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“The royal family outcasts? Of course.”
“You heard of Bethany Khan?”
“Simone, are these real questions?”
Everyone knows Bethany Khan, the wild blonde American adoptee who exposed the filthy members of the Khan Dynasty. Lots of this is hearsay, but apparently, Bethany has receipts that could kill off any respect the world has for the Khans.
“Well, Nadia… I’ve been asked to find the ideal reporter to assist Bethany Khan in a Tell-All book about the allegations!”
My heart sinks. I bet my baby can feel it because it is mighty heavy.
“Whoa!”
“Uh, huh! Whoa is right! Whoa is not even the right expression. Do we have an accurate expression?”
“And… you’re considering me?”
“Bingo! Mother fucking jackpot!”
“Simone! This is crazy.”
“You’ll need to leave Evergreen no later than August 1st to relocate to Dubai until April next year. You’ll have eight months. They will be intense, but you’ll have eight months to complete two books. Two! She has a lot, and she heard about you. She’s a fan of your grandmother. One of her dear friends is the daughter of someone in your grandmother’s Hollywood circle. Bethany has several of your articles regarding the Flint Water crisis and the Sacramento serial killer in 2018. She likes how you quote muscle your way into the truth, unquote. And she likes that you aren’t afraid to go political or ruffle any feathers to get the truth out. She’s a legit fan, Nadia. That’s fucking awesome if you ask me.”
This IS fucking awesome news. Too awesome. At least, that’s what I think it should be.
“It’s going to be a quick turnaround for you. And, since I know you need to get driving, I will call you in the morning. I’ll email you all the details, including your all-inclusive stay, which will be the entire time in Dubai. They’re going all out for you, Nadia. You should be very, very proud.”
“Wow. Yes. I’m honestly a little speechless.”
“Oh, I can tell!” She hollers as I slap my hands over my ears.
I fucking want to cry. As I hang up, I can’t help but too. I bury my face into my hands and release a bucket of hot tears. I honestly don’t know how I feel about this. I feel so guilty for not being excited. I feel so guilty for the vivacious, goal-chasing little Nadia that I’ve been. I feel like I’m disappointing her for not screaming about how lucky I am.
I put the Jeep back into ‘Drive’ and slowly went to the pharmacy to pick up the prenatal vitamins the doctor assigned me. The news of working so closely with Bethany Khan is exhausting. I can imagine all the grit and gore, and deceit she has to share. The insatiability of it all makes my head throb. I’m genuinely unclear if this will be good for the baby. Actually, am I now supposed to find a doctor in Dubai? I can’t convince Joaquin to leave his shop so his pregnant baby mama can write salacious tales about one of the most privileged families in the world.
When I walk into the pharmacy, it’s as if the universe sets me up to have a bad day. There’s fucking Martha. The way her eyes immediately go to my belly has me curious. I know Joaquin hasn’t said anything. He’s an honest man, maybe even too honest…as I know he isn’t shy to tell me what he wants. And, as a protector, he’s overly conscious of what he says to or shares about me.
“Hey!” I say, demanding her eyes look up at me.
“Oh. Hi, Nadia. Looks like you’re a new resident.” Her direct tone suggests she isn’t too happy about this possibility. And that pause between Oh and Hi makes me want to take back my “Hey.”
People must talk, as it now dawns on me. The fucking bartender. That lousy guy from Oliver’s probably opened his mouth to share my business of buying a pregnancy test. How disgusting.
“So, are you and Joaquin an item?”
Is she really still talking to me, as I’m already halfway down this aisle? I contain my eye roll and remind myself that I can’t come across as rude, especially since I’m my Nonna’s granddaughter.
“Oh, is that what they’re saying?” I spin around. I can’t believe I’m responding to her question with a question. We ‘Reporters’ hate that. But I can’t think of anything equally cordial to say right now.
“Who?” She looks puzzled.
“I’m guessing the same people who told you I’m a new resident?” I shrug, hoping she’ll accept my act of stupidity.
She snickers, “You are a piece of work, Nadia.”
“Well, I’m going to take that as a compliment. Thank you. By the way, I love those shoes.” I actually do. She’s wearing matte scarlet-colored wedges. The combination of texture and color reminds me of red velvet cake.
She glances at her two feet as if she’s forgotten what she’s wearing. I take this time to scurry down the aisle to grab my vitamins.
