The princess games

Standing guard

*Malik*

I stand by the shimmering pool, the water glistening under the string lights that twinkle like stars in the twilight sky. The atmosphere is electric, filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses as the party begins to truly come alive. I scan the crowd, my heart racing as I take in the scene. The women, vibrant and full of life, are mingling with one another, their laughter echoing across the water, while the men, dapper and confident, strut around with an air of entitlement.

My job is to make sure that no one jumps or fall in the pool after one too many drinks, and it gives me a great overview over all the guest.

I stand with Jamal, another servant, who seems to be reveling in the opportunity to critique the women as they pass by. “Look at those ones in the tight dresses,” he says, a smirk creeping across his face. “They’re just here for a good time, you know? The kind of girls you have fun with and then forget about. But these others,” he gestures toward a group of women in more modest attire, “those are the ones you take home to meet your family. They’re for marrying.”

I suppress a sigh as I listen to him. While his assessment may be simple and superficial, it’s a perspective I’ve heard too many times before. I can’t help but feel a quiet anger rise within me. These women are more than mere trophies to be won and used; they are individuals with dreams, hopes, and stories of their own. I want to tell him that he’s wrong, that the value of a person cannot be measured by the fabric they wear, but I remain silent. My role is to observe, not to engage.

As the night unfolds, I catch sight of Charlie and her friends, their laughter punctuating the air like music. To me they stand out among the crowd, their energy infectious. I can see that each of them has a drink in hand, and even Charlie, who stuck to water during dinner, is holding a cocktail. A thrill of curiosity races through me. What are they talking about? What is she feeling seeing the men?

“Look at that one,” Jamal nudges me, nodding toward Charlie. “She’s a bit plain to be here, and I doubt she’s the type to have any fun. She looks a little too sweet, you know what I mean?”

I can’t help but shake my head. “You don’t know her,” I reply, my voice steady. “There’s more to her than meets the eye.”

“You don’t know her either,” Jamal scoffs but moves on to another group, and I take the opportunity to focus on Charlie. She’s anything but plain, she is animated, her hands gesturing as she talks, her friends leaning in, hanging on her every word. The way her eyes sparkle when she laughs captivates me. I can feel a pull, an urge to get closer, to join them. But I remind myself of my purpose. I’m here to ensure everyone stays safe and to gather information about the women who will soon be vying for the attention of the men in this exclusive gathering.

As I stand guard, I can’t help but feel the weight of my secret. The crown rests heavily on my head, even if it’s not visible right now. I’ve donned this disguise to understand the hearts of the people, to see past the glamour and the glitz, and into the souls of those who surround me. But sometimes, the lines blur too easily.

Suddenly, a loud cheer erupts from a nearby group of women, and I turn my attention to them, ready to intervene if necessary. But it’s just a harmless game of daring each other to kiss guys on the cheek. I chuckle softly to myself; the energy here is intoxicating, and I can feel the thrill of adventure coursing through my veins.

“Hey, Malik!” Jamal calls out, and I glance over to see him pointing toward a group of slightly drunk men who are starting to approach the women. “Looks like the night is about to get interesting.”

I nod, my body tensing slightly. I can sense the shift in the atmosphere as the men make their way toward the women, their intentions clear. I need to remain vigilant. The last thing I want is for any of the women to feel uncomfortable or threatened. This is meant to be positive for everyone.

As the men approach, I catch a glimpse of Charlie again. She’s smiling and chatting, her friends around her, and for a moment, I forget my role. I imagine what it would be like to step out from behind this façade and join her, to share a laugh, to allow her to see the man I truly am, not just the servant standing guard. But I push that thought aside, reminding myself why I’m here. If I revealed myself now, I would never know who likes me for me and not for the crown.

The voices of the men grow louder as they begin to engage with the women, and I can see Jamal’s eyes glinting with interest, honestly I do not like him much. He’s ready to judge and categorize them, but I refuse to let his narrow view influence my perception. Each woman here has her own story, her own journey, and I want to learn about them, understand their hearts.

As the night unfolds, I watch Charlie, her laughter echoing like a beacon in the night. I can’t help but wonder what it would take for me to be more than just Malik the servant to her. What would it take for me to be Malik, the man who could dance with her under the stars, who could engage her in conversation that goes beyond the surface? "