For someone who came up with such a romantic wedding proposal, Michael is certainly practical when it comes to money matters—and without necessarily needing to be. (Fortunately he laughed and said he’d find a way to get over the disappointment when I admitted to him that I did not, in fact, inherit $100 million in cash on my twenty-fifth birthday, as was reported by Rate the Royals.)
“Fine,” I said. “Maybe I should just put on our wedding invitations that in lieu of gifts people should send money to an escrow account for us to buy our first home.”
“Now, that’s a great idea.”
“Michael, I was kidding. We could tell people to donate money to the Community Center or Doctors Without Borders, though.”
“Okay. But look, don’t you think you should discuss this whole thing about your sister with your dad first?”
“No, I do not. All my dad’s done lately is screw things up. I’m not going to let him screw this up, too.”
All the magazines—and Star Trek movies starring Chris Pine as Kirk—say that in stressful situations where you don’t know what to do, you just have to follow your gut.
What they don’t say is how you’re supposed to know what your gut is telling you. Sometimes your gut gives conflicting advice. Often you don’t know which path is the right one because all the paths seem right, and in cases like that, your gut is no help at all.
Except that in this case, when Michael suggested I talk to my dad, I had a sudden and very strong signal from my gut. It said, No.
“Well,” Michael said, sounding dubious. “Okay, Mia, but I really think you should reconsider. Your dad’s going through a tough time right now.”
“I’m aware of that, Michael, and look how he’s reacting to it. He’s a mess. I left him a message yesterday, and he never called me back. Instead he got drunk.”
“Yeah, but—”
“If he wants to talk to me, he knows how to reach me. In the meantime, I’m going to figure out what to do about Olivia, and my own life. My dad has to take care of his own life, even though I have to say so far he’s messed it up pretty badly. One might even say royally.”
“Okay,” Michael said. “But maybe treat the Olivia thing carefully.”
“Thank you, Michael, but I do have a little experience in breaking news to people that they’re princesses, you know.”
CHAPTER 31
11:15 a.m., Tuesday, May 5
Frank Gianini Community Center
Rate the Royals Rating: 1
There were almost as many paps hanging around outside the center—the more intelligent ones who actually know me and figured I wouldn’t skip work for nearly a week—as there were outside Michael’s apartment building last night.
I felt it would be better to stop and chat with them for a few minutes this time—as well as give them a few photos (it’s always good to have photos taken outside the center because it reminds people about it and all the services it provides)—than to ignore them. Despite Dominique’s insistence, ignoring them hasn’t worked, and I didn’t want them pestering the kids, their parents, or my staff.
So I put on my sunglasses to cover my twitch—which sadly started going strong the moment I saw the paps—and stepped out onto the curb.
Unfortunately I didn’t notice that one of them was Brian Fitzpatrick until it was too late.
By then he was already holding a digital recorder up to my face and asking, “Princess, can you tell the readers of Rate the Royals dot-com how you feel about your engagement?”
What I wanted to say was, Go away, Brian.
But since that wouldn’t have sounded very royal, instead I said, “I’m over the moon about my engagement, Brian, and that’s why I want to enjoy it for as long as possible. No date for the wedding has actually been set.” (Ha! Sometimes being a world-class liar comes in handy.)
Then I showed Brian the ring and made a huge point of telling him that it was a lab-grown diamond and how proud I am that Michael is supporting the effort to create conflict-free diamonds.
Of course Brian had to be a joy-killer and ask, “But if everyone follows your example, Princess, and buys lab-grown diamonds, how will the poor diamond miners be able to support their families?”
“Well, hopefully governments that earn revenues from the diamond-mining industry will get the message that consumers want diamonds that have been mined in accordance with fair-trade principles and human-rights conditions, and those governments will work to invest productively in their natural resources.”
• Note to self: Bazinga!
Brian looked impressed as he checked to make sure his handheld device had recorded this, then asked if he could get a selfie with me for the site. I guess Pippa gave him one last time she was in town.
I know Lazarres-Reynolds would have wanted me to, since we’re in “crisis management” mode and sucking up to the media is an important part of that, but I just couldn’t bring myself to move my head close enough to Brian’s to pose for a selfie.
I said, “Oh, sorry, Brian, I haven’t got time, I must get into work, I’m running late. Maybe next time, bye-yeee!”
Then I left him standing on the curb.
I don’t even feel bad about it. Maybe this will teach him not to rate people (even royal people) like they’re appliances on a home-improvement retail website.
Three things I’m grateful for:
1. The aviator sunglasses Tina and I bought so we could look just like Connie Britton, aka Coach Taylor’s wife on Friday Night Lights, and which also hide my twitch.