Love's Paradox

Chapter 28: Pilfering Heaping Mounds of Diamonds

"Does this dress make my butt look fat?" I ask Cherry on Friday evening. I'm preparing my suitcase for the two days I'll be spending in Austin, Texas, this weekend.

"Sweetie, I don't think anything could make you look fat," she says.

"Okay, does it at least look decent? I mean, his parents are Republicans."

Cherry groans at this. "If you dress like Laura Bush when you visit, you're just giving them a false image of who you really are. Go daring or not at all."

"I don't want to embarrass Parker," I argue.

"I don't think you could, even if you tried."

"We're arriving via a private jet. I'm pretty sure the electric red streaks in my hair alone will make me look like an alternative chick who wants to pilfer their heaping mounds of diamonds. You know how people like them think."

Cherry shakes her head. "Hey, just because they might be bigots doesn't mean you should judge them before you meet them. You never know. They did produce Parker, after all."

"True. I guess I'm just nervous."

"You'll be fine. Trust me. Just don't use the wrong fork at the table or slurp your soup or pasta."

"But I don't know which fork to use," I cry.

"Me either," she says in sympathy.

Parker picks me up Saturday morning. He's dressed in clothes he'd wear to work, and I immediately regret my jeans and button down top.

"Should I change?" I ask.

"No. You look perfect." He pauses, searching my face. "Are you nervous?"

"What? No. I just look like this because I ate bad sushi," I lie.

He smirks. "Oh, is that why you look deathly pale?"

"That, or I was bitten by a vampire and will rise to be one of the undead tomorrow." I show off my front teeth. "Do I have fangs yet?"

"No, but you have some food stuck between your front teeth," he says.

"What?" I gasp and use my fingernail as a toothpick.

He laughs. "Relax. I was just kidding." He shakes his head. "Too adorable."

We drive to the Bowling Green/Warren County Regional Airport. After going through their lax security, Parker leads me toward the plane.

"It's so . . . tiny," I say. "Looks like a deathtrap."

Parker places a hand on my lower back and leads me forward. "Don't worry; our pilot is an expert."

"Until he crashes with us."

"I didn't know you were afraid of flying," he muses.

"I'm not, but that thing looks like a good gust of wind will knock it out of the sky in spectacular fashion," I retort.

I get on the plane, all the while cursing Parker and warning him that if we die, I will lock the doors to the Party Bus to Hell before he can get on, to which he guffaws.

"You don't believe in Hell," he says.

"So? If we're dead, that's that. Therefore, you need to know now that if there was a Hell, that's what would happen."

"Smartass."

"Better than a dumbass."

The first thing Parker does once we enter the plane is open his luggage and remove a prescription bottle. He dumps two pills into his palm. He takes one and offers me the other.

"What is it?" I ask wearily, staring at the little white pill.

"Valium. Because I do have issues with flying."

I eagerly take the pill, and then regret it the second I swallow. What if it doesn't wear off before I meet his family? Oh, no. This is going to be disastrous.

An hour into the shaky and terrifying flight, I realize I'm not as frightened as I should be. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure the thought of plummeting to my death doesn't even bother me. It actually sounds exciting, like a roller coaster ride without a seatbelt. And that's when I realize I'm in deep shit.

"Um, Parker?" I squeak. "I think I'm high."

He stares sideways at me, a little smirk forming the most adorable dimples. "Me too." He giggles. Actually giggles. We are so screwed.

"I don't think you understand. Your parents being Republican is rather cute. That's just not right." Then I smile, because I'm happy as a clam for no good reason whatsoever.

"Don't be worried," he says, stretching out like a lazy cat. "I'm certainly not."

"Neither am I, which is exactly the problem."

He laughs. "This is the best plane ride ever."

"It really is." Shit, shit, shit! Why am I so delighted? So happy?

When the plane touches down later, the side effects of the Valium still haven't faded, not that I care. A meteor could crash down on my head, and I'll greet it with a cheerfully annoying song. This drug is truly the epitome of "over the moon."

Parker takes my hand and leads me from the airport, merrily carrying and pulling all our luggage. A black Mercedes waits for us outside the terminal. An older gentleman in a pristine black suit greets Parker by name and opens the rear door. I scoot inside as Parker exchanges a few words with the driver. I feel the slamming of the trunk just as Parker sits beside me.

He remains silent on the ride to his parents' home, and I wonder if the drug is wearing off for him as his easy-going expression melts away the farther we drive from the airport and our only escape. His shoulders soon go rigid, and his grip on my knee hardens until I cry out in pain. He jerks away from me.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

"What's wrong?" I demand. What I don't say—because it'd be wildly inappropriate—is that he's ruining my high by making me worry that his family are cannibals or nudists.

"It's nothing. Just been a while since I've been home."

"Because of the exorcism thing?" I say out of the side of my mouth.

"That. And I've been busy with school and work." It sounds like a half-truth to me.

"And?"

"And nothing."

"Do your parents make wild monkeys sleep with you at night or something? Because that'd make me tense and frightened as well."

He gives me an exasperated look, one that reminds me of a parent whose child has asked "why?" for the millionth time.

"Why are you giving me that look? You're the one being all secretive. You have no idea what kinds of crazy scenarios my mind can concoct."

He lets out what sounds eerily like a growl. "They're judgmental, and everything I've done since I was a kid hasn't been up to their 'precedents.' No matter what I do, it's never good enough. It's never what they had planned for me. I'm used to it, but you aren't."

"Yeah, yeah. We're all fucked up in our own special way."

He frowns, not at all amused. "Mostly, I worry about how they'll perceive you; that's all."

I lean against him. "Aww, that's so sweet, Parker." Obviously the Valium hasn't worn off because I could give a rat's ass about what his family thinks of me, which I know is the wrong way to approach this situation.

He rolls his eyes, smiling, finally giving into my playful side.