“The boss isn’t too happy,” Sean said.
“Yeah, I bet,” I said with a sigh. “Is he in his office?”
Sean gave me a nod, and I headed out the back to put my stuff away. I needed to speak to Chris, my manager, about the idiots out front and I really hoped he didn’t decide to fire me. There had been an uptick in patrons since the first video, but this mass of media would scare the regulars away. Chris liked me, but he didn’t like me so much that he would jeopardize his business for me.
I shoved my coat and bag in my locker and then knocked on Chris’ door.
“Frankie,” he said, looking up from his paperwork.
I stepped into the office and sat down across from him. “I’m really sorry about all that out the front,” I said.
“They’re disrupting business, Frankie,” he said.
“I know. If I’d known this would happen, I’d—”
“You’d what? Turn the guy down?”
“No, but I would have tried to stop his mother from alerting the media.”
“Is he really a prince?”
“No,” I said with a grimace and shook my head.
“But he’s royal?”
I sighed again. “Yeah, sort of. It’s an extended family kind of thing…I think. He’s a markissios.”
Chris raised his eyebrows in question.
“Like a marquess.”
“Nope, doesn’t help,” Chris said with a shake of his head.
“He’s a minor royal, and they have asked him to join the royal court.”
“Some Greek island, right?”
“Not Greek, no, but close to Greece. It’s in the Mediterranean, which is another thing I need to talk to you about. I need some time off.”
“I think that would be good,” Chris said. “At least until this all dies down.”
“Yeah, but that’s not what I meant. I’m going to Kalopsia with Lucas. I’ll be gone a month or so.”
“I can’t hold your job for that long, Frankie.”
I groaned. “Yeah, I figured that.”
“Besides, if you’re marrying this guy then you won’t be working in a bar.”
Yet another complication. How did I explain to my boss I wasn’t really getting married without ruining everything for Lucas? Short answer? I couldn’t.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I replied.
“I have your check,” Chris said sliding it across the desk.
“You’re firing me?”
“No, well, yeah. I can’t have those vultures on my sidewalk stopping people coming into the bar and if you’re moving overseas anyway, it’s probably better for both of us if we call it quits now.”
I didn’t need the money, but that wasn’t the point. I loved my job. I got to talk to everyone and people watch. I found people infinitely fascinating and what better time to observe them than after a couple of drinks when they’d loosened up and relaxed. Dates were my favorite thing to watch. First dates especially. I had a pretty high success rate of guessing whether the drinks would extend to dinner. I’d even gotten to witness a few second and third dates. And then there was the endless fodder of Tinder dates that paraded through the bar. Some of those were hilarious to watch.
“Fine,” I said, getting up. “Do you want me to do this shift or…?”
“Nah, I covered your shift already.”
“Great,” I replied, walking out of the office and heading for my locker.
It wasn’t great, and I had to grit my teeth against spilling the entire tale to Chris just so I could keep my job. But Lucas meant more to me than my job. I could always get another one when I got back from Kalopsia. I was a great bartender and once the publicity around Lucas and me died down, any bar would be glad to have me.
Lucas
“We need to talk about Francesca.”
I looked up from the work on my screen to squint at my mother. My assistant, Annabel, was behind her mouthing, “I’m sorry.”
“What?” I said, addressing my mother as Annabel left the room and closed the door behind you.
“Have you seen these photographs? They’re appalling. And what was she doing going into a bar? This does not look good for a future member of the royal court. It will not impress the king if she keeps this up.”
I sighed and leaned back in my office chair, pinching the bridge of my nose and massaging away the headache that was just beginning…or at least I tried to.
“Frankie works at that bar,” I said, trying to keep my tone reasonable as I adjusted my glasses.
“Francesca works in a bar?” Mother gasped.
“You know she does. That’s where I proposed to her. That’s why your press minions were waiting for her there.” It was the most confrontational I’d ever been with my mother, but she didn’t even notice.
“Well, you need to tell her to quit. A future member of the royal court’s fiancée cannot be seen working in a bar.”
“I won’t be telling Frankie any such thing,” I said. “Besides, thanks to you, she lost her job last night.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“The mob of photographers and reporters waiting for her outside the bar did not impress her boss.”
Mother harrumphed. “They should be delighted that I brought them so much publicity.”
“I think the management took issue with the reporters scaring all their patrons away,” I mumbled.
“What? Don’t mumble, Lucas. You’re a markissios and a markissios does not mumble.”
“So father is giving me the title?” I asked, holding my breath.
My father had yet to say anything about the title to me since that first night. As far as I knew, I still had to prove my worthiness before he would actually let me go to Kalopsia. Pretending to get engaged to Frankie had been a bit of a gamble. There had been no guarantee my parents would A. believe it; and, B. be willing to let me go. Even now, until I officially held the title, I wasn’t taking it as a given. My father could change his mind at any given moment.
“Of course he is,” Mother said, finally sitting in the chair across from my desk. “This is an excellent thing for the Andinos. Having my son as part of the royal court is more than we ever thought we would get out of Kalopsia. I just hope the king doesn’t rescind his offer when he discovers what a disaster Francesca is.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “I thought you liked Frankie?”
“Oh, we like her well enough, but is she the right sort of woman to hold a title? She works in a bar, for goodness’ sake. And have you seen how she dresses? I thought for sure her mother would have taught her better than that.”
“There is nothing wrong with the way Frankie dresses,” I said with a sigh.
“No, not if she was just an ordinary young woman working in a bar, but she will be a markissia. Ripped jeans and scuffed boots should never again be seen on her person.”
Yeah, I wouldn’t be the one telling Frankie that. Besides, I liked the way she dressed.
“And that hair,” Mother said with a sniff. “She needs to pick a color and stick to it. If she insists on being blonde, then she needs to keep up with the regrowth maintenance.”