Pardon my frenchie, p.18
Pardon My Frenchie, page 18
Thankfully, she was saved from having to explain their trip by the gate agent, who announced that the first boarding group was welcome to board.
Thad put her suitcase in the overhead compartment before heading for his seat. Because their flight had been booked so late, they were in different rows; he in 26A and her in 13B. Ashanti hoped this wasn’t an omen of things to come. Not only was she in a center seat but unlucky number thirteen.
After buckling her seat belt, she stuffed her mouth with a handful of Swedish Fish and leaned her head back. Exhaustion took care of the rest. She was sleeping before they reached 10,000 feet and didn’t awaken until the plane landed at JFK.
She insisted they go to the holding area where the dogs would be brought out the moment they were allowed to deplane. It was probably best that she’d slept through the flight because otherwise she would have spent all her time worrying about Duchess in the cargo area.
“Hey, baby.” She stuck her finger through the grate and wiggled it. Duchess licked at her, then settled back down, seeming no worse for wear.
“We have the podcast first, right?” Thad asked.
Ashanti nodded, fighting back the anxiety that threatened to claw its way into her psyche. She had been nervous enough talking to the reporter from their local TV station. That was small potatoes compared to what she was about to embark upon. Much of this media campaign would be seen by a nationwide audience.
What was she thinking? Everything had a national audience these days—a worldwide audience, in fact. Her segment from that noon broadcast had been viewed over 500,000 times on YouTube.
She had way too much riding on these next few days to allow nerves to take her down. She would employ Dom’s media tips and face those interviewers with the same confidence she displayed when she stood before a mirror and pretended to accept a Grammy, or an Oscar, or a Tony Award back when she was a kid. Couldn’t no one tell her that she couldn’t sing, dance, or act.
While they were in the air, Dom had sent a message saying that their appearance on Up Early with Leah and Luke! had been moved up to the next morning instead of Friday, but that Ashanti and Thad shouldn’t panic because she had already rescheduled their other meetings.
She had also sent over a file with the addresses of every stop on their whirlwind media tour. All Ashanti had to do was plug the address into her Uber app.
“Okay, so Dom really is the best at her job,” she said. “I don’t know what she charges, but I have a feeling it’ll be worth it.”
“I’ll wait until after I see her invoice before I decide that,” Thad said.
Because their flight had landed early and traffic was, in their Uber driver’s words “mad light, yo” on their ride into Manhattan, they had time to drop off their bags and the dog crates at their hotel in midtown. Puddin’ and Duchess were both recognized the moment they walked into the lobby.
For a town known to treat movie stars as regular people, it seemed those unwritten rules went away when it came to celebrities of the canine variety. Ashanti took a step back as multiple guests who had been in line to check-in converged on them. People were either snapping pictures, recording video, or going live on their social media accounts. It was wild.
“Please, stand back,” the concierge said as he escorted them out of the lobby to their waiting cab.
“Did that really just happen?” Ashanti asked as she settled in the car.
“You mean these two dogs getting treated like Meghan and Harry?”
She pointed at him. “I knew you secretly loved the royals! I can tell a fellow royal watcher.”
“I only know their names because you have it under their picture at the daycare,” Thad said. He patted Puddin’s topknot. “Don’t let this go to your head. Be humble.”
“I know you won’t admit it, but he’s growing on you,” Ashanti said.
“Like a rash on my ass.”
She threw her head against the seatback and laughed. “You really should stop hating on Puddin’.”
“But I won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s spoiled.”
“That isn’t his fault. Blame Mrs. Frances for that.”
“Oh, I do,” Thad said. “I can both blame her for him being spoiled and continue to dislike him because he’s spoiled.” He shrugged. “Though, he’s not half bad when it comes to watching sports on TV. Doesn’t crowd me. Eats the kettle corn when it falls to the floor. So I guess he has some redeeming qualities.”
“He’s also going to bring more attention to your new business than you could have ever imagined,” she reminded him.
“The jury is still out on that, but if you’re right, I’ll upgrade that collar to cubic zirconia.”
Ashanti was still laughing by the time they pulled up to a nondescript building two blocks from the Hudson River.
“No need to get out,” she told the cab driver when he opened his door.
He got out of the cab anyway, phone in hand. “Can I get a selfie with Puddin’ and Duchess?” he asked.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Thad muttered.
“Of course,” Ashanti said.
After their impromptu photo shoot—the cabbie turned out to be one of those people who took a dozen selfies before he was satisfied that he’d gotten the perfect shot—they entered the building and took the elevator to the third floor. Ashanti was disappointed that there wasn’t a view of the river, but she was determined to make her way to one of the piers before she left New York.
They were led into the podcast studio and introduced to their hosts, Beth and Seth. Ashanti was excited to learn that the husband and wife duo had started the podcast to help people with a fear of dogs overcome their phobia.
“I’ve held events at my daycare to help kids with phobias,” she said. “Duchess has the perfect temperament for it, but Puddin’—” She wiggled her hand. “He can be a bit high-strung at times.”
The poodle immediately illustrated her point by jumping two feet when Seth pulled the microphones into place.
“Calm down, Puddin’,” Thad said, dropping to one knee and rubbing under the dog’s chin.
It wasn’t until Thad mouthed close your mouth that Ashanti realized her jaw had gone slack. What had gotten into him?
Thad stood and whispered to her, “I figured I should at least pretend that I like the dog.”
“You like the dog,” she whispered back. “Just admit it.”
“Are we ready to get started?” Beth asked.
“No, I don’t,” he said against her ear as he pulled her chair out for her. Awareness shot down her spine.
Ashanti’s nerves ratcheted up even more when they were informed that today’s episode would be livestreamed on the podcast’s YouTube channel.
“We could not have Puddin’ and Duchess in studio and not stream it live,” Seth said. “Our audience would show up with pitchforks.”
“Well, if there’s one thing Duchess and Puddin’ are used to, it’s being livestreamed for all the world to see,” Ashanti said.
“Our eight million subscribers are ready!” Beth said.
Ashanti’s knees nearly gave out. “Eight million?” she asked. “Really?”
“You’ll do fine,” Thad said, covering her hand with his own. Ashanti looked down at their hands and then at him. She nodded.
It turned out that was right. Once the podcast started, her anxiety began to melt away. It helped to have Duchess in her lap. Puddin’ stood between her and Thad’s chairs with his chin on Ashanti’s leg. According to Beth, the YouTube channel’s chat box went berserk whenever Puddin’ and Duchess rubbed noses.
The conversation was funny and lighthearted, though heavy on the dog puns. She cringed every time Seth asked for another “round of a-paws” as they went into a commercial break. But at least she tried to hide her low-key embarrassment for their corny host.
Thad, on the other hand, was as transparent as fine vellum. He barely cracked a smile.
“So howl is business going, Thad?” Seth asked with a dorky laugh. Ashanti winced.
“It hasn’t opened yet,” Thad answered with the enthusiasm of a wet slug.
“But you can follow Thad and his business partner’s journey as they renovate a beautiful home in one of New Orleans’s quirkiest neighborhoods. You may even see Puddin’ helping with demolition, right Thad?” Ashanti asked, trying to signal to him to lighten up.
“Uh, yeah,” Thad said.
Despite his continued aloofness and Seth trying way too hard to crack said aloofness, she thought the podcast was a great start to their media junket.
Beth and Seth ended the broadcast with promises to keep in touch, then immediately ushered Ashanti, Thad, and the dogs out of their tiny studio. Apparently there was some kind of podcaster gala in New Jersey tonight that was a must-do.
Thad turned to her on the sidewalk as they waited for their Uber to arrive.
“Be straight with me, are the Leah and Luke folks like that?”
“Not at all,” Ashanti said with a laugh. “Leah and Luke have much more chill.”
“Thank God.”
“You could have been a little more chill yourself,” she said. “Poor Seth was trying so hard to be your friend.”
“I would rather go through a year of basic training than be friends with Seth,” he said.
Ashanti burst out laughing.
Their Uber pulled up and Thad opened the door and motioned for her to get in, followed by Duchess and Puddin’.
“We don’t have their harnesses, so please drive carefully,” Ashanti told the driver. She hadn’t thought about how they would get around Manhattan. She hated riding with Duchess not strapped into her little doggy seat belt.
Her phone rang just as the driver was pulling away.
“It’s Ridley,” she said to Thad, rolling her eyes as she answered. “Hey, Rid.”
“Put the phone on speaker so soldier boy can hear me,” Ridley said.
This wasn’t good. Ashanti bit the side of her lip.
“Um, she wants to talk to you,” Ashanti said. She switched the call to speaker. “You’re on speaker.”
“Thaddeus?” Ridley asked.
“I’m here.”
“Loosen the fuck up.”
Thad jerked his head back. “Excuse me?”
“You looked and sounded like you were in pain during that podcast. Lighten up. You are too fucking hot to be so uptight.”
“I don’t think that was supposed to be a compliment,” Thad said.
“It wasn’t a compliment. It was an order. I told you both before you left New Orleans not to blow this chance. You have twelve hours to learn how to be charismatic. Do not go on that show tomorrow looking like you just ate a bowl of stewed prunes, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Thad answered.
“Shanti, you were amazing. Hell, even Duchess and Puddin’ were amazing with their little doggy kisses. Carry that same energy over to the studio tomorrow. I gotta go. I’ll call you later tonight.”
Ridley disconnected the call.
Silence filled the car, until the Uber driver broke it with a low whistle. “Wow,” he said.
“Yeah,” Thad said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Ridley means well,” Ashanti said. “She’s just a bit… blunt.”
“A bit?” Thad asked. “Hey, my man,” he called up to the Uber driver. “Any chance they sell charisma at Macy’s?”
“I think you have more than enough,” Ashanti said with a light laugh. “You just need to learn how to use it.”
He turned that grin on her, the one that made her heart do a two-step. “Guess I know what I’ll be doing tonight. Maybe I can find some videos on YouTube that’ll teach me how to be charismatic.”
“You can learn everything else on there,” the driver said.
23
Thad leaned against a door in the hallway opposite Ashanti’s room, which shared a wall with his room. Lord, help him.
He’d planned to get Thai food delivered for his dinner—a ritual whenever he visited New York—then fall to sleep watching season three of The Wire. But when Ashanti shared that this was her first time in New York, and that she had her heart set on seeing some of the city, his plans changed.
Thad pitched his head back against the door and pulled in a steadying breath. There was no need for him to feel this on edge. He had been with her all day, from their visit to his grandmother’s, which felt like a lifetime ago, to their appearance on that podcast. Why did it suddenly feel different—more significant—now that they would be together after the sun had gone down?
Maybe because he now knew this attraction wasn’t as one-sided as he’d first thought.
Whether what she felt was purely physical or something deeper didn’t matter. Knowing she wasn’t indifferent to him—that she felt something—made him ache to push this thing between them in another direction. A non-platonic direction.
Was he even ready for that?
Things were finally starting to fall into place with The PX, but it felt as if, when it came to the rest of his life, he was still trying to find steady ground. He wanted the kind of relationship his grandparents shared. A bond built on trust and respect and an unbreakable commitment. But Thad knew that didn’t just happen; it required work. Was he prepared to put in that kind of effort?
He ran a hand down his face.
He was getting way ahead of himself. He’d offered to show Ashanti around town so that she could get a little taste of New York, and that’s all that would be happening tonight. Period.
The door to Ashanti’s room opened, and Thad stood up straight.
“Sorry,” she said. “I know we said eight o’clock, but Duchess is being a bit fussy. She’s a creature of habit and this is a strange place.”
“Should I bring Puddin’ over? Would it be better if they kept each other company while we’re out?”
She tilted her head to the side and tapped her finger against her chin.
“Those two together? Unsupervised? I’m not sure about that.” She laughed that laugh that Thad felt on his skin. Every single time. “She’ll be fine. I left SpongeBob playing on the TV. He always calms her.”
Thad huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “The way you all spoil these dogs.”
They started for the elevator, but then he stopped. “One minute. I forgot my wallet,” he lied, patting his pockets for emphasis.
He used his phone to unlock the door, and found Puddin’ curled up on the bed, his head on the pillow Thad had planned to sleep with. It was a good thing there were four. He picked up the remote, turned on the TV, and searched until he found ESPN.
“For the record, I am not spoiling you,” Thad said. “I just don’t want you disturbing the people in the next room with your barking when you get bored.”
Puddin’ released one of his whimpering sighs and turned so he faced the television.
Thad shook his head as he grabbed a chicken-flavored homemade biscuit from the container Ashanti had given him and threw it on the pillow. Two weeks ago he would have ordered this poodle into the bathroom and left him there with a bowl of water until he returned. When in the hell had he turned into one of those people? A dog person.
“I am not a dog person,” he told Puddin’. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
And now he was talking to the damn dog as if he understood a word he said. Just like a dog person.
“Did you have trouble finding your wallet?” Ashanti asked when he returned.
He patted his back pocket. “I had it the entire time. Not sure how I missed it.”
They took the elevator down and exited the lobby with little fanfare now that the superstars were tucked in bed. The sidewalk outside their Eighth Avenue hotel was buzzing with people running late for Broadway shows or heading for dinner at one of the hundreds of restaurants in the area.
“So what do you want to see first?” Thad asked. “Times Square, the Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building? According to Google, the Empire State Building closes for tours at eleven, so it makes sense to hit that one up first. The Staten Island Ferry runs twenty-four seven, and Times Square is always busy, no matter what time of the day or night.”
“Actually,” Ashanti said, taking her phone out of her pocket and swiping across the screen. “There’s a food truck at Forty-Ninth and Sixth Avenue, across from Rockefeller Center. I’ve been wanting to try it for forever.”
“A food truck?”
“Yes! And there’s a cupcake shop, another that sells this donut and croissant mashup thing, and, of course, I have to get a New York bagel.”
“So you basically came here to eat?”
She nodded. “The Food Network is my background noise when I’m baking. I’ve been making a list of foods I must try if I’m ever in New York.”
Thad chuckled. “Whatever you want,” he said. “Let’s get a taste of New York. Literally.”
Even though it was only one stop, they took the subway so Ashanti could have the experience. Then they walked the two giant avenue blocks to Fiftieth and Sixth. The line for the food truck, which Thad learned sold Greek food, stretched halfway to Seventh Avenue, but the cooks made quick work of getting food to the hungry patrons.
They took their gyros—lamb for her, chicken for him—along with seasoned French fries, and started down Sixth Avenue. After less than a block, Ashanti stopped and pointed across the street.
“That’s the cupcake place. They’re legendary.”
“Exactly what must a cupcake do to attain legend status?” Thad asked as he stuffed three fries in his mouth.
“Probably get someone like Dom to create a PR campaign for it.” She shrugged. “I don’t care. I still have to try it. They’re on my must-have list.”
She gestured to their right, where a huge fountain in front of a Chase Bank gently gurgled. A marble ledge that was more than wide enough to sit on surrounded the fountain’s base.
“Let’s sit here and eat,” Ashanti said. “And then I can get the cupcake for dessert.”
