Chapter Eighteen
There’s something about being at Parker’s workplace that fills me with apprehension the second I step into the Venture Sports building in Midtown Manhattan.
Maybe it’s because, since our arrangement began, I haven’t seen him anywhere outside his hotel room.
I’m not sure I’ve fully rewired my brain to be in a professional setting with him where we’re both fully clothed.
I don’t have to wait long until Parker strolls into the room in a gray suit I haven’t seen before. Everyone at Venture dresses as if they’ve got a booking for a Hugo Boss ad after work, and it makes me wish I hadn’t worn my old kitten heels today.
Parker’s face is a haughty gibe—like a bold-font I told you so. “Maybe if you weren’t in such a rush to leave my hotel all the time, you wouldn’t have switched our laptops.”
The bag in my hand does not contain my MacBook, as I’d come to learn in a panic when I’d arrived at Adagio an hour ago. Instead, I’m holding onto Parker’s laptop with an outstretched arm. “I’d like to see the goods first, before we make our exchange.”
“Movie-villain dialogue. How fitting.” His chuckle is humorless as he unlocks the bottom drawer of his desk and reveals my MacBook. “I was planning to review my notes before my meeting. Imagine my surprise when I couldn’t get past a lock screen of cats photoshopped as bread loaves.”
“They’re all pure bread,” I say around a giggle as I complete our swap. “Get it?”
He blinks at me. “Is that the content Adagio pays you to write?”
Parker Tran doesn’t appreciate a good pun. I guess there’s no accounting for taste.
“You know, you didn’t have to come all the way here; I could’ve gone to your office.”
“Your presence would draw too much attention. Charlotte and the others would eat me alive with their questions.” I recall my earlier hysteria, when Parker’s mug was suddenly smirking at me from my screen.
I’d slammed it shut before anyone could notice.
“By the way, your lock screen? Shirtless on a yacht? Are you for real?”
“It’s actually a sailboat.” I don’t know the difference, and I don’t ask.
The door behind me opens with a click as I’m stuffing my MacBook into its bag. Two more suits stroll in, just as polished as Parker’s, and a familiar face greets me with a wide smile.
“Dani Tsai! I was wondering if I’d see you again.”
“Hey, Isaac.”
Parker looks up from typing on his recovered laptop. “Sorry, man. I’m sending you the Rangers data now. Had a bit of a mix-up this morning.” He doesn’t spare me the side-eye.
Next to Isaac is an unmissable head of dark, curly hair. I recognize the man as the blue-eyed gent who dragged Parker away from the bar. He takes his turn examining me.
“I remember you. St. Regis, Valentino dress, never spotted without a wine glass.”
“This is Dani Tsai, an old friend,” Parker inserts. “Dani, this is Reggie Cruz. He’s also—”
“Let me guess. On the Rangers deal?”
“Old friend?” Reggie echoes, his interest piqued. “How far back? Did you watch this guy play QB?”
Isaac wags a finger between us. “Right, didn’t you say you grew up together?”
“Damn, okay, you’re like an OG then.” Reggie nods at me. “I’m still catching up on the lore myself. I’ve heard all about U of O, and the blond era too. Scoured the Internet for that, by the way. Honestly, not your best look. It was giving boy band, but also—”
“Like a lemon made a wish to be human,” I say under my breath.
Isaac snorts as Parker cuts me a sharp glare. Reggie clasps his hands together. “Good one. Heather is going to love that.”
“Who’s Heather?”
“Parker’s work wife.”
“She’s not my work wife,” he says flatly.
“That’s not what I heard from the boys on your turf.”
“We were assigned to the Warriors last year. A deal that big requires a lot of teamwork. At one point, we were practically sharing an office for three months.”
That certainly sounds like a work wife. The closest thing I have to a work husband is Tae-woo, and he still tells the cafeteria staff that I’m his assistant.
“I’ve been trying to get her to fly out, but she said the East Coast air is bad for her skin. Whatever that means.” Reggie closes in on Parker and nudges his shoulder. “A work husband would probably have more pull.”
“I doubt it.” Parker casts him a weary look. “I told her she could take my boat out of the marina sometime, and now she practically lives out on the Central Bay.”
I arch a brow. “The boat in that photo belongs to you?”
“Yeah, I got it for day sailing.”
“You sail?”
“Just a hobby I picked up.”
“I guess there’s something about moving to Cali that makes you want to catch some rad waves, right dude?” Reggie emphasizes the end of his sentence with a bad surfer accent.
“Okay, well, to clarify: I’m from Northern California, so you can stop with the SoCal stereotypes.”
I watch as Parker explains how there are more parks than beaches in the Bay Area, feeling mystified.
He’s lived a whole life on the other side of the country that I don’t know anything about.
He’s Parker from NorCal now, not Silverpine.
He has a boat and does water sports. He doesn’t just throw a football all day.
He has a work wife—Heather, who’s probably a sexy, tanned beach goddess.
I shake off that train of thought just as Reggie gives Parker a pat on his chest. “Before I forget, can you call Kaufman about the soft launch on the ticketing app? He said he’d touch base with you first.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“You’re a real one.” Reggie jabs away at his phone then points two fingers at the room. “While I have you here, can I count you in for my New Year’s party? I know it’s early, but this thing is a whole production, so I’d like to nail down a head count ASAP.”
“I’ll let you know if I’m not back in San Francisco by then,” Parker says.
“Count me in.” Isaac turns to me. “Dani?”
My New Year’s tradition involves melting into a couch with a bottle of wine, but rather than admit that to the present company, I say, “Can I get back to you on that?”
“I’ll send you an invite later. Be sure to répondez s’il vous pla?t.”
“Just say RSVP like everyone else,” Isaac groans.
“Alright, I’m gonna head out. Gotta make final tweaks on the merch drop before game time.” Reggie puts away his phone and makes a quick exit, forging a new path with his bro-nado of cologne and hair gel.
“Actually, I’m glad I ran into you, Dani. That article on ghost ships was a fantastic read,” Isaac says. “I was hoping I’d get a chance to pick your brain about it.”
“That reminds me, we did a piece on abandoned mining towns that you might like,” I tell him. “I can send it to you.”
“That’d be awesome. You can keep the articles coming.” He smiles down at me, one hand adjusting his tie. “Are you free tonight? We could talk over drinks.”
Drinks on a Monday night? Is this spring break in Tijuana?
“I know this great speakeasy in Murray Hill. Kind of an old-timey place—real JFK vibe, if you know what I mean.”
To an introvert, making plans without at least twenty-four-hour notice is insanity.
But I worry it’ll be horrendously awkward for me to turn down the invitation, and then I’ll spend the rest of the day cringing and kicking the air at another social blunder.
I look over to Parker for help, but he’s merely watching the interaction with pointed interest. Silent and useless.
With excellent timing, Isaac’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He steps one foot out of the office, device in hand. “I have to take this, but definitely let me know about tonight, okay?”
Once the door closes, Parker gives me a loaded glance. “He’s into you.”
“He is not.” I try to hold back a laugh, but it escapes as a snort through my nose. “He’s just being friendly. And I know you’re a boat guy—weird, by the way—but don’t tell me you’re in the boat that believes men and women can’t be friends.”
“No, they can, but are you sure that’s the argument you want to go with?” Parker closes his laptop. “We’ve been friends again for two weeks, and look how that’s going for us.”
I’m tempted to say that he and I aren’t the best example of friendship. “Asking someone out for drinks doesn’t mean there are . . . intentions.”
“Okay then, you can show up to what is very clearly a date and prove me wrong.”
I lean against a cabinet opposite where Parker sits. “Are you really giving me the go-ahead to date one of your Venture bros?”
“I don’t exactly have any right to say who you can or can’t see.”
I know that. That’s the whole point of being casual. But it takes me by surprise, nonetheless.
“Unless you want me to give you a reason to back out? Because you know I’m right?”
“That’s not—no.” I swat a hand at the air. “He just wants to geek out on nerdy ghost stuff. You heard him, he even asked for more articles.”
“Are you going to let him read your features?” Parker asks, reclining in his seat. “I liked the one where you used sci-fi classics to project the future of AI. It’s just like you to turn The Jetsons into a much darker show than I remember.”
I stare at him for a beat too long. “When did you read my articles?”
“Remember when I said I Googled you? Well, it brought me to the Adagio website. Wasn’t hard to find your work from there.”
I stop to consider what he’s said. Some of those articles belong to sections of our site that are locked behind a paywall. “You paid for a subscription?”
He lifts a shoulder like it’s nothing to get worked up about. I watch him rise from his seat and circle around his desk until we’re facing each other. Crossing his arms, he looks at me meaningfully. “Look, Isaac is a good guy, but you should know that, like me, he isn’t really the committed type.”
“You think that’s what he’s after? A good ol’ smash and dash?”
“Well—”
“Like, hit it and quit it? Just another pump and dump?”
“Dani—”
“Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am?”
Parker draws a deep breath. “Are you done? Did you get it out of your system?”
“Sorry.”