Pardon My Frenchie

8

Thad stood in the doorway of the downstairs bathroom at the house he and Von had purchased just one week after he’d first set eyes on it. When his sister called to congratulate him on the day he turned in his retirement paperwork, she’d encouraged him to become more spontaneous and less rigid. If this didn’t qualify as less rigid, Thad didn’t know what would.

He just wished Nadia had told him how nerve-racking this “being spontaneous” shit really was.

He reminded himself he had no reason to be nervous. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t played out every scenario that could go wrong—and right—with this new venture. The most significant item in the goes wrong column was the potential to lose his life’s savings. It scared him, but he could always make more money.

It was the long list of things in the goes right column that had compelled Thad to make a cash offer after their second walk-through with the real estate agent. The PX would not be just a regular sports bar. It would be a place where people like him—vets who were feeling unmoored after the shock to the system that came with returning to civilian life—could find solidarity and camaraderie. Being able to provide that to his fellow brothers- and sisters-in-arms was as satisfying as getting a perfect score on the ACFT.

An involuntarily shudder raced down his spine. The Army Combat Fitness Test was one of the very few things about the Army he would never miss.

Thad took a couple more steps inside the bathroom and had to cover his nose and mouth with his arm. The stench of mildew was heavy, but after sending video of the green splotches covering the walls of the downstairs bathroom to Von’s brother, Mitchell, who worked for the EPA, it was determined that the mildew wasn’t harmful and could be killed with a bleach and water mixture. Buying enough bleach to fill the bed of his truck’s cab was number one on his agenda.

“Hey, Thad, come get your dog! He keeps getting in my way.”

Thad blew out a sigh of frustration as he backtracked to the front of the house. He laughed at the sight that greeted him.

Von held up one side of a wooden mantel that had fallen at the base of one of the home’s six fireplaces. Puddin’ stood between his spread feet, the pom-pom on the tip of his tail whisking back and forth across Von’s leg.

“Making friends?” Thad asked.

“Can you get him to move?” Von pleaded.

“Come over here, Puddin’,” Thad commanded. The dog didn’t budge. “Stubborn little bastard,” Thad muttered as he went over and tugged Puddin’ by his rhinestone collar.

Von set the mantel on the floor and dusted his hands on his jeans. “You’re going to have to leave him home when we start the real demo. He’s going to get hurt.”

“I can’t leave him home,” Thad said. “I went to the grocery store Friday evening and the neighbor told me he barked the entire time I was gone. She said that’s why Grams had him in daycare, because he barks constantly when he’s alone.”

“Well, bring him back to the dog sitter. Or hire one to take care of him at the house. He won’t be able to stay here all day.”

Thad had considered it after seeing Puddin’ engaging with the dogs and staff at Barkingham Palace on Saturday, but there was something about spending that ridiculous amount of money on this dog that just didn’t sit right with him.

“He’s fine. It’ll be okay,” Thad said.

“Easy for you to say. He hates your ass. I’m the one he’s following around.”

Thad grinned. “What do you always say? You’ve got a magnetic personality? Guess it works on both women and poodles.”

Von responded with a string of expletives that would make even a seasoned soldier blush.

“Help me move this,” he said.

Thad picked up the other end of the mantel and, together, they carried it to the opposite side of the room and placed it with the other reclaimed items they had found. Their plan was to reuse whatever they could in the house. Of course, it would all have to undergo a thorough inspection before they included it in The PX’s rebuild.

Mitchell had come through for them again last week when he’d asked a contractor friend who lived in Mississippi to take the hour-long drive to look over the house. The contractor’s assessment had been enough for Thad and Von to determine that the house was a solid buy. The seller had knocked another 5 percent off the asking price because of their willingness to forgo an official inspection.

Thad tried to convince himself that the awkward weight in his belly was from excitement and not fear.

“This is a good thing, Thad. Don’t be scared,” Von said.

Thad shrugged off the arm Von had draped over his shoulder. “Stop reading me like a damn book. That shit creeps me out.”

“Stop being so transparent then,” Von said. “I don’t want you getting any ideas, like heading back to Colorado.”

“I can’t. I’ve got a dog to look after, remember?”

“Yeah, that dog is another reason I can see you packing up and leaving.”

Von knocked on the wall that divided the living room and what the real estate agent had explained was a formal parlor. It would have to come down. They wanted to use this entire space for the sports bar. “Sounds hollow enough to me,” Von said.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a support wall. We’re going to have to hire Freddy to do a more thorough assessment and give us some direction,” he said.

“But we’re still doing the work ourselves,” Von said. “I promised the guys that we would have some construction work lined up for them.”

“I know,” Thad said. “I made promises too.”

He and Von had pledged to hire only military vets to work at The PX once it opened. But then they decided to bring in military—both vets and active duty—to work at every stage of the process, including any renovations that had to be done. Based on the state of this place, they would need all the help they could get.

Thad picked out the broom from the supplies they’d brought with them and began sweeping the hardwood floors. They were beautiful even with the layer of dust and grime covering them. He could only imagine how good they would look after being sanded and polished.

The sound of feet stomping up the front steps was quickly followed by a knock on the open door. A second later, Ashanti Wright stuck her head in and said, “Hello?”

A jolt of awareness flashed through him at the sight of her. It dimmed when she locked eyes with him and came charging into the front parlor.

“I knew it!” she said. “I knew it was you the moment I saw that truck.”

Puddin’ ran to her and started jumping around like fire ants were attacking his paws.

“I knew it was you the moment I saw you too,” Von said as he dusted his hands on the front of his T-shirt. He held one out to her. “Von Montgomery. And you are?”

“She’s the dog sitter,” Thad answered for her. He fought the instinct to push Von out of the room.

“Ah! Puddin’s favorite person,” Von said. “That would explain his excitement.”

Ashanti dropped down to one knee and rubbed the poodle behind the ears while nuzzling his nose.

It would be stupid and immature to admit he was jealous of a dog, and yet…

“Tell me you’re a contractor,” Ashanti said, still fussing over Puddin’. She looked up at him and that headiness he’d felt as he stood next to her on Saturday returned. He tried to ignore it.

“Are you?” she asked. “A contractor?”

It took him a moment to find his voice. “I’m not, but if that’s what you want me to tell you, then sure, I’m a contractor.”

She closed her eyes and muttered what sounded like the Serenity Prayer under her breath. “Just… please, tell me that you did not buy this house.”

“Again, if that’s what you want me to tell you—”

“Did you buy this house!” she snapped. Her freckles had turned from light brown to a deep red.

“We did,” Von said, gesturing between the two of them. “We’re business partners. And friends. And fellow vets,” he finished. “And your name is?”

“Ashanti Wright,” she answered. “And I’m not a dog sitter, I own a dog daycare and boarding facility.”

“That she named Barkingham Palace,” Thad said.

“Aw, that’s cute,” Von said. “Do you speak in a British accent while at work?”

She looked around. “Do you plan to live here?”

“No, no, no,” Von said. “I’m single. This is way too much house for me.”

Thad frowned at him. Was this motherfucker flirting?

“We’re opening a sports bar,” Thad interjected.

“A sports bar!”

Based on her tone one would think he’d said they were starting up an operation to torture newborn puppies.

“Sports bar, cigar bar, and a barbershop on the top floor, to be more specific,” Thad said, resting his chin on the broom handle. “A one-stop shop for all your entertainment and grooming needs.”

“One thing this city does not need is another bar,” she said. “There’s already one on every corner.”

“Not like the one we’re opening,” Thad said.

“Everyone thinks their idea is different and special. This house deserves more than to become a random bar.”

The light suddenly went on in Thad’s head as he remembered what she’d said on Saturday about wishing she had more space at the daycare.

“You wanted this building for your dog sitter business, didn’t you?”

“I am not a dog sitter!”

“Sorry, I thought that’s what they called people who looked after dogs.” He tipped his head to the side. “Are there really enough folks in this city willing to pay sixty bucks a night for your fancy dog hotel to warrant an expansion?”

“Damn. Sixty a night?” Von said. “That sounds like a good side hustle. I did canine training for a few years, back when I was enlisted. You offer training there?”

Thad sent him the kind of look that did not need further explanation. Of course, the asshole ignored it.

“Where is—what’s it called?” Von asked. “Barkingham Palace? I really love that name, by the way. Where’s it located? Maybe I can come check it out.”

That was enough of this shit.

“We have a lot of work to do,” Thad said. “I’m sorry if you wanted this place, but it became ours as of nine this morning. Cash sale. The paperwork will probably be filed with the clerk of court’s office by the end of the week.”

“I can’t believe this,” Ashanti said. Her shoulders dropped in the most melodramatic display Thad had seen since he was forced to be in a production of Macbeth in high school. “This is a tragedy. That’s the only way I can describe it.”

She knelt again to love on Puddin’. Thad could do nothing but watch as the lucky bastard ate it up, that stupid pom-pom wagging back and forth like a metronome. When Ashanti rose to face him her expression was lethal, yet when she spoke, both her words and tone were the exact opposite of what he’d expected.

“Tell your grandmother that I was able to save the entire recording of our Instagram Live from Saturday. I’ll be sure to get her a copy of it.” She looked to Von. “It was nice meeting you.”

Her lack of a smile proved that all Von’s flirting had gone to waste. Good.

But it also confirmed that the flicker of interest Thad thought he’d sensed coming from her on Saturday had been doused. Thoroughly.

He wouldn’t deny that he was disappointed. Was he surprised? Not really. He was lucky she’d given him the time of day after their encounter last Monday.

Grams would be disappointed that her matchmaking plans had no chance of working, but Thad wasn’t sure that was a bad thing. He was living in his grandmother’s house and taking care of his grandmother’s dog. He didn’t need his grandmother choosing the women he dated too.

He wasn’t up for dating anyway. He and Von had just a few months to get The PX off the ground; that’s where his focus should be.

If he tried hard enough, he could convince himself that he’d done himself a favor by turning Ashanti against him.

Without another word, she turned and marched out the way she’d come. Thad had to step on Puddin’s leash to stop him from running after her. He couldn’t blame the dog. Those head rubs looked pretty addicting.

He turned to Von and said, “What the fuck was that?”

“What?”

“Maybe I can come check it out,” Thad said, doing a purposely exaggerated imitation of Von’s voice.

He shrugged. “I like dogs.”

He said it with a straight face, as if he hadn’t just called Thad to come and get Puddin’.

“Just because I’m not a fan of that dog, it doesn’t mean I don’t like dogs,” Von said, doing that annoying mind-reading shit again. He pointed to Puddin’, who still looked longingly at the door his best friend had just exited. “Speaking of that one, you should really think about bringing him back to doggy daycare during the day. He’s getting in the way here, and it will only get worse once demo starts. Last thing you want is for your grandmother to disown you because a wood beam crushed her poodle’s skull.”

“Puddin’s head is too hard to get crushed,” he answered, even though he knew Von was right. He wasn’t looking forward to suffering through what he now knew would be unrequited attraction every time he saw Ashanti, but he was good at masking his feelings. She would never know the difference.

“I’ll think about it.” Thad handed him the broom. “Let’s get back to work.”