Chapter 8
Parker
Rolling over on my soft, sweet oasis, commonly known as a couch, is wildly painful.
My entire body aches from my short-lived sleep.
A sliver of light peeks through my blackout curtains, which cover my floor-to-ceiling windows.
Squinting at the intrusion into my lair of darkness, I wince. “Son of a bitch.”
Covering my face with my hands to stop the warm sun from burning my flesh, I moan, “Noooo.” Like I have suddenly channeled my inner vampire. And for a brief moment I forget a car recently hit me. It wasn’t any car. It was the Douche Canoe.
Before going to bed, Tac sent me a couple photos before wiping the internet clean of the incident. How fucking embarrassing. To be hit by a car called Douche Canoe, although fitting as the driver is absolutely one, it’s still embarrassing.
Lowering my hands, my head rocks from side to side while grabbing my phone that rests on top of my stomach.
The light is nearly blinding, as is the time.
It’s already midafternoon. Shit. I know Tac is already logged in and likely eavesdropping on my slumber.
“Sparrows?” I question, followed by clearing my dry throat.
“Never left the hotel last night. Eyes on the lobby and all exits. We are on standby.”
I nod to myself at his response while also acknowledging that it means I need to get up. We could be on the move at any moment now, and I need to head back to the scene of the crime.
Taking a deep breath, my lungs fill, giving me the strength to move.
Still on my back, I toss my legs over the edge, letting them hang and swing, and it feels so damn good as my muscles stretch, compliments of gravity.
Next, I carefully brace myself on either side of the couch to rise.
My body sits up but the weight of my mane turned bedhead nest of hair nearly brings me back down.
I have very long, very thick, black hair which is not for the faint of heart and intimidates the average brush.
Regaining my balance, I continue to move and my phone slides off me, falling to the hardwood floor.
A loud bang follows, and Tac jumps in, not missing a beat.
“Did you fall?” His excitement is alarming, but I ignore it.
Instead, I close my eyes while gathering my strength to wave him off. “Phone. It’s fine.” I’m not normally this sparse on patience, but today is an exception, and it seems it’s as short as I am.
Still in the same clothes as yesterday, I debate changing, but ultimately we don’t have time for that because my legs act of their own accord, forcing me to stand.
Converse still on my feet while I brace myself before twisting and turning to crack my stiff back.
The pain in my ribs becomes prominent, which I find wildly offensive.
There is no need for this rude behavior by them.
My badge whips around with each movement.
Pathetically, I reach up, grasping it before one of the points of the gold-plated star pokes my eye out, and slide it back into its home, in my bosom.
As I am wobbling around, pretending like I know what I am doing, a cheetah-print scrunchie sitting casually on my black glass-top desk catches my eyes and I’ve never been so thrilled. A good omen for today, along with something to keep this mess contained on the top of my head.
“We should really get moving, Parker?” Tac states like it’s a question, when it’s a fact and a polite nudge.
He’s right, can’t risk missing her again.
Bensen could move at any moment and it would be entirely my fault if she slips through our fingertips again.
I refuse to be responsible for costing them thousands, because this bond is a quarter of a million dollars.
It's the average going rate if you’ve pissed off a rich person.
She has really pissed them off. You’d see half a million if the person really fucked up, and I mean epically.
And one million to make it an exclusive bounty, which means skipping the auction, which you’ll learn more about soon enough, but not yet.
Most have the means to skip it but love the thrill of the process.
This lifestyle is addictive and some are deep into it.
This is similar to gambling perhaps? But on an epic number of steroids.
Their loss is my gain and I will take every last penny from them, happily, just like a casino. See this totally works.
Lost in thought, I toss my hair into a messy bun then take another couple acetaminophens out of my pants pocket before tossing the pills into my mouth.
My eyes search the space for a beverage to assist the pills down smoother.
My hips react before my feet can, shimmying a tiny happy wiggle once a bottle of water sitting on my kitchen counter is spotted.
Still stiff on the first couple steps, I fight through it while making my way over.
Taking it in my hand, I go to turn the cap and even my hands hurt.
With a muffled voice, I remind myself, “Get your shit together.
You are nobody's bitch.” Followed by a large swig of room-temperature water that allows me to swallow the promise of pain relief.
“Parker. Don’t get mad. But you need to shimmy yourself back over to the couch. Your phone is still on the floor,” Tac so kindly reminds me.
“Motherfucker.” He’s right. With longing eyes, I spot him.
There sits my beautiful baby, discarded on the ground like he is uncared for.
It’s a lie, phone, don’t listen to the others.
I love you. I’d never leave you behind. On tiptoes and small steps, I scurry back over and claim the love of my life, aside from my possums and raccoons, clutching it closely to my chest. In the same breath I remember my earbud and snatch it off my desk before heading back through the kitchen.
Passing the copious amount of takeaway containers on the spacious island before me, my stomach grumbles, making herself known.
Sliding my phone into my pants pocket, I press the earbud in and rub my stomach tenderly, giving her the attention she needs.
“I’m sorry, they are all empty.” I join, whining.
“But once we get Bensen, I will reward us with a large cheese pizza.” The promise pleases her and the rumbles subside.
And before you say anything, yes, I am aware my place sounds messy, unkept, and perhaps it is. A kind lady named Barbara comes to clean it and I mess it all up in return. Then we do it all over again the following week. This is the little game we play, it’s nice.
“Parker?” Ophelia speaks into my ear to my surprise. It would seem the entire team is here now. In true me fashion, I respond, “Go for Parker.” And I can hear her eyes roll in the lingering silence.
“Those pills are super strength. Don’t take more than one every six to eight hours.” I stop in my tracks, because I definitely took two last night before getting some shut-eye and two more just now. But I’m fine, I’m alive, and I am determined to be thriving by the day’s end.
“Of course, I made sure to read the bottle first,” I casually respond, hoping she doesn’t question me.
“You took more than one, didn’t you?” Immediately I feel like my mother’s busted me. My eyes shift nervously. “Perhaps last night in my daze. I took two. Or four. But who is really to know for sure?” She doesn’t need to know the full truth, which is that we are in for a ride today.
The silence returns and I ignore her subliminal scolding. It’s best not to mention that I did it again just now. Breaking the awkward silence, my enthusiasm for the day skyrockets. “Who's ready to go hunting?”
Tac cheers, not missing a beat. Connor’s rolling his eyes loudly while O huffs out a deep sigh of annoyance that I also ignore. “That’s the spirit!”
With more pep in my step than moments ago, I proceed to walk through my kitchen and down the long white hallway lined with closets, for extra storage, along with a half-opened pocket door that leads into a powder room and porcelain throne that never gets used.
The rubber soles of my high-tops echo on the hardwood from the lack of decor decorating the walls.
It’s never been a priority to me and I’ve never needed to show off.
Most Manhattanites love to decorate, to show off their extreme wealth and power with paintings and antiques their art brokers found on an auction somewhere.
Intimidation tactic mixed with a superiority complex.
It’s dangerous, and it’s those same assholes who pay my bills and put this penthouse within my reach.
Let’s not forget to mention the Mercedes they’ve bought me. I’m really fucking good at my job.
Unlatching the brass chain lock, I drop it, letting it bounce off the white door while also turning the two bolt locks I got added on top of the standard one.
Safety is everything. All it takes is one pissed-off family member to find out I am part of the reason their loved one isn’t home anymore and I am as dead as said loved one.
But like I said earlier, we will get to all that once we are at the auction. Patience my young grasshoppers.
Stepping into the hallway, which is shared by one other unit, the space is empty and quiet. I have never met my neighbor and have no intentions of changing that anytime soon. Talking to strange people is exhausting.
After locking the door behind me, I walk to the elevator doors.
It’s private, reserved only for our units.
The doors open as soon as I press the button, I love convenience.
Stepping inside, I press for the parade, the doors gently slide shut, and I close my eyes, resting my head against the wall while horrible elevator music plays.
It’s some classical shit I lack respect for because I just don’t understand what it all means.