Pardon My Frenchie

26

The production assistant returned and guided them to another area of the building filled with people wearing headsets and carrying electronic tablets. Ashanti had never been one to be impressed by celebrity, but she was disappointed that, aside from Leah and Luke, Puddin’ and Duchess seemed to be the biggest celebrities in the building this morning. Why wasn’t Kerry Washington or Octavia Spencer out promoting a new movie?

“Wait here and Eliza will be in to start the interview,” the PA said.

“Eliza?” Thad asked.

“Cunningham?” Ashanti added. “She’s the correspondent who does the stories on struggling mom-and-pop restaurants, isn’t she?”

“She also handles the fluff pieces for content on our all-day streaming channel,” the production assistant said before leaving them yet again.

Thad hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “She called us a fluff piece. I think I’m insulted.”

“Don’t be. The world needs more fluff,” Ashanti said. “But what is this second interview about? This is the first I’m hearing of it.”

It turned out there was much more to their visit than those five minutes on-screen with Leah and Luke. For the next two hours, Thad, Ashanti, Puddin’, and Duchess were paraded around the studio, having their pictures taken for the show’s social media channels, and shooting short video clips of them playing with the dogs. Puddin’ refused to go after the Frisbee Thad threw, proving his early crack about playing fetch was, indeed, a lie.

They were then subjected to two additional interviews, which they were told may or may not make it to the network’s website later today, depending on the amount of breaking news. By the time they were done, it was time for lunch and a nap.

“I wish we could skip that podcast. I just want to eat and sleep,” Ashanti said to Thad as they gathered their belongings. They were told a car would pick them up in twenty minutes to bring them back to their hotel.

“Didn’t you get the text from Dom?” Thad asked.

“What text?” She pulled out her phone.

There was a text from Dominique and one from Ridley. She quickly read Dom’s, which—thank you, thank you, thank you—said the podcaster needed to push their interview back by a day. Dom had already switched them to a later flight for tomorrow. She honestly deserved every single cent she charged. Whatever she charged.

Ashanti pulled up Ridley’s text next.

DID YOU FUCK THAT MAN LAST NIGHT?

That text had been followed twenty minutes later by another.

BITCH, CALL ME.

Ashanti closed the app and looked over her shoulder to make sure Thad hadn’t seen it. He was attaching Puddin’ to his leash.

“I need to make a quick call,” she told him, then walked a few yards away so that she could call Ridley.

“What took you so damn long?” Ridley answered. “I texted you an hour ago.”

“Woman, what is wrong with you?” Ashanti hissed.

“What?” Ridley asked, the epitome of innocence, as if she hadn’t sent those all-caps texts.

“Uh, the texts you sent?” Ashanti asked. “What was that about?”

“Oh, that was about you eye-fucking soldier boy the entire time you two were on camera,” Ridley said.

“I was not!”

Please, say I was not.

“Girl, please. I’m surprised that man didn’t need a cigarette after that interview. So did you screw him last night?” Ridley asked.

“No!” Ashanti said.

Did she think about it? All night long. But she would falsely confess to robbing a bank before admitting to the thoughts she’d had of Thad while she lay in bed last night. And in the shower this morning.

“So, what did you think of the interview?” Ashanti asked, steering the conversation away from the subject of Thad and how much she did, indeed, want to screw him.

“It was perfection!” Ridley said. “You were both witty and charming and everything you were supposed to be. Wait, no. It wasn’t perfect because you forgot to bring up the Black entrepreneur contest, but I think you’ll still get a heap of votes because of Luke and Leah.”

“I considered mentioning it, but then I thought it would sound too desperate, like those musicians who plug their upcoming albums when presenting awards at the Grammy’s.”

“That’s what showbiz is all about,” Ridley said. “Oh, and I know the podcast was postponed, but Dom set up this other thing for you all this afternoon. She’s going to email instructions in a minute.”

Ashanti threw her head back and rubbed the space between her eyes. She had been so close to getting that nap.

“Another podcast?” Ashanti asked.

“No, a photo shoot. One of the biggest dog charities in New York is putting together their calendar for next year, and when they found out the country’s most famous dogs were in town they, of course, requested Duchess and Puddin’ be in it.”

“I don’t know about this one, Rid. Will a calendar that comes out next year really be worth the trouble?”

“Hey, it’s not what you thought you would be doing up there, but it’s still all good. Trust Dom. She wouldn’t have set it up if she didn’t think it would help your overall PR goals. And shag soldier boy tonight.”

“Bye, Ridley,” Ashanti said.

Just as she was about to tuck her phone back into her bag, she got a text from Kara.

Just watched You on L L. You and Thad look like ur banging each other. You did good tho.

Good God. Exactly what did she do during that segment? She was almost afraid to watch it. She didn’t feel as if she had been eye-fucking Thad. Then again, can one tell when they’re eye-fucking someone?

I am not banging anyone. And thanks, Ashanti texted back. You should be in class.

Going.

Three dots appeared, indicating that Kara was sending another text. They disappeared, then reappeared.

What?Ashanti texted.

Didn’t want to worry you but Ken didn’t show up at school today.

Ashanti’s heart stopped beating. Kara sent three texts back-to-back-to-back.

I talked to her. She’s not hurt.

Well not physically.

Don’t text her. Just let her be. Will check on her at lunch.

A fourth text.

Gotta go.

Ashanti didn’t consider for even a minute not contacting Kendra, but instead of texting, she called. The phone rang until voicemail picked up. She called again, with the same result.

This time she texted:

Pick up or I’m sending the police over to do a wellness check.

Before she could call again, her phone rang. The picture of Kendra on the carousel at City Park during her and Kara’s eighth birthday party popped up on her screen.

“What’s wrong?” Ashanti asked.

“Besides my twin sister being a narc?” she asked.

“Kendra, what is going on? Are you sick?”

“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m not sick. I was just feeling… blah. Kara skips school all the time. I figured I deserved a day.”

Ashanti rested her palm against her forehead and pulled in a deep, relieved breath.

“Ken, I… I don’t know what is going on with you, but we are very close to needing a come-to-Jesus moment.”

Her sister paused for a bit, then said, “Maybe we can talk when you get back home.”

Ashanti’s breath caught in her throat. “Yes,” she said. She began to pace. “Please, that’s all I want. Whatever is wrong we will handle it—or you will. I won’t try to swoop in and fix anything for you if that’s not what you’re looking for from me. I’ll just listen. But I need to know what’s going on.”

“Okay,” Kendra said. “I promise. We’ll talk when you get home. Now go back to doing your little Puddin’ and Duchess Take Manhattan thing. I watched the Luke and Leah show this morning. You did good. Just try not to get pregnant while you’re out there.”

“Kendra!” Ashanti said.

“Bye.”

Ashanti rubbed between her eyes again. The entire country probably thought she and Thad were sleeping together. She was surprised Evie hadn’t said anything.

And, just like that, a text popped up from Evie.

Great show this morning. Puddin’ and Duchess are rock stars. I can tell you and Thad got it on. Get it, girl!

It was followed by the gif of a twerking Tina Belcher from Bob’s Burgers.

“Everything okay?”

Ashanti yelped, clamping her hand to her chest and spinning around to find Thad just a few inches away.

“Whoa, whoa,” he said, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders. “No more coffee for you.” He frowned, his eyes narrowing as they zeroed in on her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ashanti said. She shook her head and blew out a calming breath. “It’s fine. I thought there was a mini disaster happening with one of the twins, but all seems to be okay.”

He nodded. “Good. Well, our car is here,” he said. “I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to check your email—”

“Ridley told me about the photo shoot,” she said. She glanced up at him. “Are you on board with this?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Of course. All choices come with consequences, though.”

“Yeah, I’m not about to face the wrath of Ridley or Dominique.”

“Forget about them. Can you imagine what Mrs. Frances would say if she found out Puddin’ had the chance to be Dog of the Month in some big, fancy calendar and you turned it down?”

Thad closed his eyes and shook his shoulders in a pretend shiver. Ashanti laughed.

“Let’s go,” he said. “I’ve already talked to the driver. He’s going to bring us straight to where the photo shoot is taking place. Oh, and here’s a bonus. It’s only two blocks from the Empire State Building. We won’t be able to go up there with the dogs, but at least you’ll get to see it up close. Maybe we can snap a few pictures of them walking around Manhattan for Barkingham Palace’s social media.”

“Watch out there,” she said with a grin. “You’re starting to sound like a dog person.”