by Gini Koch
“Kitty, is this a good time?” Adam asked me when the person who’d been buying things at our table moved on.
“There’s never a good time, or, if the cameras are rolling, all of our times are good. Take your pick.”
He laughed. “Okay. Well, we want to spend a few minutes discussing why you chose to put your kids in Sidwell.”
Uh oh. I hadn’t made that decision—Vance had. Vance had made a lot of my decisions because he was, frankly, far more qualified for the FLOTUS job than I was. My strengths lay in kicking butt, playing chicken with intergalactic terrorists, and staring down religious leaders.
Managed not to look around frantically, but it took effort. Instead, stretched and took a casual glance about. “Honestly, that’s a fast answer—because it’s a great school.” Per Vance.
Even though a couple more tour busses were pulling up, things looked calm, so I could see why they wanted to the interview right now. Melville and Prince were walking the perimeter in front of us, near Wisconsin Avenue. Other security was around, Evalyne, Phoebe, Naveed, Manfred in particular. People were milling about and wandering the tables, but this was the least busy we’d been since we’d started.
“Well then,” the Kristie-Bot said, “what else do you suggest we chat about? We talked about why you’re doing this bake sale already.”
“Believe me, I remember.” That had been the most uninteresting conversation in recent memory. The only saving grace had been that, in addition to the kids, Vance had forbidden all press to interact with, film, or take pictures of Charmaine, meaning she hadn’t had any moments in the spotlight. It was a small, mean-spirited victory, but I was all about taking it.
“We could do a comparison between Sidwell and the Intergalactic School,” Adam suggested.
“A positive one for both schools, of course,” the Kristie-Bot added. “We’re not here to do smear pieces.”
“I appreciate that, but we can’t do a comparison of anything until I get to the Intergalactic School, which will be this afternoon.”
Realized what I’d said right as the Kristie-Bot jumped on it. “Oh, that’s a great idea! We’ll let you keep on doing what you’re doing so well here and get prepped for another interview at the other school. What a scoop!”
She pulled her crew away a few feet, presumably to get all set up to go to New Mexico. She also waved a couple of men over who looked vaguely familiar. Was pretty sure I’d seen them at the Good Day USA! studio but wasn’t prepared to swear to it.
“Kill me now,” I said to no one in particular.
“If you insist.”
CHAPTER 45
LOOKED UP AT ADAM. “Promise?”
He shook his head with a grin. “Nah, I was lying.”
“But if you killed me now, then I wouldn’t have to do all the rest of the stuff that Good Day USA! wants me to do and I wouldn’t have to worry about Code Name: First Lady, either.”
“Sorry not sorry,” Adam said, “but you have to live. However, I am sorry about Kristie jumping on that opening I’m sure you didn’t mean to give her.”
“I didn’t, believe me.” Noted that the Good Day USA! cameraman had said camera trained on us. “Um, Adam? Why is that dude filming us?”
“Huh. No idea. Unless . . .” His voice trailed off and his eyes narrowed.
“Unless what?”
He heaved a sigh. “I don’t need this, and you need it less than I do. They may be trying to get footage that will insinuate that you and I are, ah, friendly.”
“Wow, that old wheeze? It’s been tried on me before.”
“It’s been tried on me before, too,” Adam said grimly. “It’s the reason my wife divorced me. And I think you may have spotted who ruined my marriage, which was information I didn’t have before. Excuse me.” He headed over to where the rest of the Good Day USA! people were and started speaking to the cameraman in a way that I was pretty sure was threatening, since Adam was much larger and, from what I could tell, hella pissed.
Oliver and Bellie took the opportunity to join me. It was nice to see a friendly face I knew I could trust. The less said about the beakface on his shoulder, though, the better. “How goes it, Madam First Lady?”
“Oh, you know, just living the FLOTUS dream and all that.”
“Floaty! Floaty!”
“Thanks for that, Bellie. So, MJO, do you want to do an interview here, too, or am I able to miss out?”
“Well, if Good Day USA! gets to have you, I believe I should do my best to also get a scoop.”
“Wow. A scoop. About what?”
“Whatever you’d like to share. We are, of course, not focused on the children at all.”
“I’ll let the irony of us doing this at their school pass. Somehow Good Day USA! is going with me to the Intergalactic School later.”
“I’m sure it will be fine.”
“I’m not. So, I have many things I’d like to tell you, none of which I can share here.”
He nodded. “I’ve exchanged communications with several people. And have reached out to my various sources. Bruce has done so as well. And we’ll be accompanying you to the Intergalactic School and the fundraiser tonight, as well, so even if our compatriots from Good Day USA! are there, you won’t be alone.”
“You guys are the best. Bummer that I know you’re going to bring Bellie along.”
“Oh, now, you and she just got off to a bad start. Miss Bellie is quite a lady and I’m sure that, if you give her a chance, you’ll love her just as you do all your other animals.”
Doubted it, but now wasn’t the time to say that aloud, in part because I could see Charmaine on the horizon. She was rolling with the same bunch of women and couple of guys I’d already spotted.
Oliver took Bellie off his shoulder and put her onto his hand. He spoke softly to her, while she looked at me in her evil bird way. “Floaty!”
“I think she’d like you to hold her,” Oliver suggested.
“Are you kidding?”
Jenkins and Dion joined us. “You know,” Dion said cheerfully, “a shot of you and Mister Joel Oliver’s gorgeous bird would make a wonderful picture.”
“Dion! Dion! Bellie likes Dion!”
“I see Bellie’s drawn another man into her web of avian deceit.”
“Dion’s right,” Jenkins said. “And Bellie’s quite sweet and tame as well as beautiful.” He stroked her head and she leaned into it, making a soft noise that almost sounded like purring. She’d definitely learned new tricks.
The kids clustered around us, and not just mine—many of the kids who were out here had gathered to watch the show. “That bird is parkour,” one of them said. Couldn’t identify the speaker. Could identify that one of the kids had music playing—if I concentrated I could just hear it. Matchbox Twenty’s “She’s So Mean.” Refrained from asking whoever to turn it up, but it took effort.
“Totally,” Claire agreed.
“Parkour is the French semi-sport of running acrobatically around cities and leaping tall buildings with a few impressive bounds,” I shared. “I kind of thought everyone attending Sidwell would know that.”
Claire rolled her eyes at me. “Oh, Aunt Kitty, I love you but you are so old.”
Didn’t know which was more shocking—Claire saying she loved me or that I was now ancient. Chose to show my range and be floored by both.
“It means hardcore,” Lizzie said to me in a low voice. “Sorry, I’ll try to catch you up on what the young folks are saying these days so you’re not embarrassed.”
Managed not to say that she probably needed to bring me up to speed on music, too, since I didn’t think the kids were listening to Matchbox Twenty these days, but managed to refrain. Also refrained from sharing that the only embarrassing thing was that I was now surrounded and everyone seemed to think I should be holding the stupid parrot.
Bellie preened. “Bellie likes Floaty.”
Heard the kids start to giggle. Actively chose to ignore them. Was too busy being shocked by Bellie’s sudden affinity for not trying to kill me.
“Why don’t you hold her?” Oliver suggested, as he moved Bellie from his hand to mine. Shocking me to my core, Bellie didn’t instantly try to shred my hand. Instead, she closed her claws carefully so that she was holding on but not painfully.
Stroked her head with my other hand. She did the whole lean into it and imitate purring thing. Had to admit it, it was kind of cool. “Wow, you’re right. Bellie’s being awesome.” Gently ran my hand down her back and gave her a gentle scritchy-scratch between her wings, where I did it on all the Peregrines.
Bellie opened her beak, stuck her tongue out, and bobbed her head from side to side, while making a stuttering sound, kind of like odd laughter. She looked hella cute and the kids ate it up.
“She likes that,” Oliver said. “That’s her way of showing that she’s enjoying something—her way of giggling.”
Noted that the Good Day USA! team was filming this. Well, Dion couldn’t be the only one who’d thought it would make a great photo op. Might as well give them a show. “Does she like her tummy rubbed?”
“She does.”
Stopped the scritchy-scratching and stroked her tummy. Bellie did more of her bird giggle while extending her wings. She was definitely the center of attention, but she was being great and, frankly, when she was like this, I could see why every man who’d owned her had fallen madly in love with her. Antony Marling had loved her more than his children. Jeff hadn’t, thankfully, but I was still glad I’d shoved her off on Oliver before Jeff had to choose between her and me, in part because I still wasn’t sure who he’d pick if push came to shove.
Speaking of shoving, several people did. Charmaine and her entourage, to be exact. They shoved past whoever was on the perimeter and got right up next to me. Took a closer look at the entourage—had definitely not met any of them and none of them had been working the bake sale. That boded in a familiar way.
“What’s going on here?” Charmaine asked imperiously. “And what is that thing doing around food?”
I might not have been Bellie’s biggest fan, but she certainly wasn’t worthy of this kind of disdain. And anything the Evil Kangaroo wanted to degrade was instantly going to earn my defense. Stopped petting Bellie’s tummy, moved her closer to my chest, and started stroking her head. Just in case Charmaine had any ideas about hitting at the bird.
“This is a highly trained, extremely intelligent, beautifully plumed African grey parrot, with a vocabulary and comprehension level that surpasses many humans. Her full name is Rybelleclies, but her nickname is Bellie. To her friends. You can call her Princess, however.” The only one around here who was getting the Queen title was me, thank you very much.
Charmaine stayed true to form and sniffed. A big one this time. Several of those with her did as well. Great. The Evil Kangaroo had indeed brought in her reinforcements. “So you have a filthy bird around the food we’re selling and you seem to believe that it’s fine because she’s with you?”
“Actually, she’s with Mister Joel Oliver, but yes, it’s fine. She’s well trained. She only poops on people she doesn’t like.” Waited for Bellie to poop on me. She didn’t. Didn’t have time to marvel, but planned to do so later. Heard the faint music change to “Fair Fight” by The Fray. Had to figure out which kid was listening to what, for this age group, was oldies music. I liked his or her choices.
“Get rid of her,” Charmaine snarled. “Now.”
“Or . . . what, exactly? This bird has helped save the world more than once. What have you done?”
Charmaine drew herself up to her full height. “I am the President of the Sidwell Friends School Parent Teacher Association and you would do well to remember that.” The men and women in her entourage nodded.
This group reminded me of Heathers. Well, high school and Heathers. And Mean Girls. Basically, Charmaine was the Big Woman on Campus here. Maybe she’d been like this in high school, maybe she hadn’t and was living out the dream now. But either way, she felt that she was the one running things, and based on the expressions of the people behind her, they did, too. Frankly, based on everyone’s reactions to her and what Marcia had told Vance, possibly everyone here thought Charmaine was all that and an extra-large bag of sniff-chips.
I probably should have backed down. Only, that wasn’t how I rolled. And, regardless of anything else, if I hadn’t backed down before a king and the entire religious community of the world, I sure as hell wasn’t going to back down to the President of the PTA.
“And you would do well to remember that you don’t intimidate me. At all.”
“Just because you’re the FLOTUS, don’t think that impresses anyone here.” Charmaine’s nostrils flared. Had no idea whether that meant she was going to go for a Gold Medal Sniff, turn on her heel and stalk off, share that the hand that rocked the bake sale ruled the world, or try to slap me. Her expression was hard to read. But I never got a chance to find out.
“Bellie loves Floaty!” Bellie shrieked. Then she flew off my hand, right at Charmaine’s face.
CHAPTER 46
AS OFTEN HAPPENED during times of shock and intense crisis, everything suddenly started moving in slow motion.
Charmaine screamed and waved her arms around. Bellie shrieked her new battle cry of “Floaty! Floaty! Floaty!” and flew around Charmaine’s head. The people with Charmaine started flailing at Bellie, who merely flailed right back. She was far better at it than they were.
But this meant that Oliver, Jenkins, and Dion got involved, to get people away from the bird. People around us started shouting. Another bird screamed and this scream I recognized—Bruno had come along in stealth mode, which was his job, after all, but he was stealth no longer. He rose up to defend Bellie, meaning there was now a giant Peregrine flapping around the people with Charmaine.
Naturally, all this activated the rest of my security teams. Including the canine one. Especially the canine one.
Heard Prince barking and, because I had that keen Dr. Doolittle talent of mine, I could tell that he was informing Duke and Riley that I was under attack. Heard Melville, Moe, and Curly all shout—it was clear the dogs had all jerked out of their handlers’ holds, because I could make out what the men were shouting, which was for the dogs to get back under control. As if.
Of course, this meant that all three dogs were going to be barreling in, ready to bite down hard and read the perps their rights later. And my security teams were right behind them, similar intent plastered on all their faces.
Prince was coming from the street side and Duke and Riley from behind and to the side. But no matter which direction they were coming from, people and tables were in the way. The dogs didn’t care—they were trained, they were on a mission from God, and they were big and strong. The people got out of the way, most of them of their own volition. The tables couldn’t.
Tables flipped over and baked goods, cashboxes, cash, and change went flying. People started screaming and running, some away, some toward the action. Bellie was still squawking but had risen above the fray. She remained the luckiest bird in existence. Bruno landed on my shoulder, the better to observe the fight and protect me at the same time.
Somehow, while this was all going on around me, I was in my own little Cone of Safety. Knew it wouldn’t last, but appreciated it nonetheless.
Time snapped back for me as I got body slammed by someone infiltrating said Cone of Safety. That’d teach me for notici
ng something positive and being grateful for it. Managed to stay on my feet and Bruno remained on my shoulder, though he shrieked a death cry at the poor woman who’d been knocked over by Riley.
The three dogs were able to get in position around me, creating a Dog Protection Barrier. This was great and all, but we had kids here and I had no idea where they were or if they were safe. Sure, they were teenagers, but they were still kids. And five of them were “mine,” two in particular.
Looked around for Lizzie and Wasim, not to mention the Valentino kids, which meant I got to see the table with pies on it flip due to the Secret Service tossing it out of their way. This in turn meant I had a prime view of said pies slamming into people’s faces—including Mahin, Naveed, and Mrs. Paster.
Cupcakes were sailing through the air, cookies were flying, what I thought might be the last of Lucinda’s brownies sailed into the crowd, landing on the Good Day USA! team. Perhaps in a form of cosmic retribution for the pies, the Secret Service were hit with several cakes. We had a full on Pastry Riot going. Had the feeling that was going to be the headline, too.
Some of the kids were freaking out. Others had chosen to channel Bluto from Animal House and turn this into a food fight. Interestingly enough, only Charmaine and her entourage of Mean Adults were trying to grab the money, now that they weren’t dealing with Bellie and Bruno. Then again, couldn’t really fault them for it—there was a lot of money flying around, and all of it had been earned.
Managed to spot my kids. Lizzie and the Valentino kids had Wasim surrounded in a protective circle. He didn’t look happy about this, but since Naveed was covered in pie and had three overturned tables and about fifty people between himself and his charge, this was a good thing.
Somehow, with all this commotion and chaos I could still hear faint music. Had no idea who had said music on them, but the song was now “The Ballroom Blitz” by Sweet. There was no way in the world a teenager of today was listening to Sweet. Not that they weren’t great, but this same kid would have had to also love Matchbox Twenty and The Fray, and I wasn’t buying it. I’d been and remained musically omnivorous, and I liked music from every era. Sweet’s era had been over thirty years ago, and most kids didn’t want to like the same music as their parents.