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I met my parents at the hotel bar where my father was already on his first glass of scotch. My mother had her usual glass of wine and on my part, I had a soda and lime because I didn't want to drink anything until dinner. My father usually didn't drink in public, but in Manhattan, he'd be largely anonymous, so he could drink without concern about what people would think.
It was silly, but he tried to keep a very clean public persona.
"So, dear, tell us more about your new job," he asked, turning to me, his eyes inquisitive. "With all the relatives at the house over the weekend, we really didn't get much time to talk. How is it going?"
"Great," I said and told them about my first few months on the job and how I had read more manuscripts that I ever imagined. More manuscripts that would never see the light of day because there were just too many for us to publish. We had to find reasons to say no.
"So, you're working for the enemy," my father said when we moved to the dining room and took our seats at a nice table.
"He's dead, father," I said, for I knew exactly what he meant. He meant Josh's father, Joshua Macintyre, Sr. The founder of MBS, which was the parent company of Macintyre Broadcasting's publishing subsidiary, Dominion Publishing. "He's no longer the CEO. I'm not working for the enemy."
"His son took over, and from what I read, the apple didn't fall far from the tree."
I sighed, not wanting to get into a fight with my father about Josh.
"I'm sure his son wasn't involved in whatever it was that made you hate Macintyre, Sr. That was twenty years ago when he would be a kid."
"He bought The Chronicle, and my sources tell me he's going to turn it into another Washington Post if he can. Lots of political coverage. Hard-hitting political coverage. It's no secret that he's a Democrat. I expect he'll keep on his father's tradition of running down the state's conservative candidates like his father did."
"From what I've heard, he's a very principled guy and is a political moderate, not a member of either party. Just wants to run a decent paper. Restore The Chronicle to its former glory."
"Have you met him, dear?" my mother asked. "I heard he's single. Is he as good looking as his photo in the paper makes him look?"
I smiled at her and shook my head. Trust her to wonder whether I'd met him. I couldn't tell either of them that I was sleeping with him every night and had been for the past month.
"I've seen him around, but he's not involved in Dominion Publishing. He hired someone to take over as CEO in his place. He's too busy with the other work."
"That's good," my father said.
"That's too bad," my mother said. At the same time.
We all laughed. It cut the tension and for the rest of the evening, our talk turned to other matters instead of Josh Macintyre, Jr. I felt very uncomfortable lying to them about him, but I knew I'd get the third degree if I admitted that I was seeing him.
My mother would be happy, of course, being the perpetual romantic that she was, but my father would hate it. I'd never hear the end of it and then I knew he'd insist on meeting Josh and would probably grill him about his father's television news coverage of the whole political scandal that put my father's former business partner in jail.
So, the lie was meant to keep the peace. If anything more developed with Josh, if we decided to move in together, I'd have to come clean, but until then, they didn't have to know I was not only friends with him, I was sleeping with him on a regular basis and would very soon be fucking his brains out.
Our dinner was enjoyable once we got off the topic of the Macintyre family, and I caught up with news from back home, who was doing what outlandish thing in New Hampshire politics, which I was familiar with because of my father and Jerkface. Who among my old friends was now engaged, or had a baby, or was getting a divorce. Who had a new job and who was going to Harvard or Yale.
"I've only been gone for three months," I said. "How can so much happen?"
Finally, at nine thirty, after we had coffee and dessert and ran out of steam and conversation, I said good night to them both and took a taxi to the building to meet Josh.
Yes, I felt incredibly guilty going to him after denying that I knew him and hiding from them that I was more than just an employee -- even if unpaid. Keeping the peace was more important at that point in my life than being honest. It went against my basic nature to tell a lie, but keeping the peace was also an important value.
I struggled with it. But only for a while. As soon as I got into the elevator and pressed the button for the penthouse, I pushed my parents out of my mind and imagined Josh waiting for me.
I had a key to Josh's apartment that he gave me the second week we were seriously dating so I could use it whenever I needed to. I had to admit we met during lunch a few times for a quick and passionate session of sex. I never expected I'd be like that with someone new so quickly, but there was something about Josh I couldn't deny.
He was a heady mix of passion and intensity that made sex even better. Plus, he was so fun. He loved to laugh and enjoyed when we would tease each other. For the first weeks, I walked around in a state of near constant lust whenever I would think of him and imagine the prospect of us spending the night together.
I arrived at his apartment at about quarter to ten and he was already there when I entered.
"You're here," I said when I entered the apartment. He was in the kitchen reading a paper on the kitchen island, a glass of something in his hand. He smiled and came to meet me at the entrance while I removed my shoes and jacket.
"I escaped as quickly as I could."
"Party was a flop?" I asked, slipping my arms around his neck. He had freshly showered and was dressed only in a white terry cloth robe. We kissed, and he smelled so good. Fresh and clean. Already, my body was beginning to ache for him.
