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“Yours, too.” He laughed, knowing damn well our preference for quiet settings. “I tried to get away, but how would that look? I know you told me to enjoy myself, but it was hard knowing where you were.”
“The play was the same, nothing new.”
“And our seats?” He asked, “You keep them warm for us, Butterfly?” His low voice inquired with an expectation.
“I kept them safe.” I lied, knowing that mentioning Alejandro would be a nightmare. Though Alejandro could care less about Parker and his involvement in the case, Parker was different. How could I tell him thatAlex Riverssat in his seat and that afterwards, took me out? That would be enough for him to grit his teeth, considering the obvious dislike he already had for the man. Immediately I panicked, realizing that there were worse things for him to figure out than Alejandro just taking his seat. What if someone saw us at The Met? What if I was in trouble? I changed the subject, “So how was it meeting the parents?”
“They’re really nice.” He shrugged, “Very huggable, love to dance, pretty friendly. Just a normal family.”Normal family, of course, not that I knew the meaning. The way he threw the term around reminded me I was outside of that, not that it was his intention. Another benefit to Camilla’s reputation, outside of her gorgeous looks. “I met about twelve of her cousins. There was a lot of people.”
“Any tequila?” I joked, reminding him of the New Year’s Eve that once ruined his night.
“Gemma…” He set his mug back down on the table. “Even the word… I can’t.” He raised his chin to the ceiling. “I brought back tons of food though. There is a bag oftim-holliesin the fridge.”
“Tamales.” I corrected, “Please tell me you didn't pronounce it like that.” Though Bushwick was home to predominantly Puerto Rican families, I still knew what a tamale was. The neighborhood wasn’t just limited to Puerto Ricans, but home to Dominicans, Mexicans, and even some Columbians. Food was interchangeable, mixed and enjoyed by everyone. Even I, the pale white girl from Brooklyn, had my fair share of tamales, but usually only during holidays. It was an unfortunate truth I refused to admit, that its corn husk was the only thing I typically unwrapped on Christmas morning.
“I tried my best.” He shrugged, “It wasn’tThe Phantom of the Operawith my Butterfly, but I survived.” He took a bite of his bagel, chewing for a moment before realizing something. “Speaking of family, Mom wants me to remind you that the Hamptons trip is coming up.”
“That time already?”
“Sneaks up on you. First week of June.”
“A month away? Yeah, I think I can go…” I sighed, chewing my lip.
“Think? What’s there to think about? Don’t you want to help make the famous potato salad?”
“Don’t you dare,” I scolded playfully. “It’s my favorite thing ever. Oh, and the Spuddington story.” Parker groaned, but I loved it.
“She’ll be sure to tell it, with or without mimosas.” He added.
“Always with, and like she says, it’s full of fruit, so doctor approved.”
“So why not then?” He pressed but stopped as a thud hit the door. The morning paper, delivered on time. Parker stood as I swallowed another bite of bagel, collecting my response.
“You know, work is kind of weird right now…” I refrained from saying more, thinking of the possibility of Alejandro calling me in for another meeting. Would I even agree to that, and after last night, would I even work on his suit? Suddenly it felt too messy, the fantasy I had, the actions he took. I wasn’t sure if I could see him again, not out of anger, but fear. There was something in his eyes I hated to admit, a chance of being similar despite my complete resistance. It was better to ignore it, and in fact, in this moment, I considered myself jobless. Parker returned with the paper, removing a thin framed set of glasses from the pocket of his jacket.
“Weird?” He arched an eyebrow, “How so?” I swallowed a hot sip of tea, recognizing the tone change in Parker’s voice. The question was less about the oddities and more about Alejandro. I knew better.
“Oh, you know, just really busy.” I replied. Finally, I was more convincing than my previous persona of Sleepy Gemma. But Parker wasn't done. He adjusted the frames on his eyes, their round, silver shape a compliment to his angular jaw.
“Andthatguy is behaving?” He asked, not even mentioning his name. “Keeping his hands to himself?”
“Parker?” I laughed, my eggshell confidence already cracking, “Of course. It’s a business relationship, and that’s always been the expectation.” He folded the newspaper on the table, his green eyes peering back through his lenses.
“How was your night last night?” He asked calmly, ignoring the toasted bagel on his plate. I twisted a strand of my own loose hair, unprepared to answer. I had focused more on how to avoid talking about his penis, I hadn’t even planned on discussing where I was. Surely someone would find out, a shattered work of art at The Met wouldn’t go unnoticed.
“It was fine,” I answered quickly. “Calm night.”Calm? I didn’t know why I added that, or why his eyes always made me buckle. This was an effect of his, but not exclusive; Alejandro appeared to have a similar gift.
“And after the play, did you eat dinner?” His finger toyed with the bottom of his lip.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Joe’s Pizza.” I lied, defaulting to my favorite.
“Makes sense, then home, right?”
“Yes, sir,” I snipped. “Why does this feel more like a cross examination?”
