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Chapter no 3

Red, White & Royal Blue

FROM AMERICA, WITH LOVE: HENRY AND ALEX FLAUNT FRIENDSHIP

NEW BROMANCE ALERT? PICS OF FSOTUS AND PRINCE HENRY

PHOTOS: ALEXโ€™S WEEKEND IN LONDON

For the first time in a week, Alex isnโ€™t pissed off scrolling through his Google alerts. It helps theyโ€™ve givenย Peopleย an exclusiveโ€”a few generic quotes about how much Alex โ€œcherishesโ€ his friendship with Henry and their โ€œshared life experienceโ€ as sons of world leaders. Alex thinks their main shared life experience is probably wishing they could set that quote adrift on the ocean between them and watch it drown.

His mother doesnโ€™t want him fake-dead anymore, though, and heโ€™s stopped getting a thousand vitriolic Tweets an hour, so he counts it as a win.

He dodges a starstruck freshman gawking at him and exits the hall onto the east side of campus, draining the last cold sip of his coffee. First class today was an elective heโ€™s taking out of a combination of morbid fascination and academic curiosity: The Press and the Presidency. Heโ€™s currently jet-lagged to all hell from trying to keep the press fromย ruiningย the presidency, and the irony isnโ€™t lost on him.

Todayโ€™s lecture was on presidential sex scandals through history, and he texts Nora:ย numbers on one of us getting involved in a sex scandal before the end of second term?

Her response comes within seconds:ย 94% probability of your dick becoming a recurring personality on face the nation. btw, have you seen this?

Thereโ€™s a link attached: a blog post full of images, animated GIFs of

himself and Henry onย This Morning.ย The fist bump. Shared smiles that pass for genuine. Conspiratorial glances. Underneath are hundreds of comments about how handsome they are, how nice they look together.

omfg,ย one commenter writes,ย make out already.

Alex laughs so hard he almost falls in a fountain.

* * *

As usual, the day guard at the Dirksen Building glares at him as he slides through security. Sheโ€™s certain he was the one who vandalized the sign outside one particular senatorโ€™s office to readย BITCH MCCONNELL, but sheโ€™ll never prove it.

Cash tags along for some of Alexโ€™s Senate recon missions so nobody panics when he disappears for a few hours. Today, Cash hangs back on a bench, catching up on his podcasts. Heโ€™s always been the most indulgent of Alexโ€™s antics.

Alex has had the layout of the building memorized since his dad first got elected. Itโ€™s where heโ€™s picked up his encyclopedic knowledge of policy and procedure, and where he spends more afternoons than heโ€™s supposed to, charming aides and trawling for gossip. His mom pretends to be annoyed but slyly asks for intel later.

Since Senator Oscar Diaz is in California speaking at a rally for gun control today, he punches the button for the fifth floor instead.

His favorite senator is Rafael Luna, an Independent from Colorado and the newest kid on the block at only thirty-nine. Alexโ€™s dad took him under his wing back when he was merely a promising attorney, and now heโ€™s the darling of national politics for A, winning a special election and a general in consecutive upsets for his Senate seat, and B, dominatingย The Hillโ€™s 50 Most Beautiful.

Alex spent summer 2018 in Denver on Lunaโ€™s campaign, so they have their own dysfunctional relationship built on tropical-flavored Skittles from gas stations and all-nighters drafting press releases. He sometimes feels the ghost of carpal tunnel creeping back, a fond ache.

He finds Luna in his office, horn-rimmed reading glasses doing nothing to detract from his usual appearance of a movie star who tripped and fell sideways into politics. Alex has always suspected the soulful brown eyes and perfectly groomed stubble and dramatic cheekbones won back any votes Luna lost by being both Latino and openly gay.

The album playing low in the room is an old favorite Alex remembers from Denver: Muddy Waters. When Luna looks up and sees Alex in his doorway, he drops his pen on a haphazard pile of papers and leans back in his chair.

โ€œFuck you doing here, kid?โ€ he says, watching him like a cat. Alex reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of Skittles, and

Lunaโ€™s face immediately softens into a smile.

โ€œAtta boy,โ€ he says, scooping the bag up as soon as Alex drops it on his blotter. He kicks the chair in front of the desk out for him.

Alex sits, watching Luna rip open the packet with his teeth. โ€œWhatcha working on today?โ€

โ€œYou already know more than youโ€™re supposed to about everything on this desk.โ€ Alex does knowโ€”the same health care reform since last year, the one stalled out since they lost the Senate in midterms. โ€œWhy are you really here?โ€

โ€œHmm.โ€ Alex hooks a leg over one armrest of the chair. โ€œI resent the idea I canโ€™t come visit a dear family friend without ulterior motives.โ€

โ€œBullshit.โ€

He clutches his chest. โ€œYouย woundย me.โ€ โ€œYou exhaust me.โ€

โ€œI enchant you.โ€ โ€œIโ€™ll call security.โ€ โ€œFair enough.โ€

โ€œInstead, letโ€™s talk about your little European vacation,โ€ Luna says. He fixes Alex with shrewd eyes. โ€œCan I expect a joint Christmas present from you and the prince this year?โ€

โ€œActually,โ€ Alex swerves, โ€œsince Iโ€™m here, I do have a question for you.โ€

Luna laughs, leaning back and lacing his hands together behind his head. Alex feels his face flash hot for half a second, a zip of good-banter adrenaline that means heโ€™s getting somewhere. โ€œOf course you do.โ€

โ€œI wondered if you had heard anything about Connor,โ€ Alex asks. โ€œWe could really use an endorsement from another Independent senator. Do you think heโ€™s close to making one?โ€

He kicks his foot innocently where itโ€™s dangling over the armrest, like heโ€™s asking something as innocuous as the weather. Stanley Connor,

Delawareโ€™s kooky and beloved old Independent with a social media team stacked with millennials, would be a big get down the line in a race projected to be this close, and they both know it.

Luna sucks on a Skittle. โ€œAre you asking if heโ€™s close to endorsing, or if I know what strings need to be pulled to get him to endorse?โ€

โ€œRaf. Pal. Buddy. You know Iโ€™d never ask you anything so unseemly.โ€

Luna sighs, swivels in his chair. โ€œHeโ€™s a free agent. Social issues would push him your way usually, but you know how he feels about your momโ€™s economic platform. You probably know his voting record better than I do, kid. He doesnโ€™t fall on one side of the aisle. He might go for something radically different on taxes.โ€

โ€œAnd as for something you know that I donโ€™t?โ€

He smirks. โ€œI know Richards is promising Independents a centrist platform with big shake-ups on non-social issues. And I know part of that platform might not line up with Connorโ€™s position on healthcare.

Somewhere to start, perhaps. Hypothetically, if I were going to engage with your scheming.โ€

โ€œAnd you donโ€™t think thereโ€™s any point in chasing down leads on Republican candidates that arenโ€™t Richards?โ€

โ€œShit,โ€ Luna says, the set of his mouth turning grim. โ€œChances of your mother facing off against a candidate whoโ€™s not the fucking anointed messiah of right-wing populism and heir to the Richards family legacy?

Highly fucking unlikely.โ€

Alex smiles. โ€œYou complete me, Raf.โ€

Luna rolls his eyes again. โ€œLetโ€™s circle back to you,โ€ he says. โ€œDonโ€™t think I didnโ€™t notice you changing the subject. For the record, I won the office pool on how long itโ€™d take you to cause an international incident.โ€

โ€œWow,ย I thought I couldย trustย you,โ€ Alex gasps, mock-betrayed. โ€œWhatโ€™s the deal there?โ€

โ€œThereโ€™s noย deal,โ€ Alex says. โ€œHenry is . . . a person I know. And we did something stupid. I had to fix it. Itโ€™s fine.โ€

โ€œOkay, okay,โ€ Luna says, holding up both hands. โ€œHeโ€™s a looker, huh?โ€ Alex pulls a face. โ€œYeah, I mean, if youโ€™re into like, fairy-tale princes.โ€ โ€œIs anyone not?โ€

โ€œIโ€™mย not,โ€ Alex says.

Luna arches an eyebrow. โ€œRight.โ€

โ€œWhat?โ€

โ€œJust thinking about last summer,โ€ he says. โ€œI have this really vivid memory of you basically making a Prince Henry voodoo doll on your desk.โ€

โ€œI did not.โ€

โ€œOr was it a dartboard with a photo of his face on it?โ€

Alex swings his foot back over the armrest so he can plant both feet on the floor and fold his arms indignantly. โ€œI had a magazine with his face on it at my desk, once, because I was in it and he happened to be on the cover.โ€

โ€œYou stared at it for an hour.โ€ โ€œLies,โ€ Alex says. โ€œSlander.โ€

โ€œIt was like you were trying to set him on fire with your mind.โ€ โ€œWhat is your point?โ€

โ€œI think itโ€™s interesting,โ€ he says. โ€œHow fast the times they are a- changinโ€™.โ€

โ€œCome on,โ€ Alex says. โ€œItโ€™s . . . politics.โ€ โ€œUh-huh.โ€

Alex shakes his head, doglike, as if itโ€™s going to disperse the topic from the room. โ€œBesides, I came here to talk about endorsements, not my embarrassing public relations nightmares.โ€

โ€œAh,โ€ Luna says slyly, โ€œbut I thought you were here to pay a family friend a visit?โ€

โ€œOf course. Thatโ€™s what I meant.โ€

โ€œAlex, donโ€™t you have something else to do on a Friday afternoon?

Youโ€™re twenty-one. You should be playing beer pong or getting ready for a party or something.โ€

โ€œI do all of those things,โ€ he lies. โ€œI just also do this.โ€

โ€œCome on. Iโ€™m trying to give you some advice, from one old man to a much younger version of himself.โ€

โ€œYouโ€™re thirty-nine.โ€

โ€œMy liver is ninety-three.โ€ โ€œThatโ€™s not my fault.โ€

โ€œSome late nights in Denver would beg to differ.โ€ Alex laughs. โ€œSee, this is why weโ€™re friends.โ€

โ€œAlex, you need other friends,โ€ Luna tells him. โ€œFriends whoย arenโ€™t in Congress.โ€

โ€œI have friends! I have June and Nora.โ€

โ€œYes, your sister and a girl who is also a supercomputer,โ€ Luna deadpans. โ€œYou need to take some time for yourself before you burn out, kid. You need a bigger support system.โ€

โ€œStop calling me โ€˜kid,โ€™โ€ Alex says.

โ€œAy,โ€ Luna sighs. โ€œAre you done? I do have some actual work to do.โ€ โ€œYeah, yeah,โ€ Alex says, gathering himself up from his chair. โ€œHey, is

Maxine in town?โ€

โ€œWaters?โ€ Luna asks, crooking his head. โ€œShit, you really have a death wish, huh?โ€

As political legacies go, the Richards family is one of the most complex bits of history Alex has tried to unravel.

On one of the Post-it notes stuck to his laptop heโ€™s written:ย KENNEDYS + BUSHES + BIZARRO MAFIA OLD MONEY SITH POWERS = RICHARDSES?ย Itโ€™s

pretty much the thesis of what heโ€™s dug up so far. Jeffrey Richards, the current and supposedly only frontrunner for his motherโ€™s opponent in the general, has been a senator for Utah nearly twenty years, which means plenty of voting history and legislation that his motherโ€™s team has already gone over. Alex is more interested in the things harder to sniff out. There are so many generations of Attorney General Richards and Federal Judge Richards, theyโ€™d be able to bury anything.

His phone buzzes under a stack of files on his desk. A text from June:ย Dinner? I miss your face.ย He loves Juneโ€”truly, more than anything in the worldโ€”but heโ€™s kind of in the zone. Heโ€™ll respond when he hits a stopping point in like, thirty minutes.

He glances at the video of a Richards interview pulled up in a tab, checking the manโ€™s face for nonverbal cues. Gray hairโ€”natural, not a piece. Shiny white teeth, like a sharkโ€™s. Heavy, Uncle Sam jaw. Great salesman, considering heโ€™s blatantly lying about a bill in the clip. Alex takes a note.

Itโ€™s an hour and a half later before another buzz pulls him out of a deep dive into Richardsโ€™s uncleโ€™s suspicious 1986 taxes. A text from his mother in the family group chat, a pizza emoji. He bookmarks his page and heads upstairs.

Family dinners are rare but less over-the-top than everything else that happens in the White House. His mother sends someone to pick up pizzas,

and they take over the game room on the third floor with paper plates and bottles of Shiner shipped in from Texas. Itโ€™s always amusing to catch one of the burly suits speaking in code over their earpieces: โ€œBlack Bear has requested extra banana peppers.โ€

Juneโ€™s already on the chaise and sipping a beer. A stab of guilt immediately hits when he remembers her text.

โ€œShit, Iโ€™m an asshole,โ€ he says. โ€œMm-hmm, you are.โ€

โ€œBut, technically . . . I am having dinner with you?โ€

โ€œJust bring me my pizza,โ€ she says with a sigh. After Secret Service misread an olive-based shouting match in 2017 and almost put the Residence on lockdown, they now each get their own pizzas.

โ€œSure thing, Bug.โ€ He finds Juneโ€™sโ€”margheritaโ€”and hisโ€”pepperoni and mushroom.

โ€œHi, Alex,โ€ says a voice from somewhere behind the television as he settles in with his pizza.

โ€œHey, Leo,โ€ he answers. His stepdad is fiddling with the wiring, probably rewiring it to do something thatโ€™d make more sense in anย Iron Manย comic, like he does with most electronicsโ€”eccentric millionaire inventor habits die hard. Heโ€™s about to ask for a dumbed-down explanation when his mother comes blazing in.

โ€œWhy did yโ€™all let me run for president?โ€ she says, tapping too forcefully at her phoneโ€™s keyboard in little staccato stabs. She kicks off her heels into the corner, throwing her phone after them.

โ€œBecause we all knew better than to try to stop you,โ€ Leoโ€™s voice says. He peeks his bearded, bespectacled head out and adds, โ€œAnd because the world would fall apart without you, my radiant orchid.โ€

His mother rolls her eyes but smiles. Itโ€™s always been like that with them, ever since they first met at a charity event when Alex was fourteen. She was the Speaker of the House, and he was a genius with a dozen patents and money to burn on womenโ€™s health initiatives. Now, sheโ€™s the president, and heโ€™s sold his companies to spend his time fulfilling First Gentleman duties.

Ellen releases two inches of zipper on the back of her skirt, the sign sheโ€™s officially done for the day, and scoops up a slice.

โ€œAll right,โ€ she says. She does a scrubbing gesture in the air in front of her faceโ€”president face off, mom face on. โ€œHi, babies.โ€

โ€œโ€™Lo,โ€ Alex and June mumble in unison through mouthfuls of food. Ellen sighs and looks over at Leo. โ€œI did that, didnโ€™t I? No goddamn manners. Like a couple of little opossums. This is why they say women

canโ€™t have it all.โ€

โ€œThey are masterpieces,โ€ Leo says.

โ€œOne good thing, one bad thing,โ€ she says. โ€œLetโ€™s do this.โ€

Itโ€™s her lifelong system for catching up on their days when sheโ€™s at her busiest. Alex grew up with a mother who was a sometimes baffling combination of intensely organized and committed to lines of emotional communication, like an overly invested life coach. When he got his first girlfriend, she made a PowerPoint presentation.

โ€œMmm.โ€ June swallows a bite. โ€œGood thing. Oh! Oh my God. Ronan Farrow tweeted about my essay forย New York Magazine,ย and we totally engaged in witty Twitter repartee. Part one of my long game to force him to be my friend is underway.โ€

โ€œDonโ€™t act like this isnโ€™t all part of your extra-long game of abusing your position to murder Woody Allen and make it look like an accident,โ€ Alex says.

โ€œHeโ€™s just so frail; itโ€™d only take one good pushโ€”โ€

โ€œHow many timesย do I have to tell yโ€™all not to discuss your murder plots in front of a sitting president?โ€ their mother interrupts. โ€œPlausible

deniability.ย Come on.โ€

โ€œAnyway,โ€ย June says. โ€œOne bad thing would be, uh . . . well, Woody Allenโ€™s still alive. Your turn, Alex.โ€

โ€œGood thing,โ€ Alex says, โ€œI filibustered one of my professors into agreeing a question on our last exam was misleading so I would get full credit for my answer, which was correct.โ€ He takes a swig of beer. โ€œBad thingโ€”Mom, I saw the new art in the hall on the second floor, and I need to know why you allowed a George W. Bush terrier painting in our home.โ€

โ€œItโ€™s a bipartisan gesture,โ€ Ellen says. โ€œPeople find them endearing.โ€ โ€œI have to walk past it whenever I go to my room,โ€ Alex says. โ€œIts

beady little eyes follow me everywhere.โ€ โ€œItโ€™s staying.โ€

Alex sighs. โ€œFine.โ€

Leo goes nextโ€”as usual, his bad thing is somehow also a good thingโ€” and then Ellenโ€™s up.

โ€œWell, my UN ambassador fucked up hisย one jobย and said something idiotic about Israel, and now I have to call Netanyahu and personally apologize. But the good thing is itโ€™s two in the morning in Tel Aviv, so I can put it off until tomorrow and have dinner with you two instead.โ€

Alex smiles at her. Heโ€™s still in awe, sometimes, of hearing her talk about presidential pains in the ass, even three years in. They lapse into idle conversation, little barbs and inside jokes, and these nights may be rare, but theyโ€™re still nice.

โ€œSo,โ€ Ellen says, starting on another slice crust-first. โ€œI ever tell you I used to hustle pool at my momโ€™s bar?โ€

June stops short, her beer halfway to her mouth. โ€œYou did what now?โ€ โ€œYep,โ€ she tells them. Alex exchanges an incredulous look with June.

โ€œMomma managed this shitty bar when I was sixteen. The Tipsy Grackle. Sheโ€™d let me come in after school and do my homework at the bar, had a bouncer friend make sure none of the old drunks hit on me. I got pretty good at pool after a few months and started betting the regulars I could beat them, except Iโ€™d play dumb. Pick up the wrong stick, pretend to forget if I was stripes or solid. Iโ€™d lose one game, then take them double or nothing and get twice the payout.โ€

โ€œYouโ€™ve got to be kidding me,โ€ Alex says, except he can totally picture it. She has always been scary-good at pool and even better at strategy.

โ€œAll true,โ€ Leo says. โ€œHow do you think she learned to get what she wants from strung-out old white men? The most important skill of an effective politician.โ€

Alexโ€™s mother accepts a kiss to the side of her square jaw from Leo as she passes by, like a queen gliding through a crowd of admirers. She sets her half-eaten slice down on a paper towel and selects a cue stick from the rack.

โ€œAnyway,โ€ she says. โ€œThe point is, youโ€™re never too young to figure out your skills and use them to get shit accomplished.โ€

โ€œOkay,โ€ Alex says. He meets her eyes, and they swap appraising looks. โ€œIncluding . . .โ€ she says thoughtfully. โ€œA job on a presidential

reelection campaign, maybe.โ€

June puts down her slice. โ€œMom, heโ€™s not even out of college yet.โ€

โ€œUh, yeah, thatโ€™s the point,โ€ Alex says impatiently. Heโ€™s beenย waiting

for this offer. โ€œNo gaps in the resume.โ€

โ€œItโ€™s not only for Alex,โ€ their mother says. โ€œItโ€™s for both of you.โ€

Juneโ€™s expression changes from pinched apprehension to pinched dread. Alex makes a shooing motion in Juneโ€™s direction. A mushroom flies off his pizza and hits the side of her nose. โ€œTell me, tell me, tell me.โ€

โ€œIโ€™ve been thinking,โ€ Ellen says, โ€œthis time around, yโ€™allโ€”the โ€˜White House Trio.โ€™โ€ She puts it in air quotes, as if she didnโ€™t sign off on the name herself. โ€œYโ€™all shouldnโ€™t only be faces. Yโ€™all are more than that. You have skills. Youโ€™re smart. Youโ€™re talented. We could use yโ€™all not only as surrogates, but as staffers.โ€

โ€œMom . . .โ€ June starts.

โ€œWhat positions?โ€ Alex interjects.

She pauses, drifts back over to her slice of pizza. โ€œAlex, youโ€™re the family wonk,โ€ she says, taking a bite. โ€œWe could have you running point on policy. This means a lot of research and a lot of writing.โ€

โ€œFuck yes,โ€ Alex says. โ€œLemme romance the hell out of some focus groups. Iโ€™m in.โ€

โ€œAlexโ€”โ€ June starts again, but their mom cuts her off.

โ€œJune, Iโ€™m thinking communications,โ€ she goes on. โ€œSince your degree is mass comm, I was thinking you can come handle some of the day-to-day liaising with media outlets, working on messaging, analyzing the audience

โ€”โ€

โ€œMom, I have a job,โ€ she says.

โ€œOh, yeah. I mean, of course, sugar. But this could be full-time.

Connections, upward mobility, real experience in the field doing some amazing work.โ€

โ€œI, um . . .โ€ June rips a piece of crust off her pizza. โ€œDonโ€™t remember ever saying I wanted to do anything like that. Thatโ€™s, uh, kind of a big assumption to make, Mom. And you realize if I go into campaign communications now, Iโ€™m basically shutting down my chances of ever being a journalist, because like, journalistic neutrality and everything. I can barely get anyone to let me write a column as it is.โ€

โ€œBaby girl,โ€ their mom says. Sheโ€™s got that look on her face she gets when sheโ€™s saying something with a fifty-fifty chance of pissing you off.

โ€œYouโ€™re so talented, and I know you work hard, but at some point, you have to be realistic.โ€

โ€œWhatโ€™sย thatย supposed to mean?โ€

โ€œI just mean . . . I donโ€™t know if youโ€™re happy,โ€ she says, โ€œand maybe itโ€™s time to try something different. Thatโ€™s all.โ€

โ€œIโ€™m not yโ€™all,โ€ June tells her. โ€œThis isnโ€™tย myย thing.โ€

โ€œJuuuuune,โ€ Alex says, tilting his head back to look at her upside down over the arm of his chair. โ€œJust think about it? Iโ€™m doing it.โ€ He looks back at their mom. โ€œAre you offering a job to Nora too?โ€

She nods. โ€œMike is talking to her tomorrow about a position in analytics. If she takes it, sheโ€™ll start ASAP. You, mister, are not starting until after graduation.โ€

โ€œOh man, the White House Trio, riding into battle. This is awesome.โ€ He looks over at Leo, who has abandoned his project with the TV and is now happily eating a slice of cheesy bread. โ€œThey offer you a job too, Leo?โ€

โ€œNo,โ€ he says. โ€œAs usual, my duties as First Gentleman are to work on my tablescapes and look pretty.โ€

โ€œYour tablescapes are really coming along, baby,โ€ Ellen says, giving him a sarcastic little kiss. โ€œI really liked the burlap placemats.โ€

โ€œCan you believe the decorator thought velvet looked better?โ€ โ€œBless her heart.โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t like this,โ€ June says to Alex while their mother is distracted talking about decorative pears. โ€œAre you sure you want this job?โ€

โ€œItโ€™s gonna be fine, June,โ€ he tells her. โ€œHey, if you wanna keep an eye on me, you can always take the offer too.โ€

She shakes him off, returning to her pizza with an unreadable expression. The next day there are three matching sticky notes on the whiteboard in Zahraโ€™s office.ย CAMPAIGN JOBS: ALEX-NORA-JUNE, the board reads. The sticky notes under his and Noraโ€™s names readย YES. Under Juneโ€™s, in what is unmistakably her own handwriting,ย NO.

Alex is taking notes in a policy lecture when he gets the first text.

This bloke looks like you.

Thereโ€™s a picture attached, an image of a laptop screen paused on Chief Chirpa fromย Return of the Jedi: tiny, commanding, adorable, pissed off.

This is Henry, by the way.

He rolls his eyes, but adds the new contact to his phone: HRH Prince Dickhead. Poop emoji.

Heโ€™s honestly not planning to respond, but a week later he sees a headline on the cover ofย Peopleโ€”PRINCE HENRY FLIES SOUTH FOR WINTERโ€”complete with a photo of Henry artistically posed on an Australian beach in a pair of sensible yet miniscule navy swim trunks, and he canโ€™t stop himself.

you have a lot of moles,ย he texts, along with a snap of the

spread.ย is that a result of the inbreeding?

Henryโ€™s retort comes two days later by way of a screenshot of aย Daily Mailย tweet that reads,ย Is Alex Claremont-Diaz going to be a father?ย The attached message says,ย But we were ever so careful, dear,ย which surprises a big enough laugh out of Alex that Zahra ejects him from her weekly debriefing with him and June.

So, it turns out Henry can be funny. Alex adds that to his mental file.

It also turns out Henry is fond of texting when heโ€™s trapped in moments of royal monotony, like being shuttled to and from appearances, or sitting through meandering briefings on his familyโ€™s land holdings, or, once, begrudgingly and hilariously receiving a spray tan.

Alex wouldnโ€™t say heย likesย Henry, but he does enjoy the quick rhythm of arguments they fall into. He knows he talks too much, hopeless at moderating his feelings, which he usually hides under ten layers of charm, but he ultimately doesnโ€™t care what Henry thinks of him, so he doesnโ€™t bother. Instead, heโ€™s as weird and manic as he wants to be, and Henry jabs back in sharp flashes of startling wit.

So, when heโ€™s bored or stressed or between coffee refills, heโ€™ll check for a text bubble popping up. Henry with a dig at some weird quote from his latest interview, Henry with a random thought about English beer versus American beer, a picture of Henryโ€™s dog wearing a Slytherin scarf. (i

donโ€™t know WHO you think youโ€™re kidding, you

hufflepuff-ass bitch,ย Alex texts back, before Henry clarifies his dog, not him, is a Slytherin.)

He learns about Henryโ€™s life through a weird osmosis of text messages and social media. Itโ€™s meticulously scheduled by Shaan, with whom Alex

remains slightly obsessed, especially when Henry texts him things like,

Did I tell you Shaan has a motorbike?ย orย Shaan is on the phone with Portugal.

Itโ€™s quickly becoming apparent the HRH Prince Henry Fact Sheet either

omitted the most interesting stuff or was outright fabricated. Henryโ€™s favorite food isnโ€™t mutton pie but a cheap falafel stand ten minutes from the palace, and heโ€™s spent most of his gap year thus far working on charities around the world, half of them owned by his best friend, Pez.

Alex learns Henryโ€™s super into classical mythology and can rattle off the configurations of a few dozen constellations if you let him get going. Alex hears more about the tedious details of operating a sailboat than he would ever care to know and sends back nothing but:ย cool.ย Eight hours later.

Henry hardly ever swears, but at least he doesnโ€™t seem to mind Alexโ€™s filthy fucking mouth.

Henryโ€™s sister Beatriceโ€”she goes by Bea, Alex finds outโ€”pops up often, since she lives in Kensington Palace as well. From what he gathers, the two of them are closer than either are to their brother. They compare notes on the trials and tribulations of having older sisters.

did bea force you into dresses as a child too?

Has June also got a fondness for sneaking your leftover curry out of the refrigerator in the dead of night like a Dickensian street urchin?

More common are cameos by Pez, a man who cuts such an intriguing

and bizarre figure that Alex wonders how someone like him ever became best friends with someone like Henry, who can drone on about Lord Byron until you threaten to block his number. Heโ€™s always either doing something insaneโ€”BASE jumping in Malaysia, eating plantains with someone who might be Jay-Z, showing up to lunch wearing a studded, hot-pink Gucci jacketโ€”or launching a new nonprofit. Itโ€™s kind of incredible.

He realizes that heโ€™s shared June and Nora too, when Henry remembers Juneโ€™s Secret Service codename is Bluebonnet or jokes about how eerie Noraโ€™s photographic memory is. Itโ€™s weird, considering how fiercely protective he is of them, he never even noticed until Henryโ€™s Twitter exchange with June about their mutual love of the 2005ย Pride & Prejudiceย movie goes viral.

โ€œThatโ€™s not your emails-from-Zahra face,โ€ Nora says, nosing her way over his shoulder. He elbows her away. โ€œYou keep doing that stupid smile every time you look at your phone. Who are you texting?โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t know what youโ€™re talking about, and literally no one,โ€ Alex tells her. From the screen in his hand, Henryโ€™s message reads,ย In

worldโ€™s most boring meeting with Philip. Donโ€™t let the papers print lies about me after Iโ€™ve garroted myself with my tie.

โ€œWait,โ€ she says, reaching for his phone again, โ€œare you watching

videos of Justin Trudeau speaking French again?โ€ โ€œThatโ€™s not a thing I do!โ€

โ€œThat is a thing I have caught you doing at least twice since you met him at the state dinner last year, so yeah, it is,โ€ she says. Alex flips her off. โ€œWait, oh my God, is it fan fiction about yourself? And you didnโ€™tย invite

me? Who do they have you boning now? Did you read the one I sent you with Macron? Iย died.โ€

โ€œIf you donโ€™t stop, Iโ€™m gonna call Taylor Swift and tell her you changed your mind and want to go to her Fourth of July party after all.โ€

โ€œThat isย notย a proportionate response.โ€

Later that night, once heโ€™s alone at his desk, he replies:ย was it a meeting about which of your cousins have to marry each other to take back casterly rock?

Ha. It was about royal finances. Iโ€™ll be hearing Philipโ€™s voice saying the words โ€œreturn on

investmentโ€ in my nightmares for the rest of time.

Alex rolls his eyes and sends back,ย the harrowing struggle of managing the empireโ€™s blood money.

Henryโ€™s response comes a minute later.

That was actually the heart of the meetingโ€”Iโ€™ve tried to refuse my share of the crownโ€™s money. Dad left us more than enough, and Iโ€™d prefer to cover my expenses with that rather than the proceeds of, you know, centuries of colonial exploitation. Philip thinks Iโ€™m being ridiculous.

Alex reads the message twice to make sure heโ€™s understood it correctly.

i am low-key impressed.

He stares at the screen, at his own message, for a few seconds too long, suddenly worried it might have come off as foolish. He shakes his head, sets the phone down. Locks it. Changes his mind, picks it up again. Unlocks it. Notices the little typing bubble on Henryโ€™s end of the conversation. Sets the phone down. Looks away. Looks back.

One does not cultivate a lifelong love of Star Wars without knowing an โ€œempireโ€ isnโ€™t exactly a good thing.

He would really appreciate it if Henry would stop proving him wrong.


HRH Prince Dickhead

OC T 30, 2019, 1:07 PM

i hate that tie

HRH Prince Dickhead

What tie?

the one in that Instagram you just posted

HRH Prince Dickhead

Whatโ€™s wrong with it? Itโ€™s just grey.

exactly. try patterns sometime, and stop frowning at your phone like I know youโ€™re doing rn

HRH Prince Dickhead

Patterns are considered a โ€œstatement.โ€ Royals arenโ€™t supposed to make statements with what we wear.

do it for the โ€™gram

HRH Prince Dickhead

You are the thistle in the tender and sensitive arse crack of my life.

thanks!


NO V 17, 2019, 11:04 AM

HRH Prince Dickhead

Iโ€™ve just received a 5-kilo parcel of Ellen Claremont campaign buttons with your face on them. Is this your idea of a prank?

just trying to brighten up that wardrobe, sunshine

HRH Prince Dickhead

I hope this gross misuse of campaign funds was worth it. My security thought it was a bomb. Shaan almost called in the sniffer dogs.

oh, definitely worth it. even more worth it now. tell Shaan I say hi and I miss that sweet sweet ass xoxoxo

HRH Prince Dickhead

I will not.

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