Page 3 of Lawsuit and Leather

“Sticky.” I replied, but how the words fell out felt less innocuous than I hoped.

“I’m taking you upstairs, let’s go.” Parker reached for my hand, engulfing its tiny size with the care of his grip. I held onto my cup as he divided the crowd, reaching the dark spiraling stairs which led to the private rooms above. I sipped my drink, feeling the faintest of buzzes kicking in as we ascended along the wall of regal grey decor and polished dark paneling. There was something about the dimmed lighting, how its subtle and warm tones made me feel more prepared, as though secrets could easily be told in the shadows. He couldn’t see my face, which made me feel more secure than in the light. Without realizing, I squeezed his hand harder, and my action reciprocated as his grip tightened. “Right here, Butterfly.” Parker held the door open to a rather clean bathroom. Its honeycomb tile was marked in a mosaic, showing the year of the chapter’s establishment:1942.

“I smell like the bar on 94th street, remember how we snuck in for New Year’s Eve?”

Parker sighed at my words, recalling the colossal hangover he suffered.

“Teeeeequila.” I slowly dragged out my words, teasing the memories from that night.

“Just hearing the word.” He crinkled his face, the line of his brow visible. Even when his face scrunched with disgust, he was handsome. “I’ll never drink it again, and if I do, it better be for a damn good reason.”

“I happen to like it a lot.” I chirped, but my smile quickly shifted into shock as Parker placed his hands around my hips, lifting me into the air and onto the porcelain counter. It happened so quick and with such ease, he didn't even bat an eye. It was as if I were weightless, his attention turned to the cabinet where he pulled out a towel.

“Well, if you like it, it can't be that bad.” He conceded, wetting the towel at the faucet.

“Ugh, I think my outfit is ruined.” I muttered, catching a glimpse in the mirror. My curled auburn hair was pulled back with golden pins, my hazel eyes crowned with a smokey look just for Parker. I checked the stain. My black bra was visible through the cami, transparent from bourbon and ice.

“I’ll fix it.” Parker rolled up the sleeves of his grey sweater, just before wringing out the excess water from the towel. His thick brawny arms flexed from the force, defined by fine hair and a thick vein.

“You promise?” I asked innocently.

“Promise.” He assured, leaning closer to dab the towel along the top of my chest. His words were scented like soft mint, complimented by the warmth of his proximity. Right where the heat of his hands had been, my hips screamed to be touched again, to be pulled by his strength. A loose golden strand of hair fell before his eyes, cradling the glisten of his brow. “And when I promise something, I keep it.”

“I know you do, Rattlesnake.” I replied, my eyes focused on him, watching as one of his hands slowly slipped up my thigh. I curled my fingers into a ball, as his hand firmly squeezed, as his stare diverted down to my thin porcelain leg.

“You’re not eating enough.” He scolded, as his hand measured the width of my thigh. “After this I’m taking you out for food, and I won’t accept no for an answer.”

“I’m eating, but sometimes I just forget! You know I get so busy with designs. I lose track of time.” I shrugged off his words as if it were innocent, but the truth was I had little to no money. This was another attempt to shield Parker from the ugliness of my private life, and though he knew I grew up poor, he assumed I was doing ok at the moment. The truth was, I was used to skipping meals, especially with a mother who was almost never present when I needed her. But Parker was very observant and fooling him was no easy task. He was onto me as he flashed me a warning stare, something I imagined would be useful when questioning others in court. If he even suspected I was low on money, he’d insist on giving me some. I couldn’t let him do that though. I couldn’t share the shame it made me feel about who I was and where I came from.

“We’ll get you fed soon enough, especially when you come over for Thanksgiving. Mom keeps reminding me to tell you, and I keep assuring her you wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He dabbed my shirt a little further, “She needs her special girl to make the potato salad.” He laughed, a nod to a childhood story recited at every dinner.

“I can’t wait to hear the Spuddington story again. It’s literally my favorite part of any gathering.”

“Why do you torture me?” He asked, dreading the family tradition, pulling away to admire his work.

“I love to see you squirm.” I grinned, indulgent in his stern yet cheerful face. He glanced up from my chest and into my eyes.Love. The word was said, but only in relation to how I loved to make himsquirm. That wasn’t the only thing I loved though, and there was no list big enough to detail the intricacies of my feelings. We grew up together; he held me when I cried; he stayed with me when I felt alone; and despite shielding him from the details of my ugly past, he bared with me through it all. It wasn’t just him, it was his family, the very people who had welcomed me too. It all felt so perfect, and after a lifetime of messy, I was ready forperfect.

Suddenly, as fast as I could realize, I knew everything I hoped to believe was true. Parker loved me, there was no mistaking it. Dana was right, I was right. Everything would be great, and nothing could go wrong. It crept up in my chest; the blood rushed in my face with the beat of my pounding heart.

“Parker…” I said softly, staring into his green eyes, the ones I had modeled my skirt after, my most intimate form of expression, until now.

“What is it, Butterfly?” He asked, his face leaned closer toward mine. I swallowed, unsure of this new sensation, a heightened sense which made my ears ring and hands tremble. It was as if the whole world lit up, defined in clarity so sharp yet intimidating that all I could do was say the words.

“I’m in love with you…” I whimpered, the sound of the electronic music outside far too faint in comparison to the pound of my heart. Parker’s skin burned red, mirroring my own, his eyes perplexed, blinking as if sending morse code. What did it mean? I cringed as his face appeared shocked as he absorbed the weight of my words.

“Gemma… I…” he muttered, the towel dropped from his hand, as his lips hovered near mine. He was so close I could taste them with the slightest sense of imagination. “I love you too…” He admitted, his head leaned against mine as his hand gripped even tighter around my thigh. He pinched his fingers to the point it burned. I winced at what I thought was a confession, but instead was a clarifying stab to the gut. “Like a sister…”

Sister?

I hadn’t realized my mouth dropped open, leaving me perched on the counter like some surprised doll.

“Sister?” I stated, half a question to Parker, and half a question to the universe, to everyone and everything. A sister? Why didn't he just call me his grandma, or even his dog? It was all just as awful, the complete other end to a spectrum of my feelings.

They'll take it all, and they’ll leave you too. Don't say I didn't warn you, someday you’ll end up like me.Claire’s voice popped into my head, a mocking and jubilant taunt that turned my stomach. She was right, I was the fool.

“Gemma.” Parker sighed, visibly frustrated at my lack of response. “These things are complicated, you’re my best friend.”

“I got to go…” I stuttered, and the room visibly spun as I stood up. I should have listened to the fear, the one Claire instilled so long ago.

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