Coronation
Chapter Two
By Zaen
The Oval Office was in desperate need of attention.
“Ok, like, this big oak desk is so passé,” the Royal Interior Designer was saying to me as he plopped down books of fabric swatches on the former president’s desk. He stood up, closed his eyes, and held his hands out in front of him. “I’m seeing white on white. Minimalist. Post-modern. Perhaps exposed brick?”
“That’ll be
all for today, André,” I said as I massaged my throbbing head. “We can decide on the new décor after we
replace the carpet,” I sighed. As he
walked out, we both rolled our eyes as he stepped over the carpet stains and
cigar burns left behind by the previous administration. I sat down in the presidential chair and
looked out the window, onto the front lawn of
“Your Majesty?”
“Not now, André,” I hissed. “I have a massive headache.”
“Who’s André?” I turned around, and there they were—those amazing blue eyes again. I tried not to smile too much.
“It’s ok,” I said to the secret service people guarding the open office doors. When they saw that I was ok, and that I actually wanted to see this visitor, they lowered their weapons, which were all aimed dead center on his crotch.
“Sorry ‘bout that, Joshua,” I said, trying not to laugh out loud, as the color returned to his face and he started to breathe again. I pushed the guards out and closed the door. “I’ve trained them too well.”
“Well…at
least I can feel better knowing that your safety is in such capable hands,” he
said shyly. He feels better…he’s worried about me?
Cool.
“Is my safety a concern of yours?” I asked as I motioned for him to join me on the intern’s couch, as I’d dubbed it. He smiled and thought for a second, like he was choosing his words carefully.
“I care
about…what happens to…a lot of people.” Dammit!
“Well then,” I started, but forgot what I was going to say. He just kept smiling at me. “So…did you enjoy yourself this evening?” I was grasping at straws. He was making me nervous.
“You asked me that already,” he said with a smirk.
“So I did.” I stood up and walked over to the window, mostly so he wouldn’t see me curse myself for not sounding cooler. “So…did you want to see the Oval Office or something?”
“No, I’m not really interested—in your office,” he said, looking around the room. I looked at him quizzically.
“Not even for the furniture made famous in the Starr Report?”
“No, thanks,” he laughed.
“You’re sitting on it.” He made a face and quickly jumped off the sofa. “Arafat did the exact same thing,” I laughed.
“I remember reading that in your book,” he said. He was walking towards me, and for some reason, I was backing away from him. Why?
“You read my book, too?” I said nervously. “Like Justin?” He laughed.
“Um, your Highness, he borrowed it from me.”
“Oh. I thought perhaps I’d found my number one fan in him.” He came up really close to me again.
“Not him, Your Majesty.”
“Oh.” I could feel myself blushing.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked
softly. I nodded,
afraid I’d moan or beg if I opened my mouth.
“Is that why you added Justin to your…list?”
“And here I was thinking I was being
discreet!” I tried to laugh.
“I think Joey was really
disappointed that he didn’t make it.”
“Well, there’s only twenty-four
hours in a—”
“I think I was disappointed too,” he
said earnestly.
“For Joey?”
“For me.” And then he reached out and touched
me. I could hardly believe it, because if my staff of advisors, ministers, and yespeople had been there, they would have surely had him
detained and held for questioning. It
was just a light touch on my face, but it’d been so long since anyone had been allowed
to touch me like that—other than the Royal Masseurs—that I’d forgotten what it
was like. How could he not have known
that he was treading on dangerous ground?
Maybe he didn’t care. Oh, God, please let him not care.
“You shouldn’t do this,” I whispered. I just knew that any second the secret service would burst through the wall and electrocute him with their cattleprods.
“I was so jealous when you kissed Justin,” he said, smiling deviously, as he moved even closer to me, with both hands on my face.
“Is that why you came here?” I whimpered, despite myself. “So you could one-up your friend?”
“Not my style. I don’t kiss and tell—just so you know.” There was a really long pause where we just stared at each other, and I noticed suddenly that I was caressing his arms. When did that happen?
“How’s your headache?” he finally said.
“What headache?” I couldn’t stop myself. Mental note: hire a Minister of Smartass and Pretense. You need help.
“Were we really the only ones you wanted to see?” he asked as he traced my lips with two fingers. Shit.
“Yes…I really enjoy looking at you—I mean, listening to you—I mean, uh, all of you—you know, all five of you,” I stammered. Jeez. He smiled and came closer, forcing me against the wall, looking me right in the eyes, his open mouth hovering right above mine. I held my breath.
“My lady, would you like to find out just how cocky I can be?” Knot in stomach. Knot in throat. Knot in…nevermind. I knew this was bad. The words “international security risk” popped into my head. Also the fact that he was 6 years younger than me. That didn’t seem to keep me from licking my lips in anticipation. When he did it too, I swear my loins stirred.
“J—”
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Here I come.” My eyes started to close involuntarily, but then they opened again real fast. JC stood there, frozen, millimeters from our whatever it was going to be, with 10 of the deadliest, most state of the art weapons known to man pointed at his head. My extremely quiet secret service had him surrounded, and one of them even had some scary looking personal rocket launcher type thing lodged under his chin. He looked a little scared, but more than that, disappointed.
If it had been me, I would have left a cloud of dust in my wake. I would have high-tailed it out of there and never looked back. But JC was very cooperative and understanding, even as the head of security patted him down for the fifth time. I apologized profusely and berated my staff, but the damage was done. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he never wanted to see me again. He waved wearily to me as he and the others were “escorted” out, and I in my agonizing frustration had the hottest of the Royal Masseurs woken out of his bed for a late night, extended session.
When I burst into the Minister of Security’s office the next morning to further reprimand him for messing with my love life, he handed me a cassette tape and informed me that he’d placed *Nsync under surveillance. I was angry and shocked; I was that close to firing the guy. But he was the best in the field, and he scared the hell out of every ambassador and psycho assassin wannabe around. So he stayed. But I shook my finger at him.
“Oh, and you can cancel the wiretaps,” I told him as I shoved the cassette in my pocket. “They pose no security risk. Believe me.”
“It’s standard procedure to investigate any new…acquaintances,” he said dryly.
“Don’t worry. I don’t think they’ll be coming back.”
“Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”
“You better remember that!” I snapped. I patted him on his head and returned to the Oval Office. I sat at the desk for a while, staring at the wall, wondering what would have happened if I didn’t have such trigger-happy extremists working for me, and then I took out my Walkman. The tape was labeled “in limo after reception.” I quickly identified the voices.
Joey: Thank GOD that’s over. I’m tired, and—
Chris: Hungry?
Joey: Shut up!
Justin: Was my Queenie hotter in person than on TV or what? Didn’t I tell you guys?
Lance: Yeah, yeah.
Joey: Yo, man, she squeezed my ass! I bet she’d love to party.
Chris: Um, she’s like the ruler of the entire planet! Don’t you think she has better
things to do than to screw around with you, fool?
Joey: Well…no!
Lance: She liked me, too!
Justin: Did she put you on the list? No! But she put ME on the list, baby! I’m so in!
Joey: Oh, please. That could be a list of people she wants…eliminated.
JC: That’s funny.
Chris: Hey, what did she say to you anyway?
JC: Nothing.
Lance: Don’t lie, we saw you fawning all over her.
Joey: Not as much as Justin. Pucker up, Curly.
Justin: Shut up, man. I can’t help it if I’m interested in politics.
JC: Hello? You didn’t even know who she was until I…
Chris: Go ahead. Say it. You’ve been babbling about her non-stop for months.
Guys,
did you read about her plan to end world hunger?
Wow,
guys, the Queen balanced the international budget in only
three hours! Hey,
guys, the Queen likes to wear ostrich feathers, too!
You’ve been sounding like some lovesick teenaged Backstreet Boys
fanatic! (Laughter)
Lance: Yeah, I thought you were gonna pass out when they asked us to come tonight.
Joey: No, he DID pass out. (Laughter)
JC: I did not. I was sleeping.
Justin: Hey, man, it’s ok if you have a crush on the Queen. Maybe she’ll let you be
ambassador to some stupid, harmless country somewhere.
Joey: Like
JC: I’d kick your ass if I weren’t so tired.
Joey: Sure you would. Hey, dude, pull up at that Micky D’s!
Lance: I want a happy meal.
Justin: Oh! Furbies! I want one too! Do you think they’ll break a $500 bill?
Chris: Hey, JC, don’t look like that. We’re just fucking with you.
JC: I’m just tired.
Chris: Don’t sweat it, man. She’s way out of your league anyway.
JC: Yeah, I guess you’re right.
Joey: Hey, those are MY fries, bee-yatch!
Click.
Damn. I stared out into space for a long time after that. Then I reached in my desk for the list. I looked at the names of the beautiful, powerful, unmarried—most of them—dazzling men from all over the world. I could have had any of them, or at least forced them to have an audience with me. I could have definitely had most of them, I was sure of that. But there was only one name I wanted to read, and it wasn’t even there.
Later that day I put the list through the paper shredder. And had a good cry.
Copyright ã March 2001 by KTA