PARKER : 020
PARKER : 020
I FEEL GUILTY COMING BACK into the restaurant and seeing Samantha sitting at the table, but only a little. I’ve been trying to break up with her for a while now, and doing so has felt like trying to tip a boulder from the top of a hill. Once I give her a hard enough shove, she’ll roll all the way down, allowing her self-serving attitude and reprehensible personality to drag her down to the bottom like snow falling down from a mountain. There’s never been much of a secret between Sam and me: I’m using her for sex, and she’s using me for personal advancement.
Still, looking at her as Angela and I approach, I can’t help but think I’m a son of a bitch.
It’s tempting to tell myself that Angela was my first love and that through a Romeo and Juliet sequence of events, we’ve been unjustly kept apart. But it was my decision to leave home and my decision to hook up with Samantha no matter how much I try to blame it on Duncan. I’m the one who’s failed to break up with her even though I should. I can’t decide if that’s because Sam has her hooks in me or because I’m a coward. She’s a crutch of sorts and gives me someone to treat badly. But even that I can’t quite be sure about: Do I treat Sam like shit because she is a piece of shit? Or do I treat her like shit because I’ve made myself feel better by beating others up?
No. I’m fine. Even if Samantha and I were dysfunctional before now, I’m a new man today. This was the day I changed my fate, with Angela’s help. I used to let others define me. But Angela and I broke through all of that. I’ve changed.
It would be wrong to stay with Sam now. But whatever came before was just prior to my fresh start. Same with Duncan. He’s a good guy, and I like him, but he’s also kind of an asshole. Everything is more extreme now that I have money and we spend so much time together. Duncan’s twice the womanizer that I am. I used to smoke weed, drink, and have flings with hot girls. Today, I snort coke, take Molly, do all sorts of other shit, and cut loose with multiple women at once. Bigger and better, Duncan says. It’s true for WinFinity, and that’s great. But Duncan applies excess to everything and always has.
I need to break up with Sam. I need to rein things in with Duncan. I need to get my shit together. I have more than one psychiatrist but don’t go often enough and only listen to what I want to hear. I need to kill those old demons. Maybe that means facing my dad, and maybe it doesn’t, but now that Angela’s here, I finally have someone to lean on.
We sit. They’ve been here for an hour already, and the wine bottle on the table surely isn’t the first. If they suspect what just happened between me and Angela, I can’t see it on their faces. To them, she’s my stepsister. They didn’t understand why I’d renewed acquaintances when I’d set this up, but now they’ll need to.
I wonder what Samantha would say about me being with Angela. Not as my current girlfriend, but as a PR specialist intent on polishing WinFinity’s public image. I’ll bet she’d advise me against it. I’ll bet she’d call me a stupid, asswipe, cunt-headed motherfucker. Sam can be such a delicate flower.
The first course is served. We didn’t order, so it seems that Sam and Duncan must have ordered for us. That’s a little annoying, but whatever. Duncan taught me how to eat well in the first place, and they’ll probably just give Angela whatever they ordered for me.
But throughout our salads and appetizers, Duncan and Sam keep snickering, maybe a little tipsy. I don’t know why, but it’s really annoying. I wonder if this was a good idea.
“So, Angela,” Samantha asks, emphasizing her name too much, “what do you do for a living?”
I eye Samantha. I’m thinking of saying it doesn’t matter, but what kind of an answer is that? It’s the first non-idle question directed her way, and she’s a big girl. I strongly suspect this is Samantha being a bitch, knowing our story and where Angela comes from, but raising the objection will look too defensive.
“I work in a restaurant.”
“Ah,” Sam says. “You own a restaurant.”
“I work in a restaurant,” Angela repeats.
“As a banquet manager, wine steward, saucier, sous chef? Which restaurant? Mélisse, Spago, Bäco Mercat?
“TGI Friday’s,” she says after a slight hesitation.
I look over. Angela looks a bit humbled, which was, of course, the point. I stare at Samantha.
“Sam’s a public relations specialist with Banner,” says Duncan. It’s unnecessary information. First of all, everyone here knows Samantha’s job. And second, while we might be impressed that she’s with Banner Agency, Angela won’t have any idea what Banner is or why working there is noteworthy.
“What’s a public relations specialist do?” Angela asks, trying to recover.
“I make sure my clients look good. That they attend the right events and get press for the good things they do.” She sips her wine. “That they don’t make fools of themselves, like Parker tends to do without my help.”
It’s a trap. I want to warn Angela not to ask her follow-up question, but she does anyway. Damn, I know Sam too well. This is transparent to me, but Angela has no idea.
“What kind of things does he do?” Angela smiles. Of course she does. She’s finally been with me; she’s stepped into what probably feels like a new life standard despite her pride; she doesn’t feel bad about violating Sam’s relationship with me because of all the horrible things I told her on the ride home — the reasons I promise to break up with Samantha tonight, once dinner is over. She’s trying to be friendly because in our old neighborhood, attackers come at you with their fists. Shaking hands to hold a knife behind the back is a hallmark of my current circles.
“Oh, all sorts of stupid things.” Sam gives me a crocodile smile. “Drinking way too much and beating someone up like he did a month ago. Too many drugs — ”
Angela looks at me. “Drugs?”