The House of Al Saud has ruled the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, the Heartland of the Islamic world, for over a century. Their excesses are well-known, especially the younger Princes and Princesses who are more likely to eschew tradition than their predecessors. Caught between the modern world and the most conservative nation on earth, they're forever straddling the fence, and their exploits have become the stuff of legend...
Meet Princess Rana Bint Hafiz, one of the lesser nobles of the House of Saud. Even for a Saudi Arabian Muslim Princess, her appetites are legendary. This is a young woman who once blew away a million dollars during a four-day shopping spree at various malls in Paris, France, and it wasn't even her birthday. In a land where women are considered second-class citizens and men wield power of life and death over their wives, Princess Rana Bint Hafiz Al Saud is a fearless woman.
A favorite of the old King, Princess Rana seems determined to push the boundaries of feminine power in the Heartland of Islam, which earned her the hatred of the religious clerics. Oh, and two years ago, she divorced her husband Salim Bakr sixty days after their wedding. This was scandalous, especially after she posted on Instagram about him being a dirty old man. It's not without reason that the Arab world refers to Princess Rana Bint Hafiz as their very own Paris Hilton.
"I've heard great things about you black Americans, Jay-Z, President Obama, Kanye West, and so on, you think you're tough stuff, eh?" Princess Rana Bint Hafiz, daughter of deceased Saudi Arabian Prince Hafiz Muhammad Al-Saud said haughtily, as she looked at the man standing silently before her. This is one impressive specimen, the Princess thought with a smirk.
"Ma'am, regardless of where I happen to be, I conduct myself in a professional manner, I believe you've taken a look at my resume prior to summoning me here," Craig Beauregard replied, cool as a cucumber in spite of the summer heat, and the frostiness emanating from the beautiful but haughty royal. This gal is nothing but trouble, Craig privately lamented while keeping his facial expression and body language carefully neutral.
"So, how do you like Dubai? It's not like my hometown of Jeddah but dammit, it's sure as hell preferable to anyplace in Saudi Arabia," Princess Rana said, and the young Saudi woman made a show of licking her full, sensuous lips while looking Craig Beauregard up and down. In spite of the gal's provocative words, Craig maintained his composure, just like life, the best teacher of all, taught him time and again.
Six feet two inches tall, broad-shouldered and strongly built, with light brown skin, light green eyes and a medium-sized Afro reflecting his mixed ancestry, Craig Beauregard is one fine specimen of man indeed. Clad in a perfectly tailored dark gray business suit over a blue silk shirt, black tie and dark gray silk pants, his shoes shined to a fine gleam, he looked more like a male model than an ex-United States Marine turned professional bodyguard.
Born in the City of Atlanta, Georgia, to a Haitian-American father, Fire Captain Jean-Michel Beauregard, and a white mother originally from Italy, schoolteacher Helena Golcasi, Craig Beauregard grew up in a tough environment. The City of Atlanta, long the crown jewel of the South, hasn't always been tolerant of interracial couples. The Beauregard family grew accustomed to receiving sour glances from both blacks and whites in their middle-class neighborhood of Grant Parkwood.
Craig Beauregard attended Fort Pius Academy, a private Catholic school, and used to rub elbows with the sons and daughters of Atlanta's elite. Nevertheless, at this school which was fifty eight percent white, and thirty five percent black, with a few Asians, Latinos and others in its student body, Craig didn't fit in. He was always the odd man out. This made him tough, smart and at times, very combative and ruthless. Attributes which would serve him well later in life.
"Son, the world is always trying to make a brother do what he doesn't want to do, and since you're both black and Italian, they don't know what to make of you, so always be more than you seem," said Jean-Michel Beauregard, Craig's father, at his son's graduation from Morehouse College. It was a bright day in June 2011, and Craig was twenty one years old. He had a Criminal Justice degree, and inexplicably longed to join the U.S. military, instead of going to law school like so many of his classmates.
"Jean-Michel, stop worrying the lad and let's celebrate," said Craig's mother Helena, and the tall, raven-haired, fifty-something Italian American lady gave her son Craig a simple hug. Jean-Michel rolled his eyes, and then wrapped his arms around his wife and son for a family picture. The family then left the Morehouse College campus, and headed to The Spice House, a neat little Haitian restaurant located in the heart of Atlanta. After dinner, they went home, for more celebrating.
Craig vividly remembered his college graduation, the pictures with friends and family, and the celebrating, but he mostly remembered his father's words. It turns out it was true, what his old man said. At Morehouse College, Craig surprised his fellow African American students by excelling academically and athletically, and also due to his fondness for swimming, something many thought of as an atypical pursuit for a person of African descent.
Craig thought long and hard before replying to Princess Rana's question. He hadn't been in Dubai long, but he had been in the Middle East before. He'd served in Kandahar, Afghanistan, and also in Iraq, where he was among the last troops to be withdrawn from that country as ordered by President Obama. In his time in the Middle East, Craig learned a lot about the Islamic religion, and also the ethnic and sectarian strife that pitted various groups against their neighbors.
One thing that Craig noticed was how, almost everywhere he went, the Muslims seemed to have a die-hard hatred for people of African descent. The Iraqi soldiers that were trained to take over once American troops left were respectful of the white soldiers, but showed an open dislike of black soldiers. Craig learned that in the Arab world, for many centuries, blacks had been enslaved, and even when slavery out outlawed, many of them continued to mistreat Africans everywhere they went.
In the Southern United States, Craig grew up seeing hatred in the eyes of white males who saw him out and about with his black father and Italian mother. And he always stared back at them, defiant, even though his parents took the moral high ground and ignored the bigoted bozos. Craig saw all bigots as things, rather than people, whom he'd gladly eradicate if he could. Racist white dudes in Atlanta or racist Arab guys in Iraq, made no difference to them.
"Dubai is alright, I do wish the locals were more used to seeing black folks who aren't indentured laborers, but hey, that's just me," Craig replied, looking Princess Rana in the eyes, and not caring if he'd just cost himself a potential job. He'd be on the next flight back to Europe and then hop over to his comfort zone without a second thought. Craig liked Atlanta's simplicity. Money doesn't buy everything, Craig silently reminded himself.
"Oh yes, there it is, that defiance common to black folks from the New World, you're nothing like the Somalis, Nigerians, Mauritanians and Eritreans we have working for us, you'd fight any man who disrespected you, finally, a man with balls, Hmm, you'll do fine, Mr. Beauregard, consider yourself hired," Princess Rana said, and Craig blinked in surprise, finally caught off-guard.
"Understood, thank you ma'am," Craig replied, falling back on his southern home training in the face of such an unexpected about-face. Women are indeed full of surprises regardless of culture, race or religion, Craig silently reminded himself, when he saw amusement dance in Princess Rana's lovely brown eyes. He was even more surprised when the lady left her spot on the couch, and approached him. The Princess held out a lovely, manicured hand, and Craig shook it hesitantly.
"Hmm, Craig, I know you're from the South, but we're in Dubai now, the most liberal place in the entire Arab world, call me Rana and I'll call you Craig, don't be so stiff and formal, well, don't be so formal," Princess Rana said, laughing merrily. Craig nodded, unsure how to take this sudden change in tone, mood and behavior. This lady is mercurial but then what woman isn't? Craig thought, and he smiled dryly.
Prior to coming to the summons, unusual though it may be, Craig had been contacted by his good friend Jonas Gemayel, a Lebanese Christian businessman dealing in everything from textiles to weapons. They'd done business in the past, and Jonas had been the one to suggest Craig's services to Princess Rana, after the royal nearly died during the latest assassination attempt against her person. The attack occurred in Paris, during her legendary shopping spree...
"Jonas, my friend, I appreciate the offer, but I don't do royalty, especially from your part of the world, things could get too dicey," Craig said to Gemayel as they dined inside Abu Naim's restaurant, near the Piccadilly Theater in downtown Beirut, Lebanon. Craig had come to Lebanon to help Gemayel with smuggling certain weapons to Mauritania, where conflict was brewing. Business as usual for Craig, a Jack-of-all-Trades. What Gemayel was proposing as his next gig was insane, though...
"Craig, my friend, some damn fool accused you of being one of the best in the business, and besides, Princess Rana is a friend of mine, we met when she stayed at my father's hotel in Nabatieh," Gemayel said, laughing. Craig smiled at his friend, wishing he'd stop trying to be so helpful. He'd come to Beirut on business and with that business terminated, Craig wanted to go back to the States.
