“There are a few additional conditions and requirements, but no. Nothing freaky or crazy. Finding the right woman, that is all. Yes or no, Parker Bale?” his voice was soft yet stern.
I picked up the pen, removed the lid, and placed the tip onto the page of the contract in the location marked employee. I studied the pen.
Mont Blanc.
I looked up at Mr. Ward, “May I ask what interest you have in this?”
“You may. I have not always been a good man, Mr. Bale. In fact, I was quite the opposite. Additionally, I have not always been able, financially speaking, to do such things. Today, I believe I am a good man, and I am quite wealthy. This experiment, if you will, should benefit you, the lady of your choosing, and satisfy me in that I have assisted two people find what it is we all seek,” he paused and raised his eyebrows.
“Love,” he smiled and pointed to the pen.
“Yes or no?”
I looked down at the page. The greatest rewards in life are provided to those who take the greatest risks.
I signed my name, placed the pen on the sheet of paper, and slid it to my right. Mr. Ward smiled as he scribbled his name beside mine in the location marked witness.
“When do I start?” I asked nervously.
“You already have,” Mr. Astur responded as he slid a set of car keys across the table.
The blue and white logo in the center of the key was a dead giveaway.
BMW.
“And, now that you’re hired, here’s the first rule. I am Kenton,” Mr. Ward paused and motioned to Mr. Astur.
“He is Hec, short for Hector. We’ll address you as Parker. No more Mister this or that. Any questions?” he asked.
I thought about what I may want to ask as I gripped the bottle of water sitting between my legs. As it came to me, I smiled.
“I do have a question,” I paused as I raised the bottle of water from my lap and placed it onto the table.
Both men looked at me intently.
“May I have a glass? The thought of drinking from this bottle is repulsive.”
PARKER. Simple things please simple minds. I have often wondered if the complexity of my thoughts prevented me from maintaining a higher level of consistent pleasure. I am never particularly sad, but I am rarely overly happy either. Living a simple life full of simple thoughts, according to Kenton, was the key to happiness. Having a mind with the capacity of complex thoughts was sufficient to get me in or out of any situation life presented, in his opinion. If my mind was nothing else, it was complex.
I sat at the window, sipped my coffee, and looked out into the courtyard. My first month’s wages allowed me to obtain a condominium in San Diego’s Old Town. Although portions of southern California were far too hot to allow for a well-manicured lawn, San Diego’s climate was perfect for the growth of grass and plant life. I found pleasure sitting at the table and peering through the window at the well sculpted shrubbery which adorned the landscape.
Kenton was a very interesting man, and I found tremendous value in having him as an employer. He had promised over time we would become great friends. To date, he had proven to be handsome, genuine, passionate, unpredictable, and extremely wealthy. He reminded me of a younger version of George Clooney. From what I understood, his home in La Jolla overlooked the ocean; a view everyone wanted and a select few could actually afford.
I had yet to learn much about the background of Kenton Ward, but it was high on my agenda list. I suspected as time passed, Kenton would offer as much detail as he was comfortable allowing me to know. He was a very intriguing man, and having a better understanding of his life’s journey interested me greatly.
My schedule for the day was to consist of traveling into San Diego’s Gas Lamp District, sit at Barnes and Noble book store, and observe the female patrons for a prospective date. As long as I didn’t look beyond the surface of what it was that I was doing for Kenton, everything seemed simple and uncluttered. If I spent time thinking about the intricacies of the contract and his involvement in my life regarding potential relationships, it seemed simply weird.
I walked into the kitchen, rinsed my coffee cup, and grabbed my car keys. I smiled at the thought of spending the day drinking coffee while I observed college aged women – and being paid over eight thousand dollars a month for doing so. In short, I was a player in an odd exercise of human nature development at the expense of Mr. Kenton Ward. My life, for the first time, was going to potentially become interesting.
As I drove to the Barnes and Noble bookstore Kenton recommended, I considered what I would say to any women who may strike my interest. My focus in recent years had not been women, but education; completing my college so as to begin my career amongst the masses in the workforce. My imagination would have never directed me to a career of courting women in a bookstore at the direction of a wealthy gentleman driven by an undisclosed sordid past.
The vehicle Kenton had selected for me was modest by BMW standards, but far from modest by mine. The 3 series coupe with an automatic transmission and leather interior was as nice of a car as I had ever driven. Something about owning and driving it caused me to take extra measures to ensure my actions were in line with one’s anticipation of what would be expected of a BMW owner. I was quite certain Kenton had considered this when choosing the car for my use.
After parking the car, I removed my gum wrapper from the console and placed my gum in the wrapper, folded it, and dropped it into my pocket. Chewing gum, for me, was a necessity. Chewing my gum in public, especially while trying to attract a woman, was contrary to what I believed to be in my best gentlemanly interest. I picked up my tablet from the passenger seat, got out of the car, and locked the doors. After a moment of admiring the car, I walked up the sidewalk toward the two-story bookstore which sat on the corner of the block.
The first floor produced not one single available seat. While walking up the wide staircase to the second floor, I noticed several seats open. One was a small table beside what appeared to be a very attractive young lady with what my grandmother would call dishwater blonde hair – and an affection for cooking – or at least reading of it.
“Good morning,” I said as I sat at the table on the left side of her.
She turned and studied me intently. As she looked from my toes to the top of my head for the third time, the edges of her mouth curled slightly, revealing extremely white teeth.
“Same,” she said over the top of her glasses which rested carefully on the tip of her nose.
“Victoria,” she continued as she closed the magazine she was reading.
I looked down at the magazine as she tossed it on the table. Fine Cooking. Three others littered the right side of the table and two more sat neatly stacked on her left side. Bon Appetit, and Fine Cooking. I loved to cook and could talk about cooking all day. In lieu of bringing up the obvious, I opted for a totally different line of conversation.
“Which year was your worst to date, as far as luck goes?” I asked as I opened my tablet and powered it on.
“Excuse me?” she said over her shoulder without looking as she scrunched her nose and flipped through the pages of Bon Appetit.
“Luck. Or, well, lack of luck. Let’s say bad luck. Which year was your worst for luck?” I grinned.
Dressed in a pair of sheer black pants, a quarter sleeve top, and what appeared to be two inch heels, she looked intelligent with her dark rimmed glasses perched at the tip of her nose. Her eyes appeared to change color from brown to green as her head shifted from side-to-side.
“You’re pretty random. 2012 without a doubt, why?” she responded over her shoulder as she lowered the spine of the magazine to meet the table.
“Well, the jade necklace you’re wearing. Most people wear jade with the hope of it bringing good luck. I suspected you had either a really bad event, or a really bad series of events which prompted the use of the necklace for luck,” I looked up from my tablet as I finished speaking and smiled.
“My my my
. Observant aren’t you?” she said as she released her magazine and fingered her jade pendant.
“I’m Parker,” I smiled.
“First or last?” she asked as she turned and reached toward me with her right hand.
I raised my eyebrows as I extended my hand to meet hers. Before I thought to speak, she began.
“Name? Your name. Is Parker your first or last name?” she asked as she shook my hand.
“First,” I smiled.
“It’s a good name,” she began, nodding her head slowly as she squinted her eyes.
“I like it. I never talk to random people. I can’t believe I’m talking to you Parker, but you’re cute,” she said as she turned her left wrist and glanced at her watch.
I smiled at the thought of her thinking I was cute, and being willing to express it. She certainly wasn’t shy. As I admired her hair, she pushed her hands on the edge of the table and began to stand.
“I’m sorry, but I have to work in about fifteen minutes and my current job is in El Cajon,” she said as she rose from her seat and began to straighten her mountain of reading material into to a neat pile.
I stood and nervously pressed my sweaty palms against the thighs of my jeans.
“No, Parker. I won’t give you my phone number. If that’s what you’re wondering. Not now, she paused as she looked down at the magazines.
“I’ll either see you again or I won’t,” she said as she picked up the pile of magazines from the table.
“Fair enough. It was a pleasure to meet you,” I smiled.
“Likewise,” she nodded her head and walked briskly toward the stairs.
As she worked her way down the winding staircase, I smiled at the ease of making conversation with her. Although I realized I may never see her again, I felt satisfied she was very attractive in personality and appearance. As I sat in the chair and looked around the open room, I convinced myself she must be a regular here.
It would stand to reason if she finished looking at three magazines by the time I had shown up, she had arrived early in the morning, probably as the store opened. If she sat upstairs, she had probably come to spend some time here alone, knowing the typical patrons coming and going from the store would never venture up the stairs if they didn’t have to.
As I thought of Victoria and what she may do for a living, a brunette at an adjacent table stood and walked to the staircase. Although rather slight, she was attractive and seemed interested in me. The first five steps of her trip down the stairs included an eyeful of me from over her left shoulder.
I raised my hand to my chin and smiled as she disappeared downstairs.
Courting women in the coffee shop was, without a doubt, my calling in life. Without a doubt, this was going to be an interesting summer. In an effort to claim my newfound perch, I left my tablet on the table, stood, and walked toward the staircase. Carefully choosing a few books and a magazine from downstairs just might make me a more interesting option to the single women.
I reached the bottom of the staircase and noticed the thin brunette standing at the counter of the coffee shop. As I turned and walked toward her, she looked over her shoulder and smiled. It wasn’t my original intent to attempt to strike up a conversation with her, but considering her expressed interest, I figured I may as well attempt to speak to her.
As I slowly walked her direction, she turned and looked over her shoulder again.
“I saw you met Victoria,” she said as I approached, not bothering to turn around and face me when she spoke.
“I did,” I paused as I reached for my wallet.
“She doesn’t like people. I’m surprised she talked to you. She doesn’t talk to anyone. She’s in here quite a bit, but she keeps to herself,” she said as she picked her coffee up from the counter.
As she turned around, I made mental note of her porcelain like skin and natural good looks. Her hair was cut in what now appeared to be an asymmetrical style, leaving her left side significantly shorter than the right side. For an adult male, I stand a little less than average height, at 5’-10”. As she rotated my direction, I realized she was about eight inches shorter than me.
And perfectly beautiful.
“I’m Parker,” I muttered nervously.
“Katelyn, Nice to meet you,” she smiled and raised her coffee cup in a celebratory fashion.
“Can I help you?” the barista asked.
Overweight, covered in tattoos, and sporting devices in her earlobes which were the size of quarters, the barista stood as a drastic contrast compared to Katelyn. Her visibly dirty hair was cut in a bob and as black as black could possibly be.
“A black cup of coffee, sixteen ounce please,” I smiled.
“Pretty basic,” Katelyn said as she tilted her head toward the barista.
“$2.76,” the barista said.
“I don’t like to complicate things,” I stated as I handed the barista my newly acquired credit card.
“Carmel macchiato,” she said as she raised her cup again, “it’s not complicated. It’s delicious. Oh my God, you should live a little Parker, it’s so good.”
And with that remark, she smiled, turned, and walked gracefully toward the stairs. I watched curiously as she worked her way up the steps. When she reached the half-way mark, she turned and smiled over her right shoulder and took a sip from her cup. The shorts she was wearing revealed although thin, her legs were very muscular. My level of interest rose as she reached the top of the steps.
“Can you make that a caramel macchiato?” I asked.
“I’ve already made you the coffee,” she rolled her eyes as she responded, placing the cup of coffee on the countertop.
“I’ll pay for both,” I nodded, “you still have the card.”
“Fine,” she snapped as she turned toward the espresso machine.
I grinned at the thought of returning to the upper floor and talking to Katelyn. She was probably the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in person. I stood in wonder if her personality would match her beautiful looks as the barista handed me my freshly made drink.
“What do you want me to do with the coffee?” she asked.
“You can dump it out. Or I suppose you could offer it to someone free of charge,” I smiled as she handed me my credit card.
“You always come to book stores to mack on women?” she asked.
“I’m studying,” I responded.
“Studying getting laid,” she snarled.
I turned and walked up the stairs, eager to speak to Katelyn. As I reached the top of the landing and turned toward my table, she looked up from the book she held and smiled. I smiled in return as I pulled my chair away from the table and lowered myself into it.
The upper floor was sparsely populated. Of the sixteen or so tables situated on the floor, six were occupied, five of which were women. I turned and looked over the handrail and onto the first floor. Primarily filled with women, the first floor was at capacity. A few men sat and read, most of which appeared to be college students. None seemed to be interested in anything but studying.
While turning to face Katelyn again, I raised my coffee cup in the air and waited for her to look in my direction. After a moment, she looked up from her book and grinned.
“Delicious,” I mouthed the word silently with my cup held high in the air.
She shook her head and placed the book on the table, marking her page with a small piece of paper. She picked up her coffee cup, yet left her books and purse on the table - indicating she had no intention of actually leaving the book store. As she walked my direction, I took a sip from my drink and fingered the screen of my tablet, fumbling to power it on.
“So, Parker. What’s your story?” she asked as she approached the table.
“Story?” I lowered my coffee cup to the table and cupped my hands around it as I looked up and into her eyes.
As she sat down I began speaking.
“I’m an only child. I grew up outside of Cincinnati, Ohio. I was raise
d by my grandmother and grandfather until my grandfather passed away. I was about six when he died of a heart attack. I have no real recollection of him at all, which isn’t surprising. Alone, my grandmother raised me until I graduated high school. I did well in school, received an academic scholarship, and attended UCSD on a full-ride. A few months ago I graduated, and I am now employed as an analyst for a local businessman. I suppose that’s about it,” I released the cup from my grasp, opened my hands, raised my eyebrows slightly, and waited for a response.
“Where were or are your parents? And what do you analyze?” she asked, smiling.
“They were killed in a car wreck when I was a little less than a year old. And,” I paused as I raised my hand to my chin.
“I analyze people. Well. Yes. Let’s stick with that. That’s about as correct as any other explanation. I analyze people,” I smiled as I slowly lowered my hand.
“I’m very sorry about your parents. And, you analyze people? How and why? Tell me how and why. Is that what you’re doing now?” she asked as she slowly wrinkled her brow.
“How? Well, I merely collect data, I suppose. What types of people do certain things; I look at where they go, what they do, and why. I gather information and provide it to my employer. I guess calling myself an analyst is a stretch. My employer is more of the analyst. I am the lowly grunt in the field,” I chuckled.
“And am I analyzing you now? No. Now I am enjoying the company of a very attractive woman. That’s all,” I fibbed slightly as I nodded my head in her direction.
“Something about you interests me, Parker. I’m not sure what, but something. Let’s keep talking and see what, if anything, we have in common. Sound good?” she smiled as she raked her fingers through the longer side of her hair.
“Sounds great. Yes, start talking, Katelyn. Tell me things about you,” I tilted my head slightly and looked along her torso admiringly.
She smiled, slowly raised her eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion, and looked up at the ceiling as she began to speak.
“Well, let’s see. I had an interesting childhood. Five sisters. I’m the youngest. The oldest is ten years older than me. My mother and father fell madly in love in college and remain true to each other after all this time,” she lowered her chin and took a drink from her coffee cup.
Finding Parker Page 2