Chapter 20
Parker and Jay were back in Harlan’s office again. Two bad kids once more off to see the principal.
“What is wrong with you guys?” Harlan demanded, his face red with anger. “Didn’t we just discuss laying off on the woman bullying?”
He whacked his desktop with his pencil. “Now you’re in the news again. With the fizzled strike you look like a fool, Parker,
and the station looks foolish as well. Again. You’d better pray we don’t lose accounts over this.”
“I wasn’t even there,” Parker protested.
It was almost true. He had been there, just long enough to see the whole thing crumbling, then he’d scrammed. He’d been right
to not want anything to do with it.
“We can’t help it if some other guy ran with the strike idea,” Jay added, conveniently neglecting to share that he had been
involved.
“One of Parker’s fans, right?” Harlan argued.
“I’m not responsible for what my fans do,” Parker said.
“They did it in your name, and now you’re responsible for fixing this. What are you going to do?”
Resign. Run away. “How should I know?” Parker replied with a scowl.
“It needs to be interesting, and it needs to be lighthearted, all in good fun,” Harlan said. “And it can’t be damaging to
local businesses. If I thought it would help, I’d make you go around and buy out every florist shop in town.”
“Hey, there’s an idea,” said Jay.
Parker glared at him. “You gonna split the bill with me?”
Jay’s mouth slammed shut.
Parker rubbed the back of his neck where the muscles were corded and cramping. Harlan was right. They needed to do something.
His show that morning had been a disaster, with men calling in to brag and businesses calling in to demand where he got off
trying to ruin them. One flower shop owner had called in, suggesting that Seattle businesses boycott the station so Parker
could see how it felt. He hadn’t needed two guesses to know what flower shop that was. The one right down the street from
the bookstore would have taken a hit.
“Well?” Harlan demanded, beating his pencil on his desk.
Jay looked at Parker as if he could pull a rabbit out of a baseball cap.
He threw up his hands. “I don’t know.”
“It needs to be something where you pay for your crime, so to speak,” Harlan said.
“Me? Why me?” The strike had been Jay’s idea. Just like the meme. Maybe it was time for a new producer.
Jay, of course, was on board. “We can make it like Harlan said, something all in good fun.”
“Like the strike? Yeah, that was a good idea,” Parker sneered.
“How about this? You spend a week working in that romance bookstore and one of the women does your show,” suggested Jay. “A
trading places gimmick. People love stuff like that.”
“Do my show!” That was it. Jay had lost his mind completely.
“Yeah.” Jay smiled, warming to the idea. “Teach Parker a lesson.”
“I don’t need a lesson,” Parker snapped.
“Hmm.” Harlan’s pencil turned less violent as he considered the idea. “That could work.”
“Why don’t you just shoot me now and be done with it?” Parker grumbled. No one was listening.
“Put one of the bookstore ladies behind the mike and let her learn about sports,” Harlan suggested. “The young, cute one.
Listeners will love calling in to teach her. And she can dole out love advice instead of you.”
“I’ll lose listeners.” And what about his podcast? Was Alice going to be the new face of that? Parker crossed his arms over
his chest and glared at Harlan. “Not doing it.”
“You are if you want to keep your job,” Harlan informed him.
He’d have liked nothing better than to tell Harlan what to do with his job. Except, he didn’t have a book contract yet, and
he wasn’t ready to run off to the Caribbean and live in a shack, especially with spring training and all the perks that were
coming with it about to happen.
Spring training! “We can’t do this now. In case you forgot, I’ve got Mariners spring training to cover. When am I supposed
to fit in hanging out in a bookstore?”
“Before you go,” said Harlan.
“No time. I’m scheduled to be there next week.”
“Spring training goes clear into March, right?” said Harlan.
Here was proof that Harlan was not qualified to be program director. “So, I’m supposed to get there late, behind every other
sportscaster in the country? That’ll look good,” Parker scoffed. Harlan was about as clued in as a rock.
“You already don’t look good,” Harlan said.
“Arrangements have been made, you know that. I’m supposed to fly out Thursday. I’ve got opening day interviews, plus we’ve
got a party for the fans.”
“Put in your time Monday through Friday and we’ll get you out on Friday afternoon,” Jay said. “You’ll be there in time for
the party on Saturday night and be ready to do the show first thing the next week. Alice can take your place Monday through
Thursday. Then you two can do a wrap-up Friday morning before you leave.”
Alice. Why did it have to be Alice? They’d tortured her enough.
“She won’t go along with this,” Parker said. “Not after the debate going sour.”
“She will because she’s going to get a warm welcome here,” said Harlan.
“Not from my fans. They’ll eat her alive.” He’d already humiliated her enough.
“Yeah, the way they ate all those cookies when you tools sponsored that strike,” Harlan said.
“We do need to incentivize her,” said Jay.
“I’ll run it by Joe, but I’m sure we can offer the store a couple of spots.”
“Great idea,” said Jay. “Who turns down free advertising?”
“I’ll get back to you, then you can make the call and set it up,” Harlan told Jay. “And act like a good sport,” he ordered
Parker.
“Why don’t you just put me in a dunk tank in Westlake Center?” Parker grumbled.
“Hey, that could be fun,” said Jay, and Parker swore.
“At least we still got jobs,” Jay said once they were out of Harlan’s office.
Parker glared at him. “Yeah, well, one of us doesn’t deserve his.”
“Come on, I’m in your corner, and you should be glad. With what happened with the strike Joe’s been ready to can everyone
from Harlan on down. We need to make this work.”
“It won’t happen,” Parker predicted.
“I hope you’re wrong,” said Jay. “If it doesn’t, we will be unemployed.”
And Parker would be living as a monk in the Caribbean.
Nola and Jerome met for lunch at The Pink Door in Seattle’s Pike Place Market. She suspected he’d invited her to the Italian
American restaurant because of its elegant feminine décor. Its chandeliers and mauve tablecloths offered a charming touch.
It was a date disguised as a brainstorming session. The purported goal: to help Parker see the light.
“You can see he needs to,” Jerome finished after sharing his nephew’s love misadventures, including how he’d gotten burned
in a book by his vengeful ex.
“Yes, but he has a mom. He had you and your wife as an example of a good relationship, also, correct?”
Jerome nodded. “My wife was the best. And my sister’s amazing, as you know. Our generation’s off the hook. It’s just the
women his age he claims are the problem.”
“Oh, brother,” Nola said in disgust.
“It doesn’t take much to bias people,” Jerome pointed out. “Everyone loves to jump to conclusions. And I suspect in Parker’s
case that jumping’s been reinforced by getting more listeners. It’s cemented his conviction that he’s right. But that’s enough
of him. Let’s talk about you. What made you decide to open a romance bookstore?”
“I’ve always loved to read, especially romance novels, and I’ve worked in bookstores, so I knew I wanted to open one. I saw a growing demand for the genre, so it seemed the logical thing to do. After all, who doesn’t like a good love story?”
“On the page and in real life,” he said, and smiled at her.
Their food had just arrived when the call came in from Parker’s producer. “Mr. Barker,” she said, her words frosted, and Jerome’s
eyebrows raised questioningly. “To what do I owe the honor of a call from you?”
“I want to negotiate a truce,” he said.
“That’s interesting considering you and your crew tried to ruin my business on Saturday,” she said.
“I’m afraid one of Parker’s fans got carried away.”
And she knew exactly what fan that was. “But he wasn’t the one who came up with the idea, was he?”
“The station has found a way to make it up to you and your daughter and make Parker pay for his sins.”
This should prove interesting. “I’m listening.”
“We’re proposing that Parker spend a week working in your bookstore,” said Jay Barker. “He can get to know your readers and
have his views on romance novels proved wrong. Parker needs to see that romance novels can be an inspiration, for men as well
as women.”
Now, there was quite the sound bite. Nola wondered who had come up with it.
“That sounds interesting. Tell me more,” she said.
“Actually, we’d like him and your daughter Alice to trade places.”
“Alice!” Oh, no. No way.
“She’d be the logical one, since she was the one who debated him. He can learn about books, and she can host his show and
learn about sports. Of course, we will give you ad spots on the afternoon show that week in exchange as well as a spot in
the morning show when she hosts.”
“In exchange for my daughter getting verbally abused by Parker’s callers. I am not sending her into that lion’s den. You can have me if you like but not her.”
“Yeah, but, like I said, your daughter’s the one who debated him. She’s the one who confronted him in front of your store,
too,” Jay continued. “They’re rivals. And trust me, the one who’ll get abused is Parker. It’ll be great publicity for both
the station and your bookstore. A chance for Alice to undo some of the damage Parker’s done.”
“I’ll think about it,” Nola lied, and ended the call.
“What was that all about?” Jerome asked as she reached for a piece of bread.
“The station would like Alice and Parker to trade jobs for a week. She’d host his show, and he’d work in the store.”
“What do you think of that idea?” he asked.
“Your nephew could learn a thing or two about women,” Nola said. “He seems to have a habit of mashing us all into one ugly
lump.”