motioned for me to move closer.

"Sure." I'd really like to name who I was talking to, but I forgot. Seldom watching TV had its disadvantages. You didn't know when you would be called to a TV show program and be their guest.

As soon as I got settled in the couch, the female host asked me, "How do you feel right now?"

I didn't see this one in the questionnaire. "Good."

"Now that you're life has been drastically changed, do you feel any different?"

"Nervous, most of the time. Like right now," I admitted.

The male host laughed a bit. "Of course! You're still new to this. You'll get used to it overtime. We also used to feel that way when we started as hosts. Isn't that right, Julia?"

"You got that right, Richard."

Oh. So those were their names.

"Yeah, I really hope so," I replied. Ha... ha... when would it be that time?

"So tell us about your family." Richard composed himself and looked at me, eager for an answer.

"My mom and dad?" Which was totally obvious, but I somehow wished that he wasn't referring to that. This was why I didn't want to be on this talk show today.

"Yes, we'd like to know more about them," he continued saying, as the crowd went silent in anticipation.

Julia added, "We'd like to know what they're like. They have such a beautiful daughter, after all."

"Thank you. Yeah, they're fine," I said fairly. I wished they were—fine and taking a break from watching too much TV. Mom no. 1 was against letting her children sit in front of the TV too much. She said it would eat up our brain. When I was still with her, she mostly let me go outside to play.

Nice belief.

Like right now, it was very handy that she stood by a principle like that. Definitely useful.

Dad was a soul drifter, and TV was not something that was readily available when you were looking for a bed to lie down in the middle of nowhere. And without more than a bill or two in your pocket.

"What do your parents do for a living?" Julia continued asking, keeping a steady smile on her lips.

"My mom works in a laundry shop," I answered.

"And your dad?"

"He's on a... trip?" I replied, unsure myself. Beats me where my dad's soul was currently wandering.

"Oh, is he a business man?" Richard speculated. Hardly. It would be better if he was.

"No, um, he's just on a trip." I could feel my hands sweating. Adding quietly, I muttered, "He's actually a musician."

"A musician?"

Shame. He heard.

"Yeah... I mean, yes, he is," I told him.

"Is he famous?" Julia asked the follow-up question. "Do we know him?"

Famous?

"Not much. He just composes songs and sings here and there," I said.

"I see. So do you also sing?" Richard looked like if I'd say yes, he'd ask some music and hand me over the microphone.

"No, no," I quickly answered. "I... I think I just got most of my genes from Mom's side. It's kind of like a mash-up malfunction."

They laughed.

Richard said, "But certainly not the face."

"That is right," Julia agreed.

A picture of Mom no. 2 flashed on the screen behind us. I couldn't say a word, and I just lowered down my head, hoping they wouldn't see that Mom no. 2 and I were so different in many aspects.

"Thank you? Well, I do hope that was a compliment. Lenora's really working hard on making me look normal. So it's either normal or I already ruined the reputation of my good friend's mom," I replied, looking at Lenora, whom I'd spotted in the audience a minute ago.

"Of course. What do you expect from the Queen's stylist?" Richard gleefully agreed. "So back to your family, Princess. You do live with your mom, am I right?"

"Yes."

"And your dad," he said, pausing. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Um, three or four months ago?" I said, uncertainty hanging in my words.

"Do you miss him?"

Logically speaking, I should say yes. "Yeah?"

"If he's watching right now, what do you want to say to him?" he asked, in such a wondering voice.

Now that sounded a lot like we'd been apart since birth. "Hi?"

"Won't you tell him how much you've missed him?" he continued, more like pressing me.

"Dad, I sure miss you a lot," I said, trying to smile and sound sincere. "Come back home soon, okay?"

The audience all said, "Aww."

"Well, we have a very special visitor for you," the talk show host quickly shifted the mood.

Dad?

No!

I held my breath, thinking. I didn't like the sound of surprise nowadays. The last time didn't end quite well.

Looking at the door leading to the waiting room, I was wondering who would come out from there. The anticipation grew as Julia teased us for a commercial break. I really wanted to ask them who was behind that door, but I was afraid that they'd say it was really my dad.

Worst case scenario: Mom no. 1 was tagging along with the twins and Roger.

Bam.

TKO.

When the commercial break ended, the height of the moment reached its peak when Julia finally said, "You can come out now, Your Highness."

It was Art. Thankfully, it was Art.

"We have Prince Arthur of Triavia joining us today," Richard told the audience.

"You..." I could feel myself breathing out in relief, looking at Art.

"Hi there, George." Art casually sat on the couch. He rested his right arm behind me. He wasn't really touching me, but I could feel the space left between my back and his arm on the couch. It was burning. Like laser was cutting in between.

"So you two..." Richard looked at the seemingly lack of space between us. "...working it out quite fast?"

"No. We're very, very much in the normal range." I moved away, as far as I could. I was only able to slide a bit, actually.

They laughed.

"Yes, she's very different. This was why I instantly liked her," Art said.

Julia curiously asked him, "What was your first impression when you saw her? I'm sure hearts had been swayed when she entered the room with that elegant dress."

Ha... ha... ha... I changed my dress, actually, if they were referring to the last interview. If it was the first one, I looked like I belonged to the security personnel. Or if you would look far back, that would be the most beautiful plastic bottle on the planet flying in the air and almost hitting a rider.

"She was beautiful in her own way. She caught everyone's eyes and complete attention, all right," Art answered.

Richard said, "What's the first thought that came to your mind?"

"Ahh, what a refreshing change of scenario," Art wistfully replied.

The audience laughed.

Turning to me, Richard asked the same question, "How about you, Princess? What did you feel when you first saw Prince Arthur?"

"He was..." I tried to find the right words. "...sort of mysterious."

And pretending to be blind.

"Mysterious?" I said. After a while, I decided to add, "Or rather, I was smitten. He was very handsome that, um, day."

I didn't dare to look at Art after answering that question. I was pretty sure he got that sappy look on his face again. I mostly focused on the crowd as the interview went on; they seemed to like me for some reason.

At one point, Art had probably felt my apprehension, so he mostly took control of the conversation. As the conversation drifted away from my family, I felt the space between my back and his arm lessened. He made a lot of things easier for me. It was as if I was the only one who was complicated.

It was the truth that I didn't want to inconvenience him with the little things. But upon reminder why it was so, I straightened my back and kept the distance between us. Because more than troubling him every now and then, we should only maintain this friendly relationship between us.

That and nothing more.

♔~♕

When the show had ended filming and we were walking towards the limo, where Bridge was waiting for us, Art told me, "Your room is almost finished. Did Bridgette tell you?"

"She mentioned it earlier," I answered. "Does that mean I have to move in to the royal residence soon?"

"Sort of. My mother will be the one who'll tell you more about it," he added.

"Really? When would they be back?" I wouldn't deny that I got a bit more excited to see the Queen.

"As soon as everything is okay in—"

"Art..." I cut him off, staring down the street. I swore, the person that passed by was no other than him. The clicks from the cameras flashing around us blinded me for a second. But when I squinted my eyes, I was certain that I wasn't just imagining the familiar figure walking across the street, with a guitar on his back. "I... think I have to go. Actually, there's somewhere I need to be this afternoon."

"Where?" Art asked.

"There's something I need to do. Bridge wants me to walk or something after this. Please tell her that I'll just come early tomorrow," I told him.

"Okay. Let us take you there," Art said to me. "We do have a limo out here for use."

"No, I think it's better if I just walk. I don't want to be followed," I explained, looking at the direction where I saw the man. I should really catch up with him now, or I'd be doomed.

"Are you sure?" Art asked.

"Yeah. I need to go now. Bye," I said, trying not to look in a hurry and make the paparazzi think that I was up to something. I even waved goodbye to Art, and pretended that it was painful to see him go. For the past few days, I found out that every juicy article about me was created by those paparazzi.

But it was a tricky move to get away from my newly assigned personal bodyguard. Yes, I also had one. When Bridgette had been assigned to me, a shadow followed along. He usually didn't talk. In fact, I never heard his voice yet. His name was Jack. A big man in his forties and a former special agent, who carried a gun behind his back and consequently followed me everywhere.

I honestly never felt like my life was in danger since this whole thing had started, but Jack made it seem like it. Whenever I saw that bulge of the gun behind him, it made me choke on my breath. Like a bullet would be flying out of nowhere and hit him or me.

And if Jack did call my name while I was escaping from him, I wouldn't know. Everyone I'd met seemed to be up on shouting George all the time. The bathroom where I went to before going to the show had two doors, one actually leading to another room.

I had to smile and apologize for getting lost and disrupting the meeting in the other room, before I got to the backdoor. Perks of being a princess-in-training was that you could get away with almost anything. This was an emergency case, so it lessened the guilt.

Dialing Mom no. 2's cell phone, I ran to the direction where the man was heading to earlier.

"George?" Mom no. 2 answered.

"He's here," I said, catching my breath. "I can see him now. I'll catch up and distract him. I don't know for how long. I'll think of something. You take care over there."

"What? How? He didn't even call," Mom no. 2 said, panicky.

"I know. I'll hang up now," I said, ending the call and putting my cell phone back to my pocket. Then to a distance, I called, "Dad!"

Talk about someone you just wished wouldn't come around that soon. He turned around. Wearing the gray V-neck shirt that he liked a lot, I was able to trace some lines on his face that weren't there before. Gray hairs took half of his hair population already. It wasn't really three or four months since I last saw him.

It was actually three years.

"George? Is that you?" He glanced over, thinking twice.

"Hey," I said.

"Are you wearing a dress?" It was the exact same words I figured he would say.

Hello. Hello.

"Talk about committing an international crime. I just feel like it," I said, playing it cool. "Just a dress. Nothing more."

"Are you feeling okay? Last time I'd seen you, you swore you'd never be caught wearing one."

"Oh, you know," I said, trying to laugh it off.

A little silence ticked, and then he said, "Are you coming home from school?"

I shook my head. "Actually, it's summer vacation."

He blinked twice, remembering. "Oh, that's right. I forgot. When will classes resume again?"

"I graduated a few weeks ago. Sadly, I don't have any plans on going back to high school," I replied.

"You did? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Just because..." I muttered, looking at my phone.

Mom no. 2 sent me a text.

Everything's clear. Send him in.

I couldn't help but smile, wondering why we were even bother going through all this trouble for that troublesome paycheck. "Dad, let's go home. I'll tell you more about it. Three years is a long time to be gone, after all."