Page 19 of Parker

Chapter fourteen

Parker Fashion House, Glasgow

Joel

It’s ten o’clock, and my old man hasn’t arrived yet. He’s making me sweat, keeping me waiting in his office like an errant schoolboy.

As I pace across the floor, I run through my speech again. The likelihood of being able to talk myself out of this predicament is minuscule, not that I have ever been able to out-debate him.

At the end of the table, Ebony sits with her legs crossed, one hand resting on her tablet, the other holding a pen she hasn’t used. As head of PR, she is technically here to manage optics, but she isn’t taking notes. She’s watching me.

She’s known me since we were kids. Knew Eliza, too. If anyone understands the stakes of this handover, it's her. And if her cool stare was anything to go by, she doesn’t approve of how I played it.

My father enters his office and strolls around the heavy wooden desk to his leather wingback chair. His eyes never leave mine from the moment he arrives. Disgust emanates from him. He says nothing. He doesn’t need to.

“Father.” He holds up his hand to quiet me, a mountain of a man. Even now, he is intimidating, especially to me. He belies his seventy years with a good physique, a sharp tongue, and intelligent wit. No one screws over Evander Parker.

“My son,” he sneers, dropping his hands onto the desk in front of him. “If that’s what you are. Since when do the family’s needs rank below your cock in your priorities?” His hostility radiates from him. He’s beyond furious. He’s cyclonic.

“Father.” My voice is meek. I hate the effect he has on me. I regress to a small boy, terrified of his mentor, feeling the need to explain myself, to justify my actions and opinions.

He stands and runs his hand through his close-cropped gray hair. My habits are identical to his when I’m frustrated or anxious. The realization depresses me. I want to be nothing like him. He tenses his square jaw. His irate eyes silence me again, daring me to speak. I stay mute.

Ebony taps away on her tablet. Fuck knows why, we’ve barely spoken.

“Don’t Father me,” he snarls. “Your actions this weekend have brought great shame to us. It was your duty to be at the cathedral on Saturday. The consequences of your selfishness will resonate for years in both our business and personal lives.”

“I couldn’t marry her,” I bark, losing the little control I have. The last thing I want to do is betray or disappoint my father. I’ve spent my whole life trying to avoid that look. “Love is a necessity in my life, but perhaps you don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand!” he bellows. “Joel, your mother and I have a marriage built on agreement. A financial deal that benefited both families. Just because I don’t love the woman I’m married to,” he considers his words, “doesn’t mean I’ve been without love.

My pleasure has been enjoyed in the shadows. ”

My brow creases in confusion. Realization hits me hard between the eyes. Feeling idiotic, I fall into the chair opposite him. He lives a double life. The one that we see, and another of his own design. That is not the life I want.

Memories flood back, times when women I didn’t know visited the house. Or when the door to his office would be locked, only to open and a disheveled staff member walked out. As a child, it made no sense. As an adult, I chose not to look.

“Are you going to allow me to explain?” I ask, knowing he won’t.

“No.” He raises his eyebrows in a challenge. “I don’t require your explanation. It will never be good enough. Now leave until I decide what to do with you.”

Ebony and I stand in perfect synchronization. She follows me from the office, her heels noisy on the tiles.

“You could’ve warned me,” she says, once my father’s door is closed and we are alone in the hallway. I stop but don’t answer. “You blindsided everyone. Including me. That’s not just bad PR, Joel—it’s personal.” Then she walks away.

***

I sit at home, mindlessly hitting the buttons on the controller. My avatar runs across the screen slaying aliens while I watch on vacantly, my emotions conflicted between guilt and desire. This virtual world offers me escape.

The warrior is swinging his sword, slicing the green bodies in half. Blood splatters everywhere as he runs to his next victim. The task is strangely comforting, as if I’m slaying a few demons of my own.

I keep thinking about the look Ebony gave me outside my father’s office: half pity, half warning.

She hasn’t messaged since, but I know I’ll be seeing her again soon.

She always circles back. PR, they say, but she’s more than that.

She knows where the bodies are buried. Sometimes, because she helped dig the graves.

If only a power up and a sword could slay real monsters.

I’m not concentrating—an alien invader slices my hero in two. Game Over flashes on my TV. For me, it very well could be.

***

The ringing in my ears wakes me from my slumber.

Looking around, confused, I see my phone vibrate madly on the glass coffee table.

My dinner lies uneaten on the floor—it must have fallen from my lap as I drifted off—curry sauce is splattered across my wool carpet. Fuck’s sake, that will never come out.

Imelda Calling

Urgh, I really cannot deal with my mother just now. The phone goes silent and then immediately starts ringing again. Reluctantly, I answer her call.

“Joel,” she shrieks. “It’s your father. He’s dead.” She’s sobbing down the line as I process her words. There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach. I killed him with my betrayal. My selfishness.

“What happened?” I stammer.

“They found him in the river. They think he had a heart attack and fell in during his evening jog.”

“Where are you?” I ask. “I’m coming.” I grab my keys and run for the door. As much as he affected my life in a negative way, he was my father, and now, he’s gone.

***

The hospital mortuary is bleak. My father lies motionless on the steel bench covered to the neck in a white sheet. His skin is pale, all the life gone from him.

I hold my mother in my arms as tears stream down her face. She shakes, and I know it’s from the fear of being alone. Without him to control her every move, she won’t know what to do with herself.

Since the tender age of eighteen, he’s been her dictator. She’s now facing life without direction.

“What will we do?” she whispers. “How will we cope? There is only us and so much to manage.”

“I know.”

There is nothing else I can say. Nothing that will ease the terror we both feel at being left our family businesses to control and manage.

Neither of us truly knows what goes on in Parker Industries, only what my father allowed us to see. I’m absolutely sure I’d rather remain unaware of most of his dealings. But now, we must learn to handle it all, no matter how dark or uncomfortable it makes us.

After the death of the Parker CEO, I know the company moves into survival mode with the key personnel shifting to maintain the running of the business while they train the new boss, which should be me.

Having not long recovered from alcoholism and a near breakdown, I know the added pressure is something I won’t handle well. But who else is there?

Without siblings or a close male relative, my future is predetermined unless my mother and I devise an alternative.

***

The cemetery is filled with a sea of black. Men, women, and children have turned out to pay their respects to my father.

Nicky clutches my hand. I feel her terror—our first public event is my father’s funeral. The woman is incredible. When I told her of my father’s death, she immediately came to my side and hasn’t left.

We'll deal with this together. I’m here for you.

Her words only cemented my belief she was the right woman for me.

Eliza stands with Ebony on the opposite side of the grave. She looks broken, and I feel guilt in every part of me. What I did was cruel, but necessary.

Being chained to a woman I didn’t love would be impossible. Especially with the awareness of how Nicky makes me feel. This is real and how love should be. It’s all-consuming.

***

“Mr. Parker,” Boyd says, addressing me formally. “I know it has only been twenty-four hours since we buried your father. But we need to discuss the business. We need to get you up to speed on everything. Current business deals, etc.”

We haven’t told the staff yet, my mother and I, about our decision. We’re in my father’s office going through paperwork.

“Boyd, can you call the key team members for a meeting at two, please? My mother and I have a few decisions we wish to advise you on.” He nods and leaves the room.

Since my mother’s breakdown at the mortuary a week ago, she’s not shed a tear.

It was as if she let go of the grief and decided now was her time to take control, stunning me in the process.

I’m proud of the woman standing beside me.

She’s intellectual, strong willed, and has come to know her worth.

Having always been in the background, she’s now stepping into the light.

The boardroom is humming with chatter when I enter. Ten men, Ebony, and my mother sit around the long glass table, each in a deep leather chair. The seat at the top is free for the presumed CEO—for me—and my mother sits on the left-hand side.

Striding in, feigning confidence, I walk to the top of the table. All eyes are on me, waiting for my first words as their new boss.

“Gentlemen, Ebony, and Mother.” She smiles at me softly, encouraging me to continue. “Thank you all for coming. The passing of my father has been a tragedy for all concerned, but in his memory, we must move forward with the Parker businesses and ensure that we continue his good work.”

There's a round of applause.

The next part will not be so popular.

“You’re all aware of my struggles over these past years. My position as the financial director is one I know and am good at. I can’t accept the CEO’s position in good faith. Therefore, with immediate effect, the new CEO of the company is Imelda Parker.”

Silence. Stunned silence.

I smile at my mother, and her eyes dance with mischief. She stands and goes to take her seat in the CEO’s chair.

They have no reason to be shocked. If I couldn’t handle a fake wedding, how was I meant to run a corrupt company such as this?

“But,” Boyd stammers, “there has never been a female CEO.”

My mother gives him a broad grin and nods. “First time for everything,” she says, then turns to Ebony, sitting, taking notes like she always does. “Ebony, prepare the PR statement. Us girls have a world to conquer.”

As the voices rise around me with talk of strategy, statements, and headlines, I watch my mother take her place. Not behind a man. Not in the background. Front and center.

And for the first time, I realize that maybe walking away isn’t failure.

Maybe survival is reason enough.

I’m done trying to be my father. That’s not the man I am or ever want to be.

So, I sit back, listen, and wait. My time will come.

And when it does, I’ll speak as myself.