13. "a real bright girl"

by emily de villaincourt

illustrated by eddie el greco

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo

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laurene was only a girl but she knew all about men. she recognized the man the parthian ambassador had addressed as "gustav" as a type. a type that could be handled, but with care. gustav had made himself comfortable in the largest armchair in the large room. lorenzo had gone to get gustav and the ambassador drinks. "beer, whatever you got, so long as it 's cold", gustav had requested. was that an american thing, cold beer? laurene had a vague idea that it was - so maybe, despite his un-american name, he really was an american. but although lorenzo had only been gone a couple of minutes, gustav was drumming his fingers on the arms of his chair. gustav made laurene a little nervous. but for now, at least, the parthian ambassador - did he have a name? - seemed to have him under control. laurene took a carefully selected seat, far enough away from gustav to be comfortable, not so far away as to seem she were afraid of him. the ambassador, who had been looking around the large room - a combination sitting room and library, with a large round table in the center, the one at which genevieve was still unconcernedly pasting in her albums - now sat down in the second largest armchair, about half way between the round table and the chair gustav was sitting in. and close enough to laurene to put his hand on her knee if he should be inclined to do so. but he did not seen inclined to do so. in fact he leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes and blurted out "god, i'm tired". gustav laughed at this. joanie lee, who had not stopped fluttering around the room since the ambassador and gustav had arrived, had just finally taken a seat herself, but now jumped up. "would you like to lie down, sir? we have a guest room down the hall if you would like to lie down." the ambassador seemed a bit embarrassed at this. "no, thank you, madam. i am not as tired as all that. " he managed a polite smile. "no," said gustav, "you don't want to close your eyes. they might stab you or cut your throat." though this was probably a crude attempt at humor, both joanie lee and the ambassador seemed nettled by it. "now, gustav, there is no call to make such comments about our hosts - hostesses - though we know you are jesting." joanie lee smiled desperately. "ah - here is lorenzo with your drinks, gentlemen." lorenzo had a small folding table tucked under his arm and he deftly unfolded it and placed it beside the ambassaor's chair and put his drink on it. he then moved over to gustav, moved a table closer to his chair and placed a bottle of beer with icy condensation on it and a glass on the table. the ambassador politely thanked "madam" - still not "princess", laurene noted - but the speedy service did not seen to improve gustav's humor. "i don't suppose you mind if i smoke?" gustav asked. he took a pack of cigarettes - american? - out of his shirt pocket. "of course not," joanie lee assured him. "lorenzo, bring the gentleman an ashtray." "ooh yuck," exclaimed stephanie at her table, but without looking up. joanie lee pretended not to hear, and laurene, strangely, had no impulse to laugh. stephanie warmed to her theme. "i'm sorry but that is absolutely disgusting." "stephanie," said joanie lee. "perhaps you would be more comfortable working in your room." "i guess i would be if he's going to stink the place up." but stephanie made no move to get up from the table or gather up her albums or pictures. gustav seemed neither amused nor annoyed by stephanie's comments. he began pouring his cold beer into his glass. "so when did you say our man was arriving?" he asked joanie lee. "she said she didn't know when he was due back," the ambassador quickly answered. gustav took a sip of his beer. he gave a short laugh. "hey, that's not bad. so we are going to wait all night?" "we will give him a little while, " the ambassador replied. "observe the civilized amenities, right? a decent interval?" "we will wait a little while," the ambassador repeated. lorenzo returned with a green cut glass ashtray that looked heavy enough to commit murder with and placed it on the table beside gustav. gustav lit a cigarette with a small silver plated cigarette lighter. he took a deep drag on it and blew smoke into the air. "eeeeew!" without looking at anybody, stephanie got up and left the room. she left her albums and other paraphernalia behind. "this is bullshit," gustav announced. "she's only a child," joanie lee protested. gustav laughed, really loud this time. "lady, i wasn't talking about my cigarette. i was talking about your husband's factories." "my husband's factories," stammered joanie lee. "what about them? i mean, i don't know anything about them…" "we have an agreement drawn up," the ambassador told her, "concerning the exclusive right of the parthian government to the use of your husband's factories and the patents of the products of those factories." "but you will - you will have to talk to my husband. i have nothing to do with any of that." "of course, madam," the ambassador replied. "that is why we are waiting for him." "for a little while," added gustav. "but - you will have to wait until he gets here. i can't do anything for you." "you can sign your name, can't you?" joanie lee just stared at gustav. laurene spoke up. "but surely there must be some negotiations involved - payment and royalties and all that." "no, sugar," gustav told her. "there won't be any negotiations." "is that right?" laurene asked the ambassador. "the documents have been drawn up," the ambassador replied. "drawn up by the parthian cabinet and general staff. i am afraid we have no time to reconsider or reconstitute them." joanie lee turned pale and sank back in her chair. "so - war has been declared." the ambassador spread his hands. "technically, madam - no. but right now i am afraid we have no time for technicalities." "as far as i'm concerned," put in gustav, "it's always war. so you could say war is declared. but what do i know?" "but i can't sign anything!" joanie lee insisted. "i'll sign," said laurene. "you?" asked the ambassador. "why not? if there's nothing to say, and somebody has to sign , i might as well sign." "she's sounds like a bright girl," gustav said to the ambassador. "a real bright girl. sensible, too." the ambassador looked at laurene. "and you are - " "i am the princess laurene di lampeduse. the prince is my father." gustav laughed. "there you go - she's a fucking princess. what more could you ask for? she can sign." the ambassador cleared his throat. "i still think we should wait a little longer for lampeduse himself." "yeah we'll wait. we'll wait until i finish my beer." 14. "they arrested everybody when the war was on"

12. laurene's tale

by emily de villaincourt

illustrated by danny delacroix

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo

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click here to begin the 14th princess

laurene had asked toni - in the most casual, if you can do it, if you can't it's no big deal, way - to see if she could score a little bit of dope for her in the village. laurene was being truthful in a way - she did not really care that much if toni got her any dope. enlisting toni as an accomplice was part of a larger plan of laurene's - to escape. under her affectedly languid and giddy exterior laurene was as determined as any of the girls to escape. she heard voices in the corridor. it must be toni, she thought. *** laurene turned her head and listened more intently. yes, that was toni's voice, talking in the corridor to the guard she was relieving. who else would it have been? laurene waited for toni to knock. laurene found it amusing that the guards were so polite. always knocking before they entered a room. the guards did not carry guns, just sticks. and in the months the princesses had been in the school, she had never seen any indication that any of them had ever even used the sticks on anybody. were there even any guns in the school? laurene felt that there probably were not. although you never knew. surely some - maybe quite a few - of the guards were familiar with guns and had used them during the late hostilities. as some of the princesses themselves had. like laurene. *** laurene's pedigree as a "princess" was one of the shortest of any of the girls. but she had also been one of the richest. maybe the richest (depending, of course, on how "rich" was defined). and she had just been ready to inherit a lot of the wealth in her own name when the war broke out. might things have turned differently for her if the war had been postponed a bit longer? you never knew but probably not. laurene's father had made his fortune patenting and manufacturing a control mechanism used in the missile guidance systems of six of the eight major players. but not including the "orange" party of mustafa ali, who would outlast all the other players and declare himself the emperor sargon. and sometimes laurene wondered if her father had really made his money with the "control mechanisms" or whether the "control mechanisms" existed at all and if there were not some other reality behind it all… "control mechanisms" - the phrase had a soothing, brain-dulling sound to it... or if money really existed at all - the money her father had purchased the title of prince with… *** another bright boring day in the castle. the "clouds of war" were forming - had been since laurene could remember - but there were no actual clouds in the sky. laurene was lying on a couch on a balcony outside a fourth floor window, reading a james patterson novel. her sister stephanie was inside at a big table, pasting things in one of her dumb albums - butterflies, beer coasters, junk she found in the street and flattened out.. and her evil stepmother joanie lee- well, she wasn't really evil, laurene just didn't like her much and thought she was boring - was sitting/lying in a big chair with two hundred pillows, sipping a drink and staring into space - into the cloudless sky outside the window. at the edge of laurene's vision, a car appeared at the end of the long gravel driveway. laurene watched it as it approached - a black limousine with no license plates, just a red seal on its windshield - very official looking. when it was about half way up the driveway - near enough for its motor to be heard - joanie lee jumped up and ran to the railing of the balcony, beside laurene's couch. still with her drink in her hand. some of it had slopped out and was dripping off her fingers. "don't spill that on me, please," laurene told her. but laurene got up herself and watched the limousine roll up to the front of the castle. "this is it," said joanie lee. "this is what?" laurene asked. "the beginning of the end." joanie lee often expressed herself in dramatic terms, even when she wasn't soused. "oh." the limousine stopped. the driver's side door opened and a man in a uniform got out. to laurene's eye the uniform looked strange - more like a military uniform than a chauffeur's. was he wearing any medals? laurene could not see from the height and angle she was at. but when he went around to the passenger side she could see some sort of insignia on his sleeve. another, taller man in an identical uniform got out of the front passenger seat. he had a pistol in a holster on his hip. "i told you," said joanie lee. she hadn't told laurene anything, but she let it pass. the driver opened the rear door of the limousine and a short, fat man in an expensive looking gray suit and a gray hat got out. without needing the driver's assistance. the fat man was carrying a small case. he and the uniformed man with the pistol approached the castle and disappeared from laurene's and joanie lee's view. laurene thought the fat man looked familiar, like she might have seen him in a news show or on a billboard somewhere. the driver leaned against the front of the car and took a phone out of his pocket. "the prince isn't here," said joanie lee. "we will have to deal with them." "we?" thought laurene. she still thought it a little ridiculous that her father was "the prince" and that she and stephanie - and joanie lee - were "princesses". "lorenzo will deal with them," laurene told joanie lee, referring to the butler. "lorenzo can let them in," joanie lee retorted. "he can't deal with them." she looked at laurene. "that was the parthian ambassador!" "oh." "yes, i met him at a reception." joanie lee put her drink on the ledge of the balcony and started to rub her hands together. the drink toppled over the balcony. "oh christ!" joanie lee exclaimed as they waited to hear it crash. "i hope it doesn't land on the ambassador!" laurene laughed. "i think we would have heard him if it did." they waited and did not hear anything. "it must have landed in the bushes," said laurene. "what are you two jabbering about out there ?" stephanie called from her table. she had been pasting her junk in her scrapbooks the whole time. joanie lee ignored her and hurried off the balcony into the main room. they could hear the hum of the lift and a minute later lorenzo appeared with the parthian ambassador and the uniformed man. joanie lee rushed up to the ambassador. she took his two hands in hers. "my dear ambassador! we meet again!" the ambassador smiled politely. "i am afraid the prince is not here," joanie lee told him. "and i am not sure when he will return, " she added before he could get a word in. "i see." the ambassador looked around. "then i hope i can intrude on your gracious hospitality to wait for him." "oh, of course, " joanie lee told him. as soon as he said this the uniformed man dropped into a chair. "can i get a drink?" he asked joanie lee. the ambassador glanced at him with an air of mild annoyance. "certainly, certainly," joanie lee assured him. "lorenzo will get you anything - anything you want." the uniformed man laughed and leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. "and you, dear ambassador, please make yourself at home. sit anywhere - anywhere at all." the ambassador looked around. "thank you, madam." laurene noticed he did not address joanie lee as "princess" - maybe he didn't know or was not sure who she was? "can i ask you a question?" "certainly, madam." the ambassador continued to look around the room. his glance fell on stephanie, still calmly working on her album. "has war been declared?" joanie lee blurted out. the ambassador smiled politely, seeming genuinely amused by the question. "why, madam, that depends on how you define 'war' and how you define 'declare'." laurene was watching the uniformed man. she thought he looked like he might be an american - a real american, not a fake one like joanie lee. "anything i want, huh?" the uniformed man, having made himself comfortable, finally spoke. he looked directly at laurene. "don't be an asshole, gustav," the ambassador told him. gustav? that did not sound like an american name. 13. "a real bright girl"

the adventures of pandora paddington, gentlewoman - 4. the master returns

by laurene de lampeduse

illustrated by danny delacroix

editorial consultant: Prof. Dan Leo

click here to begin the adventures of pandora paddington, gentlewoman

click here to read the previous episode of the adventures of pandora paddingtom, gentlewoman

click here to begin the 14th princess

here dennis paused. "this is thirsty work." he looked around. bikes had fallen asleep in his chair. his pipe had gone out. sal sat motionless in her rocking chair. was she asleep also? dennis pushed himself up from his seat on the floor. "looking for some grog, dennis?" sal was not asleep after all. "no, no, just stretching myself." "there is a bottle in that cupboard over there. take a drop, just a drop, and be on your way." "ah - and after i've had me drop, do you want to have the rest of me tale?" "some other time." sal eased herself up from her chair. "you did what we asked - put us to sleep. that is why you've earned your drop." "always happy to accommodate ye, my lady. tis a fine and noble profession, being a bard, putting people to sleep." "indeed it is." "for what is more beautiful than sleep, " dennis intoned. he went over to the cupboard and from its lowest shelf took the bottle sal had indicated. with sal's dark eyes on him poured a "drop" - actually a few drops - into a dirty glass and downed it. "ahh - that makes it all worthwhile." "i am glad to hear it. now be on your way. i have things to do, and don't care to keep my eye on you to make sure you don't get any mischief." "but listen to the wind! and the rain is harder than ever." "you've been wet before, you'll be wet again." with a last sigh, dennis wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck and exited. some wind and rain entered the kitchen as he clumsily closed the crooked door . sal hurried over and made sure the door was fastened tight behind him. then she went over to bikes' chair and shook him. he wakened instantly. "go up and see if the master has returned," sal told him. "have you heard him? has he called?" "no, but you know how stealthy he can be. " "yes." bikes got up and stretched. "how late is it?' "late. later than it should be. that damned dennis put us both in dreamland." bikes laughed. "it was only what we asked him to do." "be that as it may, go see if the master is back." "look how dark it is!" bikes exclaimed. "and quiet! there is something strange here." "yes." *** reader, we seem to have forgotten poor mister paddington, after sending him out for his walk in the rain in the first paragraphs of our narrative. the whole purpose of mister paddington's walk, as you, dear reader, being the perspicacious person we know you to be, have no doubt surmised, is to meet the future mrs paddington, so that she may in time bring forth… the nominal heroine of our narrative, miss pandora paddington, whose promised adventures at this point are not even a gleam in anybody's eye, not the author's, or yours, dear reader… reaching the front parlor, which was now quite darkened, as well as dampened even more than usual by the mists of the day's continuous rain seeping through the ancient door and casements, bikes hastened to light a couple of the lamps, and to make the beginnings of a fire on the hearth. after pumping up the fire to moderately respectable dimensions, he went over to the window and looked out it, hoping to catch a glimpse of mister paddington coming up the lane. bikes had quite lost track of time. he glanced over at the dusty and far from trustworthy grandfather clock on the far side of the room. it was just past five o'clock. mr paddington customarily took his evening meal - which he designated as dinner rather than tea - at six, consuming it with extreme slowness and retiring soon after, no matter what the season or the weather. and since mister paddington did not make a habit of walking abroad, bikes had aught with with to judge whether he could be considered "late" or not. the rain was still falling steadily, though the wind had died down slightly. bikes had no desire to go out looking for mister paddington. he decided to tell sal to have the dinner ready as usual, and to go seeking mister paddington if he did not return by the three quarter hour. having satisfied himself on this score, he rubbed his hands together and settled into one of the shabbier chairs near the fire. but he decided against lighting his pipe, lest mr paddington return suddenly. and a good thing, for no sooner had bikes settled in the chair than he saw a shadow at the window to the left of the door. he made haste to get up to open the door. and there indeed was mr paddington, looking far wetter and more wretched than bikes could have dreamed of - hunched over, covered with wet leaves and briars and thistles, as soaked as if he had been ducked in a pond and apparently not having made the least use of his umbrella. bikes' surprise at seeing his master in this sorry condition quickly turned to astonishment, however, when he saw that mister paddington was indeed holding his unfurled umbrella - but not over himself, over a short shapeless mass of what bikes assumed must be some sort of human form beside him - he suddenly recalled mister paddington's words earlier in the day before embarking on his excursion - "in my day, bikes - in my day, things may be done differently now - a gentleman only carried an umbrella in order to offer it to a lady if the need arose." so this wet blob - wet enough to be sure though nowhere so soaked through as mister paddington - must be a "lady" of some sort… though there were no ladies of any sort for miles around that bikes knew of. bikes was almost but not quite at a loss. "here, sir," he exclaimed, "let me take that umbrella." "yes, take it." mister paddington handed the umbrella, which had in fact stood up well to the ravages if the storm, to bikes, and taking the "lady" by the arm with his newly freed hand, pushed past bikes into the shelter of the small foyer. "see to the lady, if you will," mister paddington ordered bikes. "better yet, get sal and have her attend to her." "of course, sir, of course, but you, sir, let me at least get you out of that wet coat." "no, get sal to attend to the lady." "oh no," said the shapeless lump, in a strangely youthful and musical voice, "i can attend to myself, thank you." to be continued *** laurene stopped typing. that is enough, she thought. it was almost time for toni, her regular guard, to come on. toni was often a few minutes late, had never been really late. there was no reason to be nervous. laurene had asked toni - in the most casual, if you can do it, if you can't it's no big deal, way - to see if she could score a little bit of dope for her in the village. laurene was being truthful in a way - she did not really care that much if toni got her any dope. enlisting toni as an accomplice was part of a larger plan of laurene's - to escape. under her affectedly languid and giddy exterior laurene was as determined as any of the girls to escape. she heard voices in the corridor. it must be toni, she thought. laurene's tale