Chapter 99: Prince Charming
The London West Hollywood Hotel in Beverly Hills, perfectly positioned between Hollywood and Beverly Hills, was renowned for its extravagantly decorated Grand Ballroom.
To make tonight's charity gala even more spectacular, the organizers had convinced the LAPD to provide mounted patrol officers as security escorts for the event.
These were genuine mounted police, riding sturdy police horses, though they couldn't match the speed of the motorcycle units.
So when Max and Caroline came galloping toward the gala on horseback, they were intercepted by two African American mounted officers.
"Whoa there, ladies! This street's been closed to traffic. And even though it's called a street, horses aren't considered vehicles. We're gonna need to see some ID here.
Also, if you're carrying any controlled substances, now would be the time to declare them."
Caroline didn't dismount. She covered her modest chest with one hand and leaned toward the two officers, saying, "Good evening, officers. We're heading to the charity gala. Could you possibly help us watch our horses?"
Max quickly chimed in, "You don't need to waste time giving us a field sobriety test. We're stone cold sober, and this isn't some bachelorette party scavenger hunt. Our car broke down in South Central, so we rode all the way here from Hollywood Boulevard."
The taller officer exclaimed, "So you actually rode horses from Hollywood Boulevard? That's badass!"
The shorter officer looked at his partner, then at the two women, rolled his eyes and reminded him, "Yeah, it's also completely illegal."
"Please, officers!" Caroline pressed her palms together in prayer.
Perhaps enjoying his height advantage, the tall officer agreed: "No worries, we got you covered."
The short officer shot him a warning glare and raised his eyebrows: "Absolutely not, Dave! We're on duty!"
Caroline looked at the officers and shrugged helplessly: "Officers, we're already running late. Look, we really don't have time for a good cop, bad cop routine here."
Max jumped in to help, pointing dramatically at both of them: "Besides, you're both good cops and super good cops!"
The tall officer looked down and licked his lips. The short officer caught his partner's meaningful look and grinned sideways, then turned to the women and said, "Alright, we can help. Let's get you ladies down from there first."
The tall officer stared at Max's cleavage, swatted away his partner's reaching hand, and declared: "I'll help the one in the low-cut dress!"
Max and Caroline obviously heard this exchange but pretended they hadn't, dismounting with the officers' assistance. Gathering their skirts, they hurried away, calling back over their shoulders: "Thank you, handsome officer and super handsome officer!"
The tall officer, watching the women's retreating forms, said smugly, "You know the 'super handsome officer' was definitely referring to me, right?"
The shorter officer glanced at him, pointed to his own chest, and retorted, "Dude, have you seen how sharp I look in these aviators? I'm in a whole different league."
Suddenly, a commanding voice spoke up behind them. "Excuse me, but whether they said handsome or super handsome, they were obviously talking about me."
Ron casually flipped his federal ID toward the shorter officer. He examined it briefly, then snapped to attention and saluted Ron with military precision. "Good evening, sir!" The shorter officer then discreetly elbowed his bewildered partner and whispered, "IRS."
That title carried more weight than any other badge. The taller officer quickly straightened up and saluted as well.
Ron didn't need to adjust his tie like Max had, yet he received far better treatment than the ladies.
Ron pocketed his ID and handed over his car keys. "Could you gentlemen keep an eye on my vehicle? It's parked right up there where you've got the road blocked. Here are the keys."
"Absolutely, sir," the shorter officer nervously accepted the keys.
Since he'd driven here, Ron couldn't just waltz in anywhere like Max and Caroline had. He'd gotten stuck behind the police roadblock, so he'd simply parked at the closed intersection and jogged over.
He'd arrived slightly later than Max and Caroline, but judging by the two women's silhouettes, it seemed he wasn't too late. Ron straightened his perfectly tailored suit and strolled toward the ballroom entrance.
Ballroom Entrance
"Max, I'm amazed you can move so gracefully in that evening gown," Caroline said with genuine admiration.
Max replied, "I used to wear a medieval serving wench costume when I worked at that Renaissance dinner theater. Not having to balance platters of turkey legs and ale steins makes me feel light as a feather."
Caroline spotted the registration table and ducked behind Max in embarrassment. "Check-in's over there. You go first and I'll hide behind you because I'm basically the most hated woman in Los Angeles right now."
Honestly, just making it this far had taken every ounce of Caroline's courage. In all of LA, there probably wasn't anyone with a more notorious reputation than the Channing family name.
Max turned to look at Caroline. "So I'm your human shield now?"
Caroline glanced at Max's chest, gesturing in the air to measure its size. "You've got more... protection up front. Better coverage against incoming fire."
Max was speechless.
Caroline suddenly crouched down with a panicked expression, grabbing Max's waist.
Startled, Max threw her hands up, then turned in surprise to see Caroline hiding behind her. "Did someone just draw a gun? I knew this was gonna go sideways."
Caroline stayed low and peered around Max. "No, I spotted the couple who testified against my dad and got him sent to federal prison."
Fortunately, the couple didn't notice Caroline and quickly passed through security into the venue. Caroline exhaled with relief. The line moved forward until they reached the front.
The heavy-set redhead behind the registration desk looked at them expectantly. "Name, please?"
Caroline said, "Caroline Channing."
She whispered her last name so quietly it was barely audible.
The woman raised an eyebrow and squinted at Caroline, cupping her ear. "Sorry, I didn't catch that. Could you repeat your name?"
"Caroline... Channing," Caroline whispered even more quietly.
The woman raised both eyebrows and leaned forward, cupping her ear again. "I'm sorry, I still can't hear you."
If she genuinely hadn't heard the first two attempts, the third time was obviously deliberate harassment, since Caroline's voice was much clearer than before.
Her infamous family name had already drawn hostile stares from several nearby guests, making Caroline squirm with discomfort. She swore that aside from the day her father was arrested and the day she was evicted from the family mansion, this was the most humiliating moment of her life.
Once again, she found herself wishing that some Prince Charming would appear and rescue her from this nightmare.
Caroline could only lean forward in shame and raise her voice again: "Caroline CHANNING!"
The registration woman, clearly losing patience—though it was hard to tell how much was genuine—looked up and shouted, "What's the problem here? Speak up and tell me your name!"
Nearly everyone's attention turned toward the entrance.
(End of Chapter)
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