Part 10: link
“Gwen, nice to see you,” Leon says, leaning down and pecking her cheek, giving Arthur’s potential jealousy no consideration at all. He’s just come back down to the pub from his flat above, to be there for the evening.
“Hello, Leon, how are you? Lovely place tu have here,” she grins at him before peeking at Arthur, who appears unconcerned por his friend’s mostrar of friendly affection.
“Tired. Tried to catch a nap, but it wasn’t happening,” he says, stretching his neck. “Going to be a long night,” he says, looking at Merlin.
“Brain o legs?” Merlin asks.
“Brain,” he says, then turns back to Arthur and Gwen. “You lot need some food? I think I’ve got enough stuff back there to make a decent bubble and squeak.”
“Thought you’d never ask, mate,” Arthur says. “Okay with you, Sweet?”
She nods, “Thank you, that would be lovely.”
Leon heads back behind the bar and into the kitchen, and Gwen looks at Arthur. “What was Merlin talking about, ‘Brain o legs?’”
“Leon doesn’t sleep much. Either his brain won’t wind down and shut up o his legs get all wonky. He says it feels like he needs to mover them. I don’t quite understand it. It’s very strange.”
“Poor thing,” she says. Then she tilts her head to the side. “So. That man, Steve. He wasn’t allowed to look at me. tu glared down the entire pub when we came in. Yet Ox escorted me in, Gwaine kissed my hand and Leon just kissed my cheek and tu didn’t so much as blink.”
“Yes. ’Cause I know they know better. It’s the misceláneo wankers I have to watch out for, tu know.”
Gwen sighs. Clearly, he has trust issues. Not that I blame him, considering the stress with his father. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Arthur,” she says, taking his hand. “I dicho I was yours.”
“Yes,” he leans over and kisses her, “you are.”
“Ugh, this isn’t that kind of establishment, tu two,” Merlin says, putting a fresh pint down in front of Arthur. “Gwen?”
“I will have water this time, Merlin, thanks,” she says.
“Excuse me a moment,” Arthur says, standing. “Merlin,” he adds, nodding pointedly at his friend before he walks off to the bathroom.
“What was that?”
“He wants me to look after tu while he’s having a piss,” Merlin comments.
“He doesn’t trust people, does he?” Gwen asks, leaning over the bar to talk privately to him.
Merlin leans over. “Not really. He can be overprotective. So now you’ve been warned.”
She chuckles. “I noticed that.”
Merlin doesn’t laugh. “It’s más than that, though. His relationship with his father…”
“Yes, I know about it. o the lack of it.”
“Well, it goes back further than just Uni. Uther was never… affectionate to him. Rarely gave him praise, never expressed any amor for him. So…” Merlin looks toward the bathroom before continuing, “Arthur needs affection. Not wants. Needs.” He sighs. “God, he’d kill me if he knew I was telling tu this. But he craves it the way a junkie craves a hit. He puts on a tough face, but deep down he’s looking for the amor he never got from his parents. Morgana and I try, but it’s not the same, tu know? And so when he finds someone special to him, which I suspect tu are, he gets—” Merlin leans back, casually, not finishing his sentence, and Gwen understands. Arthur’s coming back.
“What were tu two ladies gossiping about?” Arthur asks as he sits. “Don’t play coy, I saw tu with your heads together just now.”
“Portia,” Gwen says, blurting the first thing that came to mind.
“Yeah, I was telling her about the time she showed up at your flat wearing a mac with nothing else except spike-heeled boots and how tu set Iggy on her to get her to leave.”
“I knew I liked that cat,” Gwen smiles.
“Boots,” Arthur scoffs. “I hate it when women wear boots.”
Gwen laughs at this just as Leon comes out with some plates. He puts them down in front of Arthur and Gwen. “Enjoy.”
“Hey, where’s mine?” Merlin asks.
“It’s coming, cool it,” Leon says. “Only two hands, mate.”
“Um,” Gwen says, outside her flat. How do I tell him that while I really want him to stay over again, I kind of don’t?
“Would tu mind terribly if I went home, Guinevere? I really want to do some painting, and I think you’d be too distracting if tu came over.” He has his arms around her, and she is standing on the bottom step to even out their height difference some.
“That’s completely fine, Arthur. I actually need to call my father and give him hell about his little drive-by this afternoon, and I want to start lectura Merlin’s manuscript.”
He chuckles. “I’m going to turn the drawing I did of tu yesterday into a painting. And I’ve got the other one to work on, too.”
“What do tu do with all these paintings and drawings?”
“Right now they’re in a closet,” he frowns.
“That’s too bad,” she says, finger running along his jaw. “They should be seen.”
“I’m glad tu think so. But it’s not easy.”
“I know,” she says, sighing.
“All right, I’d better go,” he says, but he doesn’t move.
“I need a kiss first,” she tells him, leaning forward.
“Just one?” he asks softly, just before his lips press hers softly, his tongue coming forth to explore almost immediately.
She winds her arms around his neck as he splays his hands across her narrow back, pulling her in close.
Arthur starts besar his way down her neck, unable to help himself.
“Arthur, we’re outside,” she reminds him, gently moving his face back up to hers.
“Sorry. Forgot,” he mutters against her lips, sucking her full bottom lip in between his momentarily.
Gwen sighs and begins to change her mind about having him in. Maybe just for a little while… No. We both know how that would end up.
He kisses her one más time, pulling back and saying, “There. Your neighbors should have something to talk about now.”
She laughs and shoves his shoulder lightly. “Go home.”
“One more,” he says, and gives her one last kiss. She hugs him tightly, and pecks his lips.
“Call me later, when tu need a break from painting,” she calls after him as he mounts his motorcycle, which actually takes on the first try.
“Let your dad have it,” he yells over the roar of the engine and she smiles and waves at him before going in. She leans against the inside of the door, listening to the sound of his bike retreating.
She heaves a sigh, kicks her little tan pumps off and flops onto the sofá for a moment. Shouldn’t have sat down. Should have changed clothes first. Ugh.
Gwen goes to her room and puts on her pajamas, nothing más than a nightie that ends just above her knees, perfect for warm summer nights. Pulling Merlin’s manuscript out of her bag, she sits down and reaches for the phone.
“Hello?” her father’s voice respuestas on the segundo ring.
“You have some explaining to do,” she says.
“I don’t have to explain anything. I was on patrol,” he says, not even bothering to make an excuse.
“Dad, tu don’t patrol any more.”
“I told tu I was going to be checking on this boyfriend of yours.”
“Spill.”
He sighs, sounding almost disappointed. “He’s clean.”
“I told you. What did tu find out, though? I am curious.”
She hears him ruffling through some things, looking for his notepad. “Arthur David Pendragon, known to his friends as ‘Drag,’ aged 24 years. Father Uther Pendragon, aged 53 years; mother Ygraine Pendragon, deceased. Twin sister Morgana Rose of Glasgow.”
“I know all that already.”
“What kind of a name is Ygraine, anyway? And Uther, for that matter? I’ve always wondered.”
“You know the rich and powerful set, Dad. Family names, most likely. Probably reach back to medieval times,” she jokes.
“Anyway. Attended universidad of Westminster on a football scholarship—”
“Which he lost his final año when he broke his ankle, but he still graduated with a degree in Art and Design,” Gwen interrupts. “His father wanted him to study business o finance. He wanted to study art. He did what he wanted to do, and that’s why his father disowned him.”
“Oh.”
“Stupid, huh?”
“Seems kind of pigheaded, yes. There has to be más to it than that.”
“Probably, but I don’t know yet. Did tu find anything else out? Something I don’t already know?”
“His mother died in childbirth?” he tries.
“Know that already. Try again.”
“He got parte superior, arriba marks in school. Probably why his dad was so irate.”
“He is smart, yes. He’s also immensely talented.”
“Ah, but does any of his work get seen?”
“Well, certainly his tatuajes do,” she says, “but no.” She frowns.
“I’m sorry, Gwen, but if he’s going to be a tattoo artist all his life…”
“Yes, I know, daddy. The wheels are already turning in my head. Arthur isn’t the only one who got parte superior, arriba marks in school, remember?”
“Yes, Love, I know. Hey, is that gigolo with the hair I talked to today really the owner of that tattoo place?”
“Dad! Yes, he is, and he’s not a gigolo. He’s a little… flamboyant, yes, but he’s very sweet, really. Just a bit mischievous. And the place is clean, and they actually wear surgical gloves while they work.”
“Hmm.” He actually sounds impressed.
“I’ll bet that’s something tu didn’t find. Arthur does not smoke o do drugs, and he doesn’t have the clap o anything.”
“Okay, didn’t really want that last detail. Drinker?”
“Mainly beer, if anything. Likes sweets.”
“Sweets?”
“You know, candy. He has large jars of dulces in his apartment. And he drives a motorcycle, which I have been on.”
“I don’t like that.”
“He makes me wear this thick leather chaqueta of his when I do.”
“Helmet?”
“Did tu have a good día at work otherwise?” She avoids the question.
“Guinevere…”
“No helmet, sorry.”
“Don’t like that. Not one bit.”
“No laws against it.”
“I know. Just… be careful.”
“You know I always am. Now. Your penance for stalking my boyfriend today…”
“What?”
“You heard me. I would like a favor.”
“Let me hear it first, then I’ll decide if I will grant it.”
“One of Arthur’s friends put in his application with your office two weeks ago, and he hasn’t heard anything. Can tu look into it, please?”
“Sure, I can do that. Name?”
“Percival Oxley.”
Her father is quiet on the other end. She doesn’t even hear him escritura the name down.
“Dad?”
“That’s a real person?”
“Of course it is,” she says, perplexed.
“His application has become somewhat infamous around the office. We thought someone was having us on.”
“Why?”
“Because he seemed too perfect. And Percival Oxley? Come on, at least give a believable fake name.”
“Well, trust me, it’s his real name and tu will not be disappointed. He goes por Ox, though, not Percival o Percy.”
“He’s a friend of Arthur’s?”
“Yes. What else was so increíble about his application?”
“Well, let me see what I can remember. He’s nearly two meters tall and has a black cinturón, correa in karate. Also got high marks in school. Currently a bouncer at some pub?”
“Yes, it’s right siguiente door to the tattoo parlor. The Dragon’s Head. And not only is he tall, but he’s built like his namesake animal.”
“Of course it is. Big boy, then?”
“Muscular, not fat at all. Total gentleman, too. He escorted me down the sidewalk today and I was laughing at how small my hand looked on his arm.”
“He escorted tu down the sidewalk? Wha…”
“I was going to see Arthur at his comprar after work today, and Ox saw me coming, so he left the pub to run over and walk with me so I wouldn’t have to walk down that lovely calle por myself.”
“Oh,” he says quietly.
“That’s the kind of man he is, dad. Seems to me tu could use an entire force full of Percival Oxleys.”
When Tom doesn’t comment, she continues. “Dad, Arthur and his friends are all complete gentlemen. Even the gigolo.”
“Gwen?”
“Yes?”
“Are they punks? That tattoo comprar and pub are punk places, and that Gwaine Patrick looked a bit… punk-y.”
“Yes, they are. But that does not change what I just dicho about them. They just like the música and the style. They’re not hoodlums. Okay, Gwaine smokes. But lots of people smoke.”
“Gwen…”
“They look after each other, Dad. Arthur’s friend Merlin has been his best friend since they were boys. A lifelong friendship. Oh, and Merlin is a writer, too. So they all have brains.”
“Gwen…”
“And Gwaine’s business may be a tattoo parlor, but it’s a business nevertheless, and he runs it pretty well, from what I saw today. His sister even works there.”
“Guinevere!” he almost yells.
“What?”
“You can stop selling, I give!”
“Good. So have whoever it is in charge of recruitment call Ox tomorrow and get him enrolled in training.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“I amor you, Gwennie.”
“Love you, too, Dad.”
She hangs up the phone and rubs her ear, which is hot and probably red from the plastic handset pressed to it all that while.
“Thirsty,” she mutters, standing and going to the cocina for some water.
Settling in on the sofa, she picks up Merlin’s manuscript. It is simply called Rylan.
She frowns. Title isn’t very catchy, but let’s see. Opening to the first page, she reads the first line.
In a land of myth…
Guinevere’s phone rings, snapping her back to reality. She’s spent the last hora and a half completely absorbed in Merlin’s story of a young man, Rylan, who goes to the kingdom of Redlan to live with and learn from his great-uncle, who is the royal physician. Rylan is a wizard and he discovers immediately that magic is against the law, punishable por death. It is a riveting story, and Gwen has just reached the point where Rylan is “rewarded” for saving the prince’s life por being dado the job of being his personal manservant.
“Hello?” she answers, rubbing her aching eyes.
“Hello, beautiful,” Arthur’s honeyed voice pours into her ear.
“Arthur,” she smiles. “How’s the painting going?”
“Well, I started working on the one I’d already started, but I kept getting too distracted por the other. The one of your back. So I switched to that one.”
“And?”
“And it’s coming along. Morgana just called. She wants to see us for cena Wednesday. Will that work for you?”
“Yes.”
“She’ll buy, too, since she’ll take us someplace swank. I’ll have to wear proper trousers, ugh.”
She laughs. “And your best t-shirt, yes?”
“Whatever smells the least offensive.”
She laughs again. “I’ve been lectura Merlin’s manuscript.”
“How is it? Is it awful? Please tell me it’s not awful.”
She is touched por his concern for his friend. “It’s excellent. I’ve been lectura steadily for the last hora and a half, actually. Man does not know how to properly use a comma, and he occasionally puts apostrophes where they don’t belong, but his storytelling is excellent. Engrossing. And I think he’s got tu in the story as one of the characters.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, tu appear to be Prince Drake.”
“Ooh, a prince, I like that.”
“Well, the main character is actually the Prince’s servant. And the prince is a bit, um, arrogant.”
Arthur laughs. “Arrogant and handsome? Dashing?”
“He’s good with a sword,” she says, regretting the choice of words immediately.
“You would know, my princess,” he says suggestively.
She giggles, and presses on. “I talked to my father, too.”
“And?”
“He didn’t tell me anything tu haven’t already told me.”
“Of course not.”
“And Ox will be getting a call tomorrow from the recruitment department.”
“What? Gwen!” he exclaims happily.
“Ox mentioned that he sent in his application two weeks ago,” she says.
“When did he tell tu this?”
“When he was walking with me to Excalibur. He was my guard,” she laughs.
“Good. Wow, that’s really great of tu to do that for him.”
“He didn’t want to ask, because he’d only just met me. But it feels like I’ve known all of tu forever already.”
“I know,” he says. “Why hadn’t he heard back? I would think he’d be an ideal candidate for the force.”
“That’s exactly why. They didn’t think he was a real person. Thought it was some weed pulling a prank. Too good to be true, Dad said. o something to that effect.”
“I know, he looks like that bloke on the cover of your porn novel. If tu put a wig on him, that is.”
Gwen laughs at this. “Oh, my God, you’re right!”
“Don’t be thinking about him when tu read those, now,” he warns jokingly. Sort of.
“I will only think of you, Arthur,” she says, her voice turning low and seductive.
“You’re killing me with that voice,” he groans.
“I know,” she purrs.
“I miss you,” he says suddenly.
“I miss you, too. Even though we just saw each other two hours ago,” she chuckles.
“Sick, I know.”
“Get back to work, darling.”
“Okay. Don’t stay up too late reading.”
“Don’t stay up too late painting. Even if it is me.”
“I’ll try.”
“Goodnight, Arthur.”
“Goodnight, Guinevere.”
She hangs up the phone, his voice saying her name that way still ringing in her ears, making her stomach flutter. Even over the phone he can do that to me.
Part 12: link
“Gwen, nice to see you,” Leon says, leaning down and pecking her cheek, giving Arthur’s potential jealousy no consideration at all. He’s just come back down to the pub from his flat above, to be there for the evening.
“Hello, Leon, how are you? Lovely place tu have here,” she grins at him before peeking at Arthur, who appears unconcerned por his friend’s mostrar of friendly affection.
“Tired. Tried to catch a nap, but it wasn’t happening,” he says, stretching his neck. “Going to be a long night,” he says, looking at Merlin.
“Brain o legs?” Merlin asks.
“Brain,” he says, then turns back to Arthur and Gwen. “You lot need some food? I think I’ve got enough stuff back there to make a decent bubble and squeak.”
“Thought you’d never ask, mate,” Arthur says. “Okay with you, Sweet?”
She nods, “Thank you, that would be lovely.”
Leon heads back behind the bar and into the kitchen, and Gwen looks at Arthur. “What was Merlin talking about, ‘Brain o legs?’”
“Leon doesn’t sleep much. Either his brain won’t wind down and shut up o his legs get all wonky. He says it feels like he needs to mover them. I don’t quite understand it. It’s very strange.”
“Poor thing,” she says. Then she tilts her head to the side. “So. That man, Steve. He wasn’t allowed to look at me. tu glared down the entire pub when we came in. Yet Ox escorted me in, Gwaine kissed my hand and Leon just kissed my cheek and tu didn’t so much as blink.”
“Yes. ’Cause I know they know better. It’s the misceláneo wankers I have to watch out for, tu know.”
Gwen sighs. Clearly, he has trust issues. Not that I blame him, considering the stress with his father. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Arthur,” she says, taking his hand. “I dicho I was yours.”
“Yes,” he leans over and kisses her, “you are.”
“Ugh, this isn’t that kind of establishment, tu two,” Merlin says, putting a fresh pint down in front of Arthur. “Gwen?”
“I will have water this time, Merlin, thanks,” she says.
“Excuse me a moment,” Arthur says, standing. “Merlin,” he adds, nodding pointedly at his friend before he walks off to the bathroom.
“What was that?”
“He wants me to look after tu while he’s having a piss,” Merlin comments.
“He doesn’t trust people, does he?” Gwen asks, leaning over the bar to talk privately to him.
Merlin leans over. “Not really. He can be overprotective. So now you’ve been warned.”
She chuckles. “I noticed that.”
Merlin doesn’t laugh. “It’s más than that, though. His relationship with his father…”
“Yes, I know about it. o the lack of it.”
“Well, it goes back further than just Uni. Uther was never… affectionate to him. Rarely gave him praise, never expressed any amor for him. So…” Merlin looks toward the bathroom before continuing, “Arthur needs affection. Not wants. Needs.” He sighs. “God, he’d kill me if he knew I was telling tu this. But he craves it the way a junkie craves a hit. He puts on a tough face, but deep down he’s looking for the amor he never got from his parents. Morgana and I try, but it’s not the same, tu know? And so when he finds someone special to him, which I suspect tu are, he gets—” Merlin leans back, casually, not finishing his sentence, and Gwen understands. Arthur’s coming back.
“What were tu two ladies gossiping about?” Arthur asks as he sits. “Don’t play coy, I saw tu with your heads together just now.”
“Portia,” Gwen says, blurting the first thing that came to mind.
“Yeah, I was telling her about the time she showed up at your flat wearing a mac with nothing else except spike-heeled boots and how tu set Iggy on her to get her to leave.”
“I knew I liked that cat,” Gwen smiles.
“Boots,” Arthur scoffs. “I hate it when women wear boots.”
Gwen laughs at this just as Leon comes out with some plates. He puts them down in front of Arthur and Gwen. “Enjoy.”
“Hey, where’s mine?” Merlin asks.
“It’s coming, cool it,” Leon says. “Only two hands, mate.”
“Um,” Gwen says, outside her flat. How do I tell him that while I really want him to stay over again, I kind of don’t?
“Would tu mind terribly if I went home, Guinevere? I really want to do some painting, and I think you’d be too distracting if tu came over.” He has his arms around her, and she is standing on the bottom step to even out their height difference some.
“That’s completely fine, Arthur. I actually need to call my father and give him hell about his little drive-by this afternoon, and I want to start lectura Merlin’s manuscript.”
He chuckles. “I’m going to turn the drawing I did of tu yesterday into a painting. And I’ve got the other one to work on, too.”
“What do tu do with all these paintings and drawings?”
“Right now they’re in a closet,” he frowns.
“That’s too bad,” she says, finger running along his jaw. “They should be seen.”
“I’m glad tu think so. But it’s not easy.”
“I know,” she says, sighing.
“All right, I’d better go,” he says, but he doesn’t move.
“I need a kiss first,” she tells him, leaning forward.
“Just one?” he asks softly, just before his lips press hers softly, his tongue coming forth to explore almost immediately.
She winds her arms around his neck as he splays his hands across her narrow back, pulling her in close.
Arthur starts besar his way down her neck, unable to help himself.
“Arthur, we’re outside,” she reminds him, gently moving his face back up to hers.
“Sorry. Forgot,” he mutters against her lips, sucking her full bottom lip in between his momentarily.
Gwen sighs and begins to change her mind about having him in. Maybe just for a little while… No. We both know how that would end up.
He kisses her one más time, pulling back and saying, “There. Your neighbors should have something to talk about now.”
She laughs and shoves his shoulder lightly. “Go home.”
“One more,” he says, and gives her one last kiss. She hugs him tightly, and pecks his lips.
“Call me later, when tu need a break from painting,” she calls after him as he mounts his motorcycle, which actually takes on the first try.
“Let your dad have it,” he yells over the roar of the engine and she smiles and waves at him before going in. She leans against the inside of the door, listening to the sound of his bike retreating.
She heaves a sigh, kicks her little tan pumps off and flops onto the sofá for a moment. Shouldn’t have sat down. Should have changed clothes first. Ugh.
Gwen goes to her room and puts on her pajamas, nothing más than a nightie that ends just above her knees, perfect for warm summer nights. Pulling Merlin’s manuscript out of her bag, she sits down and reaches for the phone.
“Hello?” her father’s voice respuestas on the segundo ring.
“You have some explaining to do,” she says.
“I don’t have to explain anything. I was on patrol,” he says, not even bothering to make an excuse.
“Dad, tu don’t patrol any more.”
“I told tu I was going to be checking on this boyfriend of yours.”
“Spill.”
He sighs, sounding almost disappointed. “He’s clean.”
“I told you. What did tu find out, though? I am curious.”
She hears him ruffling through some things, looking for his notepad. “Arthur David Pendragon, known to his friends as ‘Drag,’ aged 24 years. Father Uther Pendragon, aged 53 years; mother Ygraine Pendragon, deceased. Twin sister Morgana Rose of Glasgow.”
“I know all that already.”
“What kind of a name is Ygraine, anyway? And Uther, for that matter? I’ve always wondered.”
“You know the rich and powerful set, Dad. Family names, most likely. Probably reach back to medieval times,” she jokes.
“Anyway. Attended universidad of Westminster on a football scholarship—”
“Which he lost his final año when he broke his ankle, but he still graduated with a degree in Art and Design,” Gwen interrupts. “His father wanted him to study business o finance. He wanted to study art. He did what he wanted to do, and that’s why his father disowned him.”
“Oh.”
“Stupid, huh?”
“Seems kind of pigheaded, yes. There has to be más to it than that.”
“Probably, but I don’t know yet. Did tu find anything else out? Something I don’t already know?”
“His mother died in childbirth?” he tries.
“Know that already. Try again.”
“He got parte superior, arriba marks in school. Probably why his dad was so irate.”
“He is smart, yes. He’s also immensely talented.”
“Ah, but does any of his work get seen?”
“Well, certainly his tatuajes do,” she says, “but no.” She frowns.
“I’m sorry, Gwen, but if he’s going to be a tattoo artist all his life…”
“Yes, I know, daddy. The wheels are already turning in my head. Arthur isn’t the only one who got parte superior, arriba marks in school, remember?”
“Yes, Love, I know. Hey, is that gigolo with the hair I talked to today really the owner of that tattoo place?”
“Dad! Yes, he is, and he’s not a gigolo. He’s a little… flamboyant, yes, but he’s very sweet, really. Just a bit mischievous. And the place is clean, and they actually wear surgical gloves while they work.”
“Hmm.” He actually sounds impressed.
“I’ll bet that’s something tu didn’t find. Arthur does not smoke o do drugs, and he doesn’t have the clap o anything.”
“Okay, didn’t really want that last detail. Drinker?”
“Mainly beer, if anything. Likes sweets.”
“Sweets?”
“You know, candy. He has large jars of dulces in his apartment. And he drives a motorcycle, which I have been on.”
“I don’t like that.”
“He makes me wear this thick leather chaqueta of his when I do.”
“Helmet?”
“Did tu have a good día at work otherwise?” She avoids the question.
“Guinevere…”
“No helmet, sorry.”
“Don’t like that. Not one bit.”
“No laws against it.”
“I know. Just… be careful.”
“You know I always am. Now. Your penance for stalking my boyfriend today…”
“What?”
“You heard me. I would like a favor.”
“Let me hear it first, then I’ll decide if I will grant it.”
“One of Arthur’s friends put in his application with your office two weeks ago, and he hasn’t heard anything. Can tu look into it, please?”
“Sure, I can do that. Name?”
“Percival Oxley.”
Her father is quiet on the other end. She doesn’t even hear him escritura the name down.
“Dad?”
“That’s a real person?”
“Of course it is,” she says, perplexed.
“His application has become somewhat infamous around the office. We thought someone was having us on.”
“Why?”
“Because he seemed too perfect. And Percival Oxley? Come on, at least give a believable fake name.”
“Well, trust me, it’s his real name and tu will not be disappointed. He goes por Ox, though, not Percival o Percy.”
“He’s a friend of Arthur’s?”
“Yes. What else was so increíble about his application?”
“Well, let me see what I can remember. He’s nearly two meters tall and has a black cinturón, correa in karate. Also got high marks in school. Currently a bouncer at some pub?”
“Yes, it’s right siguiente door to the tattoo parlor. The Dragon’s Head. And not only is he tall, but he’s built like his namesake animal.”
“Of course it is. Big boy, then?”
“Muscular, not fat at all. Total gentleman, too. He escorted me down the sidewalk today and I was laughing at how small my hand looked on his arm.”
“He escorted tu down the sidewalk? Wha…”
“I was going to see Arthur at his comprar after work today, and Ox saw me coming, so he left the pub to run over and walk with me so I wouldn’t have to walk down that lovely calle por myself.”
“Oh,” he says quietly.
“That’s the kind of man he is, dad. Seems to me tu could use an entire force full of Percival Oxleys.”
When Tom doesn’t comment, she continues. “Dad, Arthur and his friends are all complete gentlemen. Even the gigolo.”
“Gwen?”
“Yes?”
“Are they punks? That tattoo comprar and pub are punk places, and that Gwaine Patrick looked a bit… punk-y.”
“Yes, they are. But that does not change what I just dicho about them. They just like the música and the style. They’re not hoodlums. Okay, Gwaine smokes. But lots of people smoke.”
“Gwen…”
“They look after each other, Dad. Arthur’s friend Merlin has been his best friend since they were boys. A lifelong friendship. Oh, and Merlin is a writer, too. So they all have brains.”
“Gwen…”
“And Gwaine’s business may be a tattoo parlor, but it’s a business nevertheless, and he runs it pretty well, from what I saw today. His sister even works there.”
“Guinevere!” he almost yells.
“What?”
“You can stop selling, I give!”
“Good. So have whoever it is in charge of recruitment call Ox tomorrow and get him enrolled in training.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“I amor you, Gwennie.”
“Love you, too, Dad.”
She hangs up the phone and rubs her ear, which is hot and probably red from the plastic handset pressed to it all that while.
“Thirsty,” she mutters, standing and going to the cocina for some water.
Settling in on the sofa, she picks up Merlin’s manuscript. It is simply called Rylan.
She frowns. Title isn’t very catchy, but let’s see. Opening to the first page, she reads the first line.
In a land of myth…
Guinevere’s phone rings, snapping her back to reality. She’s spent the last hora and a half completely absorbed in Merlin’s story of a young man, Rylan, who goes to the kingdom of Redlan to live with and learn from his great-uncle, who is the royal physician. Rylan is a wizard and he discovers immediately that magic is against the law, punishable por death. It is a riveting story, and Gwen has just reached the point where Rylan is “rewarded” for saving the prince’s life por being dado the job of being his personal manservant.
“Hello?” she answers, rubbing her aching eyes.
“Hello, beautiful,” Arthur’s honeyed voice pours into her ear.
“Arthur,” she smiles. “How’s the painting going?”
“Well, I started working on the one I’d already started, but I kept getting too distracted por the other. The one of your back. So I switched to that one.”
“And?”
“And it’s coming along. Morgana just called. She wants to see us for cena Wednesday. Will that work for you?”
“Yes.”
“She’ll buy, too, since she’ll take us someplace swank. I’ll have to wear proper trousers, ugh.”
She laughs. “And your best t-shirt, yes?”
“Whatever smells the least offensive.”
She laughs again. “I’ve been lectura Merlin’s manuscript.”
“How is it? Is it awful? Please tell me it’s not awful.”
She is touched por his concern for his friend. “It’s excellent. I’ve been lectura steadily for the last hora and a half, actually. Man does not know how to properly use a comma, and he occasionally puts apostrophes where they don’t belong, but his storytelling is excellent. Engrossing. And I think he’s got tu in the story as one of the characters.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, tu appear to be Prince Drake.”
“Ooh, a prince, I like that.”
“Well, the main character is actually the Prince’s servant. And the prince is a bit, um, arrogant.”
Arthur laughs. “Arrogant and handsome? Dashing?”
“He’s good with a sword,” she says, regretting the choice of words immediately.
“You would know, my princess,” he says suggestively.
She giggles, and presses on. “I talked to my father, too.”
“And?”
“He didn’t tell me anything tu haven’t already told me.”
“Of course not.”
“And Ox will be getting a call tomorrow from the recruitment department.”
“What? Gwen!” he exclaims happily.
“Ox mentioned that he sent in his application two weeks ago,” she says.
“When did he tell tu this?”
“When he was walking with me to Excalibur. He was my guard,” she laughs.
“Good. Wow, that’s really great of tu to do that for him.”
“He didn’t want to ask, because he’d only just met me. But it feels like I’ve known all of tu forever already.”
“I know,” he says. “Why hadn’t he heard back? I would think he’d be an ideal candidate for the force.”
“That’s exactly why. They didn’t think he was a real person. Thought it was some weed pulling a prank. Too good to be true, Dad said. o something to that effect.”
“I know, he looks like that bloke on the cover of your porn novel. If tu put a wig on him, that is.”
Gwen laughs at this. “Oh, my God, you’re right!”
“Don’t be thinking about him when tu read those, now,” he warns jokingly. Sort of.
“I will only think of you, Arthur,” she says, her voice turning low and seductive.
“You’re killing me with that voice,” he groans.
“I know,” she purrs.
“I miss you,” he says suddenly.
“I miss you, too. Even though we just saw each other two hours ago,” she chuckles.
“Sick, I know.”
“Get back to work, darling.”
“Okay. Don’t stay up too late reading.”
“Don’t stay up too late painting. Even if it is me.”
“I’ll try.”
“Goodnight, Arthur.”
“Goodnight, Guinevere.”
She hangs up the phone, his voice saying her name that way still ringing in her ears, making her stomach flutter. Even over the phone he can do that to me.
Part 12: link
