12. Parker
12
PARKER
BABY GOT BACK
“So,” Anya said, leaning an elbow on the table between us. The overhead lights caught the highlights in hair—deep indigo with shots of magenta. Almost as vivid as her personality. “What’s new with you? What did you get up to while I was gone?”
I pulled my tea mug closer to me and wound the string around my finger. Anya had just returned to Port Agnes from Chicago this morning, and, true to her word, she’d swung by my apartment on her way home to scoop me up for brunch.
“Oh, no,” I said as I dunked the teabag into the steaming water. “I want to hear about Chicago. How was Mom?” I didn’t meet Anya’s eye, instead watching my tea grow darker. It was an evasion tactic, sure. But the whole Halle/Gigi thing felt more like an over-drinks conversation. Not the kind of thing you talk about over brunch.
Anya lifted a dark brow, as if she could see right through me. Which, she probably could. My big sister read people like comic books. “Chicago was good.” She reached for the plate between us, piled with bacon. We’d ordered a double side to split, along with our own stacks of pancakes. Mine with peanut butter, hers blueberry. “Got a lot of questions about the next issue.” She grinned. “They have no idea what they’re in for.”
I smiled back, pride warming me from the inside out. My sister was a powerhouse talent. Her artistry and storytelling astounded me long before I ever found the guts to reach out and form a relationship on my own. I’d forever be thankful for the day she answered my call thinking I was her best friend. She would have avoided my calls forever, otherwise. And we never would have made it here.
Here being Big Richards, a new brunch place, on a Thursday afternoon, sharing breakfast and life stories.
My heart ballooned in my chest and I smiled across the table.
“What are you looking like a goober for?” she asked around a mouthful of bacon.
I shook my head and picked up my fork. “Nothing. Just…happy we’re here.”
Anya’s face softened. Wiping her fingers on a napkin, she reached across the table and gave my free hand a squeeze. “Me, too, Parks.” She picked up her fork and stabbed her pancakes. “Mom, on the other hand…” She shook her head, lifting a bite to her lips. “She spent half the time she was at the con staring wide-eyed at every half-naked cosplay she saw, and the other half asking about you.”
I winced. “Sorry. She’s probably spiraling because I put a limit on how much she can text and call me.”
“Oh, I heard all about it.” Anya smirked. “Proud of you for that, by the way.”
I warmed at her praise. “Thanks.” It’d been hard to set that boundary with my mom, who had historically been super hover-y and over-protective. Probably to make up for her lack of involvement in Anya’s childhood.
“Other than that,” Anya continued, “we did…kind of have fun?” She looked just as baffled as she sounded. “She was my plus-one at the ball on Saturday night. Wore a costume and everything.”
“Get out .” I leaned forward, propelled by shock and fascination. “Pictures. Now.”
Laughing, she picked up her phone and found what she was looking for. I had it out of her hands before she could even hold it out to me.
“No way,” I said, staring at the photo before me. Our Mom stood tall next to Anya, who had not worn a costume, in a gosh darn Wonder Woman outfit. And, even more shocking? She looked happy .
I looked up at Anya, awed. “How did you convince her to do this?”
“I didn’t.” She took her phone back and put it aside. “She volunteered.”
“Holy crap,” I murmured, disbelief rendering me incapable of more words.
“Parks, if anything calls for an actual swear word, it’s our mother in cosplay.”
At that, I laughed, and, after a second, Anya joined in.
“So,” Anya said after once we recovered. “What have you been up to while I was gone?”
“Oh, you know.” I kept my eyes down as I cut a bite of pancake. “The usual. School, work. Nothing exciting.”
As I said it, a voice in my head sang the childhood song about liars with their pants on fire. And then my face burst into flames.
“Uh huh.” Anya straightened in her seat, pancakes forgotten. “Wanna try that again? Your face said your mouth was lying.”
I glowered her way. “My face said no such thing.”
A smirk curved her lips. I looked away. “Out with it, baby sister.” She leaned in. “Or I’m gonna ask Aunt Laura to send me the picture she has of your naked little baby butt running through the sprinklers and hang it in the bar.”
My jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t.”
She shrugged. “I might.”
“You’re evil.”
“Sometimes evil is the most effective route.” She reached for her phone and poised a finger over the screen. “What’s it gonna be, baby butt or hot goss?”
“Okay, okay!” I leaned over the table to grab her phone. She pulled it out of reach. “Fine, I’ll tell you.”
A satisfied smile spread across her face. She sat her phone down and settled into her seat, propping her chin on a fist. I’m waiting, her green eyes said.
I sighed a sigh so long I felt like a deflated balloon. “You know the band that plays at Heathcliff’s the last weekend of every month?”
“Sure,” Anya said. “Tommy Pickles”
“Patti Mayonnaise,” I corrected, “yes. Anyway.” I shifted in my seat, a sudden bout of nerves in my stomach. “I sort of…haveacrushonthedrummer.” I ran all the words together in a mumbly stream of syllables and stared hard at the glistening syrup on my pancakes. My face heated, and I just knew I was bright red to the roots of my hair.
There was a beat of silence across the table that could not be softened by the sounds of the restaurant around us. I looked up in time to catch the dawning realization on Anya’s face as it hit her. This new piece of information about the sister she was still getting to know. My bisexuality wasn’t a recent revelation. I’d known it since middle school. I just…hadn’t told many people in my life. Now Anya knew.
And…it felt right.
Finally, Anya nodded, information absorbed and processed. “She’s hot,” she said. “I don’t blame you.”
“Oh, my god. Right?” I leaned in, my grip tightening on my fork. “ So hot. Her hair, and her arms, and her dimples ? Gah.”
Anya grinned. “So, have you talked to her?” She gasped, another thought hitting her. “Have you done more than talk to her?”
In my brain, the one interaction I had with Halle replayed in slow-motion. The way her friendly smile vanished when I opened my mouth. Mortification slithered through me anew.
I sank back, groaning. “I can count the exact number of words I have said to her.” I held up my hands to count. “I. Think. I’m. Going. To. Barf.”
The shock on Anya’s face would have been funny if it weren’t at my expense. Her eyes went so wide I could see the entirety of her pupils. “Parks,” she said in hushed tones. “You didn’t.”
I nodded, lips pressed together. “I did.” Wincing, I added, “And then I ran away and hid in the bathroom.”
“Oh. Oh, honey.” She reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. “My poor, sweet, awkward baby sister.”
“I know.” I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back a shudder. “It was so bad. So, so bad.” Exhaling a quick breath, I shook away the shame. “But all hope is not lost. Gigi is helping me—”
“Gigi?” Anya’s eyes narrowed in on my face like lasers. “Vaughn’s Gigi?”
I nodded and kept talking. “She’s teaching me how to flirt, so that next time I talk to Halle, I’ll be able to form an actual sentence that isn’t about my vomit. So far, we’ve only had one lesson, but I think—”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Anya lifted her hand to halt my soliloquy. “Gigi is helping you do what ?”
“Flirt.” I lifted a shoulder. “She introduced me to Halle, then I think she felt bad about how awfully it went. And, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen her flirt, but she’s good. Like, really good. If anyone can make me less awkward when talking to pretty girls, it’s her.”
“Huh.” Anya sank back in her chair, an unreadable expression on her face. “This is an…interesting development.”
I dug my fork into my pancakes. “I’m not hoping for a miracle,” I said, lifting a bite to my lips. “I’m just hoping to say hello without getting nauseous.”
A silent laugh left my sister. Shaking her head, she dug into her own stack. “I kinda wish I’d been there,” she said. “Not that I take pleasure in your mortification, but…”
I winced. “I thought I was going to burst into flames on the spot. Kinda wish I had, honestly.”
“Oh, come on. If you’d gone up in flames, you’d have never gotten to tell me the story. Which means I never would have gotten my very first humiliating story to bring out at family Christmases.”
My mouth fell open. “No,” I said, already wishing for a deep, dark hole to crawl into just thinking about it.
Anya grinned, her green eyes sparkling with laughter. “Come on, Parks. Have a little faith.”
“You’re the worst.” I stabbed my breakfast with more force than necessary. No one had warned me about this part of having a sibling.
My demonic sister laughed as she dug into her food in earnest. We ate in silence for a bit, enjoying the deliciousness of Big Richard’s breakfast.
As we neared the end of our meals, Anya spoke again. “So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?” Wiping her fingers on her napkin, she added, “Vaughn is in class till seven, so I’m all yours.”
We locked eyes, a silent answer transferring in the space between us. At once, we both said, “ Supernatural marathon.”
The series had become an instant common ground for us when we began building our relationship. Over the last few months, we’d made it through all fifteen seasons together, and were about halfway through our second watch now.
Laughing, I thanked the waitress as she cleared our plates away and dropped the check on the table. “Your place or mine?”
“Mine.” Anya pulled her wallet from her messenger bag and dropped some bills on top of the check.
I smirked at her. “You just want to be there when Vaughn gets home, so you two can be all disgustingly cute together.”
She glared as she stood. “Vaughn and I are a lot of things, but cute is not one of them.”
“Sure, sure.” I stood, too. “Whatever you say.” Starting toward the exit, I glanced behind me. “But you’ve never seen your face when he walks into the room.”
“Have you seen him, though?” She walked through the door I held open, and I followed. “Even when I hated him, I wanted to fuck him.”
“Oh, I know.” I quirked a brow at her. “We all knew.”
And it was true. Everyone within a ten-mile radius of Vaughn and Anya saw the sparks between them, long before either admitted it to themselves. Stubborn asses, the both of them.
“Fuck off,” she laughed, giving me a light shove. “Just for that, I’m hanging the baby butt picture up anyway.”
I skidded to a stop. “Anya,” I said as she kept walking. “please tell me you’re kidding.” She threw me a grin over her shoulder, which did nothing to reassure me. “Anya!”
“Season seven can rot in hell.” Anya aimed the remote at the TV, bringing an abrupt end to the heartbreaking scene playing out on the screen. Her eyes were bright with tears I pretended not to notice.
“You’re not wrong.” I subtly nudged the tissue box closer to her. “However, without season seven, we’d never have Charlie.”
“Are you suggesting that Charlie is an even trade for—”
“Not for a second.” I stretched my legs out on the couch, poking her thigh with my toes. “I’m merely pointing out that it’s not all bad.”
Anya grunted her disagreement. Then, she grabbed my foot and yanked. I squealed as she pinned my leg under her arm and launched a full-on tickle attack on my foot.
I kicked and wriggled to no avail. “Okay, okay,” I wailed, “fine. You’re—”
The front door opening cut off my words. Anya’s eyes went wide. She dropped my foot and leapt from the couch with the grace of a drunken gazelle. “To be continued,” she tossed over her shoulder as she ran across the apartment.
I pulled my feet onto the couch and watched as she met Vaughn at the door, launching herself at him. His arms closed around her and he buried his face in the curve of her neck, deep voice rumbling as he murmured something to her.
Looking away, I searched the floor for my shoes. These two were gonna need some privacy. And soon.
As if on cue, Vaughn dropped Anya on the kitchen island, her legs wrapping around him. “God, I missed you,” she said, dragging her face to his.
I stood and made a beeline for my discarded shoes. As I stuffed my feet into them, I grabbed my bag and jacket from the armchair, then I backed toward the exit. They were gonna be awhile. Probably a long while.
“I’ll be downstairs,” I called, opening the door. “When you two are done.”
Behind Vaughn’s back, Anya gave me a thumbs up. I laughed and closed the door behind me.
Taking the staircase that led from Vaughn and Anya’s apartment to the back entrance of Heathcliff’s, I breezed by the kitchen and through the door leading into the bar. It was still early enough that the place wasn’t super crowded, but that wouldn’t last long. Ever since the reopening, the bar had become a hub for Port Agnes’s finest. And by finest , I meant nerds. I clocked the table in the corner, wrapping up their weekly D&D campaign, and the couple perusing the mural along the wall, drinks in hand.
A proud smile lifted my lips as I took it in, too, pride warming me up. Anya’s talent never ceased to amaze me.
“Hey,” a voice said, jolting me from my thoughts. I turned to find Gigi leaning against the bar, brows cocked. “Where’d you come from?”
I pointed to the ceiling. “Was up there with Anya. Then Vaughn got home.”
Gigi snorted. “Oh, yeah. You gotta evacuate fast when those two reunite, lest you see some things that will scar you for life.” Her eyes widened. “Trust me, I know.”
Laughing, I closed the space between us. “I was looking for you, anyway.” I reached into my bag and pulled out her flannel. “Here.”
Something flickered across her face as she looked at the shirt in my hand. “Ahh.” Her brow furrowed, then cleared as if it never happened. “Right. Yeah. Wondered where this was.”
“Yeah, sorry.” I shrugged and adjusted my bag on my shoulder. “Thanks for loaning it to me.”
“No problem.” She tied the shirt around her waist, then folded her arms across her chest. “So, uh.” Shifting from foot to foot, she looked at anything but me. “You planning to wait them out?” she asked, tilting her chin upward to indicate the happy couple upstairs. “Because it could be a while.”
My brain pinged as I took in her closed-off body language and the tension in her face. “I don’t have anything else going on tonight.” A lie. I had so much to do. But none of it seemed more important right now than finding out what was going on with Gigi. I pulled out a stool and sat. “Maybe I’ll just keep you company.”
She hmm’d. “You’re more than welcome to hang out,” she said as she reclaimed her spot behind the bar. “But I gotta warn you. I’m not the best company tonight.” She stashed her shirt beneath the bar and straightened to face the couple I’d noticed earlier, coming to close out their checks. She was cordial, but not friendly. Not her usual charming self.
Resting my chin in my hand, I observed as she helped several other customers, silently cataloguing her posture, her facial expressions. The smiles that never really reached her eyes.
My chest tightened, concern rocking through me.
“There ya go,” she said to the last customer, sliding their drink across the bar. “Enjoy.”
They thanked her and walked away, joining their group, and Gigi faced me once more.
My face must’ve given my thoughts away, because the moment she looked at me, her lips thinned. “Don’t do it,” she said, not looking my way as she reached beneath the bar for a glass.
“Don’t do what?”
Her dark eyes hit me with a flat look. She tipped a shot of honey whiskey over ice, then added Vernor’s, holding my gaze as she poured. “You’ve got your psychoanalyzing face on.” She perched a lime on the rim and slid my drink over. “I’m fine.”
I reached for the glass, idly wondering when I’d become a person who had a regular drink at a bar. “Yeah, well,” I countered. “ You’ve got your grumpy face on.”
Gigi smirked, eyes narrowed. “Grumpy face?” She pulled a water bottle from beneath the bar and took a long swig. “Do tell, what does my grumpy face look like?”
“Well.” I squeezed the lime slice over my drink, then dropped it into the fizzy amber liquid. “For starters, your smiles are fake as hell.”
“This is customer service, Samuels. All my smiles are fake.”
“So, now you’re grumpy and lying?” Shaking my head, I lifted my glass to my lips. “You think you know a person.”
Her mouth dropped open and, for a moment, she was speechless. She recovered quickly, though, and pulled the napkin my drink was on across the bar, taking my drink with it. “Smart asses don’t get free drinks.”
Without missing a beat, I pulled my wallet out and slapped some cash on the counter. Then, I pulled my drink back to my side of the counter. “There, all paid up. Now, talk.”
Surprise flickered across her face, transforming into a smile—a real one—then, a laugh. Shaking her head, she looked me over. “Never a dull moment with you, is there?”
I grinned back, warmth filling me up inside. I did that, I thought. I put that smile on her face.
Sighing, she surveyed the bar behind me before finding my face again. “Patti Mayonnaise asked me to join. Permanently.”
“Gigi!” I leaned over the bar and squeezed her arm. “That’s great. That—”
“I can’t do it,” she cut in. Her shoulders dropped. “It’s a big gig. Lots of shows, locally and in other states. It would be impossible for me to do while also running this place.” Again, her eyes scraped over our surroundings, and the defeat on her face twisted my insides to knots.
“What about,” I started, searching my mind for a solution. A compromise. A way to make this happen, make her smile again.
I came up empty.
“Shoot.”
“Exactly.” She exhaled, and it was a sigh of a thousand wishing stars crashing to the ground. “I couldn’t even get away tonight to sub in for them.”
“Well, that just sucks poop through a straw.” I took a huge swig of my drink and winced as the bubbles burned their way down my throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, thanks.” As she said it, there was a scraping sound from upstairs, as if someone had moved furniture. We both glanced up, then met each others’ eyes. “But, hey,” she said, a wry twist of her lips, “if me sitting this opportunity out means he gets to be happy…” She trailed off with a shrug. “He deserves it.”
I studied her. I had the CliffsNotes version of her relationship with her brother. I knew it was just as fraught as my history with Anya. I wondered if that had something to do with her dedication to this bar.
“Gigi,” I started, not entirely sure what I was going to say. “What—”
“So, when do you wanna do your next lesson?” Her eyes widened, as if saying Let it go, Samuels. Please.
And so I let it go.
For now.
“Um, how about,” I started, pulling my phone from my bag. I scrolled through my calendar, wincing at the sheer volume of things to do and places to be. Grad school was soul-consuming.
Gigi stood on tiptoe to see my screen and let out a low whistle. “Damn. When do you sleep?”
I glanced up with a short laugh. “Basically never.” After making it to the end of the week without a solid pocket of time during normal people hours, I scrolled back to the top. “Okay. Either tomorrow night, after ten p.m., or…”
“I can do that,” she interrupted. “Vaughn’s night to work.” She leaned over the counter, peering at my phone. “Pencil me in, babycakes.”
“Babycakes?” I laughed, looking up. A jolt zipped through me. She was mere inches away, so close I could see the freckles dancing across her skin.
Her already-dark gaze went darker as they traveled down my face, then back up to my eyes. “I don’t know.” Her voice was quiet, and it warmed the space between us like velvet. “You seem like a babycakes.”
My next breath caught in my throat, my mind wiped clean. There was only Gigi, so close I could smell her salty coconut scent. So close I could feel her body heat. So close I could…
God, I could…
“Great.” Gigi’s voice crashed through the moment. She pulled back, and the air around me cooled instantly. “Your place okay?”
I blinked hard, reorienting myself to the here and now. And far, far away from whatever that was. “Um.” Straightening, I reached for my drink and took a hearty gulp. Wincing against the burn, I nodded. “Sure. Yeah. Mine’s fine.”
Gigi studied me, face unreadable. “Cool,” she said with a curt nod. “Text me your address.”
I watched her walk away, veins buzzing. From the whiskey, I told myself as I tipped back the rest of my drink and stood. Definitely the whiskey.
What else could it be?