Finding Parker (2 page)

I smiled as I placed the bottle of water between my legs and slowly screwed the lid onto the top.

“Mr. Bale,” Mr. Ward paused and clasped his hands together slowly.

“Chivalry, as they say, is dead. After repeatedly witnessing behavior that is contrary to what I believe is gentlemanly, I have decided to hire an assistant if you will. One who is a natural gentleman. If you were chosen, it would be my intent, in summary, to live vicariously through you as I attempt to mold you into a gentleman. Does or would this type of arrangement interest you?” he asked.

Mr. Ward was a very calm yet full of energy. To watch him, one would think his brain was going a hundred miles an hour. To listen to him speak, he was very matter of fact and appeared astute. He had done nothing to prove his intelligence yet, but I was convinced he was a very intelligent man. As I thought about his question and formed my response, I glanced at Mr. Astur. Slowly, I turned to face Mr. Ward.

“Chivalry, sir, is
not
dead. Although magnanimity isn’t commonplace today with the generation of men my age, it certainly exists with some. I would, however, agree we could all take lessons in nobility, generosity, and how to live selflessly. Am I to understand that it is your intent, sir, as is expressed in these contract documents, to form me into a
better
gentleman?” I asked as I picked the pile of documents from the table.

“Impressive response Mr. Bale. I currently have you at one hit and one strike. May I ask why you have chosen to place your bottle of water in your lap?” Mr. Ward asked.

I nodded toward Mr. Astur as I placed the contract onto the table, “Mr. Astur has a coaster in front of him to place his water on. You sir, also have a coaster. When Mr. Astur delivered my water, he did not offer a coaster. As cold as the water is, and considering the temperature in this room, I chose not to chance damaging the top of this wooden table by placing my water on the surface of it.”

I smiled, satisfied my answer was impressive. As Mr. Astur nodded and smiled, Mr. Ward unclasped his hands and rubbed his cheeks with the tips of his fingers.

“Why did you choose a bottle of water over a glass when offered?” Mr. Ward asked.

“Both you and Mr. Astur have bottles on your coasters, sir. I was attempting to be polite and trouble free,” I smiled as I nodded toward the two bottles of water.

“Trouble free,” Mr. Ward repeated as he shook his head.

He pointed to his water, “Have I or has Mr. Astur taken a drink since you’ve been in the room?”

I thought for a moment. They had not.

“No sir,” I responded.

“You requested a bottle of water because we had bottled water? You wanted to be like us?” he asked as he stood from his chair.

“Yes sir,” I responded, not knowing what else to say.

“A lure, test, trick, gimmick, whatever you prefer to call it,” he paused as he pointed to the bottles of water on the table.

“Drinking water from a bottle is akin to eating beans from a can, cereal from a box, peanut butter from a jar, or drinking wine from a bottle. A beverage is contained in a bottle for shipping and storage. It should remain in the bottle until it is poured into a glass, at which time it could be enjoyed. Do you drink your wine from a bottle, Mr. Bale?” he asked as he slowly walked around the corner of the table.

“No sir,” I responded.

“Well, you’re batting five hundred so far. Not bad. There’s something about you, Parker Bale. Something I like. I have yet to identify what it is, but you have a very good presence about you. Do you want the job?” he asked as he stood beside me and picked the contract up from the table.

“I’m not certain what the job consists of, sir,” I looked up as he flipped through the pages of the contract.

He inhaled a slow breath through his nose and exhaled through his mouth.

“You would be provided transportation and money which would be used in finding a woman to develop a relationship with. In a sense, your job is to find the perfect woman
for you
. Preferably once a week, but no less than twice a month, you’d be required to bring her to my home for dinner. All of your dates, meals, transportation, clothes, entertainment, as well as any gifts to her would be provided as a part of the contract at no cost to you. Through the course of developing the relationship, you and I would visit, discussing your intent, direction, feelings, and processes. I would make recommendations to assist you in assuring you always act in a gentlemanly manner,” with his hands at his sides he paused, raised the contract, and flipped through the pages.

“Is that it?” I asked.

“In a nutshell, yes. Are you a risk taker, Mr. Bale?” he asked.

“I suppose it depends on the risk, sir,” I responded.

His explanation of the job sounded interesting. Driving a company provided car and spending company money. My job would be to eat, drink, and buy gifts for women. Through the course of working, I would also earn eighty thousand dollars a year. It sounded too good to be true.

“I’m going to make you an offer. We have interviewed seven applicants, and have two more scheduled,” Mr. Ward flipped through the papers he held, pulled the page from the rear of the contract, and placed it on the table.

“Sign that agreement, Mr. Bale and I will pay you
one hundred thousand
annually. The other benefits remain. This is a one-time offer,” he motioned toward Mr. Astur, who reached into his jacket pocket and produced a pen.

As Mr. Astur reached across the table with the pen, I swallowed nervously. One hundred thousand dollars was very tempting, but I had reservations. Not having read the conditions of the contract potentially exposed me to unfavorable legal language. I gripped the bottle of water nervously.

Mr. Ward placed the pen onto the single page of the contract.

“Mr. Bale. Yes or no?” he asked as he motioned toward the pen with his index finger.

“That’s it? Taking women on dates and attempting to find my perfect woman. Nothing freaky or crazy?” I asked as I swallowed again.

“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.