Assistant for the Alien Prince by Tammy Walsh

Jessica

I’d noticedthe young woman earlier in the day.

She’d been stalking the journalists and Zai since we began our PR campaign the day before.

Everywhere we went, she was there, glaring at us over her folded arms, her feet shifting and unsure.

She would glance our way before half turning to leave, but always decided to stay.

Just an over-excited fan of the prince, I thought.

But each place we went to, I would see her there as well, getting gradually closer and closer, until I alerted security to her presence.

They kept an eye on her and approached her when she drew a little too close for comfort.

She noticed me looking at her and fury reigned supreme on her face, her delicate horns sharpened to points.

She took her bitter expression with her as security escorted her away.

I didn’t see her again for two of the later press briefings and comforted myself with the thought she must have given up any attempt to accost Zai.

Not that I was overprotective of him, of course.

He was more than capable of protecting himself.

Still, that girl had a crazed look in her eye I didn’t like the look of.

Her hair was bedraggled, unwashed, and hung limply over her eyes.

She was small for an Ev’vat, a little taller than me, and a voluptuous body straining at her faded pink T-shirt.

Just as Zai was wrapping up our last visit to one of his old haunts, I caught a flash of movement among the journalists.

Only a glimpse but it was enough to recognize her.

The prince-obsessed girl.

My heart leaped into my throat at the sight of her as she bolted from the crowd of journalists and ran directly at the prince.

Security was slow in reacting and hastened toward her, snatching her from the air as she hurled herself at him.

She jabbed an accusing finger at Zai.

“You slept with me and left, scumbag! You didn’t tell me a single word where you went!”

Zai was taken aback at her outburst.

The cameras turned as one to snap what would be the front-page photo of the next day’s headline.

The journalists scribbled down every word the girl spouted.

Zai looked up and peered around, lost and uncertain as to what he was supposed to do.

Security carried the girl toward the exit, but she kicked and flailed and struggled as hard as she could.

The cameras were right in her face now.

“You knocked me up!” she snapped. “You knocked me up and now I have a daughter! Your daughter! Our daughter!”

She reached into her jacket and came out with a handful of photographs.

They fell from her hand and spilled across the floor.

The cameras were on them immediately like a pack of ravenous wolves.

This was the story they’d been hoping for.

Not a story of hope and redemption but betrayal and dishonor.

It was everything they’d ever wanted.

The PR team was quick to grab Zai and drag him away.

“No comment!” they yelled to the baying journalists. “No comment at this time!”

For two days, we’d worked our fingers to the bone to show the softer, caring, and understanding side of Zai.

Now we were in an even worse situation than we had been before.