Chapter 5
“Mom, you won’t really debate Parker Black, will you?” Alice asked as they drove to the bookstore the day after New Year’s.
“I’m not sure. I just might if someone from the show calls me. I always did love a good debate,” Nola said.
“What happened to a man convinced against his will?” Alice argued, quoting Nola’s saying from the New Year’s Eve party. “You
won’t change his mind.”
“No, but I might be able to change the minds of some listeners. And we can tell our customers we did our part.”
“He doesn’t sound like a very nice man,” Alice said.
“That doesn’t worry me.” Nola had dealt with her share of difficult people in her lifetime. “You could help me if you like,”
she suggested.
Her daughter’s complexion went from pale to ghost. “Me?” she squeaked.
“You’re part owner.”
“I’m not good at debating,” Alice protested.
Unlike her older sister, who was always up for an argument, Alice avoided conflict.
She liked her world compressed and safe.
Growing up, her circle of friends had been small, and her best friends had been books.
But she’d risen to the challenge of running a bookstore. She could easily help with this.
“I wouldn’t expect you to, but I’d appreciate it if you did some research for me,” Nola said.
“I could do that,” Alice said, suddenly eager to help as long as it was from a safe distance.
“And you could sit by me and feed me facts, so we can work as a team. Like we do on our podcast.”
“I can do that. But you’d be the one talking, right?” she added, looking for confirmation.
“Of course,” Nola assured her. Her daughter was certainly smart enough to carry the day, but taking the lead would be entirely
too stressful for her. “And you don’t have to be involved at all if you’d rather not.”
“We’re partners. If Parker Black offers the challenge, I’m with you,” Alice said. “But all we’ll do is boost his ratings.”
“And champion writers. Your father had a motto he lived by: Never go looking for a fight but if one comes knocking you open the door and have your fist ready. I didn’t want to bother with this nonsense, but to read books by authors we know on the air and mock them, that’s another
animal. If Parker Black knocks on the door looking for a fight, let’s give him what he wants.”
“Maybe he won’t call.”
“A man like him? The chance to debate will be catnip,” Nola said as Alice parked the car. “He won’t be able to resist.”
When it came right down to it, Nola couldn’t resist the idea herself. It had been many years since her college debate team
days, but she hadn’t lost her edge, and the more she thought about it the more the idea of putting this young fool in his
place appealed to her.
That settled, they got to work before the store opened, culling books that had sat on the shelf too long and would have to be returned to the publisher for a refund.
They tried to avoid doing that whenever possible, often wrapping up lonely books in brown paper with a note hinting at the plot and then offering them as a blind date with the book.
But some dates never happened. And, sadly, if a book sat around longer than ninety days chances were it never would find a new home.
Bettina had arrived and they were all still sifting through books when the call from KWOW came. “This is Jay Barker,” the
caller introduced himself. “I produce Parker Black’s Jock Talk on KWOW and I’m looking for Nola Willoughby.”
“This is Nola,” she said. Here it came, the invitation to go to the mattresses.
“We were given your name. I understand you own this romance bookstore.”
“I do. We’re in West Seattle.”
Alice left her pile of books behind and came over to where Nola stood.
“I don’t know if you’re familiar with what Parker’s been doing on his show lately.”
“Misbehaving?” Nola said.
Jay Barker’s chuckle was a little weak. “I guess you are.”
“Word’s gotten out,” she said. “I believe your boy is looking for a fight.”
“Boy?” mouthed Alice, who had come to stand next to her.
Nola winked. Put your opponent on the offensive.
“Not a fight, just a good debate,” Jay Barker corrected her. “Would you be willing to come on his show as a guest? He’s nationally
syndicated. It would be good exposure for your bookstore.”
“Or for my neck,” said Nola. “But I’ll accept your challenge.”
That got Bettina’s attention, and she joined them, a grin on her face.
“Great. I’ll get back to you with details,” Jay said, and that ended the call.
“It’s a go,” Nola said, stating the obvious.
“Yes!” crowed Bettina. “That man is in trouble now.”
Alice was already having second thoughts. “What if this doesn’t go well?”
“Why wouldn’t it? The facts are in our favor. This will be like taking candy from a very big baby.”
“It’s a go,” Jay said to Parker. “Harlan’s gonna love this.”
“Let’s hope so,” said Parker.
“Talk about a publicity gold mine falling right in our lap,” Jay said, rubbing his hands together like a hungry glutton at
a Thanksgiving feast.
Parker gave his beard a thoughtful stroke. “I wonder if my mom knows her.”
You’d better hope she doesn’t, came the thought.
“Huh,” mused Harlan, their program director, when they met to fill him in.
They should have run the idea past him before getting the ball rolling, but Jay had been confident Harlan would be an easy
sell. And he was.
“We’ll talk it up and get twice the listeners we’ve been getting,” Jay predicted.
Harlan was all over anything that would make his radio personalities look good and impress their station manager, Ben Stricklund,
and, even better, Joe Morris, the GM. “You think you can pull this off?” he asked Parker.
“Or course I can,” Parker said. “Slam dunk. Somebody needs to bring up the fact that women are writing sports novels . . .
about sports they don’t know anything about.”
Harlan nodded slowly. “Yeah, the sports angle works. Okay. Go for it.” Yep, easy sell.
“All right,” Jay said. “I’ll get it set up.”
He didn’t waste any time. By Monday afternoon all parties had agreed to a date and the debate was on. “We’re set for Friday.
Even Big Ben is smiling and little Harlan’s pretending this was all his idea,” Jay reported.
“As long as they’re happy I’m happy,” Parker said. And keeping both Harlan and Big Ben happy was what it had to be all about
if Parker wanted to keep his show going.
“They will be as long as our ratings go up, and that will even impress Joe,” said Jay, referring to the general manager. He
grinned. “This is gonna be good. I am brilliant.”
As if this had all been Jay’s idea. It wouldn’t be Jay having to be at the top of his game. That would be Parker.
But no worries. Parker may have had a short-lived baseball career, but he was no dumb jock. After blowing out his shoulder
and losing a major league career he’d gone to school, majored in communications and aced every course. He thought fast and
could talk fast. The debate would be a shutout. Total win.
Parker’s literary agent, David Fox of Fox Literary, was like a Seahawks fan who’d just learned the Hawks were headed for the
Super Bowl when Parker shared with him about the debate. “We’ve already got interest in the book. I can use this,” he said.
“That’s what I thought,” Parker said. Yeah, this was going to be good.
For a second, he could see his mom frowning in disapproval. There’d been a lot of that since he’d written Bye-Bye Babe. Which was why it was best to avoid mentioning the debate.
“I hate to see you so bitter and angry,” she’d said the day he’d called to crow about getting an agent. “And so publicly,” she’d added. “You might live to regret seeing all your ranting winding up in print.”
“I won’t,” he’d insisted. And his book wasn’t a rant. It was . . . cultural commentary focused on breaking men free from unrealistic
female expectations. Parker had pulled no punches when it came to damaging influences, and romance novels had been cited as
one of the worst (which was why if his book did get published, Mom would not be getting a copy for Christmas). But he knew
what he was talking about. Those novels had sure been a bad influence on Luna. And she’d elevated the genre from an unrealistic
escape to a deadly weapon.
“And I’m not bitter. I’m wiser,” he’d informed his mom. “Anyway, it’s time someone clued men in to what women have become.
Not you,” he’d added quickly.
“Not most women,” she’d argued.
What did Mom know? Well, having been a librarian for thirty years, she knew a lot. Just not about how things were between
men and women anymore. She hadn’t dated in years, and she lived in the same unrealistic world as this Nola Willoughby and
her customers. Mom had no idea what it was like out there. Women had turned into psychic vampires.
Of course, she liked to argue that there were men who were just as bad prowling around, too. Parker’s dad had been nothing
more than a sperm donor. Not that she talked about him much.
“I still believe in the power of love,” she liked to say. She also liked to add, “One of these days you’ll discover that power,
too.”
“Don’t count on it,” he would answer.
This debate was going to be fun. But it would be best not to tell his mom about it.