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No one is forcing me to be here. Cal knows better than to try. However, part of accepting my position as His Royal Highness is suffering through the training. It’s good for me to get an inside scoop on what it feels like to be one of our employees. So far, I think they all deserve a raise. Except Ryan.
I don’t need to be trained. I helped develop the training programs, yet here I stand, staring at the back of Whitney’s head and scaring small children.
I know what my tasks will include. I know on top of being In Character, I’ll need to provide a safety net for Whitney. As our most popular character, she draws a lot of attention, both good and bad. Plopping down a gruff, tattooed security guard behind her wouldn’t quite fit with the fairytale vibe, so Cal has come up with this method of protection. I wonder how well Ryan has managed thus far.
While Whitney is taking photos and signing autographs with a large family, Ryan wanders over to me, looking to chat. He laughs under his breath recounting an incident last week where he had to crawl under Whitney’s dress to catch a toddler who’d run underneath it. I don’t act the least bit interested in his story, so he shifts gears, trying to give me more information about the job.
“Yeah, so it’ll depend on the season. Like right now, I only do meet-and-greets, but the holiday parades will start up soon and I’ll have to rehearse for that I guess. Wait…will you be taking my spot?”
Good question.
I haven’t decided.
There’s a short intermission in the middle of Whitney’s shift. It allows the restaurant time to bus and clean tables and gives our actors the chance to drop character, use the restroom, and relax for 15 minutes. It’s also my cue to leave.
As soon as the room empties, Whitney makes a mad dash for the stairs that lead down to her dressing room. I’m not usually one for the cat and mouse game, but then again, Whitney’s not your average mouse. Unfortunately, we’ll have to play another time. I have a meeting with Cal.
Heather meets me in the Underground with my clothes so I can change out of my costume. Dressed in slacks, a white button-down, and brown boots, I strap my leather watch onto my wrist as she updates me about my itinerary for the rest of the day. Heather didn’t move to London with me. She has a husband and three kids now, maybe even another one on the way if I’m not mistaken, but I know better than to ask. After I moved, she transferred to another department and split her time assisting two executives. When I emailed her last week, requesting she come back and work for me, I also included a substantial increase in her employee benefit package.
Seems we’re both happy to be working together again.
“Do you think it’s crazy that I’m going through with this?” I ask as we walk together toward Cal’s penthouse.
She frowns and straightens her glasses. “Going through with what exactly?”
“The role as His Royal Highness. Working In Character. All of it.”
“I think it shows your willingness to go the extra mile for this company. I’ve already heard murmurs about it from staff. The tone seems to be admiring. Most people in your position wouldn’t deign to humble themselves. You’re the heir to the Knightley Company, and we all know you’ll run this place one day. You don’t have to do this, and yet you are. It might not be your main reason for going down this road, but you’ll end up gaining the respect of your employees regardless. Showing them you care enough to see what their working conditions are like, to get down on their level—it does you credit.”
I nod. “I’ll admit, I have other intentions as well.”
She chuckles. “I find it interesting that Cal placed you with Whitney. There are other open positions in the park.”
I peer over at her, realizing for the first time that Heather knew Whitney way back then too. “What do you make of her transformation?”
She shrugs. “She was beautiful even when she was a teenager, though it was subtler. You had to pay attention to notice. Now, anyone with a pair of eyes is half in love with her.”
I frown. “Does she have a boyfriend?”
I hadn’t even considered the possibility.
Heather looks at me like I’ve sprouted a second head. “I have no idea. She and I don’t see each other all that often.” Then she pauses, considering something. “Do you want me to find out?”
To say this is outside the bounds of our normal work-related conversations is an understatement.
“No.”
I can do my own dirty work.Cal is waiting for me inside his office back at the penthouse. It’s my favorite gem in the entire park. A messy artist’s studio. A villain’s lair. A hobbit hole. The walls are painted a rich dark blue and covered with memorabilia—sketches, signed photographs, newspaper clippings. Heavy drapes frame the windows. A row of bookshelves stretches from floor to ceiling, complete with a library ladder. As a kid, I fell off that thing more times than I can count. I might still have a scar or two to prove it. Books fill every available spot on those shelves and spill out onto the floor too, stacked like skyscrapers.
