"Being a good writer is 3% talent, 97% not being distracted by the internet." Cyrus Farivar

Sunday, September 4, 2011


Arms crossed, he stood parallel to Adi as she huffed about the kitchen in their flat. She’d been trying for the better part of an hour to convince him they should go out to a club. But he wouldn’t hear of it. The last thing he wanted was to be among hordes of people so close to his most recent jaunt to a club with his wild girlfriend.
            “We can’t just be homebodies and stay locked in the flat all night,” she protested, setting her glass of wine down with force.
            “We’ve been over this. I can’t always be wild and set a bad image. I’m a Prince for Christ-sake! I’ve got admirers and children that look up to me,” he said.
            “The old Royal bats could care less what the spare prince does, James,” Adi said, rolling her eyes. Jaw set, James shook his head.
            “Go to the club on your own. You don’t understand anything I’ve said.” Turning, he headed for the couch, ready to spend this Friday night in.
            “You’re just trying to be boring to impress Lou! You already know she’ll never accept your affection! I’m the only one that loves you!”
            “You don’t understand anything, Adi! You weren’t born into Royalty. You can live a mostly normal life! I am forever in Al’s shadow and must follow in his footsteps. I can’t just bring dishonor to the crown. I’ve got to be a Prince and be someone my family can be proud of. I can’t just party all the time. I have a job and a life that I need to take seriously,” James said, his voice raised from frustration. “Have a nice time clubbing. I’ll be gone in the morning,” he said, turning to gather his things to leave the flat.
            “You’re leaving me?”
            “You can stay here for the rest of the year. The lease is covered until then.”

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