Page 206 of Untouchable

Harp nods and steps inside, and Parker looks down at his shoes.

* * *

Harp doesn't knowwhy he goes inside at first, but the minute he lays eyes on Mindy, he realizes he's seeking an ally.

She stares at him from the front desk with huge eyes, subtly waving him over and he rushes around. She buzzes him through to the staff side and he's thankful to get out of the waiting room.

"Harp oh my Go—"

"What the fuck, Mindy?" he hisses in a voice that’s just barely a whisper.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Harp—she’s really bad. Is that the first time you’ve met her?”

"Yeah. Yikes," Harp says. "That explains a lot. And why the hell would you apologize for her?"

Mindy snorts. “I’m not apologizing for her, I’m just expressing my regret that you had to experience Hurricane Mrs. James.”

"Okay that's... fair. They went to lunch. I tried to go with them because Mrs. James seemed ready for a fight, but it was clear Parker wanted to take her on solo."

Mindy presses her bubblegum pink lips into a thin line.

“That was noble of you,” she says. “For what it’s worth, I’ll bet like, a million dollars Parker desperately wished you were going. He wants to stand up to his mom, but… well, you saw what she’s like. He just can’t.”

"Jesus. Well. I guess I'm going to go kill some time in town. I said I'd bring him back here for our appointment."

Harp plots a mental path through his other safe places in town, deciding on a trip to the library to pick up something new to read in between frantically checking his phone for messages from Parker.

* * *

"Isthat place in the little arts district open for lunch? Do you remember—you took me and your father there last time we were here for dinner. I was thinking we could go there..."

“Mom, why are you here?” Parker asks as soon as they’re in the car, leaning his head against the window. He is exhausted. Of course as soon as she’s won, she’s acting cheerful and oblivious, as if she hasn’t just had a stand-off with Parker’s boyfriend.

"Why don't you tell me? You've been hanging up on me, you've been impossible to reach by phone, and you haven't answered any of your father's emails. Why am I here, Parker?"

Parker suddenly feels a little bit like he’s being kidnapped, and he wishes vaguely he could just fling the door open and roll out onto the street to flee for his life.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he says. “I’ve been really busy, and—”

"I can see that," she snaps. "So this is who you're spending Christmas with?"

She turns left, the wrong direction to get them to lunch.

“That Italian place is up there—”Parker says too late, pointing to the right. “If you go up this street and turn right, there’s a one way that will—”

She huffs and follows his directions.

"You don't have to order me around, Parker."

“I’m sorry—” Parker says automatically, flushing. He stares down at his hands miserably, suddenly intensely interested in his cuticles.

"I just want to have a nice lunch with my son. I'm only asking for an hour of your time. I know you're very busy."

“I’m sorry—” he says again, and he hates how he always finds himself apologizing around his parents, as though all he can do is say he’s sorry or parrot back her own words to her. “I appreciate you coming here—”

He doesn’t mean the words, of course, but they happen automatically. For a split second, he’s glad Harp isn’t here, so he can’t see what spineless, pathetic coward Parker turns into.

They pull in and it's just another moment until they're seated at a table for two and his mother is giving him an assessing glare.

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