The Prince & The Popstar

You Better Pray

"You think the war is over
I've only shown you the tip of the iceberg
And you rely upon your lawyers
But, at night, when you sleep, does it bother you?"
— The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

     While Vincent hopped around Houston, Rufus spent a great deal of time at The Treehouse, familiarizing himself with The Crew as he acclimated to the slower pace of Verastoria. After his first night's stay, he woke up on the cot in Vincent's Polaroid-covered quarters. He had never slept on a cot before, but it was very similar to a bed on a tour bus—just without the road bumps and traffic noise.
     Once Rufus had laced up his shoes, he made his way across one of the many rope bridges and entered the main common room where he found Ava and Samuel sharing a few slices of buttered toast slathered with a thick layer of Nutella.
     "Good morning," Ava said with a wide smile as she brushed off the crumbs on her jeans.
     "Hi there," Rufus replied, rubbing the shoulder he slept on. "How are y'all doing?"
     "We are doing just fine," Ava said. "Isn't that right, Samuel?"
     Samuel happily nodded, his mouth full of toast and hazelnut cocoa spread. He then grabbed his Magna Doodle and quickly wrote something down. He turned the tablet so Rufus could see the message: Want some toast? It's tasty.
     Rufus grinned. "That's alright, buddy. I'm not all that hungry. What I could really use is a cup of coffee."
     "There's a thermos on the counter over there," Ava said, pointing to the far corner of the room. "Help yourself. You can use any of the mugs on the shelf with the exception of the stainless steel camping cup; that's Henry's. Unless you want to sit through a 45-minute tirade about communicable diseases, don't touch that particular cup."
     "Thanks for the heads-up," Rufus replied as moved toward the counter. While he poured some piping-hot coffee into a crimson-colored cup, he asked, "So, are you two playing hooky today?"
     "'Hooky'?" Ava questioned. Samuel had a vacant expression with an arched eyebrow.
     "Yeah, shouldn't you be in school?" Rufus asked, sipping his coffee.
     "Oh, schooling in Verastoria is quite different than what's offered in The States," Ava explained. "Here, we complete our formal classroom studies in our Tenth Year. After that, students have an Intern Year followed by an Apprenticeship Year. Once that's over and done, you're eligible for university."
     "Okay," Rufus said, thinking all of it over. "So, shouldn't you be at your apprenticeship and Samuel be in class?"
     "Well, when your father is an infamous criminal, you find yourself out of the running for just about every opportunity. No reputable employer will touch you."
     "Oh, my God. That's awful."
     "And as far as Samuel goes, Verastorian schooling is year-round, so he has breaks at random times. I promise—we're not encouraging truancy."
     Rufus set down his mug on the counter and noticed a hand-drawn map of an island on the adjacent wall. A number of red X's dotted the island without any clear rhyme or reason while a single green checkmark was placed close to the northwest shore.
     "What's this?" Rufus asked, thoroughly impressed with the elaborate detail of the map. It included winding footpaths and the topography of the terrain.
     "You're standing in the middle of it," Ava replied. "Dead-center, actually."
     "Really? This is a map of The Island of Misfit Toys?" Rufus questioned as he tilted his head to the side, focusing on the brilliant display of cartographic skill.
     "That's right. It took a while to chart, but it was worth the time. It's really handy."
     "What's with the red X's and the green checkmark?"
     Samuel cleared his Magna Doodle, wrote something down quickly, and then held it up for Rufus to read: Poop.
     Ava giggled, shaking her head. "They signify where we've dug latrines. Red X's are old latrines which have been filled and covered. The green checkmark is the current latrine. So, keep that in mind when nature calls."
     "I definitely will," Rufus responded. "So, where's Henry?"
     "Believe it or not, he's out digging the next latrine," Ava answered. "It's a weekly rotating chore. It's his turn."
     "I see. Aside from the fresh toilet, what do y'all have going on today?"
     "We'll probably go fish for our dinner a little later this afternoon, but other than that, there's really nothing pressing."
     Rufus stood quietly, closing his eyes, breathing in deeply, and exhaling with a smile. He whispered, "Wow..."
     "What?" Ava wondered.
     "I'm just savoring the moment," Rufus replied. "I can't remember the last time when I wasn't trapped underneath a strict schedule. This feeling—it's all kinds of wonderful."
     "You look genuinely happy," Ava said as she rubbed Samuel's back.
     "I am," Rufus said, taking another deep breath. "I really am."
     Over the next few days, Rufus took complete advantage of his newfound free time, using it to do things he simply couldn't do before, like reading for personal pleasure or taking mind-cleansing nature walks. These were things which truly fed his soul.
     Rufus also found himself growing closer to The Crew, especially with Ava. She was actively curious about the glitz and glamor of Hollywood and the adventures he had on the road with 90 Percent Ninja. He explained the advantages and drawbacks of growing up in front of cameras loaded with 35 mm film as well as the burdens that ride tandem with all celebrities. He talked about how addictive the roar of a crowd could be and the shameless nature of the majority of groupies. Ava was utterly fascinated and never seemed to run out of need-to-know questions.
     One morning, Rufus was the first one up at The Treehouse. After a few fumbling attempts, he finally got the old-school percolating coffee pot to work and decided to wake up Ava with a fresh cup. He slowly made his way across the rope bridge to her quarters, not thinking beforehand about how difficult it would be to carry a full mug while traversing an unsteady bridge. Despite the challenge, he reached the deck which wrapped around Ava's personal treehouse and knocked on the doorframe; the entrance was covered by a purple curtain.
     "Come in," Ava said through a yawn.
     "Morning. Would you like some coffee? I made a fresh pot," Rufus said, taking a step toward Ava who was stretching her arms in her hammock which was anchored to the top of the east and west walls of her room.
     "Thank you. That's really sweet of you," she said, taking hold of the mug Rufus held out.
     "So, this is your room," Rufus said, looking around.
     "Yep, this is it," she replied, blowing softly on her coffee.
     The walls were covered with spectacularly colorful, hand-drawn pictures of skyline silhouettes against the backdrop of a sunset (or "sunrise", for the optimists). A number of cities were represented with the shadows of their distinct, unmistakable architecture—metropolises such as New York City, London, Paris, Shanghai, Sydney, Dubai—all beautifully illustrated.
     "This is amazing work," Rufus said, scanning each cityscape. "Did you do these?"
     "Yes and thank you," Ava replied. "Does your compliment stem from a mere observation or am I speaking to a fellow artist?"
     "I've been known to dabble a little," Rufus said behind a tight-lipped smile. "It's more of a therapeutic exercise for me. It helps me work through my anxiety."
     "I find it difficult to think of you as an anxious person," Ava replied as she climbed out of her hammock. "On camera, you seem unbelievably poised and confident."
     "Well, for any performer, that's part of the job description. You've really gotta sell it."
     "Just so you know, you sell it really well."
     "Thanks. It's nice to know that it's not wasted effort."
     "No, no, not at all. You're a superstar, Rufus. And you shine brightly."
     "You do, too, you know—shine. You may not think so. You may think you're nothing more than an outcast, but I assure you; You're plenty shiny."
     They stood in silence, softly smiling, gazing into each other's eyes. This was an important moment; Ava was slowly lowering her dense defense. Rufus took a step toward her. She took a step toward him. Both of them felt this remarkable sensation which was exhilarating yet terrifying. It was as if they were standing on a ledge, waiting for the right time to step off and fall. But then, a loud knock cut through the crescendo.
     "Who is it?" Ava called out.
     "It's Henry. Are you decent?"
     "Yes, come in," she said, sighing.
     Henry pushed aside the purple curtain and immediately locked eyes with Rufus. "Mr. Spencer," he said, standing up straighter. "Good morning."
     "Good morning, Henry," Rufus replied. "Wait a minute—you just called me 'Mr. Spencer'. I mean, that's unnecessary. You can, of course, call me 'Rufus', but have you finally accepted that I'm not an extraterrestrial being or a cybernetic humanoid?"
     "I have accepted it," Henry answered in his usual monotone voice. "But, that's only because I was able to verify it."
     "'Verify it'?" Rufus asked. "How did you go about doing that?"
     "I lifted your fingerprints from your coffee mug," Henry explained. "And the results support your claim."
     "How the hell did you get access to an American government database?" Rufus asked, quite taken aback.
     "You have not a clue about the kind of connections you can make on Reddit," Henry replied. "You would be shocked at the information one can ascertain. All it takes is a little patience and an internet connection."
     "Yeah, okay, there goes my faith in the system," Rufus said, folding his arms.
     "We can discuss your misguided trust at a later time," Henry said as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "We have a situation."
     "What kind of situation?" Ava questioned.
     "It's Samuel," Henry began, bringing up his messaging app. "The orphanage is under lockdown. Apparently, a few of the children there have gone missing."
     "How's Samuel?" Ava asked quickly.
     "He's fine," Henry assured. "He snuck into Mother Superior's office and messaged me from her computer. Nevertheless, I think we need to get him out of there. With us, his safety is guaranteed."
     "I agree," Ava said as she grabbed her vintage messenger bag. "Let's move. We need to take care of this now." She reached inside her bag, took out a pair of black framed glasses, and then handed them to Rufus. "Put those on. It's not an elaborate disguise, but it's an effective one."
     "Really? You think this is gonna work?" Rufus asked with a light scoff.
     "It worked for Clark Kent," Ava replied as she stepped outside her quarters. "Come, come. Samuel's waiting."
     The trio rushed, double-time, off of the island and into the city square. They hopped aboard one of the orange-roofed trolleys on the northeast side and made their way to the central Historic District, a few blocks south of The First Church of Verastoria, where they hurried up the steps of The Markland House—the kingdom's official institution for abandoned children. The building's façade had an inviting appeal with detailed patterns carved into its stone walls along with an immaculate garden designed around a centuries-old fountain which boasted a sculpture of St. Nicholas of Myra—the patron saint of children.
     Inside, however, the building was dark and drab with very little furniture and even less natural light. The very determined Henry and Ava led the way down the main hall with Rufus following closely behind. Soon after, they found the office of Mother Superior, but as Ava reached for the door knob, a relieved Samuel rounded the corner, dropped his Magna Doodle, and leapt into her arms.
     "Oh, thank God!" Ava exclaimed, squeezing Samuel tightly. "I can breathe now."
     The heavy office door swung open. A rotund nun wearing a large golden crucifix stood at the threshold.
     "Who are you?" she asked sternly. "You have no business here. We're under a lockdown."
     "I must say, you're doing a fantastic job," Henry replied flatly. "Whose idea was it to leave the front door open?"
     "There are supposed to be guards at the entrance," the nun said, looking down the hall. "Incompetent sods. And you didn't answer my question. Who are you?"
     "We're friends of Samuel and we're here to speak with Mother Superior," Ava said firmly.
     "I am Mother Superior," the nun retorted. "Friends of Samuel, you need to leave the premises immediately."
     Ava took a step forward and pushed Samuel behind her. "You don't understand. We're here to—"
     "I don't care why you're here," Mother Superior interjected. "I have no time to entertain any unscheduled meetings. Now, off with you."
     Rufus cleared his throat, adjusted his accent, and took off his glasses. "As The Prince of Verastoria, I urge you to reconsider meeting with us."
     Mother Superior focused her eyes on Rufus. "You're 'The Secret Prince'?"
     "I'm unfamiliar with that particular reference, but yes, I am the prince," Rufus replied.
     "Step inside my office," Mother Superior said, moving to the side as her demeanor shifted.
     The Crew then followed Rufus' lead, hoping he knew what he was doing. Mother Superior's office showed all the signs of a true minimalist. Aside from the volumes written on religion and philosophy which were neatly organized on the back bookshelf, the space only contained a desk and three chairs.
     "Please, sit," Mother Superior said as she took her place behind the desk.
     "I prefer to stand," Rufus replied, offering Ava a chair while Samuel plopped down on the other.
     "Okay, so why did you want to meet with me?" Mother Superior asked.
     "I would like you to release Samuel under our care," Rufus said with a hint of authority.
     "I cannot release a child to those who are still children themselves," she responded. "It doesn't matter if you're the prince or not. There are rules and regulations that must be adhered to."
     A silky voice spoke out, "Then, release him under the care of The Crown."
     Everyone quickly turned their heads to see a platinum blonde in a black power-suit with purple pinstripes, standing in the doorway.
     "Quinn," Rufus said softly, smiling wide.
     "Ms. Gunnerson," Mother Superior said, folding her hands in her lap.
     "Hello, Mother Superior," Quinn replied. "I understand that this is a little unorthodox, but this isn't a request. Samuel Winterfeld is hereby under royal supervision. You will file the documentation immediately and he will be leaving with us."
     Mother Superior clenched her teeth and sighed. "As you wish, Ms. Gunnerson."
     There was a moment of silence as Quinn looked around at Rufus and each member of The Crew. "What are you waiting for?" she asked. "Class is dismissed. Let's go."
     As The Crew hustled out, Rufus hung back and walked alongside Quinn. "How did you know we were here?" he asked.
     "Ava sent me a text," Quinn replied. "She figured you'd need the assist."
     "I'm glad she had that kind of foresight," Rufus said. "It never would have occurred to me to get you involved."
     "Well, you should really adjust your thinking," Quinn said as she handed Rufus a card. "That's my number. Whenever you're in a sticky situation, don't hesitate to call. That's what I'm here for."
     "Thanks, I really appreciate it," Rufus said, tucking the card in his back pocket. "Hey, Mother Superior called me 'The Secret Prince'. What's that about?"
     "It's a title that was coined by The VLG when the prince was an infant."
     "'The VLG'?"
     "The Verastorian Looking Glass—it's the kingdom's newspaper. For the first few years of the prince's life, reporters and readers were wildly curious about the prince's identity. Over time, after coming up short with any news, the interest waned and everyone seemed to move on."
     "Well, I definitely know what they'll be printing tomorrow: 'MISSING ORPHANS IN VERASTORIA'."
     "They'll never print that. It will be swept underneath the rug along with the rest of the kingdom's dirty laundry."
     "Seriously?"
     "Oh, absolutely. You'd be surprised by what's kept out of the public's perception. It's an unfortunate truth."
     "That's terrible. So, no one is even going to try to find these missing children?"
     "They might try, but honestly, there's bigger fish to fry."
     "Alright then. I'll take the matter straight to the king. He'll have to listen to reason."
     "Good luck with that. While you're discussing that, you can also explain why The Crown has taken in a 10-year-old."
     Rufus and Quinn walked down the steps of The Markland House and joined The Crew standing on the sidewalk. A black town car pulled up to the curb and Quinn instructed everyone to squeeze inside while she climbed in the front passenger seat. They zoomed off, speeding down the roadways as they traveled eastward to The Palace.
     Once they arrived, The Crew scampered off to Vincent's chambers while Quinn led Rufus to the king's study.
     Quinn stopped in front of the door of the study and turned to Rufus. "Remember to address him as 'Your Majesty'; it's important that you keep the formality," she advised. "Say what you need to say and keep it concise. He absolutely detests anyone who babbles. Ready?"
     Rufus nodded and Quinn knocked on the door. A few seconds ticked by before a gruff voice called out, "You may enter."
     Quinn opened the door and gestured to Rufus to follow. Inside, a tall drink of water with short salt-and-pepper hair and a well-groomed goatee stood at the far window, flipping through pages in a portfolio.
     "Your Majesty," Quinn said. "The prince has something important he would like to discuss with you."
     The king looked up from his papers and fixated his intense green eyes on Quinn. He immediately straightened the hunch in his back as his shoulders seemed to tense up. There was something odd about the effect that Quinn had on the king. It was difficult to explain, but incredibly apparent.
     "Thank you, Ms. Gunnerson," he said. "You seem to be the only one who can track down my son. Please, allow us a moment alone."
     "Certainly, Your Majesty," she replied, right before seeing herself out.
     As soon as Quinn left, the king's posture relaxed. "So, I hear you've taken in a stray," he said, looking back down at the portfolio in his hands.
     "Yes, Your Majesty. I have," Rufus said, slightly nervous.
     "And what exactly were you thinking when you made such a bold decision?"
     Rufus chose his words carefully. "He wasn't safe where he was. I had to take action."
     "And what makes this child so special?"
     "He's my friend, Your Majesty. This is what you do for friends."
     "I suppose that's a valid argument. But, know this: he is only here because I allow it. That can change without notice. Do you understand?"
     "I understand, Your Majesty."
     "Now, you came here wanting to discuss something. Speak."
     Rufus took a step forward. "There are orphans who have gone missing. I firmly believe that this should be properly investigated."
     The king remained focused on his papers. "Unfortunately, that's a belief we do not share. Troubled children with no immediate family tend to run away. It's foolish to waste resources on those who do not wish to be found."
     "How can you be so certain that they ran away?" Rufus blurted. "How do you know they weren't kidnapped?"
     "There's a reason why you shouldn't question your father. I work with statistical evidence and the numbers—they simply don't support something as nefarious as kidnapping. I assure you, they vanished because they wanted to vanish. Is that all you have to say? I'm very busy."
     "You better pray you're right," Rufus muttered underneath his breath.
     "Excuse me?"
     "Nothing, Your Majesty. Thank you for your time." Rufus turned around and as he made his way to the door, he noticed a massive oil painting on the wall. It was a young woman of Asian descent, undeniably beautiful and demure. Below the painting was a bronze plaque which read: "Queen Tabitha | 1982-2005".
     As soon as Rufus exited the study, he found Quinn, leaning against the wall as she scrolled through her phone.
     "So, how did it go?" she asked, locking her device.
     "Not good," Rufus replied. "I mean, I'm happy that Samuel is safe, but something needs to be done about those missing kids. They've already been abandoned once. If we turn our backs on them, we're no better than their deadbeat parents."
     "I agree," Quinn replied. "However, when the king makes a decision, he very rarely changes his mind."
     "What's his deal?" Rufus wondered. "I can't imagine a father that's more cold and distant."
     "Well, the king and the prince have quite a strained relationship," Quinn said, brushing her bangs to the side.
     "Yeah, that's obvious. What happened?"
     "The queen—she died after giving birth to the prince," Quinn explained. "Her doctors gave her a choice: save the baby or save herself. The king begged her to reconsider after she made her decision. In his mind, they could always have another baby, but the queen was adamant. There was nothing that could sway her and that truly broke the king. To this day, he holds the prince responsible for the death of his wife. Every time they speak to each other, which isn't often, it just twists the knife."
     "I saw the queen's portrait in the study," Rufus said. "She really was beautiful."
     "She was. It was actually her dying wish to keep the prince out of the spotlight and away from the vultures of the paparazzi until he was of the age to fully accept his role as The Prince of Verastoria. Everything traces back to her and the sacrifice she made on that Christmas day in 2005."
     "What do you think she would do about the orphans?" Rufus asked, trying to gain some perspective.
     "I think she would turn the kingdom upside-down looking for them," Quinn replied confidently.
     "Then, that's exactly what we're going to do," Rufus said, smiling.
     "You know, there might be a way we can get the ball rolling."
     "You have my undivided attention. What's on your mind?"