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Then I hurried away before there was any chance he could start begging, which is so unattractive in a suitor (well, so Grandmère says. It hasn’t happened to me…yet. But I had a feeling it was about to).
And as I was hurrying, I flipped open my cell phone and made a quick call to the Royal Genovian lawyers. Their offices weren’t open yet, because it was only seven in the morning, Genovia time.
But I left a message asking them to put a cease and desist on J.P.’s play, or whatever they had to do in order to prevent it from ever getting made into a movie, or even a Broadway show.
I mean, I know I was princessy and gracious during our breakup. And I do completely forgive what J.P. did to me.
But for what he did to Lilly? He’s going down.
He really ought to have remembered that several of my ancestresses are known for strangling and/or chopping off the heads of their enemies.
It was as I was putting my phone away that I crashed right into Michael.
Yes, Michael.
I was totally flabbergasted, of course. What was Michael doing at the AEHS prom?
“Oh my God,” I cried. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you think I’m doing here?” he demanded, rubbing his shoulder where I’d banged into him, handheld plastic tiara prongs first.
“How long have you been standing there?” I was seized with a sudden pan
ic he might have overheard what J.P. and I had been discussing, vis-à-vis Lilly. On the other hand, if he had, surely there’d have been a murder already. J.P.’s, to be exact. “Wait…what did you hear?”
“Enough to make me feel nauseous,” Michael said. “Nice move with the call to the lawyers, by the way. And is that really how you guys talk to each other?” His voice rose into a falsetto. “You know what I think you should do? Call Stacey Cheeseman. I think she has a total crush on you.” He lowered his voice again. “Cute. What does that remind me of, exactly? Hold on. Wait, I know…Seventh Heaven—”
I grabbed his arm and dragged him around the corner, well out of earshot of J.P. (who hadn’t yet noticed a thing, because he’d already gotten on the phone with Stacey).
“Seriously,” I said, dropping Michael’s arm when we were far enough away. “What are you doing here?”
Michael grinned. He looked so cute in his black Skinner Box T-shirt with his messed up hair, and his jeans fitting him just right. I couldn’t help remembering all that making out we’d done yesterday. It came back as such a visceral memory, it was almost like a punch.
Of course, that might have been because I’d also gotten a big whiff of him when I’d crashed into him. That major histocompatibility complex is strong stuff. Strong enough to knock a girl out, practically.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Lilly told me a couple of days ago I was supposed to show up here and meet you by the elevators at around midnight. She said she had a feeling you were going to need, er, my assistance. But you seemed to be handling the situation just fine, if that whole ceremonial giving-back-of-the-ring thing was any indication.”
I could feel myself turning bright red, realizing what Lilly must have meant. Having overheard my conversation with Tina in the girls’ bathroom at school about my getting a hotel room with J.P. tonight, Lilly had sent her brother down here to stop me from doing something she knew I’d regret…
Only she hadn’t told him exactly what he was supposed to be stopping me from doing. Thank God.
Lilly really was a friend, after all. Not that I’d ever doubted it. Well, very much.
“So are you going to tell me why Lilly felt my presence was so urgently needed here tonight, anyway?” Michael wanted to know, as he wrapped an arm around my waist.
“You know,” I said quickly. “I think it’s because she knew I always wanted to spend my senior prom with you.”
Michael just laughed. Sort of sarcastically.
“Lars,” he called over the top of my head, to my bodyguard. “Tell me the truth. Do I need to go back over there and turn J.P. Reynolds-Abernathy the Fourth into cream of wheat?”
Lars, to my total mortification, nodded, and said, “In my opinion, most definitely.”
“Lars!” I cried, starting to panic. “No. No! Michael, it’s over. J.P. and I just broke up. You don’t have to hit anybody.”
“Well, I think maybe I do,” Michael said. He wasn’t teasing, either. There was no smile on his face as he said, “I think maybe the earth would be a better place if somebody had turned J.P. Reynolds-Abernathy the Fourth into cream of wheat a long time ago. Lars? Do you agree with me?”
Lars looked at his watch and said, “It’s midnight. I don’t hit anyone after midnight. Bodyguard-union regulations.”
