Pardon My Frenchie

4

Thad had reached the second-to-last step before he realized his grandmother’s cantankerous poodle hadn’t followed him off the daycare’s front porch. He turned and gently, but firmly, tugged on the leash.

“I don’t have time for this shit today, dog. Come on.”

Puddin’ plopped down and refused to move. The sun glinted off the absurd rhinestone collar wrapped around his pencil-thin neck.

For a hot minute, Thad considered bringing him back inside and washing his hands of this spoiled, stubborn pain in his ass. At least the one with the braids—he figured she was the owner—would be happy about that. But after seeing the charge to his credit card for the dog’s five-week stay, he refused to pay that dog sitter a single extra cent. Who in the hell charged that kind of money to watch a dog?

Maybe if she got rid of some of that fake, gold-plated royal family crap she wouldn’t have to charge her clients the equivalent of a monthly mortgage.

“Move.” Thad tugged again.

Puddin’ stretched his front legs out in front of him and went from sitting to lying flat on his stomach.

Thad dropped his head back and swore up at the sky. Eight months ago all he had to do was snap his fingers and a company of over one hundred soldiers would follow his orders to the letter. Now, he couldn’t get a bare-assed poodle with a sparkly collar to show him respect. He’d left behind a fifteen-year military career for this?

He jutted his chin toward the door. “She the one give you that stupid haircut? And you still want to hang around here?”

Puddin’ let out a doleful whine and wagged the pom-pom on the tip of his tail. It really was a stupid haircut.

“Look, we’re not doing this today,” Thad told him as he climbed back up the steps. He scooped the poodle into his arms and carried him to the Ford Maverick XLT he’d bought from a used-car dealer when he’d arrived in Louisiana a month ago. It took him two tries before he could get the door open while still cradling the dog.

He cursed again as he set Puddin’ on the passenger’s side. He should have thought to bring a towel or something for the seat. Now he’d have dog hair all over his new-to-him truck.

Did poodles even shed their fur? Maybe he could ask the dog sitter. She would know.

Thad shut the door and hauled it to the driver’s side when he realized he was fishing for an excuse to go back inside.

He’d kept his sunshades on longer than necessary so that the one with the braids, Ashanti, wouldn’t notice how he couldn’t stop staring at her. It was the freckles. A smattering of freckles on a woman’s nose and cheeks got him every damn time.

Nope. He was not stepping foot in Barkingham Palace—that name was as ridiculous as Puddin’s haircut—again.

The dog let out another whine. Thad started the engine and turned up the radio to drown him out.

He’d just put the truck in drive when the purple-and-white front door opened and the woman he’d just convinced himself he wasn’t making excuses to see came jogging down the steps.

“Wait!” she yelled while flagging him down.

Thad put the truck in park, turned down the radio, and lowered the window.

Before he could get a word in, she shoved a plastic chew toy shaped like an alligator inside the open window. “You forgot Ali. It’s Puddin’s favorite.”

As if to put an exclamation point on her statement, Puddin’ jumped up from the seat, climbed into Thad’s lap, and clutched the chew toy between his teeth. He waved it around like a maniac, thwacking Thad in the jaw.

“Dog, get off me.” Thad lifted him from his lap and set him back on the passenger side.

“I told you, it’s his favorite,” Ashanti said. She grabbed on to his door, making it so that he couldn’t raise the window without smashing her fingers. “Can you please just let me take care of Puddin’ until Mrs. Frances can find another caretaker?”

“My grandmother already told you, I’m the dog’s new caretaker.”

“But it’s obvious that you don’t want to be. And, to be honest, I’m not sure you wouldn’t do something to hurt him just so that you wouldn’t have to be bothered with him.”

Thad cut off the engine and turned to face her.

“You met me, what, fifteen minutes ago? The only thing you know about me is that I’m Frances Sutherland’s grandson. Yet, you’re gonna stand here and accuse me of being some kind of dog murderer?”

She looked contrite. Up close, Thad realized she had even more freckles than he’d first thought. Shit, she was cute.

“You’re right,” Ashanti said. “That was uncalled for. I apologize. But don’t pretend you actually want to care for Puddin’. I can tell that you don’t.”

He would rather watch Gilmore Girls on repeat for the next month than take care of this dog. And after having done that exact thing the summer his sister broke up with her high school boyfriend, it said a lot about just how much he dreaded becoming Puddin’s caretaker.

But his grandmother loved her poodle as much as she loved her grandchildren—possibly more. He would do as she’d asked.

“Let me give you a tip,” Thad said. “If you’re going to take care of other people’s pets, it’s best if you don’t get so attached. It doesn’t appear to be healthy.” He gestured to her hand. “Can you move that? I have somewhere I need to be, and I’ve already wasted too much time here.”

Her nose flared, but she didn’t say anything, just backed away from his truck.

Thad glanced in his rearview mirror as he drove away, cursing himself for being so harsh. He had to remember that he was part of civilian society now. He couldn’t talk to someone like Ashanti as if she were an infantry grunt. He guessed it was a good thing Puddin’ wouldn’t be going to her doggy daycare center anymore.

“It’s a good thing for both of us,” he muttered.

Thad used the truck’s touchscreen to put a call in to his best friend and—if things went according to plan—eventual business partner, Von Montgomery. Von picked up on the first ring.

“I won’t be able to meet you at the barbecue place,” Thad said. They had passed the point of requiring a greeting a long time ago. “My grandmother is demanding I bring her dog to see her ASAP.”

“Aw, damn, that’s too bad, man. The food here hits.”

“I knew you would say that,” Thad said. “Text me what’s good and I’ll order takeout.”

He disconnected the call as he pulled up to the corner of Clouet and St. Claude, where he was met with a sea of red taillights. He looked right and saw a dump truck with its bed tilted up and a dusting of what he could only assume had been a dirt haul remaining on the floor of the bed.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Thad said with a groan. He wasn’t about to get snarled up in this mess.

Thad surveyed the cars idling perpendicular to him. He honked his horn and motioned for a black Mustang GT to back up so that he could drive across St. Claude. The driver looked annoyed, but Thad didn’t give a shit.

It pissed him off that he even had to ask the guy to back up when there was a sign telling drivers not to block the intersection. What was so hard about following simple traffic rules? That’s something else he didn’t have to worry about eight months ago. He was used to operating in an environment where rules were followed or bad shit happened.

He had about six inches of clearance on either side, but he managed to squeeze through and make it to the other side of St. Claude Avenue. Once he reached Royal Street and could finally make a right turn, he looked to his left as he eased off the brake. Then slammed on it a second later.

Puddin’ went tumbling toward the floorboard.

“Shit.” Thad unhooked his seat belt and reached over for the dog. Puddin’ growled and snapped at him. Thad held both hands up. “I was trying to help.”

When he reached for him again, the poodle allowed him to pick him up. Thad placed him on the seat and pulled the seat belt across him. Puddin’ immediately stepped out of it.

“Fine, break your neck then, you lil asshole.”

Someone behind him honked.

Instead of turning right, Thad continued straight on Clouet and parked next to the gray-and-yellow house at the corner. That lacy trim would have to come down, but as for the rest of it?

He lowered the windows about two inches, enough to keep air circulating, then got out of the truck. For a second, he thought about not locking it. Maybe someone would come by and steal Puddin’.

They would probably return the damn dog after ten minutes and make off with his radio instead. He pressed the lock on the key fob.

Thad walked the length of the house, then backtracked so that he could check it out from the front. He glanced over at the truck to make sure the dog was okay before jogging up the steps so he could peek into the small window on one of two front doors. He liked what he saw inside.

He took out his phone and called Von.

“You decide to come to the restaurant after all?” Von asked. “I’m in the latrine. Let the server know you’re with the handsome guy at the back table near the bar.”

Thad rolled his eyes. “I told you Grams wants to see her dog. I’m…” He looked around. “I think this area is called the Bywater. There’s a spot here that has potential. Real potential,” Thad emphasized. “I’m going to send a few pics and the address so you can look it up on those real estate sites you’ve been searching.”

“Snap a pick of the FOR SALE sign. I can search it by the MLS number,” Von said. “Oh, and I talked to the manager here at the restaurant and he said they’ve done pop-ups before. They’ll roll the smoker out and set up shop wherever you need them to.”

“Based on the size, this property probably has a place for that in the back,” Thad said. “I’ll try to poke around the fenced-in area before I leave.”

“Or you can just use Google Earth like every other nosy person in the world who wants to look into someone’s backyard,” Von said. “Damn, Sims. Not even a year out of the corps and you’re already losing your touch.”

“Fuck you,” Thad said. Von’s laugh came through the phone before Thad could disconnect the call.

He searched for Google Earth using his browser because he didn’t trust the app enough to have it downloaded on his phone. Not that he couldn’t be found by any entity who cared to look—no one could stay completely hidden these days—but why make it easy for them?

Thad plugged in the address for the property at Clouet and Royal Streets. The backyard was even better than he first thought.

“Yeah, this could work.” He snapped a few more pictures and texted them to Von as he walked back to his truck.

Once there, he peered through the window and frowned at the tufts of white cotton strewn about the seat. “What the hell is this?” Thad asked, opening the door.

That’s when he saw the Puddin’-size bite marks on the center console.

“I know you didn’t—”

Thad leaned over to see the passenger side. The little bastard had chewed up the console.

Puddin’ lay on the seat, his chin resting on the alligator chew toy.

Thad snatched the alligator and wagged it in the dog’s face. “This is what you’re supposed to chew. The chew toy! It’s in the fucking name!”

Puddin’ looked up at him then turned his head.

Thad counted to ten before he slid behind the wheel. He started the truck, but left it idling while he tried to calm down. The urge to throw his grandmother’s beloved poodle out of a moving vehicle was too strong to trust himself not to do it.

Puddin’ let out a loud snore.

Thad looked down at the dog. “I hate you,” he said as he drove off.

He parallel parked into a spot across from Chateau Esplanade Senior Living’s front gates ten minutes later.

Thad hadn’t been happy when the doctors recommended his grandmother transition to an assisted living facility. Knowing how much she valued her independence, and how much she loved the house she and his grandfather had lived in for more than fifty years, he feared the move would hit Grams the same way leaving the Army had hit him.

He could not have been more wrong.

For one thing, Chateau Esplanade was a hundred times nicer than any place he had ever lived in. They’d leaned heavily into the French theme throughout the building and the grounds, and the staff kept the place immaculate. But it was the companionship of the other residents that gave him peace of mind. He didn’t have to worry about Grams being lonely, which had been another of his concerns.

His phone rang. It was his grandmother.

“You didn’t get in an accident on the way here, did you?” she asked. “Where’s my dog? Is he hurt?”

“At least I know where my well-being lands on your priority list,” Thad said. “We just pulled up. Give me a minute.”

Thad clipped the leash onto Puddin’s collar. “Come on before she sends a search squad out here for you.”

His grandmother was waiting on the porch that spanned the length of the building’s palatial fa?ade. As usual, she was impeccably dressed in pressed slacks and a silk blouse. Not a single strand of her silver hair was out of place. Thad had never once seen her in polyester or hair curlers.

“There he is! Oh, my baby!” She yanked Puddin’s leash from Thad’s hand and settled into one of the rocking chairs on the porch. The dog immediately put his head in her lap. “There’s my good boy. I’ve missed you so much, my Puddin’.”

Thad didn’t bother mentioning that he, her only grandson, was also present. His mild annoyance shifted to amusement as he observed their reunion. He couldn’t tell who was more excited, Grams or the dog.

“Did you talk to the director about the loose handle on the shower door?” Thad asked as he perched against the porch railing. He’d offered to fix the handle when he visited her on Saturday, but she pointed out that maintenance was included in the facility’s astronomical monthly fee.

“It was fixed this morning,” she said. Without looking away from the dog, she asked, “So, what do you think about Ashanti?”

Thad’s head snapped back at her quick subject change. “What do you mean what do I think about her?”

“Don’t play with me, Thaddeus,” his grandmother said. “You are not getting any younger, and Ashanti Wright is perfect for you.”

“Don’t do this, Grams.” He dragged a palm down his face. “First of all, I’m only thirty-four, so don’t go asking the staff here if there’s a unit for your grandson. And I just moved back home. I already told you, the only thing I’m interested in right now is getting my business off the ground.”

“She is perfect for you,” she repeated in that stern voice she used on him when he was eight years old. Thad had to admit, all these years later and it still made him flinch.

“Still not interested,” he said.

He had more pressing matters to attend to, like figuring out just who in the hell retired Major Thaddeus Sims was.

For the past eight months he’d suffered through an existence that made him feel as if he were walking around in a shirt that was two sizes too small. Nothing about his post-Army life seemed to fit. The therapist he’d started seeing soon after he retired suggested he make a clean break, which was why he’d decided to move forward with his plans to go into business with Von here in New Orleans instead of remaining in Colorado Springs and transitioning into a civilian job with the DOD.

But navigating this new, unfamiliar, uncomfortable stage in his life had proven more difficult than he anticipated. He didn’t need the added torture of making small talk with a woman his grandmother set him up with. Especially a woman who clearly didn’t like him.

“The two of you have a lot in common,” Grams continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “She started her own business, so she can give you pointers.”

“I don’t—”

“And she’s one of those do-gooder types, just like you. Especially when it comes to kids. She’s always participating in some kind of activity for youths around the city.” She finally tore her attention away from Puddin’. “Over the summer, she held an event specifically for kids with a fear of dogs. They were encouraged to visit the daycare so they could be exposed to dogs in a safe environment. Isn’t that a beautiful thing to do?”

He sighed. “Yeah, it’s nice, but—”

“Oh, I have the best idea!” Her face lit up. “You should suggest an event for the children of deployed veterans. That’s right up your alley.”

It was right up his alley. He’d served as his base’s youth activity coordinator for three years. He’d been influenced by his grandfather, who’d stepped up big-time after his parents divorced and his mother, Thad, and his sister, Nadia, came to live with them. Gramps had been everything from troop leader to PTA president to surrogate father to several of Thad’s high school friends. He saw the difference his grandfather made simply by being there and had been inspired to do the same.

But that didn’t mean he was going to coordinate anything with Ashanti Wright.

Maybe if he admitted to his grandmother that her dog sitter probably didn’t want to see him ever again after the way he’d behaved this morning, she would pump the brakes on her obvious matchmaking.

“Oh, and I want Puddin’ to wear his dark green collar with the bow tie for the pageant,” she was saying.

“What was that?” Thad asked.

“The pageant at Barkingham Palace. It’s this coming Saturday. I want Puddin’ in green. His collars are in the chest in my closet.”

“Grams, I—”

“And I want you to FaceTime me during the pageant. It’s always so much fun, and the dogs are adorable. I hate that I can’t be there in person, but those steps at the daycare are just too steep for me to climb.” She returned her attention to the dog, but continued talking. “You’ll need to upgrade that old iPhone now that you’re taking care of Puddin’. Find out from Ashanti what kind she has. She sends beautiful pictures. Do you think you can get a new phone before the pageant?”

He searched his mind for a viable excuse to get out of spending his Saturday at a damn pageant for dogs, but one look at the excitement on his grandmother’s face put an end to that.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to FaceTime you,” Thad said.

Guess that meant he would be seeing Ashanti Wright again, whether she wanted to see him or not.