Chapter 17 #2
against me. My producer Jay and my sound engineer got together and did it. Jay thought it would keep things stirred up.”
“It was . . .” Mortifying. Hurtful. Simply remembering how horrified she’d been when she saw that image, saw herself turned
into a joke, made her want to cry. She shook her head and blinked hard, determined not to embarrass herself by crying in front
of this bully. But the tears were there, near the surface. She lowered her gaze so he couldn’t see.
He hesitated. “Look, I know some things have gone sideways, but I was never out to make an enemy of you, Alice.”
“I guess coming over and saying a few words proves that?” They weren’t even heartfelt, she was sure of it.
“Let me take you to lunch.”
She looked up in surprise. Lunch with Parker Black, like they were . . . friends.
That was ridiculous. “We have lunch,” she said, motioning to the back room. Thank heaven. He was a human Venus flytrap, not
to be trusted, not to be gone near.
And yet, what if all the rotten things hadn’t happened between them? What if they’d met at that fancy dinner before their debate, before she became a laughingstock. Before Scarlet got her revenge and he crashed the book signing? What if none of that had ever happened?
“Dinner then,” he persisted.
Dinner? That was worse than lunch. It was too . . . intimate.
Being intimate with Parker Black. Her heart gave a little skip, and her nerve endings started dancing like a racehorse ready
to run. Her body was all in. But then her body also considered it a good idea to overdose on Oreos.
“Don’t you think you owe me?” His voice was softer, teasing. It goosed up her heart rate.
“Owe you?”
“You did some internet damage, too,” he said. “You’ve got half the women in the country thinking I’m dating my mother.”
“That was my sister. She did it on my behalf, for revenge.” He frowned and Alice hurried on. “She didn’t know Genevive was
your mother. None of us knew.”
“These days I’m her dirty little secret.”
That was understandable. “Why do you hate women so much?” Alice blurted.
“Have dinner with me and I’ll tell you. And by the way, I don’t hate all women. Just the ones who are out to take down men.”
“Nobody here is out to take down men,” she said.
“No, here you just want to whip us into shape.”
“Do you need whipping?” she asked. Okay, that hadn’t come out right. She could feel her cheeks sizzling.
He gave her half a laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Well, then I hope you find someone willing to take on the challenge.”
It was the perfect parting shot, and for a second, she felt as if she’d channeled one of her fictional heroines. But that was all the channeling she was capable of. She turned to scurry to the back room.
“Alice, just because I think differently than you do it doesn’t make me a bad person,” he called after her.
She looked over her shoulder. “No, it doesn’t. But the way you act does.”
She almost added, “Thanks for stopping by,” then caught herself. She wasn’t thankful he’d stopped by, and she didn’t believe
his apology was sincere.
Her words left him momentarily speechless. There was a Parker Black phenomenon. She took advantage of it and speed walked
to the safety of the back room.
“Did you accept his apology?” her mother wanted to know when Alice plopped down at their little catch-all table, which was
currently piled high with ARCs and author swag. She and Bettina had started on their sandwiches, managing to squeeze them
in at the edge of the table along with cups of coffee.
“He didn’t mean it.”
“Of course, he didn’t,” Bettina said. “I hope you’re going to ban that creep from the store.”
“I doubt he’ll be back,” Nola said. “He’s done what he needed to and now we’re checked off the list.”
“Needed to do?” prompted Bettina.
Nola waved away her question. “Never mind.” She picked up an ARC from one of their favorite local authors. “Which one of you
would like to read this one?”
And that ended the conversation about Parker Black. Which was fine with Alice.
Parker fumed his way out of the bookstore. Once more a woman had put him in his place. Only this time he had it coming.
He’d seen the tears in Alice’s eyes at the mention of the meme. She hadn’t deserved what had happened to her. No wonder she didn’t want to go anywhere near Parker. He was poison.
But Alice’s camp had done a good job of smearing him, too. And really, what did he have to feel bad about? He’d won a debate.
He’d done a man-on-the-street interview, all part of the job.
He’d made Alice Willoughby cry. What had he turned into?
He texted his uncle, letting him know the appropriate apologies had been made. Unk could go chase after Alice’s mom with Parker’s
blessing. At least someone would be happy.
He went home, watched ESPN for an hour and finished up on his show prep for the following morning. Then he went to bed, closed
the door on all thoughts of Alice Willoughby.
But she returned to haunt his dreams. It would have been nice if she’d been all dressed up in that hot red dress, but she
wore a black judge’s robe and was seated high above him on the bench with a gavel in her hand. The end was heart-shaped.
“You’re a jerk,” she informed him.
“I am not,” he insisted. “I’m a wounded hero. Please, show leniency.”
He woke up. Wounded hero? What was he now, a character in a book? He shook off the dream, punched his pillow and went back
to sleep.
And there she was again. This time in nurse’s scrubs. And there he was, in a hospital bed.
“You’re dying inside. You need CPR,” she informed him.
She was going to kiss him. Yes! He held out his arms to welcome her as she approached the bed.
But instead of letting him embrace her, she began pushing on his chest and counting.
He woke up with a start and sat up. Aaaack!
Okay, that was it. He was not going back to bed.
It was almost time to get ready for work anyway. Work would be a welcome distraction, and he would not allow thoughts of Alice
Willoughby to follow him into the sound booth.
He was glad to be in the studio, his home turf. It was going to be a good day. Fresh start, new game, and he was feeling good . . .
until he and Jay finished going over show notes and Jay sprang his newest brainchild on Parker. Oh, no. No, no, no.