CONCRETE CROWN

Las Vegas sold everybody the same dream. Bright lights. Big money.

Beautiful people. Championship fights. Casinos where somebody could walk in broke and swear they were one lucky roll away from walking out rich.

That was the Vegas tourists knew. Vyshonn knew another one. On the West Side, nobody needed a postcard to tell them where home was.

Home was kids racing bikes between buildings while somebody’s mama yelled for them not to go too far. Home was music coming through open windows, smoke rolling off somebody’s grill, old heads arguing over dominoes, cousins pulling up without calling first, and neighbors knowing your business before you did. Home was concrete.

And tonight, Vyshonn was trying to take everybody’s money off it. “C’mon, six! Don’t hoe me now.” The dice bounced once.

Twice. Hit the pavement. “Six!” The circle exploded.

“Aww, hell nah!” “Pay that man!” “Boy lucky as hell.” Vyshonn straightened with a grin, palms already reaching toward the folded bills on the ground. “Lucky?” he said.

“Nah. Y’all just sorry.” His childhood boys immediately started talkin’ over one another. “Man, run that shit back.” “You ain’t finna leave after one hot streak.” “Hot streak?

He hit twice.” “Twice more than your broke ass.” “Who broke?” “You, after Vyshonn finish.” Vyshonn laughed, stuffing part of his winnings into his pocket. At twenty-three, he had the kind of confidence that could look like arrogance if somebody didn’t know him.

Deep brown skin. Athletic build. Sharp features.

A trimmed beard. Black fitted cap backward. White tee.

Black shorts. Clean sneakers. Nothing flashy.

Nothing about him screamed money. That was exactly how he liked it. He shook the dice in one hand.

“Who next?” “Hundred.” “Bet.” A hundred-dollar bill landed near his shoe. Vyshonn looked up.

“Only a hundred?” “Boy, shoot.” “I’m just sayin’. Don’t get scared now.” “Vyshonn, you talk too damn much.” “And you lose too damn much.” The boys cracked up.

The dice were still in Vyshonn’s hand when a woman’s voice floated across the courtyard. “Vyshonn.” Everything stopped. Not the neighborhood.

Just Vyshonn. His boys looked at one another. Then the laughing started.

“Ohhhh!” “Big dog got called home.” “Gram finna whoop your grown ass.” Vyshonn slowly turned. His grandmother stood near the walkway, arms folded.

Gram wasn’t particularly tall. She didn’t need to be. She had spent decades perfecting a look that could make grown men reconsider every decision they had made that day.

Vyshonn tried a smile. “Wassup, Gram?” “What time I tell you dinner was?” He glanced at his phone.

Then at his boys. One immediately backed away. “Don’t look at me.” Vyshonn frowned.

“Fake-ass friends.” Gram tapped her foot. “I’m comin’.” “You been comin’ for twenty minutes.” “I was finishin’ somethin’.” “You was gamblin’.” “Technically, I was winnin’.” A couple of his boys covered their mouths.

Gram’s eyebrow rose. Vyshonn’s smile disappeared. “I’m on my way.” “Five minutes.” “Bet.” She turned.

One of his boys called, “We comin’ too, Gram!” Without looking back, she said, “Bring your own plates.” The whole group cheered. Vyshonn stared at them.

“See? That’s why y’all always around my family. Greedy.” “Family for life, baby.” Vyshonn pointed at him.

“Don’t use T64 to get free chicken.” Everybody laughed again. The phrase was common enough around them that nobody thought twice about it. Family for Life.

T64. Team 64 Entertainment Umbrella had turned those words into one of the most recognizable slogans in entertainment. Music.

Film. Television. Fashion collaborations.

Gaming. Concerts. Talent management.

Streaming. T64 was everywhere. So hearing somebody say Family for Life wasn’t unusual.

Nobody standing around Vyshonn knew how personal those words really were. Not yet. Across Las Vegas, Princess Risana was discovering that royalty could make even the most exciting city on earth feel like a waiting room.

She sat in the rear of a black SUV while neon washed across the tinted windows. Her convoy moved down Las Vegas Boulevard beneath enormous screens advertising singers, shows, casinos, fights, and brands she had seen in half a dozen countries. Risana rested her chin against her hand.

“This is ridiculous.” Her aide, Amelie, looked up from her tablet. “What is?” “The security.” “You are a princess.” “I’m aware.” “There was some concern you had forgotten.” Risana looked at her.

Amelie’s mouth twitched. “You’re becoming sarcastic.” “I spend too much time with you.” Risana smiled despite herself.

At twenty-two, Princess Risana had mastered the public smile before she had mastered driving. She knew how to greet presidents, diplomats, monarchs, ambassadors, and billionaires. She could move through a ballroom without stepping on a gown, answer questions without actually answering them, and sit through hours of political conversation while appearing interested.

She hated how good she was at it. Outside, a giant screen changed. T64.

A famous singer appeared above the words TEAM 64 ENTERTAINMENT — FAMILY FOR LIFE. Risana leaned closer to the glass. “T64 is involved with tomorrow’s gala, correct?” “One of the principal sponsors,” Amelie said.

“They also represent several performers attending.” “Who owns it?” Amelie paused. Risana turned.

“You don’t know.” “I know it is privately controlled.” “By?” “A family, primarily. The structure is deliberately complicated.” Risana smiled.

“You really don’t know.” “I can research it.” “No. I’m enjoying this.” “Enjoying what?” “Knowing something you don’t.” Amelie rolled her eyes.

Risana looked back toward the advertisement. Family for Life. Something about the phrase stayed with her.

Her phone rang. MOTHER. She groaned.

“Answer it.” “You answer it.” “She is your mother.” “She’s your queen.” “That makes your situation worse.” Risana accepted the call. “Hello, Mother.” “Have you arrived safely?” “No.

I was abducted.” Amelie shut her eyes. There was silence on the phone. “Risana.” “I’m joking.” “That is not amusing.” “It was a little amusing.” A deeper voice appeared in the background.

“Stop frightening your mother.” Risana smiled. “Hello, Father.” “Security?” “Everywhere.” “Good.” “Not good.

I cannot breathe without somebody documenting it.” “You are exaggerating.” “I have three vehicles following me.” “Four.” Risana looked behind her. Amelie quietly held up four fingers.

Risana sighed. “Thank you for proving my point.” Her father laughed. Her mother did not.

Tomorrow’s schedule began pouring through the phone. Breakfast. Diplomatic meeting.

Charity appearance. Private luncheon. Press photographs.

Reception. Gala. Dinner.

Risana stared out at tourists walking down the Strip. They could turn left because they felt like it. Cross a street.

Walk into a store. Meet somebody. Change their minds.

She envied them. “Risana?” “Yes, Mother.” “Were you listening?” “Of course.” “What did I just say?” Risana glanced at Amelie.

Amelie mouthed, Prince Henrik. Risana’s mood died. “You said Henrik will be attending next month.” “And?” “And I should be polite.” Her mother continued.

Risana stopped listening. Prince Henrik was handsome, wealthy, educated, royal, and painfully predictable. Their families had seated them together enough times that tabloids had practically planned their wedding.

Nobody seemed bothered by the fact that Risana had never agreed to marry him. She ended the call several minutes later and dropped her phone beside her. “I need air.” Amelie looked toward the vents.

“Actual air.” “You have two hours free tomorrow afternoon.” “Scheduled freedom is not freedom.” “You are impossible.” “So I’ve been told.” Back on the West Side, Vyshonn entered Gram’s apartment seven minutes late. His mother looked over from the kitchen.

“You was gamblin’.” Vyshonn kissed her cheek. “Hello to you too, Ma.” “Wash your hands.” “They clean.” “Vyshonn.” “Aight.” He walked toward the bathroom.

Gram watched until he disappeared down the hall. Then she turned to her daughter. “They called again.” Vyshonn’s mother went still.

“Who?” “You know who.” “What you tell ’em?” “The same thing.” “Ma.” “He twenty-three.” “He ain’t ready.” “You keep sayin’ that like ready got somethin’ to do with it.” His mother lowered her voice. “We promised.” “His daddy made promises too.” Pain crossed her face.

“Don’t.” Gram softened. “I ain’t tryna hurt you.” “Then leave it alone.” “They ain’t gonna leave him alone.” Vyshonn returned, drying his hands.

“Who ain’t gonna leave me alone?” Both women looked at him. His mother turned back toward the stove. “Women.” Vyshonn blinked.

“What?” Gram nodded solemnly. “You heard her.” Vyshonn looked between them.

“Y’all weird.” “Sit down and eat.” His phone buzzed. Unknown number.

He opened the message. WE NEED TO SPEAK. IT’S TIME.

Vyshonn frowned. Another message arrived. YOU CANNOT KEEP IGNORING FAMILY.

His jaw tightened. “Everything okay?” his mother asked. “Yeah.” He deleted both messages.

Gram watched. Vyshonn noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Exactly.

Everybody keep sayin’ nothing.” He sat down. His mother placed a plate in front of him. Food temporarily defeated curiosity.

But Gram’s eyes stayed on him. The next afternoon, Risana survived three speeches, seventeen photographs, one conversation about international commerce, and a reporter asking whether she intended to marry Prince Henrik. By the time she returned to her hotel, she was done.

“I want one hour.” Amelie followed her into the suite. “For?” “Being normal.” “That is alarmingly vague.” “I want to walk.” “Security can arrange—” “No convoy.” “Risana.” “No photographers.

No formal schedule. No one calling me Your Royal Highness.” “You are asking me to assist in giving your protection team a collective heart attack.” “I’ll take one officer.” “Two.” “One.” “Two.” Risana folded her arms.

Amelie did the same. “One close. One far.” Risana smiled.

“Deal.” An hour later, Princess Risana disappeared beneath jeans, sneakers, a simple top, a light jacket, and a baseball cap. No diamonds. No royal pin.

No formal dress. Nobody bowed when she entered a small shop. The cashier barely looked at her.

Risana almost laughed from happiness. She bought a drink herself. With cash.

She walked. She watched people. She listened to street performers.

She ignored the protection officer staying well behind her. For a little while, she was simply a twenty-two-year-old woman in Las Vegas. Then everything went wrong.

A call pulled the nearest officer away. The second protection officer became delayed by an incident near the hotel. Amelie called repeatedly.

Risana’s phone dropped to four percent. She tried returning toward the agreed meeting point. Construction diverted her.

She boarded a bus after asking someone whether it headed west. Technically, it did. Just much farther west than she intended.

Her phone died. When she finally stepped off, the Strip looked distant. Risana stared at the blank phone.

“You have got to be kidding me.” A passing woman glanced at her. Risana smiled awkwardly. “Not you.” The woman kept walking.

Risana looked around. This Las Vegas felt completely different. Apartments.

Neighborhood streets. People outside. Music.

Kids. No giant hotel towers surrounding her. No royal security.

No Amelie. No charger. She should have been terrified.

Instead, underneath the concern, something unexpected stirred. Freedom. Real freedom.

Messy, inconvenient, slightly stupid freedom. She started walking. Several blocks away, Vyshonn was arguing over basketball.

“You traveled.” “I ain’t travel.” “Bro, you took so many steps you damn near walked to California.” “Man, shut up.” Vyshonn laughed from the hood of a car. His phone rang.

GRAM. He answered. “Wassup?” “Where you at?” “Outside.” “I know you outside.

Every time I ask where you at, you say outside.” His boys started laughing. Vyshonn lowered the phone. “Y’all loud as hell.” Gram continued, “Come get this food.” “I ate.” “I ain’t ask if you ate.” Vyshonn smiled.

“Why you always feedin’ me?” “’Cause left to you, you’d live off wings, liquor, and bad decisions.” His boys lost it. “Gram cooked him!” Vyshonn stood.

“Aight, I’m comin’.” He hung up. His friend Darnell looked over his shoulder. “Yo.” Vyshonn followed his gaze.

Risana stood near the corner studying her dead phone. Darnell whistled softly. “Damn.” “Chill.” “I ain’t say nothin’.” “You literally just said damn.” “That ain’t nothin’.” Vyshonn watched her.

She was beautiful. Not Vegas-club beautiful. Different.

Her clothes were simple, but something about the way she carried herself didn’t match where she stood. She looked lost. Very lost.

And stubborn enough to pretend she wasn’t. Vyshonn hopped off the hood. Darnell grinned.

“Where you goin’?” “Gram house.” “Gram house that way.” “I know where my grandma live.” “Uh-huh.” Vyshonn ignored him and walked toward Risana. She noticed him approaching.

Her posture changed subtly. Vyshonn caught it. Alert.

Ready. Interesting. He stopped several feet away.

“You lost?” Risana looked at him. “That obvious?” Vyshonn looked at her dead phone.

Then her shoes. Then the direction she had been walking. Then back at her.

“You been walkin’ in circles for like five minutes.” “I have not.” “You definitely have.” “I was orienting myself.” Vyshonn laughed. “Orientin’?” “Yes.” “Aight.” “What?” “Nothin’.” “You’re laughing.” “Little bit.” Risana narrowed her eyes.

“Do you always laugh at strangers?” “Only the ones orientin’ themselves.” She tried not to smile. Failed.

Vyshonn noticed. “So where you tryna go?” “The Strip.” He stared at her.

“What?” “You walked from the Strip?” “No.” “Thank God, ’cause I was finna say you got bigger problems than bein’ lost.” “I took a bus.” “Which one?” Risana told him. Vyshonn closed his eyes.

“What?” “You really ain't from here.” “I never claimed to be.” “Where you from?” She hesitated. A tiny pause.

Vyshonn caught that too. “Europe.” He laughed. “Europe?” “Yes.” “That’s a whole continent.” “I’m aware.” “You got a country?” “I do.” “You wanna tell me?” “Not particularly.” Vyshonn tilted his head.

“You always this difficult?” “Are you always this intrusive?” “Probably.” For the first time, Risana smiled fully. Vyshonn forgot what he had been about to say.

Darnell shouted from behind him. “VY! GRAM GONNA BEAT YOUR ASS!” Vyshonn turned.

“Mind your damn business!” Risana laughed. Vyshonn looked back. “You think that’s funny?” “A little.” “My grandma been threatenin’ me since birth.” “She sounds sensible.” “You ain't even met her and already takin’ her side.” “Perhaps she has good judgment.” Vyshonn shook his head.

“Bougie.” “Excuse me?” “You heard me.” “I am not bougie.” Vyshonn looked her up and down. Risana folded her arms.

“Don’t.” “I ain’t say nothin’.” “Your face did.” He grinned. “Phone dead?” “Yes.” “Need a charger?” “I need transportation.” “You got money?” Risana’s eyebrows rose.

Vyshonn laughed. “I ain't askin’ for me. You talkin’ like you finna order a helicopter.” “I can pay for transportation.” “Cool.

Come on.” “Where?” “My Gram house.” Risana stared. “You expect me to follow a strange man to his grandmother’s home?” “When you say it like that, it sound crazy.” “It is crazy.” “You can stay out here orientin’ yourself.” Risana glared.

Vyshonn started walking. After three steps, he heard her behind him. He smiled without turning around.

“Thought I was strange.” “You are.” “And you still followin’ me.” “I need a charger.” “Sure.” They reached his boys. Every single one suddenly became interested.

Darnell smiled. “Wassup?” Risana nodded politely. “Hello.” The boys looked at Vyshonn.

Then her. Then Vyshonn. He already knew what was coming.

“Don't.” Darnell raised both hands. “I ain't say shit.” “You was about to.” “Cap.” Vyshonn pointed at him.

“See?” Risana looked between them. “What does cap mean?” Silence.

Then everybody started laughing. Risana frowned. “What?” Vyshonn covered his mouth.

“Oh, nah.” “What?” “You really from Europe.” “I told you that.” Darnell stepped forward dramatically. “Your education begins today.” Vyshonn shoved him aside.

“Move.” “Damn, Professor Vyshonn.” Risana laughed again. The sound caught Vyshonn off guard.

He liked it. Too much. They walked toward Gram’s building.

Risana took in everything around her. Children playing. Neighbors sitting outside.

Two women braiding a girl’s hair. Men around dominoes. Music drifting through the warm evening.

She had expected to feel out of place. She did. But not unwelcome.

People looked at her because she was unfamiliar, then returned to whatever they were doing. Nobody knew her. The realization felt almost intoxicating.

At Gram’s door, Vyshonn knocked once and entered. Risana stopped. “You don’t wait?” “It’s Gram.” “That doesn’t answer my question.” “Come on.” Gram appeared from the kitchen.

“Boy, I told you—” She stopped when she saw Risana. Vyshonn smiled. “Gram, she need a charger.” Gram looked at Vyshonn.

Then Risana. Then Vyshonn again. “A charger.” “Yeah.” “And you brought her here.” “Her phone dead.” Gram’s eyes narrowed with amusement.

“Mm-hmm.” Vyshonn frowned. “Why you say it like that?” “Like what?” “Like…that.” Gram ignored him and approached Risana.

“Come in, baby.” “Thank you, ma’am.” Gram paused. Something about Risana’s voice.

Her posture. Her manners. Her eyes.

Gram had spent too many years around powerful people not to recognize somebody raised among them. “You ain't from Vegas.” “No, ma’am.” “Where you from?” Risana hesitated again.

Vyshonn leaned against the wall. “Good luck. She told me Europe.” Gram looked at him.

“Ain’t nobody ask you.” Vyshonn straightened. “Aight.” Risana fought a smile.

Gram noticed that too. Interesting. “Sit down,” Gram said.

“I’ll get you a charger.” “Thank you.” Vyshonn dropped into a chair across from her. “You hungry?” “No.” Her stomach growled.

Vyshonn stared. Risana stared back. He grinned.

“Your stomach said you cappin’.” “I now know what that means.” “You learn fast.” Gram called from the kitchen, “Fix that girl a plate.” Risana immediately said, “That really isn’t necessary.” Vyshonn stood. “You might as well give up.” “I can decide whether I’m hungry.” “Not in this house.” Gram shouted, “What he say?” Vyshonn called back, “I said you bossy!” “What?” “I said the food bussin’!” Risana burst out laughing.

Vyshonn looked offended. “You laughin’ real hard for somebody needin’ my charger.” “You’re afraid of her.” “I ain't afraid of nobody.” Gram appeared behind him.

“Who?” Vyshonn jumped slightly. Risana covered her mouth. Gram smiled.

“Thought so.” Vyshonn shook his head. “Man, this some bullshit.” “Watch your mouth.” “Yes, ma’am.” Risana lost it.

For the first time in days, maybe months, she laughed without thinking about cameras. Without wondering whether her laugh was too loud. Without checking who was watching.

Vyshonn watched her. Something softened in his expression. Gram saw it.

Of course Gram saw it. She saw everything. Later, Risana sat at Gram’s table eating food she had insisted she didn’t want while Vyshonn and his boys argued over dominoes.

“Five.” “Man, stop slammin’ that shit.” “That’s how you play.” “You ain't gotta break Gram table.” “It survived Vyshonn.” “Facts.” Vyshonn slapped down a domino. “Game.” Darnell stared.

“No.” “What you mean no?” “You cheated.” Vyshonn leaned back. “How?” “I don't know yet.” Risana laughed.

Vyshonn pointed at her. “See? Don't encourage him.” “You accused me of cheating at being lost.” “I never said that.” “You implied it.” “See, now you makin’ stuff up.” Her phone finally powered on.

It immediately exploded. Missed calls. Messages.

More calls. Amelie. Security.

Her mother. Her father. Risana’s smile vanished.

Vyshonn noticed. “You good?” “Yes.” She silenced the phone.

It rang again. Vyshonn glanced at the screen. AMELIE.

“You should probably answer.” Risana looked at him. For some reason, she didn't want this strange little evening to end. She answered.

“Hello.” Amelie’s voice was loud enough that Risana pulled the phone away. “WHERE ARE YOU?” “I’m safe.” “WHERE?” Risana looked at Vyshonn.

He raised an eyebrow. “On the West Side.” Amelie went silent. Then spoke very carefully.

“Send me your location. Now.” “I will.” “Risana, the entire protection team is looking for you.” Vyshonn’s eyes sharpened at the phrase protection team.

Risana stood. “I said I’m safe.” “Who are you with?” Risana looked toward Vyshonn again.

“A friend.” Vyshonn mouthed, Friend? She ignored him. Amelie continued panicking.

Risana finally ended the call. Vyshonn folded his arms. “Protection team?” Risana slipped the phone into her pocket.

“My employer.” “You got security at your job?” “Sometimes.” “What you do?” She hesitated. There it was again.

That pause. Vyshonn didn't like lies. Mostly because he had grown up around too many of them.

But something in her expression told him not to push. Not tonight. “Never mind.” Risana looked surprised.

“You're not going to interrogate me?” “Nah.” “Why?” “’Cause if you wanted me to know, you'd tell me.” That landed harder than he intended. Risana looked away.

Vyshonn grabbed his keys. “I’ll take you back.” “That isn’t necessary.” “I know.” “I can have someone collect me.” “I know.” “Then why are you offering?” Vyshonn shrugged.

“Maybe I wanna make sure Europe make it back to wherever she supposed to be.” She smiled. “Europe?” “You ain't give me a country.” “Perhaps I like Europe.” “Then Europe it is.” Gram watched from the doorway.

Vyshonn kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back.” “You better.” Risana approached.

“Thank you for everything.” Gram hugged her before Risana could prepare. The princess froze. Then slowly hugged her back.

“Come back anytime, baby.” Risana swallowed. Nobody outside her family hugged her like that. No protocol.

No calculation. Just warmth. “Thank you.” Gram leaned closer.

“And don't let that boy fool you. He sweet underneath all that mouth.” “GRAM.” Risana smiled.

“I’ll remember that.” Vyshonn opened the door. “Come on before she start showin’ baby pictures.” “I have albums!” Risana looked interested.

Vyshonn pointed outside. “Now.” They left laughing. Gram’s smile remained until the door closed.

Then it disappeared. She picked up her phone. A message waited.

THE BOARD WILL NOT DELAY AGAIN. Gram typed back. THEN THE BOARD CAN WAIT WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

Another message appeared. THE VOTE IS COMING. Gram stared at it.

Then toward the door Vyshonn had just walked through. “You better enjoy normal while you got it, baby,” she whispered. Outside, Vyshonn unlocked his car.

Risana looked at it. Then at him. “What?” “Nothing.” “You makin’ that face.” “What face?” “That bougie face.” “I do not have a bougie face.” “You definitely do.” She climbed inside.

Vyshonn started the engine. Music immediately blasted. Risana jumped.

Vyshonn laughed. “Oh, that's funny?” “A little.” She reached for the volume.

He slapped her hand away lightly. “Don't touch my radio.” “It's deafening.” “My car.” “My ears.” “You got princess ears or somethin’?” Risana went still for half a second.

Vyshonn didn't notice. He was pulling away from the curb. She looked out the window to hide her expression.

Princess ears. If only he knew. As they drove toward the Strip, their worlds began changing long before either one understood it.

Vyshonn’s phone buzzed in the cup holder. He ignored it. Risana glanced down.

The screen displayed only part of the notification. T64 EXECUTIVE OFFICE. Her eyes narrowed.

“Your phone.” Vyshonn glanced. The expression disappeared from his face. He rejected the call.

Risana noticed. “You know Team 64?” Vyshonn kept his eyes on the road. “Everybody know T64.” “That isn't what I asked.” He looked at her briefly.

“You nosy.” “You asked what country I’m from.” “That’s different.” “How?” “Because I asked first.” “That is not how logic works.” “It work in my car.” Risana shook her head. “Impossible man.” Vyshonn smiled.

“Bougie woman.” The Strip grew brighter ahead. Neither noticed the black SUV several cars behind them. Inside, a royal protection officer spoke into his radio.

“We have visual contact with Her Royal Highness.” Another voice answered. “Who is driving?” The officer zoomed a camera toward Vyshonn’s license plate.

“Unknown male. Stand by.” At nearly the same moment, somewhere else in Las Vegas, another man sat inside another vehicle watching the same car from farther back. He lifted his phone.

“I found him.” A voice asked, “You’re sure?” The man watched Vyshonn stop at a red light. “Positive.” “And the woman?” “Don't know.” “Doesn't matter.

Do not approach him.” The man frowned. “Then why am I here?” “Because the family needs to know whether Vyshonn is ready.” The man looked toward the glowing skyline.

“And if he isn't?” Silence. Then: “He doesn't get a choice.” Vyshonn drove on, completely unaware that two different worlds were following him.

One belonged to a crown. The other belonged to T64. And sitting beside him was the woman who was about to bring both crashing straight into his concrete.

Vyshonn stopped two blocks short of the hotel when Risana suddenly told him to pull over. He looked at the towering resort ahead, then at her. “This where you stayin’?” Risana followed his eyes and immediately regretted letting him get this close.

“Nearby.” Vyshonn laughed. “Nearby my ass.

You stayin’ there.” She folded her arms. “You have an irritating habit of believing you know everything.” “I know enough.” He leaned back against the seat.

“That place cost more a night than some folks make in a week. So either your job pay crazy, your family got bread, or you out here scammin’ somebody.” Risana’s mouth fell open. “Scamming?” “I’m just coverin’ all possibilities.” “You are unbelievable.” “And you still in my car.” She should have been offended.

Instead she smiled. “Thank you for bringing me back.” Vyshonn nodded toward her phone. “Make sure your little protection squad know you alive before they kick my door in.” Risana’s amusement faded.

“They would not do that.” “You sure?” She wasn’t. Vyshonn noticed.

“Damn. What kinda job you got?” “Complicated.” “Everything about you complicated.” “You met me three hours ago.” “Longest three hours of my life.” Risana reached for the door.

Vyshonn laughed. “I’m playin’.” She looked back. “I know.” Neither moved.

For the first time since they met, the teasing disappeared. Something quiet filled the car. Something neither one had a name for yet.

“Can I see you again?” Vyshonn asked. Risana blinked. He had expected himself to dress the question up, make it sound casual, pretend he didn’t care.

Instead it came straight out. Risana studied him. Men had asked for her attention her entire adult life.

Princes. Athletes. heirs. sons of politicians. Men who knew exactly what her title could do for them.

Vyshonn didn’t even know her last name. “Perhaps.” He frowned. “Perhaps?” “You survived Europe once.

Don’t become greedy.” Vyshonn laughed. “See, now you talkin’ shit.” “I’m learning.” “Too fast.” She opened the door, then paused.

“Give me your phone.” “Why?” “Do you want my number or not?” He handed it over immediately. Risana smiled.

“Thought so.” She entered her number under one name: Europe. Vyshonn stared at it. “You petty.” “You named me that.” “I was jokin’.” “I like it.” She called herself so her phone would have his number, then handed his device back.

“Goodnight, Vyshonn.” He looked at the screen, then at her. “Goodnight, Europe.” Risana stepped out.

She had made it six feet before Vyshonn lowered his window. “Ay!” She turned. “What?” “Don't get on no more random buses.” Risana laughed.

“Drive home.” “I'm serious.” “Goodnight.” “Hardheaded as hell,” he muttered, but he was smiling when he pulled away. Risana waited until his taillights disappeared before walking toward the hotel.

She barely reached the private entrance before Amelie came rushing out with two security officers. “Have you lost your mind?” Risana winced. “Good evening to you too.” “Do you understand what happened tonight?” “I got lost.” “You vanished.” “Temporarily.” “The King knows.” Risana stopped.

“Why would you tell my father?” Amelie stared at her. “Because losing a princess tends to require paperwork.” Despite herself, Risana laughed.

Amelie did not. “This is not funny.” “No.

It isn’t.” Risana glanced back toward the street. Her smile returned anyway. “But parts of tonight were.” Amelie saw it immediately.

“Who was he?” Risana’s smile vanished. “Who?” “The man who brought you back.” “A stranger.” “A stranger whose car you were in.” “He helped me.” “Name?” Risana hesitated.

“Vyshonn.” Amelie repeated it carefully. “Vyshonn what?” Risana realized she had never asked.

“I don’t know.” Amelie looked horrified. “You spent hours with a man and don't know his surname?” “He doesn't know mine either.” That made Risana smile again.

Amelie looked even more concerned. “Why does that make you happy?” Risana turned toward the elevator. “Because for once, somebody met me before they met the crown.” Back on the West Side, Vyshonn pulled into the courtyard with Europe still saved in his phone.

Darnell spotted him before he could reach the stairs. “My boy!” Vyshonn kept walking. “Don't start.” “Where Europe at?” “Home.” “You get the number?” Vyshonn ignored him.

Darnell ran beside him. “Oh, that smile say yes.” “What smile?” “That stupid one on your face.” Vyshonn shoved him.

“Get off me.” Two more boys joined in. “Vy got him a lil’ foreign boo!” “She ain't my boo.” “Yet.” “Man, y’all worse than women.” “Did she kiss you?” “No.” “L.” Vyshonn stopped.

“How that's an L? I met her today.” “Shoulda stood on business.” “You ain't stood on business since Keisha blocked you.” The courtyard erupted.

Gram watched from upstairs through the blinds, smiling at first. Then her phone rang. She checked the number and stepped away from the window.

“I told y’all stop callin’ me.” The man on the other end did not apologize. “We have a problem.” “You always got a problem.” “The royal delegation arrived yesterday.” Gram went silent.

“What that got to do with me?” “Maybe nothing. But one of our people saw Vyshonn tonight.” Gram’s grip tightened around the phone.

“Saw him where?” “Near the Strip. He wasn't alone.” “Who was with him?” “We’re trying to identify her.” Gram closed her eyes.

“Leave that boy alone.” “We can’t anymore.” “Watch me make you.” Gram’s voice had changed. Gone was the playful grandmother from the domino table.

This voice belonged somewhere else. Somewhere boardrooms went quiet. The caller exhaled.

“The succession vote was moved forward.” Gram said nothing. “Three weeks.” “Who moved it?” “You know who.” Gram’s face hardened.

“And they think draggin’ my grandson into this gonna fix their mess?” “Without Vyshonn, control can shift permanently.” “Then maybe y’all shoulda thought about that before everybody got greedy.” “His father built protections into the charter.” “His father built a lotta things.” “Including a throne nobody else can legally sit in.” Gram looked toward the courtyard below. Vyshonn was laughing with his boys.

“He don't want no throne.” “He may not have a choice.” Gram ended the call without saying goodbye. Downstairs, Vyshonn slapped hands with Darnell and headed toward his apartment.

For one second, Gram saw him at eight years old again—laughing like the world had never asked him to carry anything heavier than himself. Then the moment passed. Three weeks.

That was all the normal he had left before people he did not know came looking for the throne he did not want.