Chapter 23
“Alice, it’s Parker.”
Alice’s caller ID had informed her she had an unknown caller. She half wished she didn’t know him, wished her mother had never
set these events in motion by accepting the challenge to that debate. Then Alice wouldn’t be stuck doing a radio program,
dodging verbal bullets like a duck in a shooting gallery.
She reminded herself that she’d survived her first day on air. John the angry listener had been a challenge, but after that
the calls had gotten kinder, more patient, and she’d even enjoyed herself a little. The men had been happy to explain the
basics of football and baseball to her. Two had offered to take her to a Mariners game that summer and one had offered to
teach her how to play pickleball.
“You’re already getting fans of your own,” Jerome had told her.
His words had encouraged her. So had some of the callers. But their kind words weren’t strong enough to push the angry ones
out of her mind.
“I figured it would be you,” she said to Parker. “Are you still at the store?” It was only five. He had an hour to go.
“Your mom let me out early for good behavior. Plus, I reminded her we still had to meet to plan for tomorrow’s show. Speaking of the show, how did it go?”
“It was okay,” she said.
“I heard your heckler,” he said.
“John? I think he’s a good example of why a lot of women would rather be alone with a good book than take a chance on a man.”
“Ouch. Tell me how you really feel.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That wasn’t very nice.” But then neither was Parker when it came to sharing his opinions.
“You’re right. You know, for someone who looks so sweet, you’ve got a hard edge to you.”
“I do?” She never thought of herself as having a hard edge. She certainly didn’t want to be hard-edged. That smacked of meanness.
“I don’t think I want a hard edge.”
“Well, at least a backbone of steel,” he amended.
That she liked.
“You ought to think about taking up boxing,” he teased.
“Why would I want to deliberately offer myself to be beat up? I’ve never understood the lure of that.”
“Hey, it’s all about strategy and proving your strength.”
And getting your brain knocked around and your body bruised. “Couldn’t you prove your strength by working for Habitat for
Humanity building houses?” she countered.
“You know, you’re a good debater when the pressure’s not on,” he said.
She supposed that was a compliment. “I prefer being around people who don’t like to argue. And, speaking of that, how was
your first day at the bookstore?” He would have found plenty of women willing to verbally spar with him there.
“It’s been a day. One woman brought me cookies; another hoped they were poisoned. I had two customers offer to buy me a book, and Bettina wants to stake me out in a desert where I can die of thirst and have buzzards pick my bones.”
That made her giggle. “Bettina is very loyal.”
“She’s also very scary. Oh, yeah, and Olivia Carson from KOMO was on hand to do her best to make me look like a fool. So,
I’d say the chicks won the first round today.”
“Boxing metaphor,” she said.
“We are duking it out,” he said.
The thought made her a little sad. What would it be like to talk with Parker Black with no agenda. What would it be like to
simply visit? Was he even capable of such a thing?
“We need to meet and talk about the program for tomorrow. How about dinner?” he suggested.
“Dinner,” she repeated.
“Hey, I’m not proposing a march through a patch of poison ivy,” he said, his voice light. More like a détente. “Come on, Alice,
I promise I’ll behave. And I’ll pay.”
Oh, no. “I don’t want to be one of those women you’ve talked about who takes advantage of men. I can pay for my own dinner.”
“One dinner is not taking advantage of me. Anyway, this is business.”
“But fair is fair,” she countered, “and I’m in business, too.”
“Okay, fine,” he said. “How about Anthony’s Pier?”
The restaurant on Seattle’s Elliot Bay waterfront. It would probably be pricey, but she’d use the company charge card. “Okay,”
she said.
“Six thirty?”
“Six thirty,” she confirmed. “See you there.”
“Good,” he said.
Good for business, but not good for her emotional state. Parker Black both unnerved and attracted her, and she wished he did
neither.
Why was he bothering to suggest dinner when they could simply meet at the bookstore again? Or talk on the phone. Dinner was for dates, and they weren’t dating.
“Why did you want to meet for dinner. Really?” she pumped him once they were at the restaurant.
They were seated by a window where they could watch the ferries gliding back and forth between Seattle and Bainbridge Island
or Bremerton. It was a setting for tourists, which they weren’t.
Or lovers, which they’d never be. Although a tiny part of her half wished he was a different kind of man and they could be.
How could a woman be out with a good-looking man and not let the thought pass through her mind? He’d shed his jacket to reveal
a crisp white button-down shirt paired with his jeans. He looked elegantly casual.
Well, so did she. She’d ditched her baggy pants for leggings and boots and a cute tunic top. His appreciative look when he’d
first seen her had boosted her confidence. Acting like a heroine, looking like a heroine. Becoming a heroine.
“Why not?” he countered. “We have to eat. And besides, I thought it wouldn’t hurt for us to get to know each other better.
Maybe we don’t have to be adversaries.”
A waiter appeared to fill their water glasses, followed by another who wanted to take drink orders. “White wine?” Parker guessed.
“Tonic water,” said Alice. “The quinine in it is good for your nerve endings.” And heaven knew hers were feeling frayed sitting
across from hm.
“You are full of surprises,” he said. “Jack Daniels, rocks,” he told the waiter. Then, to Alice, “I’m surprised you didn’t
order a sidecar.”
Starting the evening with an embarrassing memory. Was that some sort of strategy?
She frowned. “My sister suggested it. I thought it would be fun to try. I’m not a big drinker.”
“Your sister doesn’t sound like a very good influence,” he observed.
He was referring to the doctored picture, of course. “You really did have it coming,” Alice said.
“No, Jay had it coming,” Parker corrected her. “He was the one who came up with the meme, not me. Remember? I don’t know how
many more times I’m going to have to keep telling people that.”
Until they believe it? She cocked an eyebrow.
“I don’t want to be at war with you, Alice. I don’t want to be at war with anyone.”
“For someone who doesn’t want to be at war, you fire a lot of shots on your program,” she said.
“That segment is popular.”
“But you’re a sports show.”
She wasn’t an adversarial type of person. What was she doing here, verbally sparring with this man? Their drinks arrived and
she retreated into her glass of tonic water.
“I know. So I’m backing off.”
“I heard about the book your ex wrote,” she ventured.
He gave the ice cubes in his glass a thoughtful jiggle. “What I’ve been doing, it all started out as . . . I don’t know. My
own petty revenge, I guess. She was all over the internet, giving interviews, talking about her rotten ex-boyfriend who her
bad guy was based on. She made sure she got as close to describing me as she could, making him the rotten monster who was
a failed jock, who had a radio sports talk show. In Seattle. She stopped just short of saying, ‘And his initials are P. B.’
Sweet, huh?”
“It was a little vengeful.”
“A little? It was war. Anyway, I showed the piece of crap to Jay, and we came up with the bright idea of reading some of it on the show. None of the hockey stuff was right, so why not? Listeners loved it, so we read some more, made my point about romance novels. I ranted some, guys called in and ranted some, and next thing I knew I was doling out advice. As if I knew anything about women. As if I do now. As if I ever will,” he added bitterly, and downed more of his drink.
“Why was she so mad at you?” Alice asked. “A woman doesn’t go to all that trouble to get even for no reason.”
“Oh, she had her reasons. I was the one who broke things off and she couldn’t deal with it.” He held up a hand. “I know what
you’re going to ask next. Why? I’ll tell you. I got tired of her demands. I could never spend enough, do enough, be enough.
She once told me I should read some romance novels. Then I’d know how to be a real man and would know what pleases a woman.”
He shook his head. “I thought I knew, but there was no pleasing her. And frankly, from what I’ve seen and heard there’s no
pleasing any woman.”
“That’s not fair,” Alice said, forgetting to be nervous.
“Isn’t it? Come on, Alice, you work in a bookstore. Can you honestly say that your customers don’t want a man like the kind
they read about in those books? They’re all studs, they all know exactly what to say by the end of the book. Always have some
grand gesture to make.” Alice started to protest but he cut her off. “You forget I’ve read some excerpts on my show.”
“Poorly written ones,” she protested.
Their waiter appeared, interrupting the conversation.
“Give us a couple more minutes,” Parker said, and the waiter nodded and retreated.
“Men can’t do anything right anymore. I know there are cheaters and losers out there, I know there are guys still living in their mom’s basement, but to hear women talk on social media we’re all selfish and immature and controlling.
Heck, I’ve even seen some men out there, joining in and dissing the rest of us.
Maybe so they can get in good with all of you?
I don’t know. I heard one dude joke that marriage is a scam created by men.
Really? So, I guess after we go down on one knee and open the ring box then we turn from Prince Charming back into King Rat. ”
“I don’t know what to say to that,” Alice admitted. It had been a long diatribe, and she had no idea where to begin.