CHAPTER 1 - THE PRINCESS AND THE WANNABE PRINCE...WHO’S ACTUALLY A FROG

PETERSON BROWNSTONE, NEW YORK - SUNDAY MORNING

MASTER BEDROOM

LINDSAY

The sun is shining, but my mood is dark as a stormy night, and the reason is heading towards Central Park for a jog. I look down at my peignoir set and scowl. It is French silk, a beautiful peach colour, which flatters my body...maybe that’s the problem: my body. It’s obviously not my face, for I’m a great beauty! My hair is the perfect blonde, and has just the right amount of curl and wave to frame my face, dare I say it, yes I will...perfectly!

I had put on some subtle but understated eye make-up and slicked on the lipstick he gave me in his favourite shade of red. However, he just grunted in response to my sultry good morning, ran down the stairs and was gone in less than sixty seconds!

Pulling the full length mirror to the centre of the room, I partly close the drapes and drop my gown. I run my hands over my thighs, which are soft like butter. There is a slight shimmer from the powder I buffed into them. Next I check out the muscle tone of my arms; not a wobble, same as my neck, neither jowls nor wattle. 

“Why can’t he see what I, and everyone else can?” I fume. “I’m perfect! He's perfect, what is wrong with him?!” I turn around and look at my ass, it is high and pert. “He always says I have a great ass, so why doesn’t he tap it - as they say!” 

“Hello! Miss Peterson, are you in residence?” Manning, my butler, calls up from reception. 

Scowling, I put my day robe back on. I don't want him to see what I’ve got, this is for Brian’s eyes only. “Yes! I’ll be right down. Have my coffee set up in the drawing room!”

“Yes, Miss Peterson, will Brian be joining you?!” 

I force myself to walk rather than storm out of my room, bridling at his casual formality. “No, Mr Kinney has gone for a walk. I’ll be down in about twenty minutes, make sure the coffee is piping hot, and don’t use a flask. You know how much it jars with the decor.”

“Yes, Miss Peterson. Of course, Miss Peterson.” He smiles and bows before heading to do my bidding.

Going back to my room, I grab my clothes and head to the bathroom to wash away the evidence of another failed attempt to get Brian Kinney into my bed.

FIVE MINUTES LATER 

KITCHEN

MANNING

I dab away the tears of laughter then check the time. I’ve got another forty minutes before she floats in, thinking she’s Gloria Swanson in her prime but she’s more like Norma Desmond at the height of her lunacy in Sunset Boulevard! When she came out in that waffle housecoat, I just knew she had failed again!

I’ve worked with the Peterson family for over twenty years. My servitude started in Pittsburgh with Nancy and Ronald. The latter is a decent chap, who doted on the pair of them. When Nancy’s infidelity was discovered, he was devastated, even more so than when Lindsay chose to leave with her mother and move to New York. He, a fool in my opinion, let them go with Nancy’s reputation unsullied. The reason given for the divorce was that Ronald didn’t want another child, whilst Nancy did. She got her wish five years after she left and had another girl, Lynette, who is just as bratty as Lindsay, but mercifully, she now lives in Europe with her father, following Nancy’s passing.

I’ll admit that was the only time I felt pity for Lindsay. Once Lynette arrived, she was shoved out of the spotlight. For a while, they had their precious girl; how they feted her, leaving a very resentful Lindsay to her own devices. To rub salt into the wound, at the start of her college years, they sent her back to her father so that they could concentrate solely on Lynette’s upbringing, how that stung! But the benefit of that is that she met Brian Kinney. And she’s been trying to get him ever since! 

Brian came to New York with her at the height of Nancy’s illness; he was here when she died. And at Lindsay's weeping willow insistence, he’s been here ever since.

I hear the sound of her shower, and relax a little; my mind drifting back to Brian. For a man so gorgeous, he remains single, but not for the reasons she imagines in that conceited cesspit of her imagination. He’s not ‘waiting for the right time’, he’s not ‘waiting for Kinnetic to be stronger so that he can give her the life she’s used to’; oh no, it’s plain and simple as the nose on his gorgeous face: he’s gay...he’s just not come to terms with it yet! But he will, he’s going to be too much of a Stud for that to remain suppressed for much longer! It just needs winkling out by the right person, who needs to be able to get through the Catholic guilt his parents lumbered him with!

I chuckle as I remember our brief meetup this morning. He was almost hopping into his trainers in his rush to get out. In the end, I had to help him get them on, as I could hear her calling out to him to come up upstairs, saying there’s something she needed to show him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man look so sickened. I admit, I liked him the moment I met him, a shy, quiet, and very studious young man. He always greeted me respectfully, and would make sure his things were tidied away, despite it being my job to ‘clean up after better folks than myself’ - this was the one phrase that Lynette and Lindsay agreed on. 

I take down the Digby china coffee set and prepare the solid silver tray for her coffee and croissant. She is very lucky that Nancy left her everything in her will. For all her beauty, she’s not very intelligent. She just scraped a pass in college, and that was with some help from Brian and her wiles, let’s put it that way. 

I’m startled by the phone ringing, nobody ever calls the main line. “Peterson residence, how may I help you?” I ask, then my heart sinks. “Thank you. I will tell her.” I pull out my phone and dial a number she doesn’t know I have. “Brian, you need to come back now, Ronald is dead.”

TAYLOR BROWNSTONE, PITTSBURGH - TWO DAYS LATER

KITCHEN

MICHAEL

I check the coffee, it’s almost done. I know I shouldn’t sulk too much, but I’m hurt that he wouldn’t let me come back with them yesterday, and Justin agreed. And by ‘he’, I mean his snotty agent, Sidney Bloom, and now his assistant, Emmett is here too! Ever since Ronald got in touch with them to check out Justin’s art four years ago, they’ve been thorns in my side. Sidney takes up far too much of his time, he’s always booking him in shows all over the country. I think he’s only had two shows in Pittsburgh this year, the rest have been in New York, California, Seattle, Washington - just all over. And I, his best friend, since we met in  college, have been his moral support at each one. Well not all of them, the only one I wasn’t able to make was New York, and that’s because Sidney sprung it on him at the last minute. We got to his office, and Justin was on a private plane within an hour. To this day, I don’t believe there wasn’t room for me.

“You’re here.” Sidney sighs as he comes in with Emmett. “Justin’s just getting out of the shower, and…”

“You were watching him in the shower?!” I gasp, putting my hands on my hips. “Thought you were straight, Sidney?!”

“I AM straight, and even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t mix business with pleasure. I value Justin’s friendship too much for that.” 

“Are you saying I don’t? I’m his best friend!”   

“With his 'best interests at heart', yes, yes, I know; heard it before ad nauseum. Can you set up the tray for me, please, whilst I make the call to his attorney? Seems now that they’ve finally managed to get in touch with his daughter, she’s coming tomorrow.”

“Excuse me, two things: I’m his best friend, not your butler! You want the tray set up, then do it yourself. Secondly, why are you involved with his late father’s things? I’m his best friend, and…”

“Have made no tangible input to ease his burden, other than giving him an overlong hug whilst trying not to weep and worm your way into his pants!” Emmett snaps, then starts to pour coffee. “His father has died, he’s going to be meeting his sister for the first time at a very painful juncture of their lives, what he needs is someone stable and calm, not a best friend who is batty grinding like a cat in heat on his hip every two seconds!” 

“Batty grinding?” Justin laughs as he leans against the door, I scowl at Sidney’s squeezing of Justin’s arm as he passes him to go God knows where. This is another source of annoyance, how they come and go all the time! “Where did you hear that, Ems?”

“I just made it up! A perfect description.” He snickers. “What time are we leaving?”

“Leaving? Where are we all going? Do I need to pack a bag?” I demand.

“As I know the answers to those questions, it’s best you look at me…” Emmett drawls. Again, Justin laughs. “...come now, turn yourself  away from Justin’s towel clad body, and…”

“Ems, stop it! Michael doesn’t think about me like that, we’re just best friends, bros, buddies and wingmen.” 

“Hmm. If only you two were of the same accord. However, stopping at your request.” Emmett declares, casting yet another dirty look at me. “So, in answer, as we said yesterday, we’re going to visit his mom. Then, after, we’ve got to meet up with Ted Schmidt to…”

“Who’s he?!” I gasp as more and more people invade my comforting - not batty grinding - time with Justin.

“He’s her late father’s accountant. He will be handling the estate on her behalf I should imagine.” Emmett replies, whilst handing Justin coffee. “Not that she’s invested any time with her father in all these years. Such a sweet man, oh those beasties!”

Beasties?! I think to myself, how childish is this guy?! 

“He seemed a nice chap when I spoke to him.” Sidney comes back in and drapes a dressing gown over Justin’s shoulders. “Cover up, you’ll get a chill.” 

“Thanks, Sidders. Okay, I’m starved, let’s all eat and then get this show on the road. Did you get the flowers, Michael?”

I flick Emmett a scornful look and nod. “They’re in the car, and…”

“Where in the car?” Sidney frowns, then fills a jug with water. “Tell me they’re not basking in the sunshine at the back, and that you’ve wrapped the stems in a wet flannel?”

“They’re in the trunk, where it’s cool, thank you very much.” I retort. “And no to the flannel, they’ve only just gone in and should be fine!” 

“Should is not the same as will be.” Sidney sighs. “His keys are on the side, can you get them, Ems? We have to make sure they’re perky, she always loved her blooms to be at their fullest.”

I’m about to object, but it’s too late. Emmett has gone. “I’ll do the pancakes, I know what you’re like when you’re starved, Justin.”

“Thanks, Michael, but I’ll just stick to the fruits, are they in the bag?” He gestures to my holdall and gets to it before I can. “I was relying on you, Michael. It was just two things: get the flowers and the fruits. You have to pass the fruit department to get to the comics…” He rubs his eyes. “...Sidders, can you call Ted and put us back an hour or so? I can’t meet him on an empty stomach, and...oh, Ems, you life saver!”

I grimace at both Justin’s tone and the bag in Emmett’s hand; the tubs of fruit salad taunt me. 

“I had a feeling I would need to come to your rescue foodwise. Strawberry, nectarine and figs for you, Justin. Sidney, your usual of melon, apple and kiwi; and, Michael, your apples, slathered in peanut butter and frosting. See, I remembered.” 

“Thanks for coming to my rescue, Ems…” Justin declares as he grabs his salad. “...don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes!” 

“Here to help as always!” He replies, before looking at his watch. “You’d better eat and change, we don’t want to be late for her.”

“Again, what would I do without you!” Justin kisses his cheek before rushing out.

“Don’t get too cosy with him, Ems…” Sidney smiles. “...remember, you're my assistant,  not his, I won’t lose you without a fight!” 

“Oh, you and I both know Justin. If he wants something bad enough, he will get it.” Emmett titters, but they’re the only ones laughing.

BONDERSHAFT & MILLS, ATTORNEYS AT LAW - TWO HOURS LATER

TED SCHMIDT

I watch quietly as Kelly hands over a box of tissues to the grateful godlike man, who quickly returns to Lindsey's side so that she can dry her eyes. I want to roll mine. Her performance is incredible, Oscar winning in fact. If Ronald’s coffin was here, I’m sure she would’ve thrown herself upon it! The soft clearing of a throat has me turning back to the guests already seated.

“Sorry, gentlemen, she needs a few more minutes it seems.” They all nod in understanding, well almost all of them. Michael, as usual, looks bored and resentful. When he thinks nobody is looking, he scowls at Emmett, and judging by that holdall on his lap, the reason is in there. 

“Ted, she’s ready now.” Kelly calls over her shoulder. “They’re in conference room 2.”

CONFERENCE ROOM 2 - FIVE MINUTES LATER

LINDSAY

I grasp Brian’s hand tightly whilst watching the door. I’m so glad he’s here, considering how busy he’s been at Kinnetic. “Lindsay, you’re breaking my fingers. Relax, it’s going to be fine!” 

“Sorry, honey, but it’s such a shock.” I dab my eyes. “He was so young, and…” The door opening brings in about six men, only one of whom I vaguely recognise. I turn to Desmond, my attorney. “...what’s going on?”

“I’m as in the dark as you are.” He clips out, no doubt still smarting about being ordered to attend instead of sending his junior partner. He needed to be reminded that I’m a prestigious client, that he is at my beck and call, I’m not to be looked after by underlings! “May I have the paperwork that your father’s been sending you now?” I’m about to say no when Brian hands him the document pouch. “Thanks, Brian, are we still meeting in a week?”

“Yes, thanks for doing that, but let’s discuss it afterwards. This is Lindsey's time.” Brian returns; as per usual, he’s thinking of me.

“Pardon, Desmond, what did you say?” I frown.

“Nothing at all.” He replies, concentrating on the paperwork; but I know he said something like ‘when isn’t it’, but before I can question him further, two men approach us.

“Lindsay, how are you doing? So sorry to meet you again under these circumstances. He was a great man.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. In my grief, I’ve become forgetful. You are?”

“Thomas Schmidt, your late father’s attorney; and this is my son, Theodore, or Ted as he prefers to be known. He handled the financial side of your father’s business.”

“Nice to meet you again, Lindsay, my condolences.” Ted extends his hand, which I take. 

“Thank you, both of you. And this is Brian Kinney.” 

“Nice to meet you gentlemen.” Brian exudes charm as only he can.

“Are you the attorney?” Ted asks, holding onto Brian’s hand a bit too long!

“No, that would be me.” Desmond bumps me slightly as he stands. “Desmond Lawrence, nice to meet you both.”

“Likewise, shall we take our seats?” Ted asks.

“Before we do, who are those four people? I would rather not have my father’s business discussed in front of strangers.” I declare, as I remember Thomas Schmidt from years before. I never liked him. He always treated Mother and me as if we were beneath Daddy, who quite frankly should’ve been grateful that Mother stuck it out as long as she did! 

“Lindsay, could we step out of the room for a minute? I need to…”

“Desmond! I’m having a very difficult and upsetting time right now, I don’t need to be doing your job as well!” 

“Lindsay, please calm down...” Brian tries to placate me, but Desmond has annoyed me to the nth degree over the last couple of days. “...and let’s just take a…”

“No, we will not take this outside or a break!” I snap, then take a breath. “Sorry, Brian, but I’ve just lost my father, and Desmond is being utterly unsympathetic!” I snivel.

“Unbelievable!” Desmond explodes, stunning us into silence. “You cold hearted spoilt little guttersnipe!” He shoves the document pouch back into Brian’s hands. “If you had taken two seconds to ask why I was reluctant to attend today, you would’ve found out that my daughter had just given birth to my first grandchild! And before you can do so, I quit!” He quickly gathers his things and strides towards the door. “And I’m not unsympathetic. Which one of you is Justin Taylor?!”

“That would be me.” A nervy blond man replies.

“You have my every sympathy for having that as a sister!” He declares, before slamming out of the room.

“What?! What does that mean?!” I shriek.

“It means…” Ted begins. “...that Justin is your half…”

“No! I don’t care who he says he is!” I jab my finger at him. “You listen to me! I don’t know what tales your harlot of a mother spun for you, but...”

“Don’t you ever speak of my mother that way!” Justin shouts. “Do that again, and grieving half sister or not; I will slap you so hard, your face will do a 180!”