Prince of the Ghetto 9
Chapter 9
I woke up panicking. Where was I?
What was happening?
I was...tied up. I looked to my right. Marcus was the only other person there. I was panicking as soon as I realized that I couldn't move.
“Marcus. Marcus I'm tied up...MARCUS!”
“I know.”
“Marcus let me out of here!”
“I can't.”
“What the fuck you mean you can't?
“Djimon. I'm tied up too,” Marcus stated, “Look...”
He was right. He was tied up as well. We were in a dark room. I was sweating almost immediately. I was panicking. I was breathing heavy. I tried to hold it in, but who the fuck was I kidding? I was such a clown. I was an idiot. I immediately started to cry at that moment. I started to cry my fucking eyes.
“I can't—-do this---what's---going on?---Marcus---”
“Prince, please calm down,” Marcus stated shaking his head, “We'll get through this. I'll need you to act mature for a minute. We were kidnapped by people who work for your sister. I heard them talking outside the door earlier.””
That bitch. I knew Amanirenas was behind this.
“What about Brolic and Jalen?”
“I don't know...”
“Dead?”
“Djimon. I don't know.”
“She'll kill us.”
There was no point. There was no reason to even fight it. She was going to fucking kill us and that was going to be the end of that. I was crying uncontrollably at that point. Marcus kept trying to calm me down but I wasn't having it.
“Djimon, listen...”
“Marcus I can't. I can't take this.”
“I'll tell you a story. Remember I used to tell stories all the time to you when we were kids. That was a part of my job.”
Marcus was right. I guess it sucked really. He was only a child back then himself. Someone should have been reading him stories but instead he was the one who was sold into servitude and made to read stories to a stuck up little prince. I remembered however that the stories always calmed me down.
“Sure.”
“OK Well this is more like a memory. Remember when I first met you. We were just kids back then. The first time I saw you...I remember thinking...well prince...I remember...may I be candid prince?”
I looked over at Marcus. He was hesitating for a reason.
“Marcus I want you to always be candid with me,” I told him.
I meant it too. Maybe it was being in New York for so long. Maybe it was being around the others.
“I remember I hating you. It was more like jealousy looking back now, but then I thought it was hate. I had sacrifice my childhood to give you one. Me and the other boys were sold as your playmates. We weren't allowed to play without you being there. We weren't allowed to touch a toy until you touched it first.”
“Oh my god...I had no idea.”
I remembered playing with Marcus and other boys as kids. The way I remembered it was that everyone had fun though. I had no idea these little boys had to follow rules. They weren't my playmates. They were my slaves. It sickened me a little bit.
“I know. I know because I remember one day you came up to me and asked me why I was forcing my smile. From that moment I stopped hating you.”
“I don't get it...why?”
“Because at that moment I realized that you had no idea what was going on. You were innocent in all of this. And you cared. You cared to know why I didn't smile. Since we came back to New York I've noticed that caring again. I care for you the same. I promised back then I would never let anything happen to you. I would never let anything happen to you then. And I won't let anything happen to you now.”
Marcus.
I smiled and he smiled back. His beautiful smile was bright white even in the darkness of the room. There was a twinkle behind his eyes. God. Every time I looked at him I found myself falling just a little bit more. Then I would pull back knowing there couldn't be anything between a prince and his slave..
But then he'd say something that would make me fall right back.
“It worked.”
“What worked?”
“Your story. I'm not thinking about how scared I am.”
I wasn't thinking about being afraid. I was thinking about Marcus.
“Good. Keep calm. I am already working on these ropes.”
I knew he would. I saw him playing with them at that moment. He was making his way free somehow. I didn't know how Marcus was doing. I never knew half the things that Marcus did. He was literally an every man. That was why my mother trusted him with me. There was nothing that Marcus couldn't do when he put his mind to it.
In the next few moments there was a disturbance and people walked into the room. Two armed men and I recognized the man who was all the way in the back. He was a white man with blond hair and blue eyes. He was a little bit older and he wore a suit. I hadn't known his name but I recognized him as an old adviser to my mother.
“What is going on here?” I asked him, “Do you know who I am?”
Marcus shook his head, “He knows who you are. He was the one who ordered your mother's death. He was the one who poisoned your sister's mind to believe she can usurp the throne.”
“I'd like to introduce myself, I am Mr. Smith,” he stated.
Mr. Smith gave me a smile. It was almost warm. He bowed to me at that moment. It was the same bow that people in my country gave me. He was familiar with our customs. He knew them well clearly. The way he was looking at me made me know for sure that he knew just who I was.
“You served my mother in matters of finance. Why would you turn your back on her?” I asked him really confused.
It was Marcus who answered, “Money. The root of all evil. He wants to manipulate your sister's rule to his benefit. He wants to rape our country of it's resources for his capitalist agenda. Isn't that right...Mr. Smith?”
“You make me sound like the devil.”
He laughed. He was actually laughing. He was the devil. He was some American devil who just assumed he could play into politics and rob Swaziland of oil, gold and diamonds. He looked so corrupt at that time. It was no wonder he had my mother killed. My mother wouldn't have allowed it.
“You are...” I stated, “You are the devil.”
That was his face. He had a twisted little smile. He meant no good.
“No more devil then your father. The Menice Dynasty has been squandering the countries resources for generations. Don't sit here and act like you are above this shit. What the fuck? You are your father's son...aren't you...”
“Don't listen to him,” Marcus replied before immediately turning to Mr. Smith, “Release us.”
He laughed at that moment, “And stop the intervention meeting?”
“Intervention meeting?” I asked confused.
“You don't know. Ha. You don't know do you?” he stated before shutting up at that moment, “Kill them. We have to get back to the Queen.”
Queen?
He couldn't have been talking about my fucking little sister. The bitch probably didn't even have her first period yet. Queen! Queen my ass!
I watched as Mr. Smith took a step back. He was smiling at that moment. He was fucking smiling. What the fuck! This man planned on killing me. Then he was going to advise my sister and then rob money out of the country. He would make millions. He would make fucking MILLIONS from killing me right now in this moment.
The armed man pointed his gun at me first. My heart was racing!
I don't know how it happened but I started to piss at that moment!
I fucking pissed myself!
Not figuratively! The piss was actually running down the side of my pants.
“Look... he peed!” Mr. Smith stated laughing at that moment, “He actually peed.”
At that moment the gunmen were laughing as well. They were actually all laughing at me. I was a fucking prince and these assholes were laughing at me! I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe they would have the audacity.
I hadn't even noticed what was going on. I hadn't noticed Marcus untangling himself at that moment and neither did they! Marcus immediately jumped on one of the armed gunmen and wrestled with him for his gun. Shots went off.
“Marcus!” I screamed.
I didn't know what had happened. Another shot went off.
Two bodies dropped. It wasn't Marcus though. Neither of them were. The two armed guards were shot. Marcus now had the gun at Mr. Smith's temple. The gun was pointed directly at him.
Marcus was literally fucking amazing. I was sitting there pissing myself and this man was saving me...yet again.
Marcus looked over at me, “Good distraction Djimon...”
“Right...” I stated.
Distraction? The fuck was he talking about? I was scared out of my mind.
Marcus looked over at Mr. Smith, “No one laughs at my prince. Apologize.”
“I'm sorry.”
“On your knees...”
Mr. Smith immediately got on his knees in front of me. He was shaking. It was clear he was one of those guys who could do all these terrible things but couldn't take it. At this moment his face had blushed a bloodshot red.
Mr. Smith was so scared that in the next moment he was on the ground kissing my feet and begging for his life.
“Please listen. This wasn't my idea...this wasn't me. It was the Princess...”
He was really blaming this shit on my preteen little sister as if she had the brain capacity to pull this off without greedy American opportunists driving her.
“Kill him,” I told Marcus.
Marcus walked up behind him ready to pull the trigger.
“WAIT!” Mr. Smith stated, “The intervention. If you guys spare me I'll give up everything. I'll surrender on behalf of Amanirenas at the intervention.”
“What the fuck is this intervention?” I asked.
“The United Nations have called for a cease-fire. Your sister and your uncle were called to New York to settle any differences. Based on what was going to be said the United Nations would supply troops. Whoever the United Nations backs would have enough man-power to take over the country and end the civil war.”
An UN intervention was going to happen.
I needed to be there.
“Why would my sister listen to you?”
Marcus at that moment shook his head, “It might be useful, Prince Djimon. This man and his counterparts are the ones behind all of this. We can use him to expose the false claim your sister has to the throne at the UN intervention.”
I still wanted to kill him but I looked over at Marcus. He didn't think it was the best idea.
“Where's my friends?”
“Friends.”
“Jalen and Brolic...where are my friends! Marcus shoot him in the leg like the movies! Shoot him in the leg so that he knows I mean business!”
Marcus was ready to do just that when Mr. Smith immediately started screaming waving his hands in the air and basically flailing.
“Wait! Wait! The one American. He was the one who told me where you guys were headed. I let them go. That was the deal. They called and gave up your whereabouts for money. 15 Thousand dollars cash. How else do you think I found out?”
I looked over at Marcus, “A set up?”
“Brolic is good for that,” Marcus stated, “He never liked you to begin with.”
I couldn't believe it. I knew Brolic was fucked up but to sell me out for 15 thousand dollars even after I helped his mother. Was he fucking serious? There was no doubt that tricked Jalen as well. There was no way in hell Jalen would have agreed to something like that.
“We should go there, I need to talk to him.”
Marcus shook his head, “Djimon. Your uncle is in town. We need to go to him. You aren't safe. That's what we need to worry about.”
“But...I...”
I was fucking hurt. I felt betrayed. I felt used.
How the fuck could Brolic do some petty ass shit like that. 15 thousand dollars was play money to me. I wiped my ass with 15 thousand dollars. He didn't even do it for a couple million. How dumb could he be?
“Djimon. Prince. Do you trust me?” Marcus asked.
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Then please. Let's find your uncle.”
I nodded in agreement.
We drove the Carlyle hotel. The Carlyle was where my Uncle always stayed when he was in town. It was the hotel that a lot of royals actually stayed in. We had tied up Mr. Smith's hands. Marcus didn't bring a gun but I knew that this Mr. Smith guy was too scared to run. We just put our jacket over his coat so as to not make a spectacle.
I wasn't surprised when about ten security guards rolled up on us as we approached the hotel. This was a famous hotel that had royals, celebrities and politicians stay in here all the time. We wouldn't have gotten anywhere close.
“Hands up...ID please...”
“ID?” I asked, “You guys have to be joking. Do you know who the FUCK---”
“Let me take care of this,” Marcus interrupted.
Marcus was always so controlled and in charge. I literally had no idea what I would have done without him in my life. I had no idea where I would have ended up without him in my life.
“Are you guys supposed to be here?” another security guard asked.
I was getting impatient.
“This is Prince Djimon of Swaziland,” Marcus stated, “We understand that the a party from the nation of Swaziland is residing here.”
Laughter.
The guards looked at one another and then looked at me. Then they started laughing. I didn't get it. I didn't get it until I looked down at the pee stain on my pants. I was supposed to be a prince and I had a pee stain on my goddamn pants.
I was getting laughed at all fucking day. I literally couldn't take this.
Even Mr. Smith was laughing again. I looked at Mr. Smith at that moment, “Don't you dare.”
“Give me a phone and I can easily confirm this for you...”
“Listen this isn't the type of place we fuck around...”
“And if he was a prince...is your job worth that pompous attitude?” Marcus asked.
The men looked at one another. They may have been laughing at me but Marcus looked a lot more respectable at that moment. He knew how to deal with these fucking people. I just wanted to bitch and moan and whine until they gave me what I wanted. Luckily Marcus was a little bit more civilized when it came to things like this.
In the next few minutes after Marcus made his call there was nothing but apologies. We were escorted up by five guards at that moment.
“Listen sir, this was all a misunderstanding...this was all...”
Blah, blah, blah.
I wasn't listening to the escort any longer. I was looking at the Carlyle hotel. We were taken up to a presidential suite. Class. Finally. This was much more like it. The suite was huge. As we walked in were were greeted immediately by a more guards. These weren't American guards. These guards were Nubian.
“Right this way, Prince Djimon,” a servant stated.
They had brought the elegance of my country to New York it seemed. I finally felt back in my element. I walked past a Baldwin baby grand piano. Of course I never knew how to play them but I always had three servants back home who coordinated their efforts based on my mood. There was a beautiful chandelier hanging over the main entry room.
There were Nero Marquina and Thassos marble finishes.
There were plasma curved 72 inch HDTV and even as large picture windows to take in the beautiful New York City skyline.
“Nephew!”
It was my uncle. I knew Uncle Hasim immediately. He was a fat mean looking man. He reminded me a lot of my father actually. Behind him were his three wives. Two of them were my age to be honest and probably the most beautiful milk chocolate girls that I'd ever seen. Behind them were even more servants. I counted about 10 and behind them were some more guards.
“Never light on your entourage, are you Uncle?”
This was literally too much. It wasn't even like we were back home. We were in New York. Having been with just Marcus for so long it kind of seemed ridiculous to have so many people working for you.
“You know that isn't our way...” Uncle Hasim stated.
Instead of giving me a hug like other family members my Uncle bowed to me. When he bowed the rest of the room bowed with him. It wasn't until I nodded that they got off of their feet.
“I have a gift for you uncle.”
I turned at that moment and Marcus brought up Mr. Smith. Hasim gave him probably the nastiest look I had ever imagined. The rest of the room was almost quiet watching how Hasim looked at him.
“Servant...bring him forward,” Hasim stated.
I was confused on who he was talking to but at that moment I realized the only person that was there was Marcus. Marcus at that point actually brought Mr. Smith up so that my Uncle could get a better look at him.
“His name is Marcus,” I replied.
My uncle didn't seemed to care. “Oh yes...eh, well. Marcus is it? Yes. You've are the servant who has been contacting me on behalf of the prince. I know your face. Very popular back home...aren't you. With the ladies. Interesting how your mother left a playboy to guard the heir to the throne. Anyway, Marcus, brief me on how this happened...”
My uncle was being his usual patronizing self. He knew damn well who Marcus was. Everyone in the damn country knew who Marcus was. He was a celebrity because of his looks and the fact that he guarded me. He was the Julius to my Beyonce. Yet my uncle...like most royals, loved to play this game.
“He kidnapped the prince,” Marcus stated, “He attempted to kill him. We were able to evade it and bring him here.”
“Well done, Djimon.”
“It was actually Marcus,” I stated, “He...he was great...”
I looked across the room at Marcus. Marcus didn't look back at me. He actually looked away. He looked down. It wasn't proper decorum for him to give eye contact to royals. He knew that and I knew that.
I hadn't even noticed my uncle looking at Marcus and I at that moment until he spoke, “Come. Prince Djimon...or should I say King Djimon. Sit...we have a lot to discuss...
Mr. Smith was taken into custody. Servants surrounded us catering to my every whim and need. Marcus wasn't allowed to sit with us. He stood over us with the other bodyguards. I had to listen to my Uncle brag on about politics and the civil war that was going on. He was really just trying to make himself look like he was so loyal to me. I knew the game. He was trying to gain favor. He knew that fighting on my behalf would be heavily rewarded. My uncle was no dumb man.
I honestly wasn't even concerned about him. I was more concerned with what Jalen was doing at that time. I was kind of missing the ghetto. It was a weird thing.
“Isn't that crazy?” Hasim asked.
“Ridiculous,” I replied.
I had no idea what Hasim was talking about. My uncle could go on for hours about this kind of stuff. How his rebels almost took the capital. What happened with this fight or that fight. I was never much of a military enthusiast like he was. He as just looking for a reason to get involved with this kind of thing.
“Your sister was trying to portray the family as tyrants,” my uncle stated, “Isn't that ridiculous?”
“Wasn't my father a tyrant though?” I asked.
I was confused.
Hasim laughed at that moment as though I had made a joke. When I wasn't laughing with him he turned to his three wives who laughed as though it was the funniest thing I had ever said in the world. I didn't get what was so hilarious.
“You're hilarious, Djimon. Just like your mother. You should however save that kind of humor when you speak to the United Nations. We don't want them to get the wrong idea. Your sister has already been spreading ridiculous fairy tales like that.”
Fairy tales?
I had seen the bodies. I turned to Marcus. He wasn't butting in. He was still looking down. He was acting as though he didn't hear anything. It was times like this that I wished Jalen was around. Jalen didn't care about rules and regulations like Marcus did.
“So I am speaking against my sister at the United Nations meeting?” I asked.
My uncle nodded, “Small talk. Nothing serious. It's not like they can deny you. You are the rightful heir. When you ascend to king your first order should be to have your sister executed however. We can't allow this threat to happen again.”
“Why would I kill her?”
I was confused.
“For treason...”
Holy shit. I shook my head. I hadn't even thought about that. I would have to order my sister killed?
I ordered a glass of wine. It was my fourth glass of wine. This was all too serious talking to Uncle Hasim at this moment. I didn't know how to deal with it all. This meeting in two days was going to be the biggest meeting of my life. My sister had no claim to the throne now that I was alive. The weight of actually being king was getting to me. I was drowning myself in wine.
“Prince, maybe you should slow down,” Marcus stated.
“Slow down?” Uncle Hasim asked, “This is your future king. Are you suggesting when your king has had enough...servant?”
Hasim was giving Marcus the evil eye. I kind of felt bad.
“I don't mind...we have that kind of relationship?”
“What kind of relationship?” Hasim asked confused.
Hasim was honestly confused. It was almost as though I was speaking another language to him. I noticed how his servants stood at the corners of the room. I noticed how they didn't raise their eyes. It was the culture that we came from. Freedom of speech was for the Americans. My family was a band of tyrants who put their well groomed feet to the throats of their people. Why would they care about something like building a relationship with the people who worked for them?
Before I could even answer Marcus stepped in, “I didn't mean disrespect.”
“You didn't,” Hasim stated, “I'll have him whipped for you if you like, Djimon. Do you want me to have him whipped for you.”
“Oh my god. You are not whipping Marcus,” I stated, “What the fuck...change the subject...”
I was kind of lost at that moment.
Hasim gave me a look as though honestly confused again.
“In regards to your security I have gotten you a suite here. A Nubian security team as well as some American police men have been put on your guard.”
I shrugged. A part of me was hoping that I would be able to go stay with Jalen again but I knew that once I came back into the spotlight that was never going to happen.
I was Prince Djimon again. A security team was going to be necessary once they knew I was alive.
“Meet Zula...he will be the head of your security team.”
At that next moment a huge Herculean looking man walked up to me. This man was 6 foot 6 easy. He was big, bulky and ugly as fuck. He had on a suit. Just looking at him scared the fuck out of me.
“Um...nice to meet you, eh...Zula, but Marcus is the head of my security team,” I stated, “He always has been and he always will be.”
Uncle Hasim smiled. It was one of those patronizing smiles that he was so good for.
“It's extremely impressive what the pretty boy has done for you...while you were a prince. You are going to be king soon. You have to promote fear and authority. No one is afraid of Marcus, Prince Djimon.”
“I've kept him safe!” Marcus stated before quickly catching himself and bowing down at that moment, “I apologize for speaking out of turn.”
The royals were looking at Marcus like he was crazy. The wives were even whispering to themselves at that point. Even servants seemed shocked how Marcus had just raised his voice at my uncle in the way that he did. I was kind of happy about it. I was happy to see the shocked look on my uncle's face.
“You have been in America for too long, servant. Land of the free; they call this place that, isn't it? You let their bullshit poison your mind. You know what the punishment is for disrespecting royals back home don't you.”
I hated how he was talking to Marcus. Uncle Hasim was basically here going off on Marcus right now. I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe he was being such a dickhead.
“I care about Marcus,” I slurred putting down my glass of wine.
“Prince Djimon,” my uncle stated, “You can't follow in your footsteps with a man like Marcus protecting you. Please be reasonable.”
“I want Marcus. End of---end of discussion!” I stated.
I didn't notice how drunk I was until I got up off that chair. I was looking at Marcus as I said it. I had even stood up at that moment. I had wobbled across the floor. It was the alcohol speaking. There was no doubt that it was the alcohol speaking.
“Prince you've had too much to drink,” Marcus stated, “Let's get you to bed.”
“Djimon your servant is making a spectacle of himself in front of royals,” my uncle stated, “He demands you to bed like you are a child...”
“Let me tell you something. Uncle let me tell you---”
Just at that moment I was tripping over. I was tripping on my own legs. God I was such a fucking lightweight.
Luckily Marcus caught me.
Marcus always caught me when I fell.
His arms wrapped around me.
“You're always my hero,” I told Marcus.
“Let's go to your own suite and you can tell me about it in private,” Marcus stated.
I was drunk. I was so drunk that at that moment I stopped thinking. I stopped trying to understand what Marcus was trying to warn me about. I stopped giving a fuck. At that moment with my uncle and his wives looking on I did something stupid. I did something so stupid.
“I love you Marcus,” I stated.
And I kissed him. I kissed him and there was a shocked gasp that filled the entire room.
Marcus looked at me. He had the most shocked look on his face. Damn. I must have been good. The way he was looking at me seemed like he had walked onto a landmine.
Marcus was breathing heavy. He was shocked. He seemed scared. Why the fuck was he scared?
“I will not tolerate this,” my uncle stated all of a sudden.
Just at that moment that big ass motherfucker Zula walked past me. I faced head to head with him even though he towered me, but he wasn't going after me. He didn't even touch me! He was going to Marcus. I watched as he grabbed Marcus up immediately. What the fuck was going on?
“Release him,” I demanded, “I kissed him. He didn't kiss me. Let him go. I love him. I don't give a fuck what you guys say. I've had a crush on him forever and I'm going tell the entire world I'm gay!”
“Do you all hear that? He's poisoned the prince's mind,” Uncle Hasim stated.
“He's raped the prince...” one of the wives said.
“Oh my god. Oh my god he's raped the prince,” Another wife stated.
“Raped the---bitch wah?” I started off.
I watched at that moment though. Nothing I could say could make a difference. All my orders didn't mean anything when it came to the one thing that was most taboo to us. When it came to being gay all of a sudden I had been raped and my mind had been poisoned.
I watched as they took Marcus away.
What the fuck had I just done?