Finding Parker Page 4

  “It was 1997. I invested everything I had saved based on this tip. The tip proved to be an accurate one, and through investing, reinvesting, and having the stock split multiple times, I made tens of millions. The money I earned allowed me to make additional investments, and in turn, more money. The money, at least initially, allowed me to become a monster,” he said over his shoulder as he continued to peer through the glass.

  “I continued to be concerned with nothing and no one but money and myself. The money became a means. I was now able to be the person people had always perceived me to be. I picked women up in clubs, lied to them, wined them, dined them, and had sex with them. I’d immediately move on to another and start over. It was as if I was in some type of contest with myself, and my measure of my success had become fucking various women,” he paused, still staring out the window, and took a shallow breath.

  “So, one day not too many years ago, Downes and I were eating in a restaurant. It was right after he returned from Afghanistan and went to work for me, 2005 I believe. The woman sitting beside us in the restaurant was alone and attractive, so naturally we began to talk. Through the course of talking I learned she had been a victim of sorts,” he placed his hands on his hips, hesitated and looked upward.

  “One night in a bar in Mission Hills, she met a man. One thing led to another, and they ended up at her place. She said he convinced her he had tremendous interest in her as a person and a potential mate. Destiny, he told her. Soul mates or some other ridiculous shit, I don’t recall. At any rate, that night, they had sex. Her efforts to contact the man after that first night were unsuccessful, he provided her with a fake phone number. Imagine that.”

  “A month later, she missed her period. A pregnancy test revealed what she already feared. Nine months passed, she gave birth to a daughter, and now raises the girl alone. Some might say her life was ruined. Others, I suppose, could look at it as a blessing or a gift. It didn’t settle well with me. She is raising a child who will never know her father. She’ll never have a family in a conventional sense. The child becomes the victim, and for what reason?” he turned from the window, walked toward the burgundy chair, and sat down.

  I sat quietly and listened as Kenton Ward began to become human.

  “Her story wasn’t awful, and it certainly wasn’t all too devastating. I had no ties to her or her daughter and I’ve heard far more saddening stories many times. But Parker, for whatever reason, her story was what I needed to hear when I needed to hear it. Here we had a woman who had fallen for a man who wasn’t necessarily truthful with her. As a result, she had been forced to raise her daughter alone. At that particular moment, as we sat in the restaurant, I thought about her misfortune. And something within me changed. A spiritual awakening, hell I don’t know. Something,” he turned toward me and smiled as he placed his empty glass onto the coffee table.

  “Have a sandwich before the bread hardens. I’m almost finished,” he said as he reached for one of the plates.

  I reached for the remaining plate, placed it on my lap, and lifted the sandwich to my mouth.

  “Wow. This is amazing,” I said after I swallowed my first bite of the sandwich.

  “I think it’s the jam. Karen is quite a cook. She’s young and struggles with maintaining a diverse menu, but she can cook like no other,” he chuckled as he took a bite of the sandwich

  “At any rate, on that day, for whatever reason, something within me changed. I attempted to make amends with everyone I harmed in my wake of being me. In doing so, I learned a lot about myself, Parker. Not all of which, I might add, was good. The end result, you might ask? I haven’t been with a woman since. It’s been almost ten years, I guess. I had told myself I’d forfeit all of this, everything…” he paused, motioned around the room, and took another bite of his sandwich.

  “My belongings, wealth, as well as myself to the woman I love and only if I truly loved her. I just had to find her or allow her to find me. In that regard, I’ve tossed my respective hands in the air. For me, the search is over. In recent years, I’ve decided to live my life in a manner I believe to be kind, considerate, and caring. Along the way, I’ve selected a few people to befriend, help, or guide, if you will. You, Parker, are one of those people,” he placed the uneaten portion of his sandwich on the plate and stood from his chair again.

  “Parker, life is like a Texas Hold ‘em Tournament. The poker tournament, have you seen them?” he turned to face me, waiting for some form of acknowledgement.

  “I’ve seen them on ESPN. The tournaments, yes,” I nodded as I wondered what the similarities were, at least in his mind.

  Kenton began to pace in front of the window as he spoke.

  “Everyone gets two hole cards. Only you get to see these cards. Everyone has an opportunity to bet, check, raise, or fold. To bet is to place money on your belief that you’ll win. To check is to say, so far, I like what I see, but I want to see more. It cost nothing to check. To fold is to say, based on what I’ve seen, I give up. This isn’t worth my time or effort. Three more cards are dealt. The flop. Everyone gets to bet, check, raise or fold. Then, another card is dealt. The turn. Bet, check, raise, or fold again. Then, the last card is dealt. The River. Bet, check, raise, or fold. It’s a simple game.”

  “The tournament, like life, starts with a wide assortment of people. Wannabe’s, hacks, the hopeful, the desperate, the one or two who inevitably lied or fumble-fucked their way into the room, the ones who are slowly learning, a few who know actually how to play – but not necessarily well, and then there’s the one. The one person who has it all figured out. He has every potential option, equation, and scenario tucked away in the back of his mind. Based on experience, their understanding of people, and some simple mathematics, he or she will kick the respective ass of everyone else, Parker.”

  “Now, it’s down to you and him. He gets his hole cards and checks. You look at yours. A pair of aces. After the ace, nine, deuce flop, he checks. You wonder why he’s even there. You’re sitting on three aces. On the turn, another deuce, and he goes all in. Hell, he shoves a million three hundred and fifty fucking thousand dollars into the center of the table. He’s that sure. What’s he thinking, you ask yourself. And you study the cards. You wonder. You don’t see it. All you see is your three aces. He must have something. You can’t see it. Fuck it, you say. You go all in. Say a million one. Everyone gasps. They can’t believe it. Over go your cards, and you realize that the deuce you saw on the flop wasn’t the only deuce on the table. You missed the deuce on the turn. And he’s holding the other two. For some reason you didn’t see it. You forgot to eat breakfast. You had one too many martinis for lunch in the lounge. Your girlfriend called you the night before and said I wanted some space. Your ingrown toenail hurts, who fucking knows. But you missed it. The river card is your only hope, and here it comes…an eight of hearts. You lost. He won. You missed a small detail and it cost you,” he continued to pace and look out at the ocean.

  “The details, Parker. Details. You have to pay attention to the details. They’ll be the death of you if you don’t. And you have to know when to shove your cards to the center of the table and say, I give up. There’s no shame in it. All the winners do it, and they do it regularly. The unintelligent, the dreamers, and the unknowing don’t,” he hesitated, and took a slow breath.

  “And as a result they lose.” he breathed.

  “Conversely, you must know, and know you must,” the tone of his voice changed to stern as he stopped pacing, turned, and shook his finger toward me.

  “When to hold your cards close to your chest and say, I’ll risk it all. Being so certain that what you’re holding is right. That it is, without a doubt, the clear winner. So sure that you’re willing to risk it all, everything you have, knowing you have a winner in your hands.”

  “In life, know when to check. It cost nothing to see what little additional life has to offer. Know when to fold. It’s when life’s dealt you a hand that just isn’t worth the ris
k. And know, Parker, when to hold your cards close to your chest and risk it all. Don’t ever be afraid to go all in, as long as you believe you’re holding a clear winner.”

  I sat in the chair and stared at him in admiration. He was a very intelligent man with very sound advice. Life had most definitely dealt me a winning hand when Kenton decided to employ me. I didn’t want to disappoint him, and hoped that he would understand if I ever made decisions that were contrary to what he believed was best. I looked down at my empty hands and realized I had finished my sandwich.

  “So, tell me about your morning. I took control of the conversation earlier and didn’t even let you speak. I’ll do that if I’m allowed. Just tell me to shut my mouth if I do it again,” he grinned, slowly walked to the chair, and sat down.

  “Well,” I squirmed in my seat as I considered where to start.

  “Don’t worry about what you say or how you say it, Parker. Just talk. We’re simply two guys discussing the events of our day. It’ll make me far more comfortable when you become at ease speaking with me, that’s for damned sure,” he rested his elbow on his thigh, lowered his chin into his hand, and raised one eyebrow slightly.

  I smiled.

  He laughed.

  And I became a little more comfortable.

  “Well, I went to the bookstore in Old Town. The two-story Barnes and Noble we discussed. I met a few girls, and I have a date with one of them Friday,” I paused, waiting for his praise.

  “Her name? The one you’re taking on a date, that is,” he asked.

  “Katelyn.”

  He nodded his head slowly as he took the name into consideration.

  “That’s a good name. Is she in school? Does she work?” he asked.

  I thought of what Katelyn and I had discussed. We had talked about love, sex, her hatred of most men, and her whore sister, Christi.

  “I’m not certain, we didn’t discuss it,” I responded.

  “So,” he hesitated and lifted his chin from his hand.

  “You’re going on a date with someone you virtually know nothing about?” he asked as he stood from his chair.

  “Well, she has four sisters, one of which she perceives as being a whore. She believes in fucking, but no so much in love. She’s leery of men, and thinks they are deceptive and untruthful. Her parents have been together since…” I paused and thought as Kenton walked toward the window.

  “Well, I’m not sure how long, but for a long time. She believes they’re in love. She said she believed in love, just that most men were more interested in sex than love. She said they threw the word love around in an effort to obtain sex.”

  “So, you’re going on a date with someone you know virtually nothing about?” he asked again.

  With his hands in the pockets of his shorts, he turned from facing the ocean and stared at me over his shoulder.

  “I, uhhm. I suppose that’s accurate. I know very little about her. She was, however, attractive,” I responded.

  “Was she? What about her was attractive?” he asked as he turned around completely.

  I thought about her walking up the stairs while I waited for my coffee.

  “She was very thin, but muscular. Her skin was smooth and olive colored. She had beautiful hair and equally beautiful features. Possibly the most attractive female I have ever spent time talking to,” I grinned, pleased at the fact that Katelyn was as beautiful as she was.

  “It’s all too easy for us to become attracted to someone’s appearance. We’re then forever blind to whom they actually are. Ask yourself this, Parker. If you had not actually had an opportunity to see her, and had spoken to her as she sat behind a mirrored glass, what would be your thought of her?” he lowered himself into the chair and sat in wait for my response.

  I considered what he had asked. I tried to eliminate my thoughts of her beauty. Had I truly walked into an empty room and had a conversation with her, but not seen her, what would I think? My recollection of what she spoke of – her sisters, thoughts regarding love, and her take on sex was fairly clear. I began to recall what she said regarding sex.

  I’m all for getting laid. But don’t tell me you love me so you can just fuck me. Be truthful; tell me you want to fuck me. Don’t cheapen the sex by calling it love. Call it what it is. It’s entertainment. It’s exciting. It’s a great way to kill an afternoon, evening, or night, but it’s not love. It’s like going to the beach, hiking, or learning how to ride a scooter. It’s an event. Love is forever. Fucking is entertainment.

  I started to grin.

  “Well, we wouldn’t be going on a date, that’s for sure,” I responded, still grinning.

  I was becoming a student of Kenton Ward.

  “How easily we become distracted by beauty. It’s quite sad. If only we could close our eyes and become attracted to what’s on the inside,” he said flatly.

  Quietly, Kenton looked around as if he expected some form of response or answer from within the room. He didn’t appear to be frustrated with me, but the fact that he had stopped speaking made me wonder what he was thinking.

  “Friday?” he asked blankly as he turned to face me again.

  “Friday,” I responded, half ashamed of my having asked Katelyn on a date.

  “Well, I have some errands to get done today; I should probably start pretty soon. If you’re in the neighborhood and she’s bored, stop by Friday. With Katelyn, that is. I’ll be here. Actually, I’m anxious to meet her,” he said as he stood from the chair.

  “I’ll plan on it,” I responded as I placed my hands on my knees.

  “In the event you do come here, we’re friends. No need to muddy the waters with explanations of employment. Agreed?” he paused, waiting for my approval.

  “Agreed,” I responded as I stood.

  I rose from the overstuffed chair I had been buried in for the length of our conversation. During my visit, Kenton had asked little of me, yet offered considerable wisdom in the form of advice. He wasn’t the person I expected him to be. I remained quite nervous in his presence, and reserved hope this would change in time. As the cleats of his golf shoes echoed down the hallway toward the front door, I followed anxiously.

  “You should live every day,” Kenton paused as he reached for the door handle, “as if you’re going to die at midnight.”

  Leisurely, he pulled the door open.

  “Ask yourself throughout the course of each day, if this were my last day on this earth, would I do anything different?”

  “I’ve been saying that since I was in college. Only in the last decade did I truly start applying it. Have a nice afternoon, Parker. I hope to see you Friday,” he said as he extended his right hand.

  I shook his hand and nodded, thinking about what he said. If this were my last day on this earth, would I do anything different? At a loss for words, I stepped onto the porch, turned to face him, and thought.

  “Yes,” I said.

  And, as Kenton Ward’s mouth slowly formed itself into a grin of accomplishment, I quietly turned and walked to my car.

  PARKER. Having a job that wasn’t necessarily a conventional one left me considerable time to think. Thinking, for me, hasn’t always been a healthy thing. I tend to think, rethink, and overthink issues if left with enough time. Being decisive is not one of my strengths. Through the course of the morning, I had changed my mind no less than four times regarding Katelyn and our date.

  Although I couldn’t be certain, I began to wonder if some of my indecisiveness was a result of a desire to please Kenton. I desperately wanted acceptance from him, and couldn’t convince myself he was pleased with my decision to take Katelyn on a date. He had, however, asked that I bring her to his home on Friday. This, in itself, was enough to cause me to second guess my second guessing.

  Sitting in the kitchen and staring out into the courtyard, I tried to relax and think of things other than Katelyn and Kenton. My mind became a scrambled mess of thoughts as I sipped my cup of coffee and gazed out the window at what must
have been one of San Diego’s tallest palm trees. Half way into my mental efforts to guess the height of the tree, I decided to give up. Left wondering and somewhat frustrated, I stood and walked to the bathroom.

  I suspect I pluck my eyebrows more than most people. I will never actually know if it actually provides me any form of real relaxation or a means of solving problems, but I like to think it provides something. During a few of my college exams, I plucked my eyebrows into nothingness. Generally, I perform the task while I am making decisions. Or thinking. Or thinking about making a decision.

  Standing in front of the mirror, tweezers in hand, I attempted to resolve the issue of the palm tree.

  If a telephone pole is typically forty feet tall, and they are buried ten percent of the length plus two feet, that would leave thirty-four feet of the pole exposed.

  Pluck. Pluck.

  The tree is thirty three percent taller than the pole.

  Pluck. Pluck. Pluck.

  If the pole beside the tree is typical, the tree is forty three feet tall. That would be if the pole is typical.

  Pluck.

  Assuming typical length for the pole, my math is correct. Forty-three feet.

  Pluck. Pluck. Pluck.

  Pluck.

  Too many variables. Far too many.

  Pluck. Pluck.

  What if Kenton really wants me to step aside and not take Katelyn on a date?

  Surely he would have expressed his concerns. If nothing else he would have spent some time discussing it.

  He did not.

  Pluck. Pluck. Pluck. Pluck.

  He wants me to take her to meet him. That’s the reason he hired me.

  He wants me to do what is right. Regardless of who Katelyn is and why we’re on a date, the right thing to do is to proceed with the plan.