Chapter 10
The loyal supporters of HEA Books were up in arms over the Alice meme and the expressions of outrage continued.
“Unbelievable,” said Lina when she and a new Chili Pepper recruit, Tracy Paulson, dropped by the store. “That man is the spawn
of Satan.”
“The station should drop his show. We should all write letters,” put in Tracy, her eyes flashing.
Alice was sick of talking about the debate and Parker Black. Every time she’d gotten her emotions settled down and her thoughts
under control someone came along with condolences or suggestions of what should or shouldn’t be done about the man and gave
her a fresh spin in the cosmic blender.
“We just got in a new book I think you two will like,” she said, changing the subject.
Her ploy worked and they were diverted from the topic of Parker Black.
The same ploy worked when Kara Bane came in, ready to karate chop the evildoer. But not before Kara advised Alice to sue the creep for defamation of character. “Or something,” she added. “Like breathing.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Alice lied. If she said it often enough, eventually it wouldn’t. “By the way, we just got in a book by
a new author I think you’re going to love.”
Kara’s eyes lit up like Times Square. “Yeah?”
And with that the subject of the meme was forgotten.
Scarlet, however, was undistractable. She bought Alice dinner after work to help her forget her troubles. Then proceeded to
dwell on them.
“That meme is still everywhere,” she reported. “We need to think of some way to make sure Parker Black gets what’s coming
to him. He’s ruining both our lives.”
“My life is not ruined,” Alice insisted. “It’s just . . . temporarily sucky.”
She could almost see an image of Parker Black’s pirate face floating on the surface of her drink, laughing at her.
“He should be publicly shamed,” Scarlet continued. “It’s too bad nobody puts people in the stocks anymore.”
Alice enjoyed the image that evoked—Parker Black in stocks in the middle of Westlake Center, with all their HEA Books customers
throwing rotten tomatoes at him. She smiled.
Scarlet nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I like that. We’ll think of a way to humiliate him.”
“There is no way. The man has no shame.”
Alice shoved aside her half-consumed lettuce boat. Food wasn’t helping. Even chocolate wouldn’t make her feel better. She
was just going to have to suck it up and weather this emotional storm. Stay off the internet and stay in her books, where
she knew, in the end, everything would turn out exactly as it should.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she said. “I refuse to give him any more headspace.” Out, damned spot, as Lady Macbeth would say.
Except Lady Macbeth’s spot was guilt induced, so bad comparison. Alice had done nothing to deserve what Parker Black had done
to her. Which, of course, was why it hurt so much.
“Anyway, remember what Grandma Willoughby always said. Every dog has his day,” Scarlet continued. “Yours is coming.”
“Arf,” said Alice, making Scarlet grin.
“You know another good one,” Scarlet continued, on a roll. “Be careful who you kick on your way up. You’ll see them again
on your way down.”
“I don’t care if I ever see Parker Black again,” Alice said. “I’m going to pretend this never happened and move on.”
“Good idea,” Scarlet approved. “But here’s one more saying . . .”
“I don’t get mad, I get even,” Alice said with her. “It’s not worth my time. I have better things to do.”
“I don’t,” said Scarlet. “The creep has humiliated my sister and ruined my man. I will be happy to be your avenging angel.”
And she would. “Thank you for always being there for me.”
“Forever and a day,” said Scarlet. She pushed Alice’s plate back to her. “Now, eat your lettuce boat.”
Alice grinned and took another bite of her food. It didn’t taste as bad as it had moments ago.
They switched to talking about the upcoming literary gala. “Fingers crossed you meet some mysterious new man,” Scarlet said.
Alice laughed at that. “Not holding my breath. But I do hope I’ll see Marie Bostwick.”
“She’s worth twenty mysterious men,” said Scarlet. “You go ahead and keep Marie. I’ll look for a mysterious man.”
“I’m sorry you and Mark are still fighting,” Alice said. “He should be coming with you.”
Scarlet shrugged. “He should be doing a lot of things, but oh, well.” She downed the last of her drink. “Let’s go, sis. I’ve
got important things to do.”
“Like what?”
Scarlet smiled. “You’ll see.”
She did see when Scarlet texted her a picture the next day of what looked like a man’s old sneaker. Next to it sat a 3x5 card
with Be careful who you kick on the way up. You’ll see them on your way down printed on it. Be sure to wave at Alice and all the women you’ve messed with, Scarlet had written underneath.
This is getting mailed to Parker Black today, Scarlet texted and followed it with a string of laughing emoticons.
Alice giggled.
You made my day, she texted back. Where did you get the shoe?
One of Mark’s I found under the bed. Overlooked it when I was packing up his crap. I’d been after him for months to toss those
shoes. Too bad he’s not home to rescue them.
Poor Mark. But the shoe was pretty beat-up.
Gotta love the irony, Scarlet continued. She was obviously loving it.
Wipe all that down and wear gloves so you don’t leave fingerprints, Alice cautioned.
Already did, texted Scarlet. Even when handling the card. By the time I’m done messing with him he’ll be a meme—a dude on his knees, holding his shoe and
crying and begging for forgiveness.
It would never happen, Parker Black would never change his bad attitude or his equally bad ways, but it was a lovely fantasy.
If Alice was inclined to dwell on it. She wasn’t. She had plenty of perfect fictional men to dream about. Book boyfriends
were the best.
Parker dropped the old shoe on Jay’s desk. “Hey, what the heck?” Jay protested.
“Just a little present from another fan. Thought I’d share.” Parker flipped the card onto the desk.
Jay picked it up. His lips turned down as he read it. “Cute.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I need a break.”
“You need a break? Harlan just chewed my ass off about that meme.”
“Good. Did you take it down like I said?”
“Yeah,” said Jay, resentment in his voice. “I wasn’t going to, but her mom called and threatened to sue. Then Harlan found
out about it and got nervous. You’re right. Chicks rule the world these days and we’re all whipped.”
Parker heaved a sigh. “I’m gonna become a monk.”
Jay guffawed. “Yeah, I can see that happening.”
“Or at least move to a desert island.”
Except he already felt like he was on one. His love life wasn’t even in the toilet. It had been flushed. He kept telling himself
he liked the peace and quiet in his condo, enjoyed being able to eat what he wanted when he wanted, to sit around in his underwear
and read a book, to lounge on his deck and watch the waves kiss the beach at Alki. Play his video games, watch movies. Half
the men in America wished they were him. So why did being him feel so hollow?
“I should go on air and apologize,” Parker said.
Jay gaped at him. “Have you lost your mind?”
Only my peace of mind. “Hey, I can say I still stand by everything I said, but the meme wasn’t my idea and I’m sorry.”
“Oh, yeah, throw me under the bus,” Jay said with a scowl.
“You deserve to get flattened.”
“You’ll look like you’ve got no balls, man. You’re a sports talk host, a jock. Are you wanting to commit career suicide? Let
me look around. Maybe I got a sword you can fall on.”
Parker glared at him. Jay’s stunt had put both their butts in a sling. But Jay was probably right. To apologize would make
Parker look weak. Except he hadn’t been the one to put that meme up. He didn’t mind stirring the pot. It didn’t bother him
that women were pissed at him for having opinions. He was just telling things the way he saw them. But that meme had been
a low blow, and he hadn’t been the one to throw it.
“You know I’m right,” Jay said.
No, he wasn’t.
“Okay, maybe the meme was a misstep,” Jay admitted, “but guys are still into ranting about their woman troubles, and we need
the ratings, so don’t wimp out on me. Check with Stu. He’s found another book for you to read from tomorrow.”
There would be something else happening tomorrow before that.
The next day Parker went off script. “Hey, guys, you might have seen a meme going around featuring the woman I debated last
week. I need to set the record straight. I didn’t put that out there.”
He could see Arne’s eyes turning into golf balls and Jay looked ready to throttle him. Too bad.
He hurried on before Arne could mess with the board and silence him.
“I don’t hit below the belt, and whoever did this is something I can’t say on the radio, but I bet you can guess what it is.
Anyway, that’s not to say we don’t stand up for ourselves.
We don’t wimp out. Get in touch with your inner running back and toughen up, men. But play fair.”
“Real cute,” Jay said after the show had ended.
Parker shrugged. “I didn’t name names. Just trying to clear mine.”
“As if all the women who hate you now won’t.”
“I don’t care about all the women,” Parker said. “Just the one you screwed over.”
Jay squeezed out a laugh. “Oh, that’s rich, considering how you bloodied her.”
“In a debate. Big difference, dude, and you know it.”
Jay’s face was taking on a reddish tinge, so Parker let up on him. Jay wasn’t a bad guy. He’d gotten carried away with the
whole battle of the sexes thing. And maybe that was partly Parker’s fault.
“Hey, listen,” Parker said. “Some of this is on me. I know we want the ratings, but we don’t have to turn into the shit twins
here. Let’s back off a little. Maybe we can lighten up on the rants, turn it more fun. Things Mom always cooked that I hate,
honey-do’s I don’t want to do, ridiculous things my woman wants me to do with her, stuff like that.”
Jay half shrugged, not totally on board. Well, Jay wasn’t the one who’d been sent a stinkin’ shoe.
“Come on over Sunday and watch the game and we can brainstorm,” Parker suggested.
Jay nodded. No smile. He’d get over it.
“Meanwhile, go see the new M:I flick. You’ll feel better,” said Parker.
“Maybe.”
“Don’t pout or I’ll drag you to that fancy dinner I’m going to with my mom on Saturday.” Not his favorite thing to do, but
it was a big deal to his mother, so he went with her every year.
“The book people? No thanks. And stay away from the romance writers. They’ll be gunning for you.”
True. Fortunately, there would be other writers present at his mom’s table, including his uncle, who wrote men’s adventure
fiction. He always liked hanging with Uncle Jerome. It was a literacy fundraiser, so the cause was a good one, and, considering
the venue, the food was bound to be great, so the evening wouldn’t be a total wash. He wasn’t wild about wearing a tux—most
men he knew weren’t. Was that a chick-driven thing? Might make for interesting conversation on a future show. Anyway, he could
handle it for one evening.
And if the romance writer army was out in full force, hunting for his head, he’d have to handle that as well. He’d meant every
word he’d said in that debate. He stood by his position, and no woman toting a book with a couple of cartoon characters on
the cover was going to change his mind.
Alice did feel a little like Cinderella as she and her mother and sister entered The Ruins, a unique event venue in Seattle’s
lower Queen Anne neighborhood. One of mystique, it was the perfect setting for writers and literary giants to gather, featuring
all manner of sensory surprises, including an antique life-sized animatronic elephant built in 1931 for the Paris World Exhibition.
“Wow,” said Scarlet as they moved into the ballroom. “This is the kind of place where anything could happen. Do you feel it?”
Alice did, indeed. With its huge hand-painted mural and stage where a string quartet was playing, the ballroom looked like
a movie set. Here was a scene fit for a romance heroine. In a new red dress with winking red sequins. She almost laughed at
her whimsy. But a girl could dream.
Tables were set up with place cards and a hostess dressed like a fairy-tale princess escorted them to theirs.
Kay and George Oswald, a couple who owned a new bookstore in nearby Port Orchard, and Pam Laurel, a beloved author who had run the Northwest Romance Readers Conference for years, were already seated and happy to welcome them.
“Great to see you again,” said George, standing to greet them.
“Hello, darling,” said his wife, and hugged Nola.
“Your dress is fabulous,” Pam said to Alice. “You look lovely.”
A compliment to herself as well as her dress. Alice beamed. “Thank you,” she said.
“You all know Alice. And this is my daughter, Scarlet,” Nola said. “She’s my plus-one.”
“Scarlet, such a great name. I bet you have a trail of men following you everywhere you go, just like Scarlett O’Hara,” said
George the flatterer.
“Only a husband, but he’s not trailing me at the moment,” said Scarlet. “So, if you know any Rhett Butlers . . .”
“Oh, I think there might be one or two lurking around here,” said George, and his gaze turned to the group seated three tables
over.
Smiling, Scarlet looked that way.
So did Alice. Oh, no. Really?