Chapter 18
Parker blinked as he stared at the computer screen featuring the poll Jay had created.
Should Men Boycott Cupid? Who’s With Me?
“Whoa, what’s this?” he demanded, staring at the heading.
“It’s a done deal, that’s what it is,” said Jay. “Look at how many men have already taken it.”
“Nice of you to run this by me,” Parker said with a frown. “We’re supposed to be a team. How come this is looking more like
the Barker show than the Parker show?”
“Because Parker needs help,” Jay said, returning his frown.
“I told you I want to get back to doing strictly sports from now on.”
“This isn’t the show. It’s a publicity for the show.”
“Uh-uh. Not doing it. No way.”
“You already got the ball rolling with the man-on-the-street interviews. You can’t stop it.”
“Oh, yes, I can,” Parker insisted.
“Ratings,” said Jay.
Ratings or not, the idea of it made Parker feel like a weasel. “Not doing it. Take it down.”
“You need to think about this,” Jay said.
“I have,” said Parker, and headed for the sound booth.
He kept the conversation strictly to sports during his show and ditched anyone Jay tried to get his screener to sneak in who
wanted to gripe about women.
Except the last caller, who supposedly wanted to talk about team spirit. Mark from Seattle. It sounded like the same Mark
who had cornered Parker outside the bookstore. No, couldn’t be. There had to be hundreds of Marks in Seattle.
“Mark, does that mean you’re joining us for spring training with the Mariners?” Parker asked after bringing him on.
“I am. I’m taking the money out of savings, and I don’t care what the wife says. I’m coming to your Saturday night bash, too.
And I’m volunteering to head up the Cupid Strike for Valentine’s Day.”
A big chunk of something leaden formed in Parker’s chest. It was the same rabid fan from the bookstore. Husband of the dreaded
Scarlet, brother-in-law to Alice. Trouble in the making.
“Uh, dude. That’s just a poll on the website.”
“Not anymore. It’s happening. We got a page on Facebook. Cupid Strike with—”
Not Parker Black. No way. Parker hit the shut him up button. “Guys, boycotting V-Day is not a good game plan.”
Now here was Jay, butting in. “Sure it is. Sometimes you have to go on the offensive.”
Parker always had a comeback for remarks like Jay’s. Why couldn’t he find one now?
“Think of all the money you’ll save,” Jay continued.
“But you gotta pay to play,” Parker said, his brain finally coming to life. That was all he had time for. The bumper music was starting. “Looks like our time is up. See you all tomorrow. Meanwhile, keep your head in the game.”
“You’re lucky I don’t knock yours off,” he said to Jay as soon as they were off the air. “You’re kicking the wrong hornets’
nest and we’re both going to get stung.”
“I’m trying to save our jobs,” Jay protested.
“The best way to save them is to stay out of the pink zone.”
“It’s all good. We’re just having a little fun on the side and boosting ratings.”
“It’s a bad idea and I’m not having fun,” Parker snarled.
“Well, lighten up.”
Jay’s phone dinged with a text. He read it and frowned. “Harlan’s office.”
Parker pointed a finger at him. “Now you’ve done it. You’ve gone too far.”
Sure enough. Harlan wasn’t happy. “Enough is enough. You two should have run this boycott idea past me before you made it
public.”
It was the perfect moment for Parker to say that he’d had nothing to do with this latest harebrained scheme, but, mad as he
was at Jay, he couldn’t throw him under the bus. How many times did this make that he’d pulled his producer off Danger Street?
He didn’t have a chance to get in a word anyway. “Poking fun at books, letting men whine about their women, offering fake
advice, that was okay, but this kind of thing is bound to make some of our sponsors nervous,” Harlan continued. “In case you
forgot, yours isn’t the only talk show on this station, and we don’t just sell advertising to Dick’s Sporting Goods.”
“But Parker’s your morning show, and we bring in the listeners,” Jay argued. “Well, lately. And this is what’s been bringing
them in.”
“I’m fine going back to sports,” Parker said firmly. “We’ve got the Super Bowl on Sunday. Plenty to talk about. I’ll get my uncle in again.”
“Good idea,” Harlan approved.
“It’s not gonna have the same spark,” Jay argued.
“The Super Bowl? Are you kidding me?” Parker said, irritated.
“Spark is one thing, losing sponsors is another. And, Parker, you’ve skated close to the edge a couple of times. At the rate
you’re going you’re going to cross the line and say something that will get us all in trouble.”
“Hey, I haven’t insulted women’s intelligence, just their taste in books,” Parker said, defending himself. “And there’s nothing
wrong with telling guys to grow a pair. But don’t worry. I’m not on board with a strike. I know it’s a bad idea.”
“Parker is every man’s hero right now. We need to ride that wave,” Jay argued.
“And drown,” Parker said. “Not doing it, and you should be glad I’m not, Harlan.”
“Then what are we gonna do for Valentine’s Day?” Jay protested.
“You two think of something,” Harlan said. “I’ve got a call to make.”
“Probably to his wife to tell her he was a good boy and told us to take down the poll,” Jay grumbled once they were out of
the office.
“That’s fine by me.”
“Now that you’ve messed up my plans, what are we gonna do for a show on V-Day?”
“Play some classic Parker. I’m taking PTO that day,” Parker said.
There. That would take care of that.
Except it didn’t. The poll didn’t come down because, according to Jay, Harlan never specifically ordered them to take it down, and the Facebook page blew up. Mark Warner, Parker’s Number One Fan, had the ball and was running with it. The Cupid strike was on.
“This is grounds for divorce,” Scarlet said when she came over to Nola’s to have dinner with her mom and sister. She turned
her phone so they could see.
There it was, the Cupid’s Day Strike with Parker Black Facebook Group. There was a collage of hearts, flowers and boxes of
candy, all inside red warning circles. And there was a picture of Parker, looking masculine and sophisticated. The man every
other man wanted to be. At least her husband.
“That man,” Scarlet continued. “I still can’t believe he’s Genevive Eden’s son. No wonder she’s kept their relationship hidden.”
“Let’s not go there,” Nola said. They’d already discussed Parker Black’s relationship with his mother, and the role Scarlet
had played in the bookstore’s embarrassment, and it hadn’t been a pleasant discussion.
“This is a new low even for him,” Alice said.
“And now he’s got Mark running the Facebook page.” Scarlet refilled her glass from one of the bottles of sparkling cider she’d
brought.
“Mark!” echoed Nola.
“He and some guy named Jay are the page administrators.”
“Well, no one’s paying Mark, you can be sure of it,” said Nola.
“Can they do that on Facebook?” Alice wondered.
“Yes. Trust me, I checked,” Scarlet said. “As long as there’s no hate speech.”
“It looks hateful to me,” said Nola.
“The wording is careful. ‘Tell Cupid what you think. Pass on the flowers and candy this year. Save on your restaurant bills. Take PTO. Join the picket line and join the fun. DM for the location. Beer at Otter on the Rocks after.’ And look, he added smiley faces.”
“Ugh,” said Nola, and reached for her glass.
“We should boycott Otter on the Rocks,” Scarlet said.
“No, we don’t want to punish any business,” Nola told her firmly, and frowned at her. “Besides, they probably aren’t sponsoring
it.”
“This is sick and wrong,” Scarlet grumbled.
“This is partly on you, Scarlet. Just like you did with Parker, you escalated the problem between you and Mark and now you’ve
created a monster.”
Her mother’s words stung. But she deserved them. “I should never have posted that picture and I’m sorry,” she said, her voice
teary. “I didn’t stop to think about how it would affect the store. But Mark is another matter entirely,” she couldn’t help
adding.
“He’s hurt and he’s being petty and immature,” Nola said. “Both of you are.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom.” Scarlet turned to Alice. “Do you think I’m being petty?”
“Well, maybe he shouldn’t have spent all that money,” Alice said.
“There have been shouldn’t-haves on both sides of the coin,” said Nola, stepping in. “For heaven’s sake, Scarlet, marriage
requires teamwork. When was the last time you two talked about working as a team?”
“All the time,” Scarlet insisted. “Until he started listening to that piece of pond scum on the radio.”
Mark hadn’t always been on board with all her ideas, but thanks to her they had a house.
What if they split? What would happen to the house? She couldn’t afford to keep it on her salary alone. And she’d wanted to start thinking about having a baby. Bad idea. She was already married to a baby. A big, stupid one.
“Anyway, I don’t know if I want to be a team with him anymore. He’s obviously not a team player.” Angry as she was, it hurt
to say those words. Where had the man she’d fallen in love with gone?
“I don’t think you’ve had the proper definition of teamwork in marriage,” Nola said.
“He hasn’t been very nice,” Alice said. At least someone understood.
“Neither has your sister. Cutting up the credit cards? Changing the locks on the door?” Their mother looked disgusted. “I
tried to keep quiet at first.”
She had? That was news to Scarlet.
“But you need to hear this, Scarlet. You’ve been controlling and so you shouldn’t be surprised that Mark reacted the way he
did. Yes, he behaved like a little boy, but your behavior hasn’t been any better, especially lately. You’ve been an emotional
bully. So why should you be surprised that he’s trying to find some way to reassert himself?”
Scarlet had endured her share of motherly lectures growing up, but never as an adult. So far Mom had gotten on her twice,
and the year had barely begun.
“What am I supposed to do, go grovel?” she demanded, tears filling her eyes. Mark was the one blowing up their marriage, not
her.
“Just stop and think. Ask yourself where you might have gone wrong instead of continually pointing the finger at Mark. You two fell hard and fast and you didn’t take the time you needed to really know each other and to make sure you were on the same page when it came to building a life together. It would be good to take the time now.”
“While he’s on strike,” scoffed Scarlet.
“Where there’s a strike there’s a negotiation. Turn the heat down on your temper and start thinking like a negotiator,” Nola
advised.
Scarlet frowned at her empty dessert plate.
“And ask yourself, do you want to be right or do you want to be happy?”
“Why can’t I be both?” Scarlet argued.
“Because no one is always right. Even you. Even me,” Nola added, her voice gentling. “I want to see you happy.”
“So do I,” said Alice. “I like Mark.”
“You don’t have to be married to him,” Scarlet muttered.
“Neither do you,” said Nola. “I guess you’re going to have to ask yourself how much you love the man and how much that love
is worth fighting for.”
“You still love him,” Alice insisted. Alice read too many of the books she sold.
Come to think of it, maybe so did Scarlet. But there were lessons to be learned in those books. Did she love Mark enough to
try and figure out how to negotiate a better marriage and a life together? She wasn’t sure.
One thing she was sure about. This strike was stupid. “Never mind Mark and me. What are we going to do about the strike?”
“What can we do?” Alice asked.
“We can take the high road. Let’s make our next podcast about how to show our men we love them,” Nola suggested. “Right before
Valentine’s Day. The timing will be perfect.”
“Meanwhile, they’ll be busy thinking how they can ruin the day,” Scarlet muttered.
“I’m willing to bet that the ones out there on strike will be either single or separated. No married man in his right mind will want to get involved in this,” Nola predicted. “And quit worrying about the strike, Scarlet. You have your hands full worrying about yourself.”
“It’s gonna be epic,” Mark predicted as the guys lounged around in his friend Steve’s man cave, loading up on more chips and
dip during Super Bowl halftime.
It was just the men, no twelfth women present, and the disappointing eats reflected that. He and Scarlet had hosted a Super
Bowl party the year before. She’d made a ton of food, everything from those little sausages in barbecue sauce to seven-layer
dip. It had been fun.
He veered away from the memory.
“I think you’re nuts,” Steve said as he dumped more chips on his paper plate.
“In other words, Krystal won’t let him,” teased James, another of their pals.
“Hey, I don’t want to end up with the locks on the house changed,” Steve said.
Mark scowled. “You’re whipped.”
“But I’m still getting some,” retorted Steve.
“Well, I’m joining,” said Nate, and grabbed another beer from the mini fridge.
“You can afford to join. You don’t have anyone,” Steve said.
Nate hadn’t had anyone for a couple of years. He’d gained some pounds and lost some hair and was currently looking for someone
online using a ten-year-old photo of himself. So far, none of his meetups had progressed beyond coffee.
“Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s a great idea,” said James. “I’ll still be paying for Valentine’s Day come Mother’s Day.”
“That’s my point,” said Mark. “We shouldn’t have to bribe our women to love us. They should love us for who we are.”
“I guess you’re not enough,” teased Steve.
“Real funny,” Mark said sourly.
Except it wasn’t. He was getting tired of hanging out in his folks’ basement, even though his mom was making his favorite
food for dinner and baking him molasses cookies.
His dad had told him he needed to talk with Scarlet and make things right. “Sometimes, a man has to admit when he’s wrong,”
Dad had said when Mark first showed up. Then he’d said, “You’re out of your mind, son,” when Mark announced that he was helping
organize Parker Black’s strike. “And in front of her sister’s bookstore? Bad location,” he’d added with a shake of his head.
“Go, make things right with Scarlet. Get your life back.”
Dad just wanted to be able to set the Ping-Pong table up again, so he was biased.
“We got a lot of guys on board with this. We’re up to a hundred members on the Facebook page,” he said.
“A hundred losers,” said Steve.
“This is gonna make the news,” Mark predicted.
“Then you’ll be a hundred famous losers,” Steve jabbed.
“It’s about time somebody took a stand,” said Nate.
Steve didn’t agree. “I know you’re trying to make a point to Scarlet but this ain’t the hill to die on.”
Steve was wrong. This strike was going to be great.
And Scarlet was getting nothing for Valentine’s Day.
His dad’s words floated back into Mark’s mind. Sometimes a man has to admit when he’s wrong.
Yeah, but Mark wasn’t wrong.