read a lot.”
“Anything
else?”
“Like what?”
“Like, I don’t know, guys ? Do you date? Do you have
friends? Do you eat the young in your family for breakfast?”
She couldn’t
help laughing. “Only occasionally and always fried. Yes, of course I have friends, Parker.
Hard to believe, I know, but some people actually like me.”
“Guys?”
“Guys?”
“Do guys like you,” he reiterated.
“Hey,” she said
with a laugh and forked a huge bite of cheesecake they were sharing in celebration of the
ESPN call. “ Guys like me. At least I think they do. Okay, honestly, it’s been a
while since I had time to date, so I’m not really sure anymore. It’s my hours,” she said,
by way of explanation. “What about you? Friends? Dates who aren’t groupies?
Kids?”
“No kids. Tons of friends. Lots of dates, too, but no one steady in about
five years.”
“Aha,” she said and pointed a fork with a hunk of cheesecake at him. “You’re
the old wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy.”
“I most
certainly am not,” he said, taking the fork from her hand and eating the hunk of
cheesecake. “I will have you know that I enjoy the company of a beautiful woman because I
am a man. Men like women. But that does not make me a slut.”
“Sure, Romeo,”
she said, and snatched her fork back, took another piece of the cheesecake, and popped it
in her mouth.
“I’m serious. I don’t date a lot because most women I meet want to go out
with me because I am quasi-famous or rich, which seems to be my best assets as far as they
are concerned.”
“Wow,” she said, realizing, for the first time, that there might possibly be
a downside to being Parker Price on any given day. “So what do you do with all those
freeloaders when you date them? Take them to the museum?”
He laughed. “I have reserved that
for my dates who are culturally challenged,” he said, putting down his fork. “I don’t
know. Dinner, I guess. Or maybe catch a show. And if we hit it off, maybe a
nightcap.”
“Uh-huh. At your place.”
“No. At a nice, quiet
club.”
“Huh,” she said. “That actually sounds like a nice date. But not one I’d go
on.”
“Why not?”
“Too boring.”
“Oh yeah? What would your ideal date
be?”
“Well, if I were going out with someone like you, for example, I’d probably
take him to the batting cage and give him a few pointers,” she said with a
wink.
Parker laughed. “God help me the day I get batting tips from
you.”
“Then, if a guy like you actually started to improve his batting, I’d
probably take him to a Yankees game so he could see the big boys play.”
“Oh, now that’s
a low blow,” he said, slapping a hand over his heart.
“Better than
Broadway,” she said.
“Depends on one’s perspective.”
“Museums aren’t
that great, either—”
“Uh-uh,” he said instantly, shaking his head and signaling for
the check. “You agreed and you owe me. We’re going to a museum.”
“Great,” Kelly
said with a playful sigh and polished off the cheesecake.
But actually, today, even a museum
sounded good.
CHAPTER 08
Parker couldn’t believe the amount
of crap a two-hour morning radio show apparently generated, based on the stuff Kelly was
carrying. She had a bag hanging off both shoulders, plus she had an armload of binders.
When she suggested they drop off the stuff at her apartment, he couldn’t agree fast
enough.
Of course she lived in a walk-up. Parker was impressed that, even though she
was carrying what he thought had to be thirty pounds, she jogged up the stairs to the
third-floor of a pre-war brownstone that had been parsed into six apartments. Hers was on
the top floor, where she fit her key into the door and flung it open. He liked fit
women.
Kelly’s apartment was small, but it had twelve-foot ceilings,
floor-to-ceiling bay windows that overlooked the community garden between buildings, and
hardwood floors. She had an overstuffed brocade couch and
“Anything
else?”
“Like what?”
“Like, I don’t know, guys ? Do you date? Do you have
friends? Do you eat the young in your family for breakfast?”
She couldn’t
help laughing. “Only occasionally and always fried. Yes, of course I have friends, Parker.
Hard to believe, I know, but some people actually like me.”
“Guys?”
“Guys?”
“Do guys like you,” he reiterated.
“Hey,” she said
with a laugh and forked a huge bite of cheesecake they were sharing in celebration of the
ESPN call. “ Guys like me. At least I think they do. Okay, honestly, it’s been a
while since I had time to date, so I’m not really sure anymore. It’s my hours,” she said,
by way of explanation. “What about you? Friends? Dates who aren’t groupies?
Kids?”
“No kids. Tons of friends. Lots of dates, too, but no one steady in about
five years.”
“Aha,” she said and pointed a fork with a hunk of cheesecake at him. “You’re
the old wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy.”
“I most
certainly am not,” he said, taking the fork from her hand and eating the hunk of
cheesecake. “I will have you know that I enjoy the company of a beautiful woman because I
am a man. Men like women. But that does not make me a slut.”
“Sure, Romeo,”
she said, and snatched her fork back, took another piece of the cheesecake, and popped it
in her mouth.
“I’m serious. I don’t date a lot because most women I meet want to go out
with me because I am quasi-famous or rich, which seems to be my best assets as far as they
are concerned.”
“Wow,” she said, realizing, for the first time, that there might possibly be
a downside to being Parker Price on any given day. “So what do you do with all those
freeloaders when you date them? Take them to the museum?”
He laughed. “I have reserved that
for my dates who are culturally challenged,” he said, putting down his fork. “I don’t
know. Dinner, I guess. Or maybe catch a show. And if we hit it off, maybe a
nightcap.”
“Uh-huh. At your place.”
“No. At a nice, quiet
club.”
“Huh,” she said. “That actually sounds like a nice date. But not one I’d go
on.”
“Why not?”
“Too boring.”
“Oh yeah? What would your ideal date
be?”
“Well, if I were going out with someone like you, for example, I’d probably
take him to the batting cage and give him a few pointers,” she said with a
wink.
Parker laughed. “God help me the day I get batting tips from
you.”
“Then, if a guy like you actually started to improve his batting, I’d
probably take him to a Yankees game so he could see the big boys play.”
“Oh, now that’s
a low blow,” he said, slapping a hand over his heart.
“Better than
Broadway,” she said.
“Depends on one’s perspective.”
“Museums aren’t
that great, either—”
“Uh-uh,” he said instantly, shaking his head and signaling for
the check. “You agreed and you owe me. We’re going to a museum.”
“Great,” Kelly
said with a playful sigh and polished off the cheesecake.
But actually, today, even a museum
sounded good.
CHAPTER 08
Parker couldn’t believe the amount
of crap a two-hour morning radio show apparently generated, based on the stuff Kelly was
carrying. She had a bag hanging off both shoulders, plus she had an armload of binders.
When she suggested they drop off the stuff at her apartment, he couldn’t agree fast
enough.
Of course she lived in a walk-up. Parker was impressed that, even though she
was carrying what he thought had to be thirty pounds, she jogged up the stairs to the
third-floor of a pre-war brownstone that had been parsed into six apartments. Hers was on
the top floor, where she fit her key into the door and flung it open. He liked fit
women.
Kelly’s apartment was small, but it had twelve-foot ceilings,
floor-to-ceiling bay windows that overlooked the community garden between buildings, and
hardwood floors. She had an overstuffed brocade couch and
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