The Thrill Is Gone

“You’re joking, right?” questioned Paulina, finding it increasingly difficult to remain composed. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You just have to!”

“I'm perfectly serious, Miss Balcázar.”

“But . . . why? Have I done anything wrong here? Messed up someone’s registration forms? If I did, I'm genuinely sorry, and it won’t happen again, I can guarantee that.”

“It’s not a question of your work ethic.” Mrs. Anders stated.

“Then what’s it a question of?” she nearly cried. “If you’re telling me that I can’t volunteer at the embassy anymore, then it has to do with my . . . oh . . .” her eyes widened in realization. “. . . I get it now. You don’t want me volunteering here, because of my personal life. But can I just say something, my personal life, is MY personal life. It has nothing to do with you or anyone else here.”

“Except it does,” said Mrs. Anders. “For the last two days, there have been reporters outside our embassy. It makes if difficult for staff to get in and out, and it also serves as a deterrent for our fellow Americans, because no one wants to go through the trouble of pushing through a crowd just to get a few questions answered.”

“That’s not my fault though.” Paulina argued. “I mean, it is, but it’s not. Do you think I enjoy being followed around by paparazzi everywhere? You think I get a kick out of that? Because I don’t! It’s annoying, and exhausting, but at least you guys don’t have to deal with it all day. All that happens is they ask you if you know me, those are the questions they ask of staff, and while I understand that it is irritating, it’s not like their taking pictures of you, and I most definitely don’t think that them being there, warrants my leaving. I'm good at what I do. I’ve registered more people in these last two weeks, than you have in nearly four months.”

“As I said before, we’re not asking you to leave because of your work ethic, we’re asking you to leave because of your personal life. This isn’t an order that came from me.” Mrs. Anders said. “If it was up to me, I’d put guards right at our entrance, and they would escort any American in, but as it is, the order came from America.”

“From America?” asked Paulina, confused why someone in America would ask to have her removed. “Why would someone from over there give that order?”

Mrs. Anders let out a sigh. “Look, your involvement with the Prince has started talking in America. It’s an election year, and as you know everyone is under the microscope. And since everyone is fixating on anything that happens with either campaign –”

“But I don’t work for a . . . oh.”

“As you know, Senator Obama has already been called an elitist by the Republican Party, and him having a campaign worker that is dating royalty, won’t do him any good. Fox has already started complaining. You know how they are in the conservative media; they make their conspiracy theories and shove them down people’s throats. Fortunately, the conspiracies are barely being developed, and if you were to stop volunteering for his campaign and at the embassy, then it won’t become an election issue.”

“This is fucking ridiculous!” she cursed, unable to stop herself. “How can I be an election issue in America? I get that the British media is hounding me, I get that, but over there? I’ve never even met the Senator. I’ve never – this is idiotic!”

“It is.” Mrs. Anders nodded in agreement. “But when has anything Fox News done ever been reasonable? We’re talking about people that think Palin would make a good Vice President. They’re not too bright, and if they are, they’re good at hiding it.” She paused. “Look I know this is a lot to take in. I know it’s unfair, believe me, I do. You’ve been a good worker, and I really do appreciate everything you’ve done here, but do you really want to risk having Sean Hannity, Ann Coulter, Glenn Beck and all the others start talking about you? They don’t care about facts. All they want to do is incense their viewers to not vote Democrat. So just think about that. Think about all the trouble that will arise with those idiots. Do you really want to add that to your plate?”

“No,” Paulina mumbled after a short silence. “But this is ridiculous.”

“It is, but when the election passes, you can get a paid internship here. I was told to tell you that, and there will also be certain perks, Senator Kennedy said he won’t forget that you mean to apply to Harvard.”

There it was the perk that would make leaving worthwhile for her. “Alright, I’ll clear out my desk area. I’ll go look for a box.”

“You won’t clear out today.” Mrs. Anders told her. “You’re going to work until Friday, and then when the media asks us why you stopped working here, I’ll tell them that you were only meant to volunteer for a three week period, and that we are going to give another American student an opportunity to volunteer and get a feel for the job.”

“That’s a good lie.” Paulina pinched the bridge of her nose. “I'm going to have to leave the apartment on Friday as well, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Can I leave early then? On Friday, that is?”

“You can have a half day, leave at noon.”

“Alright then, thanks.” Paulina needed to get out of the office and have a moment for herself. “I have to use the restroom. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Take your time.”

Paulina nodded and then rushed off to the nearest restroom. As soon as she was inside, she checked under the stalls for any feet, and when she was sure that she was all alone, she started cursing and flailing her arms around, and angrily stomping about the room. She cursed in English. She cursed in Spanish. She cursed in a strange mix of English and Spanish that sounded like a strange new language, and she punched at the air around her. This was fucking ridiculous. How the hell had the assholes at Fox News turned her into an election issue? She didn’t know Senator Obama. She wasn’t personally acquainted with him. The only important politician she knew was Senator Kennedy. He was it! But in true Fox fashion they were going to spin things out of control, spew blatant lies in hopes of angering their viewers, and it would probably work. She knew it would. That was all they ever did! So she had to take herself out of the equation, separate herself from the campaign, even if she didn’t want to. She’d always known that she’d have to make sacrifices in order to publically be with Harry, but fucking hell, she didn’t expect she’d have to sacrifice as much as she was.

It felt like every single damn day, she had to give something else up. The sensible part of her knew that wasn’t true, that only a few things had been given up so far, but the attention she was receiving was overwhelming. She wasn’t supposed to be in the public eye until she’d made it into Congress. She was supposed to just be in the background, learning the swing of things, before running for office in her 30’s, but now she was being followed everywhere she went, people were paying more attention to her than to actual celebrities, and it was unnerving. She wanted to melt back into the crowd, to be just another face, but to do that would mean to break up with Harry. And despite the trouble she was having adjusting, despite the stress, she wouldn’t break up with him. She loved him more than she ever thought it possible to love anyone else, especially since she’d only known him for a little less than five months. They may not have known each other for a long time, but what she felt for him was strong, it was fiery, all consuming, and yet, strangely gentle. He made her feel the way Anne Elliot felt about Captain Wentworth, and she wouldn’t give that feeling up, because when love comes, it can’t be let go, it has to be protected, it has to be enjoyed. And she was determined to bask in its glory for as long as she possibly could.

When she composed herself she walked back into the office, where Mrs. Anders was helping an elderly man register to vote. She slipped in quietly, making her way behind the desk, and then began going through the motions of work. She spent the rest of the week like that, not really giving her best, but just enough to keep up a decent work ethic. And on Friday, when the clock struck noon, she went back her apartment to puck up the large suitcase that she’d brought along with her to Oxford. The kitchen had been furnished by the embassy, so she didn’t have to take plates or any of that. All she had to take were her clothes, her towel, a few books, and bedspread, which weren’t a lot to pack up, but still consumed quite a bit of time. Upon finishing, she took a seat on the small couch and took a few minutes to just enjoy the silence, because as soon as she stepped outside, there were going to be cameras in her face.

Paulina didn’t move until the cab company that she’d contacted, called to say that her driver was outside. She quickly slung her oversized purse over her shoulders, and grabbed her luggage, and began to walk outside. When she passed through the lobby, Luke and Greg offered to escort her to the cab, just to make sure she got there safely. She should’ve protested, just to be polite, but she really could use the help, and so they walked on either side of her, pushing the cameras away and even helped get her larger bag into the trunk of the cab. Words of thanks quickly passed through her lips, it was the first time the press had heard her voice, and after having shaken the two guards’ hands, she jumped into the backseat of the cab, and asked him to take her to Alfred’s flat.

As soon as she told Alfred about what was going on, he offered to let her stay at his flat for a few days, and really needing a place to crash, she gladly accepted. She planned on staying there until Sunday morning when Harry would drive her back to Oxford. It was going to be a brief stay, especially since she was going to spend most of Saturday at a polo match with Harry and Lady Fellowes, but she was determined to enjoy the limited time she had at Alfred’s flat, because Olivia had driven up on Friday afternoon to hang out and catch up. And sure enough, when Paulina stepped into the apartment, Olivia was sitting on the couch, watching a rerun of Absolutely Fabulous.

“Via!” she exclaimed excitedly, ditching her luggage to run towards her friend.

“My goodness!” cried Olivia, as she leapt to her feet. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“I'm a pro at sneaking around.” Paulina joked as they exchanged a warm embrace. “How are you? You look amazing!”

Olivia shook her head timidly.

“You do, my bashful darling! Ah! I missed you so much.” Paulina hugged her again.

“I should go away more often then.” Olivia smiled. “I’ll be treated like a Queen whenever I return. And speaking of royalty, should we speak of royalty?” she smiled coyly.

“Only if there’s wine,” declared Paulina. “And only if you tell me everything that happened at Scotland, because I know you left things out because Alfie was in the room. You did, didn’t you?”

“Well of course I did. I didn’t want to make Alfie blush. You know how private he is about certain things, but don’t worry, I’ve got a bottle of wine in the fridge, and we have two hours until Alfie gets home from his internship.”

“And Charlotte’s not here?”

Olivia shook her head. “She’s on holiday.”

“She’s always on Holiday.”

“That’s what Alfie always says, but I think its best she’s on holiday. Can you imagine what it’d be like if she were here? She wouldn’t give us a moment’s peace and she’d be bombarding you with questions about Henry.”

“That’s right. I always forget her and him fucking.”

“How can you forget that? That was when you met!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t realize it was him until way later. At that time, I just thought he was some guy trying to sneak out of a one night stand, which he was, but you know, didn’t know his being royal and all that. Why am I saying this? I’ve said this before.” Paulina chuckled softly. “So let’s go get the wine! Because tonight we’re all getting drunk, and not a little drunk, I'm talking proper smashed.”

“It’s a good thing I brought mineral water with me. There’s nothing better for a hangover than mineral water, and that food you make, the spicy ones with the tortilla strips. Oh, you should make some! Pretty please with a gingery prince on top?” teased Olivia.

Paulina’s head tilted slightly back and she let out a musical laugh. “Yeah, I can definitely make some, but we have to go to the store so I can get the stuff to make the tortillas. Um, we should probably go right now, the press doesn’t know I'm here so we can go to the market incognito.”

“Bloody hell, I’d forgotten about your entourage. Forget the food. It’ll be too much trouble.”

“You sure?” asked Paulina. “Because I don’t really mind, it’ll be a quick run to the store.”

“I’d rather not though. I don’t think I'm ready to have my picture taken with you. You know how I am around cameras.” Olivia smiled sheepishly.

“In that case, I’ll make us some pancakes in the morning. Alfie always has pancake mix, so it’ll be rad, and I’ll even put blueberries in yours.”

“I’ll be devouring a massive stack of them, then.” Olivia patted her stomach. “That’s if I don’t throw up tonight.”

“We’re not gonna throw up tonight. We’re having wine. You can’t throw up with wine. It’s too classy.”

“Need I remind you of the incident on my birthday?”

“That was champagne.” Paulina reminded.

“The last bottle was champagne, the first three were wine.”

“It’s cuz we mixed it, but don’t worry, we’re just having wine tonight.” Paulina walked back to the door, and locked it behind her. “I'm gonna put my stuff in the closet. Want to open the wine while I'm at it?”

“Alright, but hurry back!” shouted Olivia as she walked towards the kitchen. “We’ve got loads to catch up on!”

Paulina rushed towards the spare closet down the hall, and neatly stacked her bag against the wall. The only thing she took with her was her cell phone, just in case Harry texted or called. Before heading back to the living room, she stopped in the communal bathroom to freshen up, maneuvering through the paparazzi always left her sweaty, and she wanted to feel cool and relaxed while she caught up with Olivia. It didn’t take long for her to freshen up; she splashed some water on her face, rubbed some on the back of her neck, and then walked over to the kitchen where Olivia was pouring them two generous glasses of wine.

The pair situated themselves in the living room, each getting comfortable on opposing sides of the couch, and then, with the television turned off, they began filling each other in on everything that had gone on. Olivia told Paulina about how Alfred had gotten a jazz band to play The Very Thought of You, and when they began to play, Alfred asked her to dance. They moved somewhat awkwardly in the beginning, there was a gap between them, but then Alfred took charge and pulled her in close, so she could feel the warmth of his breath, with that newfound intimacy he began to sing the song softly to her, and despite the fact that he wasn’t a very good singer, Olivia thought it the most beautiful rendition she’d ever heard. Unable to contain herself, she softly pressed her lips against his. It caught him off guard. He immediately tensed, unintentionally causing Olivia to pull away out of fear that she’d done something wrong, but his shock wore off, and it was his turn to kiss her, it was a tender, closed mouth kiss, the kind best suited for a wedding ceremony, but eventually their longing got the best of them, the kiss was deepened, and by the time the night was out, they’d made love.

Olivia had left that out over the phone, knowing very well Alfred wouldn’t approve of her telling Paulina, because then it would’ve made him seem insane for being so reserved when it came to sex, but Olivia couldn’t help it. She needed to tell Paulina everything, even though it was odd to hear that Alfred, the man whom had taken over nine months to confess his feelings to Olivia, had had sex straight away. Paulina had always thought it’d take at least a few months of courtship before Alfred dared to make a move, but apparently Olivia and him had wasted enough time, and weren’t planning on wasting anymore.

When Alfred arrived at the flat, it took everything Paulina had to not tease him. She had jokes lined up in her mind, jokes that had her struggling to keep from laughing, but she’d promised Olivia that she wouldn’t let him know that she knew, and even in her slightly tipsy state, she was determined to keep that secret. And thankfully for her, Alfred thought her smile was due to the wine she was drinking, not to her knowing that he’d gone down on Olivia. Had he known that she’d heard of his heavenly tongue, he would’ve locked himself in his bedroom and sulked in there for at least a few hours, but he didn’t know, and so instead of sulking, he announced that he’d brought takeaway with him from a Japanese restaurant that they loved.

At the mention of the restaurant, Olivia and Paulina set the table, setting out the placemats and opening up another bottle of wine, as well as putting an unopened bottle of mineral water on the table. The three of them then sat down to eat, all eager to pacify their rumbling stomachs, and as his two guests served themselves, Alfred reached for the remote so he could turn on the television. He was used to having the teli on as background noise, that was how he ate his meals, but unfortunately for him, when he turned on the television there was an entertainment program that focused solely on celebrity news and gossip, and the women that hosted the program were busy talking shit about Paulina. They were criticizing her for not talking to the paparazzi, according to them, she thought herself too important to talk to them. And her fashion sense, oh it was appalling. How could a Prince be with someone who dressed so horribly? The women were going to town on their critique of her, and Alfred turned off the television as quickly as he could. Alfred was mortified. He shouldn’t have turned on the television, but no, he needed background noise, and now he’d probably ruined Paulina’s evening.

“Sorry Paulin, I'm real sorry about the teli and fucking hell,” he apologized as he mentally scolded himself. “That was awful.”

“Don’t worry about it, Alfie. It’s not like you knew that crap was gonna be on. All you did was turn on the teli, and by chance, those bitches were on.” She took a sip of her wine. “Alfred,” she addressed him by his given name, knowing very well that he’d keep feeling guilty unless she verbally forced him not to. “Get the fuck over it. You didn’t do anything wrong, so wipe that look off your damn face, and lets feast on the delicious food you brought.”

The guilty look didn’t abandon his face. “I feel awful though. The things they were saying . . .”

“I don’t give a fuck about what they’re saying. People like them make a living by talking shit about other people, that’s all they do, so when someone new comes on their radar, they have to tear them apart, and that’s what they’re doing with me. That’s what they do to everyone, and its best just to not take it seriously, so don’t, just forget about it.” She returned her attention to her plate. “These noodles are really good. Thanks for dinner, Alfie. And thanks for letting me crash here.”

“You’re welcome as long as you like.” Alfred told her. “Charlotte won’t be here for another week so you can feel comfortable enough to stay. It’ll make seeing Henry easier.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I'm sort of looking forward to getting back to Oxford.”

“Thought you didn’t want to go back, at least not yet,” spoke Olivia.

“Well I was pissed off at first, but it’s turned out to be a blessing in disguise. You know? Oxford’s quite a ways away from London, so I'm hoping that not many photographers will be down for the drive.” Paulina explained.

“That’s a fair point. You’ll finally have some peace.”

Paulina nodded as she ate a forkful of noodles.

“Have you spoken to the lads back in Oxford?” asked Alfred.

Paulina swallowed her food. “Not really. I mean, I spoke to Lesedi the other day, but it was a really brief conversation. He just called to ask if I’d be in town this weekend to play a match, and I told him I wasn’t, but that I’d be there next week. So I’ll talk to them then. Hopefully they won’t be too upset with me.”

“Why would they be upset?” asked Olivia.

“Because of the whole Henry thing,” she said. “They were my angry drinking partners, so . . . well you know how that is. You get drunk after a break up, and all of a sudden you lose your fucking mind and you say things you don’t really mean,” she cringed at the thought of some of the things she’d said. “Can I use the noodles as a way to change the subject again?” she asked.

“Noodles can always be used as an excuse,” Olivia smiled. “And since we’re using noodles as an excuse to change the subject, I think we should discuss the polo match.”

“Nuh-uh, we’re not discussing the match.” Paulina declared.

“Why not?” asked Olivia, brow furrowed.

“Because I asked you if you wanted to go. Remember? Henry told me to ask you guys if you wanted to come, but no, you two said you couldn’t make it. I bet Alfie was the grouch that said it was better not to go.”

“For once, he’s not the one that protested against going out.” Olivia spoke, shooting Alfred a smile. “I'm the one that thought it best if we stayed behind. And I stand by that. That’s your moment to branch out and meet the people in his society. You can’t waste it by running off to us, because we all know that’s what you would’ve done. As soon as you felt uncomfortable, you would’ve sought us out.”

“That’s not . . . oh okay, that is true.” Paulina smiled sheepishly. “But it would’ve been rad to have you there.”

“Maybe another time,” said Olivia, smiling softly. “But tomorrows all about you and Henry and Lady Fellowes, and you best be on your absolute best behavior. You hear me? You need to be your lovely, charming self so those people can love you.”

“You sound like my mom.”

“Your mother’s a lovely woman, so I’ll take it as a compliment.” Olivia scrunched her nose and spun noodles onto her fork. “Have you decided what you’re to wear?”

Paulina nodded. “My mom brought some dresses for me when she flew out here, so I'm gonna wear one of those.”

“And what’s the dress like?” Olivia pressed.

“Uh, well it’s blue.” Paulina said right before she had a forkful of noodles. “I know you want more details, but I'm not good at describing outfits. I’ll show you it after we’ve finished eating.”

“Oh alright,” pouted Olivia. “Are you at least wearing a hat?”

Paulina shook her head.

“How are you not wearing a hat? You have to! Everyone wears hats to a polo match.”

“Well I'm not and neither is Lady Fellowes.” Paulina put down her fork. “And if Lady Fellowes says it’s okay not to wear one, then I'm gonna think it’s alright.”

“People will talk.” Olivia realized how daft that sounded. “Oh, alright, they already talk, but you should at least wear the hat. You look lovely when you wear hats.”

“I'm not wearing one of those hats, because if my ass is gonna wake up extra early to straighten and do this hair up, then you best believe that I'm gonna show it off.”

“She has a point there.” Alfred chimed in. “If I was a bird and spent half an hour –”

“It takes an hour.” Paulina told him.

“Fucking hell!” he bellowed. “An hour to do your hair?” he asked in disbelief. “That’s mental. No wonder ya want to show it off. I’d stick my hair in everyone’s face, that’s what I’d do. I’d make them worship it.”

“You’re mad.” Olivia said, giggling as she did so.

“And he’s all yours.” Paulina smiled at her.

Olivia burst into laughter, and as she laughed, Alfred gazed upon her with such tender adoration that it made Paulina wonder if they were on the verge of getting it on while she was still in the room. Alfred seemed lost in his own little world, perfectly oblivious to her presence, and when Olivia’s laughter subsided, she too shared his expression.

“Should I . . . uh . . . get going? Or do you guys want an audience?” Paulina teased. “I mean, if you want an audience, I’m gonna have to open up another bottle.”

“Oh, hush up!” Olivia’s cheeks brightened as she chucked a napkin at Paulina. “No one’s doing anything.”

“Not yet,” she mumbled, only loud enough for Olivia to hear.

They spent the rest of Friday, and a few hours into Saturday, drinking heavily and laughing. It was normal night, they didn’t do anything crazy or questionable, well not to questionable, but it was honestly one of the most relaxing moments she’d had since her relationship with Harry went public. Her friends made her forget the paparazzi, they made her feel like her relationship with Harry was just like any other, and she loved them all the more for it. With them, she didn’t have to censor herself. She could tell them everything that was going on in her life, and not have to worry about whether or not they were going to sell that information to the tabloids. They were the only two people in England, other than Harry, that she could be completely at ease around.