Page 11 of A Royal Menace

I have zero doubt that if they’re not, Callie will take great pleasure in pointing out my mistakes.

When I’m sure the grammar and punctuation are correct, I add some clipart of cartoon zoo animals to the corners of each page for a little pizzazz. Then, I hop online and download a picture of the zoo’s official logo to add to the top of each form.

Navigating to my work email, I attach the documents and send them to Callie’s work email address with a short message asking how she likes them. Closing my laptop, I huff out a laugh. I’m sure she’ll findsomethingwrong with at least one of the forms. She wouldn’t be Calliope Barnes if she didn’t.

Leaving the kitchen table where I’ve been working for the last couple of hours, I grab my running shoes from their spot near the door and pull them on. After tying each one securely, I grab my keys and phone, walk out, and lock the door behind me.

It’s a gorgeous Saturday afternoon, and I feel like I haven’t had a run in ages. Taking the stairs to the ground floor of my apartment building, I step out into the bright, southern California sunshine. I close my eyes and soak it in for a moment, then stretch out my legs before setting off at a slow pace to warm up.

Grenville is a small community north of San Diego, one of the few towns that didn’t have a huge population explosion as the cost of housing rose in the city. I don’t know why we were spared the growth and expansion, but I sure am glad we were. Grenville has that small-town feel, like the kind you see in those cheesy holiday movies where everyone knows everyone and neighbors actually help each other out whenever they can.

Of course, our town is a bit bigger than that and everyone doesn’t actually know everyone else. Wearein southern California, after all. But Grenville’s charming downtown area makes it feel that way, nevertheless.

“Afternoon, Royal,” a voice calls out, and I wave at Dr. Erik Payne, the unfortunately named dentist who looks to be heading back from his lunch break.

His office is at the end of the long stretch of buildings along Grenville’s main thoroughfare. I smile as I note the old-fashioned candy shop right next door, wondering––not for the first time––if Erik chose that space for his practice intentionally.

I glance up at the tall queen palms that line the street, my eyes automatically squinting as the bright sunshine makes them sting. I wish I hadn’t forgotten my sunglasses. Refocusing on the road in front of me, I pick up the pace a bit to get my heart pumping.

A few more people wave and call out greetings, and I wave back to each before leaving the downtown area and circling around through an adjacent neighborhood. The houses here are large and beautiful, and just like always, I imagine being able to buy a home here someday. I certainly can’t do it alone on a teacher’s salary. But if I were to meet someone, fall in love, and get married…

I shake my head at the thought. I’m not opposed to becoming someone’s husband. I want to get married and start a family. But those thoughts lead to memories I’d rather not dwell on right now, so I put my head down and sprint until I make it out of the neighborhood and back on the main road that’ll lead me back through town.

Slowing to a quick jog, I focus on the pound of my sneakers against the asphalt until I make it back to my apartment building. Stopping on the grassy area out front, I pace with my hands linked on top of my head until my breathing evens out and my heartrate slows back to normal. Then I take a few minutes to stretch my muscles before heading inside and taking the stairs to my second-floor apartment.

Once inside, I kick off my shoes by the door and head straight for the shower. After soaping up and washing the sweat out of my hair, I rinse off and climb out of the shower stall, pausing to wrap a clean towel around my waist. Swiping a palm across the mirror to clear the steam, I brush my teeth before turning my head left and right to check out the reflection of my jawline. I need to shave, but it can wait until tomorrow.

Pulling the towel from my hips, I dry off my chest, arms, and back as I walk into my bedroom. Pulling out a t-shirt, some athletic shorts, and a pair of boxer briefs, I dress quickly before heading into the kitchen on bare feet. Stopping by the table and flipping open my laptop, I grin when I see a response to theemail I sent Callie earlier. Plopping down into the chair, I open the email to read it.

From: Calliope Barnes

To: You

Subject: re: Field Trip Forms

Mr. Manning,

The forms look decent, but I would suggest removing the animal pictures in the bottom corners and increasing the font size a bit. We want parents to actually be able to read it, don’t we? This tiny font requires a magnifying glass to read. Also, one exclamation point at the end of a sentence is sufficient. You never need three.

Sincerely,

Callie Barnes

I’m grinning like a fool by the time I finish reading. The font is plenty big to read with the naked eye, even for someone without twenty-twenty vision. And the exclamation point thing? She’s right, of course, but I know she only pointed it out to be ornery. It might actuallykillher to admit I’ve done something right.

If Callie had her way, we’d be mortal enemies until the end of time. And while anyone else might find her constant negativity tedious, I actually find it refreshing. Entertaining, even.

Tapping the trackpad, I open a response box before lacing my fingers, twisting my wrists, and pushing my palms outward to crack my knuckles. I read her response again as I hover my fingertips over the keys, then chuckle as I type out a response.

From: You

To: Calliope Barnes

Subject: re: re: Field Trip Forms

Dearest Callie,

Didn’t we agree you’d call me Royal? Also, if you can’t read a fourteen-point font, it may be time for a trip to theoptometrist. But just to make you happy, I’ll increase it to sixteen. And extra exclamation points not only express true excitement…they’re fun. You do know what fun is, don’t you?

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