The Prince & The Popstar

In Too Deep

"Maybe we're just trying too hard
When really it's closer than it is too far"
— Sum 41

      Alright. Let's rewind—one last time.
     It was in the early hours of Friday, November 24, 2023 and Rufus was trying to remain calm and collected during his web-call with The Prince, as he attempted to keep the situation with Samuel and the missing orphans close to his chest.
     "Yes," Rufus said. "I promise I'll answer all of your questions when that time comes. You have my word."
     "You've given me no reason to doubt it," Vincent retorted. "So for now, I'll let it be."
     "Thank you," Rufus said as his shoulders relaxed. "I'll talk to you later, Your Highness."
     "I'm looking forward to it, Mr. Spencer."
     As Rufus ended the web-call, Vincent firmly gripped the sides of the standing desk while he went through his course of action in his head. He knew he had to assess the situation at Rufus' grandmother's house. He knew he would need Lena to make sense of it all. And he knew he was running out of time.
     Vincent quickly tapped on the laptop keyboard and clicked the contacts icon on Rufus' Gmail account. Thoughts started to swirl and Vincent focused on an In Touch interview he had read from August 10, 2015, where the interviewer asked about Rufus' upbringing. The then 9-year-old Rufus Spencer spoke a great deal about his grandmother, Renèe. She was Rufus' first and greatest fan. They spent a lot of time together while Savannah completed her academic career at Rice University. "Gran'Renèe" was the one who taught Rufus how to read music, how to improvise a clever diddy, and how to belt out a high note, using the diaphragm instead of straining the voice at the throat. She was also a fount of knowledge of all things encompassed by the realm of theater; she had been a performer in her younger years and there were certain life skills she attained that she, in turn, passed down to Rufus—things like effective communication and what it takes to get there, confidence and where to find it, and adaptability, arguably the most important lesson of them all.
     Then, Vincent found what he had been looking for—Gran'Renèe's address, which was in a small subdivision in Richmond, about 30 miles southwest of Downtown Houston, a place known as "The Grove".
     Without thinking twice, Vincent took out his cell phone and called Lena.
     She picked up, groggy and irritated. "When I find you, I'm going to kill you. Do you have any idea what time it is?"
     "Yes, I do and I'm sorry, but this is important," Vincent replied as he zoomed in on the map which held the directions to Gran'Renèe's modest home. "Do you have anything going on today? I really need your help."
     Lena tried clearing her throat of the morning phlegm. "I promised my mother that I'd go with her for a mani/pedi, but other than that, I'm in the clear. What's going on?"
     "I'll tell you when I see you," Vincent said. "Go back to sleep."

     Around noon, Vincent caught an Uber out to Clear Lake, specifically to a small strip mall off Scarsdale where Scotty's Pub stood—the rendezvous point that Lena had texted to him a couple hours earlier. Inside the dimly-lit dive bar, pool tables dotted the floor and electronic dart boards took up a good portion of the wall space. Vincent walked up to Lena, who was sitting at the bar, tapping her newly-finished nails on the wooden surface.
     "You take me to the strangest places, you know that?" Vincent said, taking the barstool next to Lena.
     "What can I say?" Lena replied after taking a sip of her G&T. "I like places with character."
     The bartender approached the two of them with a wide, welcoming smile. "Hi there, Rufus. It's been a long time."
     Vincent shifted in his seat a little. "Yes. Yes, it has. How have you been?"
     "Oh, you know, it's the same ol' song and dance—trying to make a dollar out of fifty cents."
     "Hey, Kristin," Lena said, mixing her drink with her straw. "Can you make us up a plate of those fabulous Disco Fries?"
     Kristin grinned. "Sure thing, Lena. Lemme tell Joel to get that going."
     "Thanks, you're a peach," Lena replied. As the bartender walked away, Lena turned to Vincent. "So, what did you need help with?"
     "Well, I spoke to Rufus last night and—"
     "Oh, my God, how's he doing?" Lena interjected.
     "Honestly, he sounded a little distracted and off-balance. It was strange."
     "Hmmm... I wonder what's going on over there."
     "As do I."
     "I'm sorry, I went off on a little bit of a tangent there. So, you spoke to Rufus and...?"
     "He told me that we might find something in his grandmother's house. He also told me it was a bit of a wreck and if I wanted to start digging, I should first get you to agree to help."
     "Wow," Lena said, leaning back on her stool. "'The White Whale'..."
     Vincent was confused. "Excuse me?"
     "Gran'Renèe's house—it's my White Whale," Lena explained. "I've always wanted to sort through all of the stuff that had accumulated over the years and then organize it in a way where things have a home, but they're still easily accessible. And I wanted to create a time-lapse video of the entire process, but after she lost her battle with breast cancer, I didn't think it was appropriate to bring it up."
     "Well, it's appropriate now," Vincent replied. "We have got to make some headway because the clock's ticking. Savannah actually pulled me aside this morning and told me that they've fast-tracked the hearing; We have until December 22ᴺᴰ. If we don't find anything, it's game over."
     "Let's get to it, then," Lena said encouragingly. "But, first, we feast on Disco Fries."
     Kristin came over and set down a plate of piping hot french fries, tossed in garlic, parmesan, and truffle oil, then served up with a proprietary secret sauce and a runny fried egg.
     "That smells amazing," Vincent said as he started to salivate.
     "I know, right?" Lena replied. "This is the most delicious heart attack you will ever taste."