At this, Nicole put her drink down. “When someone blames you, or rather your husband, for everything that’s ever gone wrong in their life, you will never be able to trust them to completely be on your side.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“That’s why I called you. I figured he might listen to you.”
Parminter smiled. “Well, I’ll be happy to do it. You’ve been through enough without all this. Howie’s an asshole but he’s not a bad guy,” he said even though he wasn’t completely convinced that this was the case.
Nicole laughed. “I knew there was something about him.”
They ordered some more drinks and then switched the topic to more enjoyable subjects like their college days and anything not related to the subject at hand. Nicole was soon very tipsy and Parminter offered to walk her to her building. She accepted and they left the bar and began the walk.
They arrived after a few minutes.
“Well, it was nice talking to you about old times, tonight. I had completely forgotten about the time they stole the mascot’s uniform and threw it over the stadium,” Parminter said, still feeling the effects of the martinis.
She laughed. “The chalk outline on the pavement was priceless. I will never forget that.”
He started laughing too. Then they paused.
“I don’t really want to be alone tonight. Do you want to come up?” Nicole asked and leaned into him.
“You’ve been drinking. Are you sure?” Parminter said as a formality. He wasn’t surprised at her offer. He had been getting this vibe from her all night but had been hesitant to follow up on it due to the circumstances. Now, that he knew for sure, he wasn’t going to let the moment pass.
“I’ve not been drinking that much. Come up. You’ll be glad you did. I promise.” With that she gave him a little smile that made it very clear that she was expecting more than just companionship.
Parminter got the message loud and clear and smiled. However, he also thought about the ramifications of what would happen if anyone, especially Howie found out. It would definitely be a scandal. He paused for a second and wondered if he should reconsider.
But then Nicole gave him a look that was both so pitiful and sexy that he could not resist. This woman had been through so much and all she wanted at that moment was something that he could easily give. She was a beautiful woman and very charming. He couldn’t resist that.
He took her arm and they went up the elevator.
14
The next day, Parminter was still lying in bed when Nicole awakened him.
“It’s time for breakfast. Are you hungry?”
“I think I just want some coffee.”
Nicole smiled a little disappointedly. “Suit yourself. But if you change your mind we have pancakes.”
Parminter smiled and watched her leave the room. She was wearing pajama bottoms and a t-shirt that said “Not Too Hot to Sleep.” She looked good even dressed down, he thought.
He got out of bed and put on his clothes. As he did so, he wondered just exactly what was he doing here. Sure, it had been a good time last night, but why was he getting involved in this thing that was only on the periphery of his life? If he hadn’t met Howie back in history class when he was a freshman, none of this would even be happening.
He had been in these kinds of situations before and he found it uncomfortable. One time, back in California, he had been the other man in a relationship with a red-headed movie editor. Well, it really wasn’t a relationship. He had merely been the person with whom the editor had sex. On many occasions. He hadn’t really felt really badly about it either. At this time he was still at a stage where he was still hurting over what had happened to him in his relationship with Robin and figured that what people did was their own business. He reasoned that if the editor’s husband couldn’t keep his wife happy, then he knew he sure could. He figured that the fallout from her dalliance wasn’t his problem.
Naturally, the affair had resulted in years of marital counseling for the couple, but he didn’t lose much sleep over it, because at that point, he really didn’t care about much other than his own satisfaction. Besides the movie editor’s husband had been a real dick. He was an agent that had turned him down once when he had tried to get him to represent him. He figured that it was poetic justice. Also, to tell the truth, he hadn’t really liked the movie editor that much either. She was good looking and crazy in bed but that was about it. Personality wise, she was as awful as her husband so they were actually a rather well-matched couple. Even so, in retrospect, he realized that he should never have been involved in that mess. There was a problem between the two of them and he had no business getting involved. It had felt good at the time though and he understood that if it hadn’t been him, she would have just had the affair with someone else. He wondered if this was a similar situation with Nicole.
He was still mulling this over when he walked into the kitchen. Nicole had had her housekeeper prepare a very large breakfast that was much more than two people could eat.
“I didn’t know what you liked so I had her make some of everything.”
“I see that.”
Not wanting to be impolite, he piled his plate high and got some coffee although he really wasn’t hungry.
Nicole did the same. He wasn’t sure how she was going to eat it though because she was such a thin person. There was simply no place to put it.
They sat there eating in silence, no doubt waiting for the other to bring up the subject of what had occurred between them the previous night.
“Did you know that I used to make pancakes for Trixie?” Nicole said.
Parminter looked up.
“Trixie. My dog. The one that got run over.”
“Oh,” Parminter said. “I’m really sorry about what happened to her.”
Nicole started to tear up for a second, but then stopped just short of crying. “I know. It sucks. Just one more shitty thing that happened that night.”
They sat there for a second, but then suddenly Nicole looked up at him.
“I’m sorry, I’m ruining the mood. Let’s change the subject to something more positive.”
“Okay.”
She took a deep breath and composed herself. “You know, John, I had a wonderful time last night.”
“I did too,” he said as he took a sip of his coffee.
“I mean, I had a really good time. I know you thought it might be improper or something but I really thank you for it. I’m so lonely now that Raoul’s gone.”
“Thanks.” Parminter really wasn’t sure where this was going.
She smiled at him. “I don’t want this to just be a one time thing, John. I really like you.”
“But what about Howie?”
“I know. That’s why it’s important that you talk to him and let him know that I’m not trying to screw him over.”
“I will. But still, won’t he think that I’m just doing your bidding or something?”
She sighed. “John, I know that I felt something last night with you. I know that you felt it too. Do you really want to let Howie get in the way?”
She was right. He had felt it, too. They had definite chemistry. Sexual chemistry anyway. While he had enjoyed being with her, the problem he was having was that her husband was still warm in the ground. Literally and figuratively. Wasn’t she supposed to be grieving?
“But...”
She interrupted him.
“I know that you think that maybe it’s inappropriate to start something up so soon after Raoul died and I understand. That’s not what I’m trying to do. I loved my husband, John. I loved him very much. I’m not going to say that he just wants me to be happy because that’s such a cliché. Actually, I’m not really sure that he would want me sleeping with someone, but he’s dead so he doesn’t get a say-so. I’m alive and I’m not going to deny myself what I want. Besides, I’m not really looking for a boyfriend or a husband, John. I just need a friend.”
Pa
rminter was both a little flabbergasted and flattered by what she had just said. He also couldn’t help but be a bit skeptical, but decided to reserve any judgment. “I appreciate that.”
She continued. “I have some good friends, but there’re not the same as you. I need a person to lean on from outside my social circle. These people are too close. They’re too judgmental for me to be myself. They have too much to gain from my indiscretions.”
“And you can’t have sex with them?” Parminter asked and smiled.
“You got it,” she said and laughed. “Seriously, I like you and I know that you’re a good guy. I know that you’re not trying to use me or get something out of me.”
“So you like me because you think I don’t care?”
“Exactly,” she said. “We’re both adults here, John. You know how it is. I just need someone in my life who is genuine and has nothing to gain.”
He looked at her and smiled. Sure, it was a little strange that she was behaving in this manner, but who was he to judge. People display their grief in different ways. He wasn’t sure how he would act if he had gone through something like she had. Besides, he had no clue as to the reality of her relationship with Raoul. The one thing that he did know was that she was trying to so hard to put on an appearance of strength it was difficult not to see just how vulnerable she was. Reservations aside, he did really like her and he was pleased that she liked him. Everybody likes to be liked and to want someone to want them as a friend. He was no exception.
“I’ll talk to Howie,” he said and smiled.
“Thanks.”
They continued to eat and after a few minutes, Parminter’s appetite returned and he finished his plate and asked for seconds. Nicole couldn’t help but smile.
15
Being with Nicole was apparently very good for Parminter, at least as far as his fortunes went. On the following Monday, he had one of the best days of trading he had ever had. He made his monthly living expenses in the space of about ten minutes and from there on out started racking up the cash. He just could not pick wrong and everything he bought, even dogs which he instantly regretted, went up so that he was able to make a good sum. He was even able to cash out at the end of the day in a good spot. He held onto a few blue chips which he had bought that morning because they had inexplicably dropped dramatically after posting record profits. He knew that these would probably eventually bounce back in a big way and in the meantime would allow him to collect dividends. And if they continued to drop, he would just buy more. All in all, it had been an ideal day. He had made a fortune and he hadn’t even had to leave the sancity of his McMansion in suburbia. Thank goodness for technology. Because he was not a superstitious man, he could not attribute how much of it was related to Nicole, but he couldn’t help but ponder how she had also fitted into the equation of Raoul’s Goldman’s success. Maybe some people were good luck charms.
This was such a change from how he had lived when he had been trying to make it as a writer. When he had been in California, everything he had done had been subjected to criticism. He would receive notes on scripts he had written from people he knew for a fact had never read anything other than a spreadsheet. He had made references to the great works of literature and film in some of his queries and synopses only to be met with a reply of, “Oh, I’ve never heard of that.”
And then they would start criticizing.
This was hard for him to take because he knew that they had no idea of what they were saying. Also he knew that nothing would come from it either. The one script he had sold had been his masterpiece and he had expected so much from it. But then it went into turnaround and the next thing he knew, some softcore producer had it. All the heart and soul of it were completely stripped from it and replaced with hardbodies and cheese. But at least it had gotten made. This was the most important thing out there. Getting something made. It should have started his career as a screenwriter, but it didn’t.
His freelance writing was the only thing that kept him sane. It had given him an opportunity to meet lots of people and go places to which he would not have ordinarily had access. It also allowed him to eat and pay his rent. It had been fun but it had been nerve-wracking and, most of the time, he knew that he should have gone into something different other than writing. It was a profession that had made him happy and miserable at the same time. He was so glad that he didn’t have to do it any longer. At least for the time being. Now that he had money, he could write whatever he wanted. And such freedom felt both good and bad. Good in that he had the time to work on something that he really wanted to and bad in the sense that there was no longer an excuse to keep him from doing so. He no longer had an excuse to write crap.
But then again, motivation can in lots of forms; however money is usually the primary motive for most people in whatever endeavor they choose.
In California, he had been friends with another screenwriter whose parents were mega-wealthy. They owned a chain of carpet cleaning stores back east and were always begging him to come back and join the business. In exchange for this simple act, they would give him a sinecure and an apartment. All he had to do was move back home. However, he was driven to prove that he could do it on his own. He was going to get into show business without anyone’s help. Money was not his goal. Making it as a screenwriter was. However, Parminter, who had been out there much longer, knew that if he truly wanted to prove himself and get into show business, he was definitely in the wrong arm of it. Success in screenwriting was almost like winning the lottery. And if a person did have some success, he would only be judged by his next success. It was an admirable thing his friend was trying to do, however he had one problem. He couldn’t write. He had no ideas and could barely string together a sentence. Parminter secretly believed that he was dyslexic. But still the guy continued, driven by his belief that he could do it. But eventually, the rejection got the best of him and he accepted his parents’ money grudgingly and after many years of trying, gave up and moved back east. Oddly enough, from there he was able to finally able to get into show business. He used the money from his parents business to finance several successful independent films. Even so, he still considered himself a failure because had never been able to make a penny from screenwriting. Such is the misery of writing. Or rather the attempt to make a buck at it.
Parminter had had enough struggles with money to understand why people were always so desperate for it. However, he also knew that it was not the end all be all either. This is why he didn’t understand why so many apparently rich people were so concerned with Raoul Goldman’s estate. Howie, while cash strapped, had plenty of money through his family. He may not have been able to live a fabulous bachelor lifestyle with it, but he could certainly do quite well. He just didn’t understand why Howie couldn’t be happy with that.
In the small town Parminter had lived in before he had moved to the city when he was a teenager, there were a lot of poor people. Whenever someone one died, it was common for their relatives to ransack the person’s house to find any scrap of money they could. He remembered on more than one occasion that almost instantly after the person had died, some members of their family had swarmed the house and had torn through every book and purse to try and find something of value. It was almost like the vultures were swooping in to pick the carcas. He had always been appalled at such behavior, but had accepted it because it was so common there. Also he understood that they probably just thought that this was the way that things were done. They were not exactly the most educated or high class of people. That is why he couldn’t quite understand why these people in Raoul’s circle would be acting this way. He knew that this was a little different in the case with Goldman but the parallels couldn’t be ignored.
He thought about his talk with Nicole. He could understand why she was so torn and why she wanted to be his friend. Her world was probably a hard one to live in. It was populated by so many people who on the surface were nice, but only because they wanted something. He kn
ew that he was going to have to talk to Howie, even thought he dreaded it. It might even end their friendship but it was the right thing to do. Besides if it ended it, it would not be his problem. He wasn’t even sure if he even wanted to remain friends with him anymore. He had really become such a horrible person and Parminter couldn’t simply sit back while Howie harrassed this poor woman. Howie may have hated Raoul, but she had loved him. Someone had to stand up for her.
The problem was that he knew that it would probably be a tough thing to do.
16
Parminter decided that the best place for him to have a talk with Howie would be somewhere public. He knew all to well that once he spoke to him about Nicole, he would absolutely freak out. And if he became absolutely deranged, Parminter wanted someone around to call the police. He had long ago dismissed any sort of view that true friends are incapable of harming you. He knew what could happen when a person thought you were getting in between them and their money. Call it age or practicality, but people had been murdered for less and he didn’t want one rage-induced incident related to something in which he had no direct involvement to be a life-changing event.
He called Howie and told him that he had something to discuss with him. He told him to meet him at the big park downtown. It would be a good spot because while it was a public open area, there were plenty of places that they could get together and speak privately.
Parminter arrived early and found a spot near the water that was not filled with people. Howie showed up a few minutes later looking a little perturbed. It was obvious that he knew something was up.
Parminter greeted him and shook hands and they sat down on a bench.
“So she got to you, didn’t she?” Howie said matter of factly.
“What do you mean?” Parminter said, a little surprised.
“I know that you fucked her.”
Parminter was flabbergasted. “How…?”
There Will Be Fire Page 7