33. Parker
33
PARKER
N ow that we’re back in the city, all I can think about is the fact that in two short days, our contract with Thrive is officially up, which means I can scream that Dylan is my girlfriend from the rooftops. We’ve been texting from sun up to sun down, and we’ve done a good enough job of keeping this whole thing under wraps that Katherine doesn’t expect a thing, which means she can’t make Dylan’s life a living hell–more than she already has.
I kickstart my computer for the day and immediately open my emails because today is one of the biggest days of my career so far since moving to New York. Not only did the book tour go incredibly well, but the last I heard, Evelyn’s books were flying off the shelves.
I see an email at the top of my inbox from our contact at The New York Times with the subject “IMPORTANT” bolded in all caps. I’ve been waiting for this email every day this week, and the anticipation makes me fidgety. I click a nearby pen repeatedly, needing to do something with my hands. If this email says what I think it says, my career is about to change for good .
I hesitantly click open the email and scan it as quickly as possible. Sure enough, it’s exactly what I was expecting. Evelyn made it on the New York Times’s Best Seller list. With nearly 15,000 copies sold within the first week of release, we did it. We fucking did it.
I push myself out of my chair, not bothering to close my laptop, and run briskly to Blake’s office. I shove the door open, unconcerned if he’s busy, and find him on the phone, feet up, ankles crossed on his desk–his usual stance.
His eyes flick up to mine, and I mouth, “Hang up.”
“Hey Ryan, something important just came across my desk. Do you mind if I give you a call back later this afternoon?” He pauses for the person on the other end of the line to speak. “Sounds great. Talk soon.”
He hangs up the phone and sets it down on his desk.
“What’s so important?”
“Check your email.” I shuffle from foot to foot in excitement, knowing I get to be here when he sees the news. He clicks through his computer, and I can see his eyes scanning the words in front of him. When he looks back in my direction, there’s a gleam in his gaze.
“You fucking did it, man.”
He stands up from his chair, strides over to me, and wraps me in a hug, patting me on the back. Because I was never close with my parents or siblings, Blake’s opinion has always mattered to me more than anyone else’s. We’re close in age, but all I’ve ever wanted to do was make him proud the same way you would an older brother.
He may have his flaws, but he has a good head on his shoulders–especially when it comes to business. He took a chance on me in California, and he’s the reason I have this job here in New York, so I owe him more than I’ll probably ever be able to repay him.
“I’m proud of you.” He pulls away with a genuine grin, telling me he means every word of his praise. I return the smile, unable to stop the expression as I hear the words I’ve desperately wanted to hear for most of my life.
“Thanks, man. Feels pretty damn good.”
“I’m sure it does. You know what this means.” His face morphs into a mischievous smirk, and I dread the second half of that sentence. Any time he gets that look, I know that there’s going to be far too much alcohol involved, and I will be paying the price tomorrow.
“Do I?” I groan. Deep down, this is one of the few times that I can’t wait to go celebrate and have a couple of beers. I’ve worked hard these past couple of months, and it feels good to know that it all paid off. Not to mention the fact that now I no longer have to hide being with Dylan…which reminds me that I need to tell Blake the news of our relationship.
I’ve been dying to tell him, but I wanted to do it in person to see his reaction. I imagine there’s going to be a “happy for you, man” and “so, did you fuck her yet?” involved.
I love Blake and value our friendship immensely, but I can’t wait to call Dylan and tell her the good news. There’s something about knowing that I get to talk to the woman I love about the good things that happen in my life that make them that much more worthwhile. Sharing your triumphs with someone who matters to you is far better than experiencing them alone.
“Of course you do. We’re taking the day off, and we’re getting drunk.”
And there it is.
“I don’t know how you do it.” I shake my head in disbelief.
“Do what?”
“Work so damn hard and still manage to party like you’re in college.” I mockingly look around the room. “How are we going to manage to get out of work early without drawing too much attention to me? ”
“Have you forgotten who I am? I practically run this place. Besides, it’s not going to matter soon anyway.” Blake’s retort is cocky yet vague, and I don’t miss how his body straightens at the mention of work. There’s something he’s not telling me, but I leave it alone for the time being. I’m not letting anything bring the mood down.
“That’s exactly what I mean,” I mutter under my breath, ignoring the shift in the mood.
He shuts his laptop from across his desk, grabs his phone, shoves it in his pocket, and throws an arm around my shoulders. “Sean’s?”
After being out of the office for the past couple of weeks, I have about fifty emails to respond to, but my mouth waters at the idea of grabbing a Guinness and fish n’ chips from our favorite local Irish pub.
“Is there any other option?” I quip.
“That’s what I like to hear.”
With that, we’re gone without a single person lifting their head in our direction as we go.
With my third pint of beer in front of me and basketball on the TV, I’ve never been happier to be out of the office. I love what I do, don’t get me wrong, but what more could you ask for on a Wednesday afternoon? Especially when you just finished up with your biggest client to date.
I take a long drink of my beer, and the delicious, ice-cold drink, which has made my brain a bit fuzzy, makes me temporarily forget all that Blake and I have to talk about. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I know without looking that it’s Dylan finally getting back to me. I didn’t want to break the news to her over text, so I texted her as soon as I was walking out of the office, letting her know that I had some exciting news to share with her over dinner tomorrow.
I glance over at Blake, sitting beside me at the nearly empty bar. He’s on his fourth beer, and I swallow my concern over the alarming rate he’s throwing them back. In the years we’ve been friends, I’ve seen him hammered more than I can count. But he’s also not the kind of guy to toss back beer after beer in the middle of a workday.
“I have something to tell you,” I announce.
He tears his eyes away from the television and rests his head on his hand, which he’s got propped up with his elbow on the bar.
“Lay it on me.”
He takes another large gulp, and I wince. When he sets the glass down, I do my best to discreetly pull it toward me, away from his grasp. If he notices, he doesn’t mention it.
“I asked Dylan to be my girlfriend on tour.”
“Hell yeah! I’m so happy for you, man.” His eyes are glazed, but there’s a trace of enthusiasm. “So Operation-Get-Dylan-Back is officially complete then, huh?”
I stare down at the brown and black spotted marble counter of the bar and wipe my thumbs across the condensation of my glass. I smile to myself like an idiot.
“Yeah, it is. I’ve never been happier.”
“I bet. I know how much this girl drove you crazy for years. I hope you guys have a long, happy, healthy life together.”
I raise my brows at his authenticity. Unfortunately, the moment doesn’t last too long before he asks, “So does this mean that you guys fucked?”
I sigh and chuckle to myself at how spot-on my prediction of his response was. My laughter trails off when I think about just how right I was. Thinking about how he views women as objects leaves me feeling deflated. As if the only reason a man would get into a relationship in the first place was so that he could sleep with her any time he wanted.
“I don’t kiss and tell,” I reply, taking a swig of the last dreg of my beer.
He rolls his eyes and swiftly grabs for his, leaving me no time to stop him. He downs the last of it and wipes his mouth. “That means yes, but if you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll respect it.” He throws his hands up in an act of surrender, and I’m thankful he doesn’t push me on the subject.
I’ll tell him almost everything, but the days of talking about my bedroom activities like they’re conquests are long gone.
“What did you mean when you said that it’s not going to matter that you’re leaving work in the middle of the day earlier?” I grill him, changing the subject and putting the spotlight on him before he can ask me any more questions that will make me question our friendship.
He chews on his lower lip and runs a hand through his hair. He doesn’t break eye contact with the TV hanging above the bar, but I can see him mentally bracing to drop whatever bomb he’s been withholding from me. I inhale deeply, steeling myself for the conversation that I know is going to put a damper on the entire day.
“I’m leaving Blue Bird. I put my notice in with the higher-ups yesterday.”
“What do you mean? You’ve only been here for a little over a year, and you’re one of the top editors.” My head is swimming at the news, though the beer isn’t helping either. I’ve been here for months and am just now finding my rhythm. One of the reasons I moved to New York was because I knew we’d get to work together. What was the point if he left me before I could make my mark with the company?
“I know. That’s why I’m starting my own company, and I want you to come with me as my second in command.”
I whip my head toward him. “What?!”
“Between the work I did in California and the connections I’ve made here in the city, I’ve got enough work that will follow me once I go. I’m tired of being someone’s bitch. It’s time to work for myself, and there’s no better time than the present.” He smiles boastfully, and the offer sobers me up in seconds.
I desperately wish I had another beer right now, but I need to stay clear-headed. I turn in my chair to face him, and I can tell by his expression that there is no convincing him otherwise. The decision has been made, and now the ball’s in my court. I am in no way, shape, or form in the headspace to make a choice this big right now.
“Can I take a couple of days to think about it?”
He slaps his hand across my back, and I do my best to hide my slight flinch at the pain. With the drinks in his system, he underestimated his own strength, and that hurt like hell.
“Of course, but I hope you make the right choice.”
I grimace at his words, and suddenly, all I can think about is texting Dylan. So much for having a great day.