Page 5 of Royally Matched
“My dinner suit, just as you told me.”
“That’s more like a Halloween costume than a dinner suit.”
“I’m styling it out as a Michael Jackson meets James Bond after a growth spurt. What do you think?” I flash him a grin as I hold my arms out to the side so he can take in my full splendor. Or ridiculousness. Take your pick.
He doesn’t crack a smile. “You look preposterous.”
Sonotsplendor.
“Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself,” I reply with a wink.
“Can’t you change or something? Even your shirt is pulling across your chest. Do you own a black suit? A navy one would do in a pinch if the lights are low.”
I shake my head. “There’s not a lot of call for black or navy suits with what I do, brother.”
He glances at my hands. “Did you at least clean the dirt from under your fingernails when you got home from your gardening job?”
I make fists to disguise what’s inevitably lurking beneath. “Of course I did,” I reply breezily, just knowing there’s enough dirt under each nail to grow a host of root vegetables.
But dirt under your nails is part and parcel of workingas a landscape gardener, my newly minted career now that I’m back in Ledonia. Well, it will be a newly minted career once I get a commission or two. But that’s a work in progress, shall we say, hence the gofer status for my big bro—and attending this reality TV-like ball.
Enzo pulls his lips into a line. “Hmm.”
“I can throw my jeans and T-shirt back on, if you prefer? They’re a little grubby from working at the community garden today, but at least they fit.”
“I hardly think jeans and a T-shirt are acceptable attire for a palace ball, even if they’re freshly laundered. Although it would be nice not to have to look at your socks. Is that SpongeBob?”
I lift a leg to show off my socks in all their glory. “The man himself. If you can in fact refer to a sponge as a man. More of an inanimate object that’s somehow… animate.”
Enzo is not impressed with my pondering. “What the heck are you going on about, Marco?”
“Look, I can lose the socks. No big deal. But the tux? I’m afraid it’s either this or I don’t go to the ball at all.”
I leave my words hanging in the air, hoping he’ll grab onto the suggestion and leave me in peace. I’m looking forward to this evening’s event about as much as I’m looking forward to my next root canal. In fact, if I get out of going to this thing, I could spend the evening working on my design for the city’s newest park and, as unlikely as it is that I win the commission, say a few hundred prayers and affirmations that I do.
“You have to come. You’re on the invitation list and it would be rude to simply not turn up. And besides, I may need you during the evening.”
“Enzo, I’m your assistant. What are you going to need me to do? Create a bullet point list of your conversationwith the princess? Book you flights to Peru during the dancing?”
I’ve been working part time for my older brother for the past couple of months since I’ve been back in the capital city of Villadorata. The cash has been handy, and helping my brother with his businesses feels like the right thing to do, even if it means him bossing me around. Something he relishes. But then I suppose he would describe me as being on the too relaxed side of the equation. We’re like night and day, but despite our differences, somehow, we work.
“I don’t know, Marco. There might be something I need from you during the evening,” he replies, distracted, as he rifles through my scant wardrobe.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying to find something to make you look the part.”
“It’s not like there’s a perfectly fitting dinner suit lurking inside. If there were, don’t you think I’d already be wearing it?”
“With you, I do not know. You might have several suits in here.”
“I haven’t had a lot of use for suits over the years.”
“That’s because you’ve been too focused on roaming the world like some kind of vagabond rather than getting a university degree and a proper job.”
Great.Thattopic of conversation again.
“Landscape gardening is a proper job.”