Chapter 22 #2
and it had been put on the station’s website and blown up to take temporary residence on the side of several buses tooling
around town. How on earth that had been managed on such short notice and how much it had cost she couldn’t begin to imagine.
“I’m here to learn about the world of sports,” she said. “I hope you’ll all help me.” She smiled gratefully at Jerome. “And
I’ve got Jerome Riddle, football star, with me today to help out when what you want to talk about goes over my head.”
He leaned into his mike. “Glad to be here, Alice. And while we’re here, Parker is over at Alice’s bookstore, HEA Books in
West Seattle, getting up close and personal with more of those books he’s been reading on air. He might just find one or two
he likes.”
That would be the day. “So go in and say hi,” Alice couldn’t resist adding.
Then returned to script. “Starting Saturday, Parker will be in Peoria, Arizona, where I understand he will be partying with many of you Mariner fans who are coming down for the beginning of spring training. And I believe spring training goes clear through March. Correct, Jerome?”
“Yes, it does,” said Jerome.
“All you listeners know what spring training is for. Can some of you call in and enlighten me?” she asked. She’d already done
her homework, and she knew exactly what spring training was for. But this was a gambit designed to get listeners involved.
It was working. The lines lit up.
“Cool that you’re here,” said someone named Gerald.
“I’m happy to be here,” she lied. “What can you tell me about spring training?”
“It’s to get players in shape mentally and physically for the season,” Gerald explained. “And it builds team chemistry. You
gotta be able to work together.”
“Thanks, Gerald. That makes perfect sense. Are you going down for any of the exhibition games?”
“No. Wish I was. The wife insisted on spending the money replacing our carpet.”
It didn’t take a Sherlock Holmes to detect the bitterness in his voice. What would Parker do? Probably commiserate with him,
tell him how selfish his wife was to demand new carpet. But Parker wasn’t there.
“Well, that’s too bad the budget wouldn’t stretch to do both. What a great husband you are to give up a trip to a spring training
game to improve your house.”
There was a moment of silence on the line, followed by a reluctant, “Well . . .”
“I wonder if you might be able to negotiate a trip next year. Maybe your wife is like me and needs to learn about the game.
I bet you’re just the man to teach her.”
“I do know a few things. Coached our son’s Little League team when he was a kid.”
“Well, there you have it,” said Alice. “I hope you two can start a fund for that trip. Meanwhile, I bet you . . .” Was there a sports metaphor she could bring in here? “I bet you’ve hit a home run by supporting her on getting the carpet.”
“Yeah, I did.” She could hear the smile in his voice and see one on Jerome’s face, and she, too, smiled. Home run.
Parker was listening to the show before heading out the door to the bookstore. He had to smile, hearing Alice’s response to
her first caller. Well done. Alice Willoughby was a smart one, and able to think fast on her feet.
So why had she wilted in their debate?
A fresh call came in, this one more hostile. “I don’t know whose idea this was, but it was a lame one,” said the caller. “This
chick knows squat about sports and you guys have got her in here hosting a sports show.”
“Hey now, how do you know that?” Uncle Jerome demanded. Go Unk.
“She said she’s here to learn and that means she doesn’t know squat. Did you ever play sports in high school, Alice? Run track?
Girls’ volleyball?”
“I’m afraid not,” Alice said.
“So, you’ve done nothing, and you know nothing, but here you are. Hey, Alice, is Parker really even at your store or have
you got him tied up in a basement somewhere?”
“Umm,” said Alice.
Parker could envision her face turning red.
“You don’t have an answer for that, do ya?” taunted the caller.
“Say something,” Parker urged. She was shutting down, just like she had in their debate.
So that was the deal. Alice could hold her position until the bullying started. Then she lost her mental strength. But he hadn’t bullied her during their debate. He’d just been pushing his point home.
Just like this caller. There was an unwelcome comparison.
Uncle Jerome stepped in and stopped the guy’s tirade. “Okay, you got us. We have Parker stashed in Alice’s basement. He’s
handcuffed to the radiator and is being forced to read romance novels. You found some good ones for him this time, didn’t
you, Alice?”
“I did,” she said, recovering. “I could recommend one to you, John, if you’re interested. Let’s trade. You tell me a good
sports movie to watch, and I’ll tell you my favorite novel that features a football player.”
No answer. “Looks like we lost John,” said Jerome. “How about it, guys? Got a recommendation for a good sports movie Alice
should watch?”
Next came Jay’s voice. “Lots of calls coming in, Alice. Looks like you’re going to be busy the next few nights.”
She’d be busy with Parker. They had to talk about programming for the show. Maybe they needed to watch a movie, too. And if
he hadn’t been such a jerk to her maybe it would have been easier to apologize for listeners like the one she’d just had to
deal with. Why couldn’t men and women get it right?
He supposed he was about to be told.
Yep, he was. He arrived at the bookstore right as it opened to find his welcoming committee—Nola Willoughby and an older woman
with steel-gray hair and steely eyes, the same one he’d encountered at his mother’s book party. Yeah, this was going to be
fun.
“Are you ready for your first day?” Nola asked, giving him a smile that should have accompanied an evil witch’s cackle.
He refused to be intimidated. “Bring it on,” he said.
“All right. Let’s teach you how to work the cash register,” she said.
The other woman said nothing, just glowered at him.
“Oh, by the way, this is Bettina. If I’m not around she’ll be happy to answer any questions you might have.”
More like happy to clobber him with a book. He nodded and followed Nola to where the cash register stood.
The little bell over the door tinkled, jangling his nerves, and in walked a plump woman holding a container of something edible.
“Hi, Georgia,” called Nola.
“Thought I’d bring your volunteer some goodies,” said the woman called Georgia.
“Are they poisoned?” he joked.
The woman laughed. “No. We’re much more subtle here in Romance Land. We’re going to kill you with kindness.”
“Some of us are,” muttered Bettina.
Yep, it was going to be a long day.
Another woman came in shortly after the cookie lady. She looked to be in her forties. “Had to stop by and get a picture for
my blog,” she said. She pulled a phone out of her purse and aimed it at Parker. “Say chocolate.”
“Chocolate?” What happened to cheese?
She checked the picture, and her smile looked as evil as Nola Willoughby’s. “Oh, that’s a good one. I’ll put it on Insta and
label it Clueless in Seattle. So, what do you think you’re going to learn in all this?” she asked Parker.
“Maybe that women aren’t as manipulative and mean as I’ve been led to believe,” he replied, determined to sound open-minded.
“But I’m not holding my breath,” he couldn’t help adding.
“Oh, he’s a cute one, isn’t he?” the woman mocked. “Well, girlies, good luck in your mission.” She pointed to the container the woman named Georgia was holding. “There you are, being mean again, Georgia. Does Bill know you’re being mean to other men besides him?”
“I left a plate of mean behind for him,” said Georgia, straight-faced.
Great. Now they were mocking him.
Just like he’d mocked their books. Yeah, this was fun.
The women began to chat about some novel featuring an heiress and a cowboy, and Parker slipped away to a quiet corner of the
store to call Jay and see how Alice was doing. It was a commercial break. He’d have a minute to talk.
“She’s had a couple of callers out to get her,” Jay said, “but for the most part, she’s holding her own. Jerome’s helping.”
“Tell Mason to screen those calls better. Harlan will kill us if they crucify her,” said Parker. And he’d hate himself. He
didn’t want to bring any more misery into Alice’s life.
“Hey, I’m trying. A couple just sneaked by me.”
“Tighten your defense,” Parker snapped.
“They can’t all be nice. It’ll look rigged.”
Parker gave a snort of disgust and ended the call.
Just in time to hear a woman ask, “So where’s our famous woman hater?”
Oh, no. The world of media in Seattle was a small one, and he knew that voice. He peered around the bookshelf.
Sure enough, there stood Olivia Carson in all her perfect hair and makeup glory, dressed and prepped for an interview. Or
a public shaming.
“He’s around here somewhere,” said Nola Willoughby. “Parker, where are you hiding?” she called.
He wished he could find a place to hide. He came out in the open. “I’m here. Busy working.”
“So, Parker, got time for a chat?” purred Olivia. More like, Got time for a public whipping?
“Sure, Olivia. Bring it on,” he said.
Two minutes later she had a microphone stuck in his face and was peppering him with questions. The strike had failed. (No
time allowed to rebut that.) Had trading places with one of the bookstore owners been his idea?
His team thought it would be fun. (Yeah, fun.)
Was he finding the women he was meeting as demanding and unrealistic as he claimed women were?
Time would tell. (Hopefully, they wouldn’t skin him alive.)
Did he think he’d end up changing his mind about romance novels?
Probably not. (He wasn’t going to lie.) How did it feel to be surrounded by women?
More like hostiles, he thought, but he smiled and joked, “Just here to give them a chance to study a real-life man.”
“That’s bound to be interesting,” Olivia joked back. “So, Parker Black, KWOW’s favorite sports personality turned shock jock,
is learning to be a good sport right here at HEA Books in West Seattle. Only time will tell if he masters it,” she concluded.
She smiled for the camera and the women giggled and Parker wished he’d stayed behind the bookshelf. And it wasn’t even noon
yet.
It was going to be a long day.
It was, indeed, a long day. Parker was alternately lectured and scolded. And recommended books to read that would enlighten
him. Two of them were by his mom. By the time Nola set him free—early, thank God—he felt like he’d been trampled by elephants.
All he wanted to do was go home, shower and flop on the couch.
But he had a show to plan. And a woman to plan it with. And he felt like he needed to apologize for how she’d been treated on his show that morning by some of his listeners.
He called Jay, who he knew had Alice’s contact information. “I need Alice’s number. We’ve got to meet and talk about tomorrow’s
show.”
“I’ve already prepped her so you can beg off if you want.”
“No, we’re supposed to meet.” He needed to meet, needed to make sure she was okay, that no further damage had been done.
“You want me to be your wingman?” Jay offered.
The last thing he wanted was Jay around to see him choking on humble pie. “I can handle it.”
“Okay,” Jay said. “Sending it now. Let the games begin,” he joked.
Parker didn’t laugh.