Page 35 of American Royalty

Chapter Seven

“Big hands, big feet / Deep pockets / On fleek / Six feet / Plus / Coco, chiseled / A must...”

—Duchess, “Profilin’”

The forty-five-minute drive from London was a study in change as the sun began its descent and the landscape transformed from the urban to a more pastoral setting. Though most of Dani’s previous trips here had been relegated to the city center, the scenery wasn’t too different from when she’d travel from DC to Virginia.

The countryside looked peaceful, exactly what she needed. In the months since she’d accepted the invitation to perform at the Royal Tribute in Honor of Prince John, her life had gone bananas. She’d been excited when the Palace had informed her that the concert was being extended to a weeklong celebration with a series of events, including a royal ball.

Nyla hadn’t gotten over that one. “Duchess is going to a real royal ball!”

But if the spotlight and scrutiny had been at a level eight before with the Banks situation, the announcement of the celebration and her participation in it had ramped the madness up to twenty.

The reveal had garnered worldwide media coverage, as did the surprise that Duchess would perform. There were the obvious headlines tying her name to royalty, butBossiphad come through with her favorite: “All Hail the People’s Duchess Even as Clotted Cream Critics Revolt!” Late-night hosts couldn’t joke enough about being surprised that she was Prince John’s favorite performer.

“If video emerges of Prince John doing the ‘nae nae,’ I’m moving to London,” one had proclaimed.

Her team had been contacted by everyone, from designers who wanted to dress her for the events to accessories brands who wanted her to carry or mention their products. Cash had been furious she’d accepted the offer.

“You went behind my back? What the fuck, Dani?”

She’d stared across the desk at the large black man, a New York Yankees cap covering his bald head, an iced-out dollar sign blinging around his neck, her own rage flaring. “I wouldn’t have had to go behind your back if you’d brought the original offer to me in the first place!”

“Because you don’t have time for this shit! You need to get back in the studio, work on that third album. We got to strike while the iron is hot, baby.”

This was how it always was. Cash cared only about her contribution to his bottom line.

“Don’t you trust me? Haven’t I always made the best decisions for you?”

That was part of the problem. Dani didn’t want him to make decisionsforher anymore. She could make own decisions.

Cash pointed a finger at her. “And after everything I’ve done for you, you go and bring that bitch agent in on this?”

Everythinghe’ddone—

It had been the final straw. She’d grabbed her Gucci backpack and stood.

His nostrils flared. “Where are you going?”

“I’m out.”

“We’re not done here!”

“Yeah, Cash, we are.”

Something in her tone must’ve alerted him to the fact that she was referring to more than just their conversation.

“We have a contract!”

“And that’s why I pay my lawyers,” she said, throwing up the deuces on her way out the door.

She wasn’t stupid enough to believe it’d be that easy. He was right about the contract, and she could face serious backlash if he decided to bad-mouth her around the industry. When this was all over, she’d set up a meeting with her attorneys and Bennie and weigh her options. But she didn’t regret her decision. She was done being his finger puppet. It had been time for her and Cash to part ways.

She wished she could say the same about the press.

The paparazzi’s intrusiveness had grown to epic levels. Instead of just trailing her like irritating shadows, they’d set up camp outside her houses in L.A. and Virginia.

“Are you practicing your curtsy for the queen?”