The Royal Treatment by Lindsey Leavitt Page A

African?
    I stared at him, trying to place the accent, but also trying to figure out why there was a video of this guy on my manual screen.
    “I am Genevieve’s secretary, Dominick.”
    “Hi, Dominick,” I said.
    Dominick sniffed. “You called for Genevieve. How may I assist you?”
    “Oh. Sorry. I’m Desi. She told me to contact her if I had any magical experiences.”
    “She is in a meeting right now. Is this urgent?”
    “Urgent? No. I had play rehearsals today and felt kind of…Never mind. I’ll try her later.”
    Dominick held up a finger and pushed on an earpiece with the other. “Yes? Yes, her name is Desi.…”
    He raised an eyebrow at me.
    “Oh. Just Desi.” I rushed. “It’s not short for anything.”
    “Last name,” he mouthed.
    “Bascomb. Sorry.”
    “Desi Bascomb. Something about a magic play.”
    He paused, listening to someone on the other end. “Right away, Genevieve.”
    He glanced up. “I am connecting you to Genevieve. Please be brief. She is very busy. I’m surprised she’s talking to you.”
    His image clicked off, replaced a moment later by Genevieve. She smiled warmly. “Hello, Desi. Did you need to tell me something?”
    Suddenly I felt really, really stupid. How could I say that I felt like a fairy today while I was at rehearsal? How lame is that? Genevieve already told me magic didn’t happen without the Rouge to activate it, and not outside the confines of Façade. And, of course, that made sense, especially now that I knew all about the history and that royal pact. I’d been so convinced, but now looking at Genevieve, I had some doubts.
    “I…um…I…”
    Dumb! This was THE HEAD OF FAÇADE. She had to be the busiest woman alive, and here she was taking a moment to talk to a lowly sub, and I couldn’t even form a sentence. But what sentence would I form? My reason for contacting her seemed sillier and sillier by the second.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this card would contact you directly. I was…working on a birthday present for you and the words just came out.”
    Genevieve shook her finger. “A present? No presents! I’m far too old for such pomp and circumstance.”
    “Okay.”
    “I must get back to this meeting, then. Now that you’ve done…let’s call this a trial run. You know how easy it is to get a hold of me. If that buzzing feeling you spoke of returns at all, do let me know. Even if it isn’t magic, we want to figure out how to differentiate, and, of course, what your triggering emotion is. Are you sure there is nothing else?”
    “Positive.” I considered mentioning the play, but I was afraid it would make me sound wishy-washy.
    Genevieve’s image faded, replaced again by Dominick. He looked down at me from over his glasses. “Can I help you with anything else, Miss Bascomb?”
    “No. I’m fine. Sorry. Thanks.”
    “Good day, then.”
    The screen went blank and I chucked my manual against the pillow. What a colossal waste of time. I shouldn’t have been worrying about calling cards and fairy buzzing. Now was the time for me to focus on my play and knock off some of my BEST training.
    Now was the time for me to get back to Façade, where the real magic happened.

Chapter
11
    E ver since Mom and I had had our ice cream girlie fest, we were making an effort to be more involved in each other’s lives. At least, the part of my life I could share with her. Over the next three weeks, Mom practiced my lines with me, and sometimes I’d come downstairs and sit in on her Celeste consultations (yes, Celeste, purple is your color, for the gazillionth time). The etiquette and poise involved in the Millie job proved that pageant training could help supplement my BEST. But when Mom asked me to drive up with her to meet Celeste and her mother at the Miss Teen Dream pageant, well, I think my exact words were…
    “I would rather clean out a hamster cage with my teeth.”
    “Your dad has a law conference in Reno. I’m not leaving you home