A Writer's Fairytale

Prince James: What Is It About M. Charles

I didn’t want to leave, but I didn’t have much of a choice. I had to call my grandfather. I left the flower shop and grabbed my phone from my pocket. I dialed my grandfather’s number and waited for someone to pick up the phone.

“Hello,” my grandfather said.

“I am surprised that you are answering the phone for yourself,” I said as I began to walk back to the hotel.

“I can’t answer my own phone?” he asked his voice was stern.

“I didn’t say that grandfather,” I said with a smile. He never liked the royal treatment, and he taught me not to like it as well. “I was just expecting your assistant to answer it.”

“I knew that you would be calling soon. I told her that I had the phone for a while.” His voice was stern yet relaxed. “How did the meeting go?”

I thought for a second. I didn’t know how to answer that. “It didn’t go the way I expected it to,” I finally said.

“That is what I hear. Wellesley called me shortly after the meeting.” My grandfather stated. Of course, he did. Why wouldn’t he? Sometimes I believed that Wellesley could be a real snitch, but I guess he worked more for my grandfather than he did for me, so of course sometimes he is a real snitch.

“What did he say?” I asked, opening up the hotel doors.

“He told me that Mr. Charles wouldn’t take the money.”

I walked into the lobby and saw the lioness and made sure that she saw that I was talking on the phone. “He wouldn’t,” I stated. There was no way that I could lie to my grandfather. I knew what he wanted, but with Wellesley backing up my story, he can’t blame me for not giving the man all the money.

My grandfather laughed. “What charity are you planning on giving the money to” My grandfather asked.

“I am not sure,” I stated as I walked up the stairs. “I haven’t really thought about it. I was thinking that I could give it to the Literature Foundation. Giving the money to them seems like the most logical choice.”

“I agree,” my grandfather stated. “I think that would be the perfect charity to give the money to. You have to admit that he wasn’t what you were expecting.”

“I agree,” I stated and then paused. “I’m not sure why he didn’t take the money.” There was a pause. “Grandfather? Are you still there?” I asked as I opened the door to my room.

“Yes, I am still here. I was just thinking. I don’t think that it really matters why he didn’t take the money. There could many reasons, but speculating why will never get us anywhere,” he said then paused for another moment. “What I would like to know about is where you were last night?”

I took off my shoes and sat on my bed. “What do you mean by that?”

“Wellesley said that you had come back late, without your jacket last night,” he said his voice was stern and yet I could hear a hint of concern.

“It’s not what you assume grandfather.” I stopped. I knew what he was about to say.

“I never assume anything. I just make observations,” he stated, while I mouthed along away from the possibility of his judgements.

“I know. I went out late for a walk,” I stated. I didn’t want to tell him the rest of the story, not until I knew the ending myself. I wanted to wait to see if I got the girl in the end, or if it was going to be a bust.

“Where did you leave your coat?”

“Damn it, Wellesley. When the hell are you going to learn to keep your mouth shut?” I thought holding the phone to my shoulder. I needed to figure a way out of this. I just didn’t know what that was going to be. Wellesley had put me in a tough spot and I needed to figure a quick way out of it. “I left it somewhere,” I said, finally putting the phone back to my ear.

“Do you remember where you left it?” he asked. Why was he pushing where I left my coat so hard? Did he know what happened? I highly doubted it. He couldn’t. No one knew. I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t even tell Wellesley.

“I think I placed it down somewhere on one of the streets,” I said, straining my voice. I had a hard time playing with these ideas. I did not know what to tell my grandfather. I wanted to make sure that I did not lie to him, but I also did not want to tell him the truth.

“Why did you take it off?” my grandfather asked.

Why did he care? What did it matter to him? “I saw someone that needed it more than me.”

“Charity is always a good idea.” His voice sounded suspicious, and I knew that he did not believe me, but in a way, it was the truth.

“I know grandfather, you have told me that many times before,” I said with a smile. My grandfather tells me many things over and over again, but he just wants to make sure that I become a good king when it is my turn to reign.

“I know what I tell you, and how many times I tell you it,” he stated. “I tell you everything for a reason. I hope you are aware of that.”

“Yes, grandfather.”

“Good. I will not keep you any longer,” he said. “I am sure that you want to explore the town you are in. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, grandfather,” I said and then I hung up the phone. “He is right,” I said to myself. “I should go out and see the town. I have only ever truly seen it at night, or in a blur rushing from one place to the next. It will be nice to see it in the day time at a nice leisurely pace.”

I walked out of my room making sure that I locked the door. I went back into the lobby and that is when the lioness caught me again. “Who were you talking to?”

“A friend,” I replied quietly. I did not need her to know who I was really talking to. She would have eaten that up alive. She would have had fuel to last her a life time. If I told her that I was talking to my grandfather, the king.

“I hope not a girlfriend,” she said with a laugh.

She wanted to date me, not because of the person I am, just because of the title that I come with, and how I look on the outside does not hurt either, but she cared nothing about what was inside my heart, what was inside my soul. “No,” I replied with a certain amount of disdain.

“Oh, that is too bad. A guy like you, without a girlfriend, that is a shame,” she said, draping her body over me.

I peeled her off of me. “It is not all that bad. I get to meet pretty women, and I get to do what I want when I want to do it.”

She smiled. “I am a pretty woman, and I am pretty loose. In more ways than one.” She laughed pulling at my shirt.

I was sure that she was correct on that one. I removed her hands from my shirt. “I must take my leave. I apologize,” I said, walking briskly away from her. I had no intentions of staying there with her, longer than I needed to.

I walked down the same path that I had walked to the dinner, but this time I slowed down and actually looked around. I stopped at the first shop that I saw Mary look at last night. It was a jewelry store. There were gems sparkling and glistening in the day light. The gold looked like small shining rays of the sun. She must have known what this was. She must have stopped to see if she could see the shine of the gems.

I continued to walk. “Hey you.” I heard a voice say. I continued to walk. “Hey you,” the voice said, again. I turned around. “Yes you. Are you stupid or something?”

I looked at the man for a few seconds. It was the man that was in the flower shop before, the one that hit Mary. “Can I help you?” I said to him trying to stay as civil as I possibly could. Inside there was rage that was bubbling far more than I have ever thought was possible.

“Yes, you can,” he said his voice was shrill. “You can lay off Mary. She is taken.”

“By who?” I asked, though I was sure that I knew the answer that he was going to give.

“By me,” he replied harshly.

I laughed. “She really seemed to want you there.”

“She did,” he stated. “She just didn’t want to show it, while you were around.” He puffed out his chest a few centimeters.

“What about you punching her?” I stared into his eyes; all I could see was ice.

He walked up to me. “What about it?”

“That does not seem like a very gentlemanly thing to do,” I said, looking at him.

“I don’t need your judgment. I know what I did, but I also know who she belongs to,” he stated, turning away from me.

“As far as I know she does not belong to anyone, yet.” I added the yet for my own personal satisfaction. I needed to drive a nail into his coffin somehow, and that was the only way that I could think of doing it.

He turned around. “I wouldn’t start making plans if I was you,” he stated with a devil’s smile. The kind of smile where the corner of the lips are almost turned in on themselves, and I have often wondered how someone could smile like that, how someone’s lips could actually work like that. He then walked away.

I continued to walk on. “Excuse me sweetie?” a woman’s voice said. The voice sounded American southern, a deep south if I had to guess.

I turned around. There was a lady standing in the doorway of one of the stores. She had silver hair that hung down to her shoulders. She had bright green eyes that were rimmed by dark glasses. Her skin was tan, and she wore a pale blue dress. She must have been in her late sixties, if I had to guess. “Hello, are you talking to me?” I asked smiling at her.

“That I was darlin’,” she said with a soft smile. “I was hoping that I could talk to you for a few minutes.”

I had nothing better to do. “Of course.” I began walking to her.

“Come on in,” she said as she walked inside. Inside the store there were more dresses then I had seen in my lifetime. She smiled as I stared. “This is probably not what you are used too,” she said with a laugh. “You are probably used to something much bigger than this, but it does good for the town folk that live here.”

“Are you kidding? This place is amazing,” I said, walking around.

“You don’t have to be kind,” she said, walking up behind me. “I am sure that you have been to many better stores then to my humble little one here.”

“No, I haven’t,” I said, turning around to look at her.

She looked at me for a moment. “You are a prince, are you not?”

I smiled upon hearing that. “Who told you that?”

“Jezebel White,” the lady said, walking back over to the counter. “Come on, darlin’ sit down.” I followed her over to the counter. I sat down on a stool that was beside it. “Jezebel came in here yesterday and told me that she had a date with a prince. She then went onto saying that it was the guy staying in her daddy’s hotel, and that she had been taking care of him. She had never worked a day in her life. I guess that is why I believed her, but I can see by your face that you don’t understand a word of what I am talking about.”

I smiled. “I can certainly say that I have no intentions of going on a date with Miss, was it White?” She nodded her head in response to my question. “I am in fact a prince, however.”

“You are?” she asked as her eyes lit up.

“I am,” I said, looking at her. “I come from a small country called Froma. It is a very lovely country.”  

She smiled. “It must be,” she stated looking at me. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.” I said straightening up a little.

“Why are you here?” she asked. The question would have sounded rude, but it was hard to think of it as rude because of how sweet she had said it. She just sounded so nice, and innocent, almost like a child.

“What do you mean by that?’ I asked looking at her.  

She looked away from me. “I don’t mean it to be rude, but this isn’t really important spot around here, so you must have a reason to be here.”  

I laughed. “I guess there is a reason that I am here. I am discussing the terms for Mr. M Charles to go to my country to write a book.”

“Mr. M Charles writing a full book that is exciting,” she said, tapping her pen on the counter. “I really do enjoy his work.  Do you enjoy his work?” She paused, but before I could answer she continued. “I am sure you do what other reason would you want him.”

I smiled. “I actually have never read any of his work, my grandfather has. Mr. Charles actually wrote a short story in our newspaper. That is where my grandfather first read one of Mr. Charles stories.”

She looked at me for a second. “Do you remember the name of the story?” she asked her eyes glistening with anticipation.

I thought for a second. “No. I can’t say that I do.” Her face turned into disappointment. “I’m sorry,” I said, looking at her.

“It’s all right dear,” she said with a smile.

There was a pause in the conversation. “What do you know about Mr. M Charles?”

She looked into her store for a second. She laughed. “I know Mr. M. Charles as well as most people know him in this town. That is to say that I don’t know him. We know he is a writer. His first story was published in our paper, after a contest. We know that he is supposed to live around here.”

“What do you mean by, he is supposed to live here?” I asked, leaning forward.

She looked at me and smiled. “Just what I said darlin’. We are told he lives here, but most of us don’t know where he lives, or if he even lives around here. We only see him on occasion, always dressed in a trench coat and fedora. He also always wears those gloves of his. The ones that are twice as big as his hand.

I laughed. “I know what you mean. He wore those gloves during our meeting. It was strange. I nearly took them off of him, but he quickly recovered.”

“He doesn’t like anyone messing with those gloves.” She smiled. “Actually, now that I think about it he doesn’t talk to anyone.”

My eyes became wide. “He doesn’t talk to anyone?”

She rolled her fingers across the counter. “No. That’s not entirely true. There is one family. The family that owns the bookstore and hardware store.”

“They own a bookstore, and a hardware store?” I asked, tilting my head.

“Yes. It isn’t as strange as it sounds. It is a father and son team. The father opened a hardware store two decades ago, when the son wanted to open a bookstore the father insisted that he open it right beside his hardware store. The rest as they say is history.”

“They talk to Mr. M. Charles?” I asked. She nodded. “Do you think that they would know anything about him?”

“Probably, but I doubt that they would tell you anything.”

I looked at her. “Why not?”

“They keep their mouths shut about anything to do with him. Other people have tried to get them to talk about it, but they refuse.”

“I might as well try something.” I thought. “Can you give me the address?” I said with a smile.

She laughed. “I don’t know the address off hand, but I can give you directions.”

“That’s good enough,” I said, getting up from my seat. I began to walk to the door, she followed behind me.

I opened the door and she leaned in the doorway. “If you go all the way down this street, the book store will be the very last building. If you get to the diner you have gone too far.”  

“Thank you very much,” I said, putting out my hand.

She looked at it for a second. She then smiled and gave me a hug. “I am sorry, but around here we give out hugs, not handshakes. Handshakes make business deals, hugs make friends, and everyone around here is a friend, no matter how long they are here for.” I laughed. That must be a small-town thing. “Thank you for talking to me. It can get quite lonely running this shop on my own.”

“Goodbye,” I said to her.

“Goodbye,” she said with a smile.