Pardon My Frenchie

30

Ashanti sat as close as she could to the armrest of the black pleather couch, holding her body so still that she was unsure she would be able to stand once they were finally called in for this final podcast of their media junket. For all the lazy, relaxed hours she’d spent snuggled up with Thad last night, reality had set in this morning, bringing along a self-consciousness she could not shake.

“Stop freaking out,” Thad said.

Ashanti jumped, stiffening her shoulders and holding her head erect. “I’m not freaking out,” she rebutted.

“You are,” he said. “You’re edgy as hell. You’ve been this way since we left the hotel.”

“I’m not—” she started, but then realized it made no sense to lie when he clearly could see what she thought she had been hiding so well. “Okay, maybe I’m freaking out a little.”

“Don’t. Remember, we’re taking this slow. Keep this up and you’re going to have me developing performance anxiety.”

“What?” Her head jerked back for another reason entirely.

“You should be less stressed after last night. All this anxiety coming from you has me questioning by abilities.”

Just like that, some of the tension released from her shoulders. Ashanti threw the wadded-up napkin she’d used while eating her bagel at him.

“Shut up,” she said. “For the record, your performance exceeded expectations. And I expected a lot from you.”

His grin was devilish. “My ego thanks you.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, and here’s a plus.” He leaned over and, in a lowered voice, said, “This podcast won’t be video streamed, so at least no one will notice you eye-fucking me this time.”

“Stop it.” Ashanti pushed him away.

The door across from them opened and the podcast producer came in to greet them.

Dominique hadn’t explained much about this podcast, so both Ashanti and Thad were surprised to learn that it was geared toward the military, the podcasters were a husband and wife duo who tailored their show to those recently out of military life. It wouldn’t be video streamed, but it was another special live broadcast.

The fact that they’d been told they could leave the dogs at the hotel should have been a clue that this podcast would be different.

If Dom were here right now, Ashanti would kiss her for giving Thad this opportunity. She had been feeling guilty because so much of what they’d done in New York had benefitted her business and her standing in that online contest. This balanced things out, at least a little.

She left most of the discussion to Thad, adding a comment here and there, but only when asked. This was his chance to shine a light on the subjects closest to his heart—his military family and The PX—and she wasn’t about to get in his way. His enthusiasm was infectious as he gave a rundown of everything his bar would include. By the time they were done, Ashanti was ready to drop in and have a drink at The PX herself.

“I have never seen you more animated,” Ashanti said as they left the studio. “I think you’ve finally fulfilled Von’s request to have fun.”

“Last night covered that,” he said. “But I’ll agree that I had a good time during that podcast.”

“So are you finally willing to admit that Dom is worth whatever she charges?”

“I’ll admit it,” he conceded. He pulled out his phone and swiped across the screen. “How much do you think she charges to run an Instagram account? I felt the notifications going off in my pocket the entire time we were on the air.”

“I don’t know Dom’s prices yet, but I can already tell you it’s too much to pay just for someone to run your social media. It sounds like you need to brush up on your hashtag knowledge.”

“What about your sister? Maybe she could run Barkingham Palace and The PX.”

“That girl has trouble enough staying in class. Don’t even think about it,” Ashanti said.

They returned to the hotel to scoop up the dogs, then headed to JFK for their late-evening flight. That unsettling sensation from earlier began crawling over Ashanti once more, an awareness that their time in New York was coming to an end and they were returning to reality.

“You’re doing it again,” Thad said as they waited at the gate. “Stop freaking out.”

She wasn’t going to deny it. Instead, she didn’t say anything. Just sat in her increasingly uncomfortable seat at the gate, bouncing her knee up and down until her boarding group was called.

Once again, she and Thad were seated in different rows. Ashanti put her head back and closed her eyes as soon as the plane began to taxi the runway.

About twenty minutes into their flight, she felt the man in the middle seat get up. She’d heard him asking the flight attendant about using the restroom before they took off. He returned moments later, wedging himself back in the seat. Then he took her hand.

Ashanti jerked her hand away, her eyes popping open.

“You can go back to sleep,” Thad said, recapturing her hand.

“Did you switch seats with that guy?”

He nodded.

“You gave up the aisle for a middle seat? To be closer to me?”

He nodded again, then looked over at her. “This means we’re going steady.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his cute, antiquated term and the seriousness in how he said it.

“Is that how this works?” she asked.

“As far as I’m concerned.”

He entwined their fingers and put his head back. They sat that way for the remainder of the flight, her anxiety flowing away like the clouds they passed in the sky.

But the tension returned the moment Ashanti took her phone out of Airplane Mode after touching down at Louis Armstrong International. There was a string of text messages from Kara.

Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!

Ken has locked herself in her room.

Don’t think she’s coming out.

She followed it with a meme of a woman muttering “drama, drama, drama.”

It was followed by another string of texts:

Real emergency this time. You’re getting your a$$ kicked. Raw Beauty brought out the big guns.

Ashanti frowned. What did that even mean?

She recognized Raw Beauty as one of the contestants in the Black Woman Entrepreneur contest, but what did Kara mean by big guns? And why was Ashanti getting her butt kicked? She was winning by 18 percent when she checked the polls before leaving the hotel.

“Something wrong?” Thad asked.

“Everything is wrong, according to Kara. I’m not sure exactly what’s going on, except for Kendra having a meltdown.”

“It was nice being off big-sister duty for a few days, wasn’t it?”

He had no idea.

The pilot announced that another plane was at their gate so they would have to hang back for a few minutes.

Ashanti tried calling Kendra, even though she knew her sister wouldn’t answer. She didn’t, but she immediately texted back.

Ignore Kara. I’m fine.

Don’t want to talk tonight. We can talk tomorrow.

Just after Ashanti sent Kendra a thumbs-up emoji, Ridley called.

“Can you believe this shit?” Ridley said the moment Ashanti answered. “After all the work we put into this New York trip, it all goes to shit because of one damn Instagram post.”

“Rid, what happened?” Ashanti asked, her pulse rate skyrocketing.

“You haven’t seen the post?”

“I’ve been in the air for the last three hours.”

“Oh, shit. How did I forget that you all had to switch to a later flight. I thought you would have heard by now.”

“Heard what?” She was going to strangle someone if Ridley didn’t tell her what the heck was going on. “Kara sent a bunch of vague text messages but didn’t say what they were about. Only that I’m getting my butt kicked in the contest. I don’t understand how that can be when I was so far ahead of the entire pack just hours ago.”

“I’ll tell you how,” Ridley said. “Because you are not cousins with one Pilar Jones.”

“The singer?” Ashanti asked as the plane finally pulled into the gate area. “What does she have to do with this?”

“Turns out she and the owner of Raw Beauty Products are first cousins. Pilar just posted a video plugging the beauty line and the contest to her forty million Instagram followers. You can forget the contest, Shanti. Raw Beauty is running away with it.”

Ashanti’s heart dropped.

“Maybe there’s—”

“Honey, they’re up by forty-two percent,” Ridley said. “Duchess and Puddin’ are cute and all, but they are no Pilar Jones.”

Ashanti put her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. She wanted the $250,000 prize money, but she needed the loan that would be offered to the winner. She could never get those favorable terms from a bank.

She felt that house in the Lower Garden District slipping away, and it made her sick to her stomach.

“We’re moving,” Thad told her. People on board had started to deplane.

“Rid, I have to go.”

“Call me later. I’m sorry,” Ridley said before ending the call.

Thad stepped back so that Ashanti could go ahead of him. She wasn’t sure how her legs were still working when she could barely feel them.

The moment they entered the concourse, Thad took her by the hand and brought her to an empty seat in the gate area. He stooped down and looked into her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Ashanti said. “We have to get the dogs.”

“The dogs will be fine for a few minutes. Is someone hurt?”

She shook her head. “No, no. Nothing like that.” She blew out a breath. “I’ve mentioned that online contest, right?” He nodded. “I thought it was a sure thing because of all the publicity Duchess and Puddin’ have gotten this week, but one of the other contestants got a celebrity to endorse them and now they’re running away with the votes.”

“Damn,” Thad said. “I’m sorry. But at least you got some good publicity out of it.”

“You don’t get it, Thad. Everything hinged on that contest,” Ashanti said.

“I’m gonna assume that is hyperbole,” Thad said.

She shook her head. “It’s not. I made an offer on that building in the Lower Garden District because, in addition to a two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar grand prize, the winner of the contest is guaranteed a loan of up to two million. That’s how I was planning to buy the building. Talk about counting your damn chickens before they hatch!”

Thad captured her hands. “It’ll be okay, Ashanti. I don’t know how yet, but things will work out. They just will.”

Shewas usually the one with the perpetually positive outlook, but Ashanti couldn’t summon a bit of that positivity right now. All she could think about was that location she’d coveted above all others and how close she had come to owning it.

She pushed herself up from the seat.

“Let’s go. I need my dog.”

By the time Ashanti arrived home, all she wanted to do was lose herself in an hour-long bubble bath and a good book, but she hadn’t had the chance to indulge in those kinds of luxuries in nearly three years. What she wanted to do didn’t matter, there was one thing she had to do.

She filled Duchess’s water bowl, gave her a treat for being such a good dog on the ride home from the airport, and set her in front of the TV with an episode of SpongeBob. Then she headed for the stairs.

“We’ve got this,” Ashanti whispered to her parents’ picture as she passed it on her way to Kendra’s room. She rapped on the door with her knuckles.

“Ken?” Ashanti called.

Several beats of silence ticked by before the door opened.

“Hey,” Kendra said.

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk tonight, but it’s time. No more putting this off.”

Kendra waved her in, then went over to her bed and sat cross-legged on it. Ashanti settled into the faux fur desk chair. Just as she was about to speak, she heard the familiar tap, tap, tap of Duchess’s nails a moment before her dog waddled into the room. She walked over to the edge of Kendra’s bed and barked at her.

“Are you demanding to get in my bed?” Kendra asked. She scooped Duchess up and sat her between her spread-out knees. “You go to New York and come back acting like even more of a diva.”

“That’s a nationwide star you have in your arms there,” Ashanti said. She smiled, but then sobered. “Okay, Ken, what’s the deal? Why have you been in such a mood lately?”

“It’s stupid, Shanti. I don’t know why you’re so worked up over this.”

“Because you haven’t been yourself, and it has me worried. Is it girlfriend trouble?”

Kendra rolled her eyes. “I don’t have a girlfriend anymore,” she said.

“I know that, but maybe that’s the problem.”

“It’s not girlfriend trouble,” she said. She wrapped her arms around Duchess and rested her cheek on the top of the dog’s head. Duchess, of course, ate up the attention, wiggling her butt in a clear invitation for scritches. Kendra scratched her bottom.

“If it isn’t girlfriend trouble, then what is it?” Ashanti asked. “Is something going on at school?”

Kendra’s eyes flashed to hers before focusing on Duchess again.

“What’s going on at school?” Ashanti asked. “And don’t say it’s nothing. It is something, and I’m not leaving this room until you tell me what it is. Now, based on your reaction when I asked about the literary magazine just before I left for New York, I think that may have something to do with it? Am I on the right track?”

Kendra blew out a heavy sigh. “That’s part of it,” she said.

And just like that, Ashanti knew what was wrong. “You didn’t get the managing editor position, did you?”

Kendra shook her head.

“Oh, Ken.” Ashanti pinched her eyes shut and released a breath. She should feel relieved that it wasn’t anything more serious, but when she thought back on how worried she had been, it made her want to scream. She could not believe her sister had put her through all of this because of that school magazine. Yet, she understood why Kendra felt this way. That magazine meant everything to her.

“These things happen,” Ashanti said. “I know you’ve been vying for that position, but you still have your senior year. That is no reason for you to be in such a funk.”

“You have to admit being managing editor would be impressive on my college applications.”

“I literally pointed out that you still have your senior year to make managing editor not even five seconds ago, Kendra.” Why were teenagers so dramatic? “You have time.”

Her sister didn’t look convinced. The way she nervously bit her bottom lip was her telltale sign. Ashanti knew there were no words she could say right now that would assuage Kendra’s hurt and anxiety, but her sister would eventually get past this.

“Thank you for finally opening up to me about this. You can always come to me, Kendra. You know that, right?”

She nodded. “I know.” She pressed a kiss to Duchess’s head, then hefted her up and held her out to Ashanti. “Now here, take your dog.”