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“She still taking care of herself?” He narrowed his eyes, almost hesitant to ask.
I once scared Parker when we were kids. I came home to see him waiting for me, talking to my mom. Parker came to check on me, but I was terrified of what she’d say to him. Claire wasn't in the right state of mind, she would’ve said too much, even to little Parker who didn’t know much about my past. The fact that Claire could have told him what happened the night my father left, sent me into a panic. So I yelled at him, literally pulled him out of the house and locked the door. I still felt bad about it, recalling how wide his eyes grew when I shouted, but it was necessary. I would do anything to keep him away from Claire’s cancerous energy.
Parker was good at checking in though, asking only a few questions, but never enough to warrant another scolding. I was sure he wanted to know more, but he didn't pry. That was my fault, I wasn’t sure if I could say the things I needed, especially after the rejection that college night. Had we been together, grown closer, maybe I would have opened up more, but who was to say what could have been?
“Yeah. She’s doing great actually.” I lied, easing my own tension. I couldn’t tell him everything she said, especially the part about how Parker lost his innocence. That’d be too weird. I picked at my pink nail polish, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the subject in general. “I’ll get drinks and a booth for us.” I mumbled, swiping the red soda cups off the counter. I wasted no time in creating distance, allowing the conversation to pass. Parker paid as I filled our cups, nabbing a small booth in the corner. He sat down and passed me a jar of parmesan cheese.
“Big day today?” He unwrapped a straw, slipping it into my soda, “Tell me about your shoot.” His request read more as a command, but the gleam in his eyes made me melt.
“Long for some. Not so much for others.” I kept it vague, knowing the interest Parker had on certain details. “Someone was late.” I added, knowing he’d fully understand who.
The waiter stopped by, placing round metal plates of hot pizza on the table. Parker folded his slice down the middle and took a few bites, keeping his eyes on me as I dabbed a napkin around the greasy edge of my pizza.
“I’m not surprised.” He laughed, “Tell me, how’s working with Alex Rivers?”
“You work enough hours on that man, don’t you want to enjoy your dinner?” I asked, dousing more parmesan cheese than I needed.
“How late was he?”
“Well over two, almost three hours. Pretty much what you said. You’ve met him, you know how he is.”
“Not really, just from word of mouth.” He returned, pulling a piece of pepperoni off his slice and placing it on mine. Parker mostly ate cheese but ordered the topping to share with me.
“Wait I thought you two met already?”
“I would if he came to any of the meetings. I’ve only heard from word of mouth. Some of the associates have told me stories, about him being late, about him storming off when things get tough.”
“So you’ve never actually witnessed it?” My voice pitched higher.
“No, but I can imagine.”
Our knees bumped under the table. The booth was so small, and Parker was so tall, his legs consumed mine with the graze of his fitted slacks. Unintentionally, I rubbed mine against his as I lifted my leg to be crossed. The feeling churned my insides, swirling like a hot pool.
“People assume a lot of things. Gossip papers likeNew York Prestigejust want to get a story. Can’t all be true.” I mused, jabbing at the magazine Camilla worked at. I felt silly for doing so, having no reason to say what I did, other than to discredit the woman’s profession.
“And are they wrong?” He asked, “How’d the rest of the shoot go then?” His voice deepened. I knew he wouldn’t ask again because this time he expected an answer.
“Well, actually… he left early.”
“Why?”
I stalled, chewing my food longer than necessary. I knew the truth confirmed everything he said, further solidifying other rumors that may have been told, even inNew York Prestige. “He was upset.”
“Sure.” He drummed his fingers on the table, leaning back into his chair, “Of course.”
“But he had a good reason for it.” I defended.
“Still, he runs when things get bad, how can you trust someone like that?” His words echoed Claire’s, but I knew that wasn't his intention. The idea someone could run away from a problem and simultaneously be untrustworthy gutted me. Sure, I ran from my past, but did that make me a bad person, or Alex for that reason? I wasn’t my father, abandoning a family, leaving a little girl to fend for herself.
“Sometimes people have a good reason to leave, Park. You can’t just assume what people say is true, and if you do, then take my word for it too.”
Parker raised his eyebrows at my stance. “Are you actually defending this guy? You know he just beat up some DJ out in Brooklyn, right?”
“Yeah, I know…” I shook my head, “and no I’m not defending the guy. I’m not even sure if I like him as a person. Sure, he’s rough around the edges, a little brash, but at least he apologized for being late. He has yet to be rude to me.” I took a bite of my pizza. “Unlike Camilla,” I added.
Parker twisted his lips, placing his slice back down on the plate. “Gem, Mila is nothing like Alex, trust me.”
“It’s more than that, Parker. I just don’t need to be lectured about Alex, if you’re going to turn a blind eye to Camilla. You know all this stuff about him, but it's either word of mouth or court hearings. You have an insight to his life, but what do you know about Camilla?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders. “How long have you even known her?”
