The King

Kingsley grinned. Grinned hugely. Grinned ear to shiteating-grin ear.

“His father had money. Lots of it. I didn’t even believe he had so much money until that trip. Elizabeth sent a car for him to take him to his father’s house. But not just any car.”

“Oh, God, don’t tell me,” Sam said. “I see where this is going.”

“It was a Rolls Royce.”





27


KINGSLEY DIDN’T LIE, BUT HE TOLD ENOUGH HALF truths to Marie-Laure to constitute a lie. He’s meeting his father’s new wife. Needs to talk to her about a family situation. She’s never met him before, might not believe he is who he says he is. He asked me to go with him to vouch for his identity. You’ll be fine without us for one day, won’t you? Oh, yes, she said. Bien s?r. Go with him. Anything for him, she said, already obsessed with S?ren only a week after meeting him.

Kingsley barely slept the night before. He’d fought the temptation all night to go to S?ren’s tiny apartment in the priests’ quarters. But that would have been pushing his luck. He still couldn’t believe S?ren had agreed to take him along on this trip. Trip? More like a mission, from the way S?ren explained it. I have to go to my father’s house. He’s finally out of state on a trip. This is my chance to meet his new wife and talk to her without him anywhere near. I have to get his wife and my sister away from him. I need her to believe me.

“I promise I’ll vouch for your sanity and good character,” Kingsley said.

“Thank you,” S?ren said.

“Even if I have to lie.”

The insult had earned him a quick hard slap to the back of the head.

At 4:37 a.m., Kingsley left the dorms with his bag over his shoulder and waited in the chapel. Everyone was still asleep, even the priests. He cracked open the front door and watched. Ten minutes later a streak of silver glinted into view, and even in the moonlit morning darkness, he could see S?ren’s blond hair as he walked from his building to the car. Kingsley walked out then, too, and got into the car as if it were the most natural thing in the world and no one could or should question why he did it.

The driver held the door open for S?ren, but Kingsley entered the opposite side. He sat there on the leather bench seat vibrating with nervous excitement. S?ren, as usual, was the picture of genteel sophistication. Through the window that separated the backseats from the driver, S?ren calmly gave the driver his instructions. S?ren was three weeks away from turning eighteen, and the driver must have been fifty, but he bowed and scraped to S?ren as if he were royalty.

The driver closed the window. S?ren closed the curtain. And now, here, at last, they were alone in a Rolls Royce. Kingsley hadn’t remembered dying, but somehow he’d found his way into heaven. And heaven had a hand-stitched gray leather interior.

“Don’t even think about it,” S?ren said as Kingsley pulled his coat and gloves off.

“I’m always thinking about it,” Kingsley said. “I brought the lube.”

“Kingsley, it’s not even five in the morning yet.”

“You beat me this early before.”

“I was attempting to wake you up.”

“With your alarm cock?”

“Go back to sleep.” S?ren unbuttoned his coat and removed it. “We have a long drive ahead of us.”

“In a Rolls Royce? This is nice. You can pay for this?”

“My sister Elizabeth arranged this trip. She’d go herself, but I’d prefer our father blame me for this than her. For her sake, I hope he doesn’t find out at all.”

“What are you doing?” Kingsley asked as S?ren reached into his distressed leather messenger bag. He pulled out a file folder and a red pen.

“Grading papers.”

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