Nights With Parker (14 page)

“New York? You’re … You’re going home?”

“I have to take care of something,” he says, never looking at me.

He’s like a bull right now, ready to strike, ready to take out anything that gets in his way, and I know that I should leave him alone. I know that I should let him go, but beneath the anger, I can see something else. He looks scared or worried. I’m not sure which, and maybe it’s both, but I pull on my t-shirt from last night and gather the courage to get up and walk over to him.

“Oliver, what’s wrong?” I ask, and he turns to face me.

“Riley, I don’t have time for this right now.”

“I just … You seem worried. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

“I’m fine,” he says with a degree of finality to his voice that I dare not mess with. I nod my head in acceptance and disappointment and take a step back.

“Okay, I’ll get my things and get out of your way,” I tell him as I turn away and take quick strides toward the bathroom.

“It’s my mother,” he calls from behind me, stopping me dead in my tracks. I look over my shoulder and see the look of defeat on his face; his shoulders slump, and his stance is uneasy. I turn and head back to him as he begins to speak again.

“My brother called this morning to tell me that she was in the hospital last night. That she had been beaten.”

“Oh, my God, is she all right? Who would do that?”

“Apparently, she told the police she had been mugged,” he says, looking away from me. He runs a hand through his already disheveled hair. He resembles a lost boy, looking for someone to make sense out of things.

“Did they catch the person?”

“No, and they never will because she wasn’t mugged, Riley.” He looks back at me, his eyes glassy and his nostrils flaring in anger. “My father hit her.”

Instinctively, my hands land on his shoulders, as if I had the power to hold him up, to give him strength when it’s clear that he needs it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s done this before?”

“A few times that I know of but never this bad. And not for a long time. I just need to get there.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to kill the son of a bitch,” he says, a little too seriously.

“No,” I say as he backs away from me, just far enough out of reach to walk around me and head for his wallet and keys. I practically trip over my feet as I scurry over to him, cutting him off before he can get to the nightstand.

“Oliver, please stop.”

“Get out of my way, Riley.” He tries to skirt around me, but I move with him. When he stops, he stares down at me as if I’ve lost my mind. I think he might be right. I have no idea what I’m doing by trying to influence him at all, but regardless, I stand my ground.

“No. You can’t show up there and go crazy.”

He takes a step closer to me and leans into me. It takes a lot for me not to retreat or cower. “I can and I will.”

“No,” I declare, with a shake of my head.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” He enunciates every single word, and it sends a chill down my spine. Still, I stay rooted to my spot because I know that if he goes back to New York in this state, he might just end up in jail. Or worse, I may never see him again.

“Fine,” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest in defiance. “If you’re going to New York, then I’m going with you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I assume you want to get your mother out of there, so you might need my help,” I declare, stating my case and hoping he buys it.

“Riley.” He softens his tone toward me, but I know he’s going to try to let me down easy. Tell me that my presence isn’t necessary, and maybe he’s right, but it doesn’t change the fact that I want to be there. He may not need me to go with him, but I have to go anyway.

“I can help, Oliver,” I say, taking a step closer to him, tilting my head up to look in his eyes. “Let me help, even if it’s just to keep you company. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I thought you never wanted to step foot in New York.”

“I changed my mind. I’ve heard great things about the hot dogs you get from those little carts,” I lie. I’d never consume one of those things, but I’ll say just about anything to get him to let me go.

He rolls his eyes and lets out a slow sigh. When his eyes meet mine again, he asks, “What about work?”

“I’ll take care of it. Just please, let me come with you.”

“I have to make a call, and if you’re not ready by the time I’m off the phone, I’m leaving without you,” he says. I rush into the bathroom to get dressed and cleaned up, grateful that he’s actually allowing me to go with him. I realize I only have the same outfit as last night available, so I put my bra on but opt to wear Oliver’s t-shirt instead of my work shirt. I put on the same shorts and hope I have time to stop at a store in New York and buy a few things before we go to his mother’s place. I pull my hair back into a ponytail because I can’t do much else to make it look presentable at this point.

By the time I come back out to the main room, Oliver is zipping up his backpack and grabbing his keys. He barely glances at me as he strides to the door, but I know he means for me to follow him. I grab my purse and practically jog to catch up to him. We ride down the elevator in complete silence, and I begin to wonder if I’ve made the right decision. Should I really be getting on a plane with him and going to New York to insert myself in God only knows what. Who knows what kind of situation I’ll find myself in, or what level of dysfunction this family really is. How a man can hit his wife and not feel remorse. I can’t even imagine how Oliver must be feeling right now, but I know that the murderous look on his face has barely changed since the moment I first laid eyes on him this morning.

A car is waiting at the curb when we exit the hotel. I wonder why he didn’t just drive his car to the airport, but I don’t ask. Maybe he just doesn’t want to have to worry about parking it for however long we’re gone. We get in the car, and immediately, the driver speeds off toward the highway. Oliver stares out the window, and I imagine his thoughts are a million miles away. Maybe I should leave him alone, but I want to wrangle his thoughts—the negativity, the worry—and make them go away, even if only for a short time.

“How much do I owe you for the plane ticket?” I question because I have nothing else to say and because I really would like to pay him back for it. His attention transfers from the city passing by to me, but his eyes, which usually hold so much expression, look eerily blank.

“Nothing, we’re flying private.” I don’t like the hollowness in his tone. I’d almost rather hear him arguing with me about anything at all.

“You have a plane?” I question. The idea that he has enough money at his disposal to have a private plane isn’t lost on me. It does nothing to help the feeling of unworthiness that I already have around him. I’d never be able to live up to all that he is, all the things that he has.

“The company has one, yes. But I’m not using it today. I called in a favor.”

“Big favor,” I mutter, under my breath, but when his lips tip up in a semi-smile, I know he’s heard me. I watch him as he takes me in, maybe for the first time today.

“Lovely outfit you’re wearing,” he comments dryly, and I glare at him in return.

“It’s all I had. You know that.”

He gives me a nod and then reaches for his cell phone. “I’ll have my assistant send you some things to the house.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can stop and buy what I need when we get there.”

“I’m not setting foot in a store with you, and I’m not leaving you alone in New York City with your sweet, doe-eyed face to get robbed, raped, or murdered.”

For a second, I wonder if he’s serious about something happening to me but quickly realize that he’s just being a smartass … I think, anyway.

“I can see why you love the city so much. It sounds wonderful.”

My sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but instead of rolling his eyes or giving me one of his more menacing looks, he actually smiles at me. That one smile makes me feel like I’ve just won the lottery because I know that getting to his mother is the only thing that matters to him right now. I know how upset and worried he is, and how helpless he feels. If anybody can relate to feeling helpless, I can. Watching my father die and not having the power to change it was the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced.

“If you’re scared, you don’t have to come with me,” he taunts with a grin.

“I’m not scared,” I rebut, but I’m not so sure he believes me. I’m not so sure I believe myself. He turns his attention back to his phone and types out a message to whom I assume is his assistant. When he’s done, he focuses back on the view outside the window. I leave him alone to let him deal with whatever is happening in his head right now on his own. Hesitantly, I reach out and grab his hand. He doesn’t look at me or say anything; he just gives my hand a welcoming squeeze. I realize that the only thing that’s going to help him is to see that his mother’s okay for himself. All I can do now is be there for him as much as he’ll let me be and hope that it’s enough. Hope that when he walks away from me one day and returns to his life in New York permanently, he’ll think fondly of the girl who cared enough to follow him home. That for a time someone was there who would listen to him when his shoulders felt heavy with the weight of the world resting on them.

OLIVER

I woke up this morning still on a high from last night. The way Riley all but initiated sex between us was astounding, to say the least. I was under the impression that she still despised me. After our last encounter, I knew that I had made some leeway, but I guess I’d made more than I realized. The way that she responded to me touching her was magnificent. I had every intention of waking her up much the same way, but that was squashed by an unexpected phone call from Jacob.

Phone calls from my brother are rarely good, but I hadn’t expected him to tell me that my mother had been admitted and then checked herself out of the hospital after an alleged mugging. A fucking mugging. Albeit, my father hasn’t laid a hand on my mother in a harmful way in years, but I think that’s only because his mistresses keep him plenty busy. Besides, the last time he tried, I pulled him off her and threw him into a nearby wall. Before that point, I was just as important to him as Jacob was; he was molding us both to take over Parker Hotels. That all changed the day that I finally stood up to him where my mother was concerned. He perceived my loyalty to her as disloyalty to him. Because of it, I became the outcast. I think Jacob went along with it because it meant that he wouldn’t have to share the reins of the company with me. I’m not sure if he ever knew exactly what really happened; in fact, I’m not so sure he ever knew that my father hit my mother at all. Jacob has always been single-minded and focused on whatever his goal was at the time. He was raised to be a winner and not much else matters. My father’s approval is way too important to him, which is why I never bothered to tell him about our parents’ tumultuous relationship. We’ve never seen eye to eye, but he’s not a bad person. He’s just oblivious. So oblivious that he actually believes our mother was mugged.

My first instinct when Riley offered to come home with me was to shut her down. But she was adorably insistent, and I have to admit the thought of having her here did something to calm me. Not that she can do anything or solve anything, but just the idea of having someone stand with me felt nice. Having someone
choose
to stand with me when life is unsettled is new to me. The only person who’s ever stood by me is my mother, and that’s cost her a significant amount.

“I’ve never seen so many people in my life.” I look over at Riley, who can’t seem to peel her eyes away from the movement of the city. I thought her stunned reaction to the private plane was something, but this, this is priceless.

“If you look over there, you’ll see the Empire State Building,” I tell her, pointing at the building that towers over the city from just a few blocks away.

“It’s so pretty. I’ve seen it in so many movies; it’s strange to be seeing it in person.”

“There are a lot of beautiful sights to see here,” I tell her, leaning back in my seat, studying her, and thinking that none of those sights compare to her beauty. Thinking about how I wish this trip were for pleasure and not family drama. I’d love to take her to see all the sights—take her to Times Square, see a show on Broadway, or go to Central Park for a walk. I could be her tour guide the way she was mine.

“How can you live here when it’s this busy all the time?” she questions wide-eyed.

“My neighborhood is a little less crowded, a little trendier, and it’s easier to walk around in,” I tell her, referring to my penthouse apartment downtown. She nods and goes back to taking in the sights of the city. It’s clear that she would never fit in here, or maybe she could but she’d never want to. When we finally reach my block, the driver double-parks in front of my building, and I tell him not to bother opening the door. I get out quickly and extend my hand to Riley, helping her out and onto the sidewalk.

“There’s still a ton of people out here.”

“It’s still New York, so there’s always going to be people,” I tell her as she looks at the people walking by. Definitely fewer than we saw earlier, but still more than what she’s used to.

“I suppose.”

“I’m beginning to think you don’t like people,” I say, linking our fingers together.

“I love people.” She looks up at me and smiles. “It’s the volume that takes some getting used to.”