JUST after midnight, Zander and Lorenzo and the two bodyguards who’d been trailing them all night cruised past the line of turista clubster wannabes waiting to be admitted to Shari Vari Playhouse. The later it got, the harder it was to get in, but this was a rule readily waived when you were a prince. Zander of course had little insight into such mundane experiences as waiting in line at popular venues, one of the perks of the job. However, he didn’t mind one bit appraising the clientele as he strolled past them, his eyebrow raised at the line of young women in defiantly short dresses and impossibly high heels.
“Now this is more like it,” Zander said, rubbing his hands with mock greed as he and his entourage were ushered into the nightclub. “Even if the name of the place does sound like a puppet show.”
“Don’t judge a party spot by its ridiculous name,” Lorenzo said. “Trust me, this place is what you’ve been craving.”
They worked their way downstairs, wending through the faux grottoes in the lower level, the bodyguards on either side of them parting the crowd like Moses in the Red Sea. It was almost too jam-packed for gawkers; rather, people initially threw them dirty looks, annoyed to have their dancing and drinking space invaded by someone trying to push past them. Such was the party life.
Lorenzo motioned for a manager to retrieve drinks for them, and before they knew it, they had a few bottles of top-shelf liquor and a flock of scantily clad young women all to themselves in a dark corner filled with a leather sofa and club chairs. Conversation was near impossible with the throb of electronica that was pulsing through the place, so Zander just sprawled out on the deep sofa, enjoying having three women practically pawing at him to get him to pay attention to them.
“Wonder how those poor slobs in line are doing,” Zander said, opening his mouth wide to take a bite of some appetizer a tall brunette was hand-feeding him.
“My bet is bored and tired of waiting,” Lorenzo said, filling everyone’s glasses.
Zander put his legs up on the cocktail table in front of him and stretched out as if he were ready to spend the afternoon watching sports on the television.
“Make yourself right at home why don’t you?”
Zander smiled. “I plan to, thanks.”
“You are in public, in case you hadn’t noticed. And you are the second in line to the throne of Monaforte.”
Zander shrugged. “Pretty certain my actions in the past have proven how much that matters when I decide what I’m going to do.”
Lorenzo shook his head in dismay. “So then what say I remind you that you’re still in the doghouse with your mother, and you know she’d just about send you back to charm school if she knew you were putting your feet on a table.”
“Charm school,” Zander said. “Good one. But I never needed charm school. This is all God-given.” He pointed toward himself with both pointer fingers.
The women all tittered at that comment, and Zander basked in their admiration by beaming broadly.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
“Crap,” he said. “It’s probably my mother, telling me to get my feet off the table.” He slapped his knee at the joke.
Zander thumbprinted into his phone and opened up his message. “It’s from her mother.”
“Andi’s mama?”
“What other mother would I be texting with?” Zander said as he hit his friend playfully on the head. “One thing I’m not is a cougar chaser.”
“Give you time, and I’m sure you’ll add them to your repertoire,” Lorenzo said, drumming his fingers. “Well?”
“Here’s what she said: ‘What a lovely gentleman you are to reach out to me to find Andrea. I know she’s worried sick about her phone. She e-mailed me from an Internet café when she got to Rome to let me know. She was certain it had been stolen.’”
Zander looked up from reading. “Darn it. I could probably have sold this thing on the black market, what with the picture of that handsome devil, yours truly, on it. Now that I think about it, I should make that her screen saver. What was I thinking?”
He pulled out Andi’s phone and set about changing the picture on the main screen.
His female hangers-on just watched, feigning indifference that his naked picture was right there in the prince’s own hands.
“You’re just trying to impress your little harem there,” Lorenzo said. “But they can tell a photoshopped image when they see one. Right, ladies?” He winked and they laughed.
Zander returned to the text and continued to read aloud.
“‘I’m not sure when I’ll hear from Andrea again, but I’ll be sure to e-mail her your phone number and e-mail address so that she can find you as soon as possible. Thank you so much, Alexander.’”
“You seem like a lovely mum,” Zander typed back to her. “Your Andi is lucky to have you.”
“I’m even luckier to have her as my daughter. Andrea has done a lot of good in this world. I can’t imagine how far she’d have gone had she not had to quit graduate school.”
“Poor girl! What was she studying, and what made her quit?”
“It’s a long story for another day. I’ll let Andi know her phone is safe with you. Thank you for being so kind.”
Zander tucked his phone into his pocket. “So the plot thickens. Our girl Andi had to quit school. Maybe that’s why she’s so mean.”
His friend started scratching his head as if he’d hit upon an idea. “You know, I’m starting to like this obsession you have with the mystery girl with the backpack. It’s keeping you from doing all sorts of stupid things with these clingy women in barely there clothes.”
Zander waved his hand dismissively. “Oh stop. These girls are too easy. Sometimes a challenge is just what a man needs. After all, the hunt is half the battle.”
“I’m going to quote you on that.”
“Just as soon as I have my wicked way with them,” Zander said with a wink.
“You’re nothing but a man-whore.”
Zander gave a wide yawn and rubbed his belly like a fat lion content after a zebra supper, then took another bite of whatever the women wanted to feed him. Clearly a happy man-whore, at that.