See Part 1 for full disclaimer.
I Would Remember Something Like That, Part 3
By Ginger
It was all too strange. Surreal was the word for it, actually. If someone had told him that he would find himself on a couch in a bungalow in Clearwater, Florida – a bungalow currently occupied by Miss Starr, exotic dancer – he'd have replied that they were crazy. If they had deigned to mention that the lovely and talented Miss Starr happened to be none other than Miss Parker, then he'd have called the authorities to have them committed. As it was, he was beginning to think that having himself committed wasn't a bad idea.
From the moment he'd seen her on stage, everything had simply spun out of his control. Ever since his escape from the Centre, it had generally been his preference to be firmly in control. Sure, he'd had the occasional lapse over the years but never quite so publicly or humiliatingly… and never in the presence of *her.* In fact, he had always been particularly careful to retain control whenever he was in physical proximity to her, even under the most arduous of circumstances, because somehow he'd always known…
*If you let your guard down around her, you're dead.*
Well, maybe not dead but more than likely captive. Jarod still didn't know exactly what was going on and that troubled him. On the ride from the club to the bungalow, she had been less than forthcoming about her recent *activities,* opting to hum along with the radio rather than engage in conversation. The sound of her soft humming, combined with the scent of her perfume in the close quarters of a small sedan, had made it difficult to think straight.
In retrospect, climbing into a car with her probably wasn't the most prudent course of action. He should have insisted on taking his own car and following her or, at the very least, driving her car. For all he knew, Parker could have been delivering him right into the hands of the Centre. With her behind the wheel, it would have been much more difficult to escape without injuring her, which was out of the question. But when they'd stepped out into the parking lot, she had turned to him, brushed her fingertips tenderly across his bruised jaw, and voiced concern about his recent, albeit brief, period of unconsciousness. Although he had no recollection of doing so, Jarod must have agreed with her because he soon found himself speeding off into the night with Miss Parker planted squarely in the driver's seat.
So far, there wasn't a Centre operative in sight, except for Miss Parker, that is. As promised and without incident, she had delivered him to a cozy little bungalow on a quiet, tree-lined residential street. He had followed her inside where she'd amiably advised him to take off his jacket and have a seat on the couch then said she'd be right back and disappeared. He had done exactly as she'd asked even though, for all he knew, she'd gone into another room to place a telephone call. Perhaps the Centre had finally struck upon a sure-fire way to trap him. A sweeper team might come barging through the door at any moment and, yet, he felt disinclined to move a muscle.
As she had pointed out earlier, if Parker wanted to bring him back to the Centre, she had already forfeited a golden opportunity. If this were a Centre trap, the most logical place to spring it would have been the club. Dressed as law enforcement personnel, a sweeper team could have dragged him out of there without an objection from anyone. If he had protested that they weren't who they claimed to be, everyone would have thought him delusional at best, deranged at worst, and justifiably so based on the behavior he'd exhibited.
Jarod chewed his lip nervously. He had just done something that would appear ludicrous to any rational being cognizant of the circumstances of his existence. He had placed himself completely in the hands of his would-be captor, his huntress, Miss Parker. Oh sure, he could claim that he'd done so out of concern for his - for their - younger brother but he knew that was nonsense. He could have insisted she spill her guts in the parking lot and parted company there. He was, indeed, concerned for Ethan but this trip to a cozy little bungalow was about something else entirely.
It was about her. It was about why she would undress in front of a bunch of men who, under normal circumstances, she'd be more inclined to pistol whip. It was about her smile; a smile he hadn't seen in decades and yet there it was, on stage for the enjoyment of a bunch of strangers who could never begin to comprehend its value or truly appreciate its beauty. It was about how easily the words rolled off her tongue when she described him as an ex-lover. And it was about the feeling Jarod got in the pit of his stomach when he heard her describe him as such. It was precisely the feeling he had worked so hard to quell whenever he'd been in close proximity to her in the years since his escape. Only, this time, he had failed miserably.
*You've let your guard down around her. You're dead.*
"Careful there, Jarod. You'll rupture something."
He looked up to see her leaning in the doorway and holding two plastic sandwich bags filled with ice. Her hair remained pulled back in a ponytail, she still wore the warm-up suit she'd put on in the nightclub, and she had yet to remove the rhinestones and glitter adorning her face... and other locations. *I wonder if all that glitter comes off on her clothing,* he thought to himself before stammering,
"U... um, did you say something?"
With a heavy sigh Parker glided into the room and replied, "I could see all those little wheels turning in that hyperactive cranium of yours. I can only imagine what it's like in there right now... but I think I'd rather not."
A small smirk playing on her lips, she stopped right in front of him and held out the bags of ice. The smell of her perfume assaulted him once more and, for the life of him, Jarod could not comprehend the significance of the offer. His only course of action was to glance dumbly at the bags of ice then up into her face, all the while feeling like a complete idiot.
Shaking her head, Parker leaned forward. Jarod couldn't help but flinch as she reached around his head to place one of the bags on the back of his neck. She chuckled and it was a low, throaty sound that did nothing to ameliorate the feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Now, lean your head back," she instructed softly. "There you go," she added in a tone that one could actually describe as warm, maybe even affectionate.
She pressed the other bag gently to his jaw then reached down to lift his hand and place over the bag to hold it in place. He could feel her warm breath on his face as she hovered, tending to him.
"This isn't necessary," he whispered awkwardly. "I'm fine."
"Yeah, you seem fine," she responded wryly.
He could feel her fingertips on his forehead, brushing aside a lock of his hair. Apparently, he had closed his eyes at some point; he couldn't recall when.
*Oh yeah,* he thought. *You're dead. She'd never be this nice to you. It must be a trick. Maybe she's abandoned the idea of bringing you back in favor of murdering you with her bare hands. I can imagine the headline now: Body of Mysterious John Doe Found in Quiet Residential Neighborhood.*
Sensing the loss of Parker's presence, Jarod blinked his eyes open and turned his head slightly to see her take a seat beside him on the couch. Frowning, he adopted a tone that suggested he'd long since conceded this round of whatever game they were playing and inquired,
"So, Miss *Starr,* you mind telling me what the hell is going on here?"
Her wide, triumphant smile was as cruel as it was beautiful but he couldn't help but offer a small smile in return. Like just about everthing else this evening, it was simply beyond his control.
"Well," she beamed. "I've found Ethan and he's safe."
"You've seen him?"
"No, but I know he's safe. He'd been living down here for a while and befriended a girl in the business."
"When you say business," Jarod said as he straigtened and removed the bag of ice from the back of his neck, tossing it and the one for his jaw aside before continuing, "I assume that you are referring to the field you have temporarily entered."
"Indeed," she replied cheerily, adding, "But I am happy to report that baby brother doesn't frequent strip joints. Apparently, they lived in the same apartment complex and that's where they met."
"That all sounds lovely but I got a message from a friend saying that he was in trouble."
"By the way, want me to thank that *friend* of yours when I get back to the Centre? It will require climbing into the ventilation ducts but I'll be happy to do it if you like."
Parker raised an eyebrow and smirked. Jarod glowered.
"Oh, come on, Jarod, I've known for ages. Besides, how do you think Angelo knew? I woke up in the middle of the night with a funny feeling. It was like someone had whispered something into my ear, something about Ethan. So, I dug out a letter he sent me a while back and took it to Angelo. He pointed me in the right direction and I knew damned well that he'd..."
"Contact me about our brother."
"I figured it couldn't hurt to have us both on the case but I never in my wildest dreams imagined you'd come bumbling into my path the way you did." Shaking her head and sighing, she added, "Which, when you think about it, was really rather stupid of me. Don't you think?"
Jarod shrugged. Parker smiled.
"So," Jarod remarked with a frown, feeling even more foolish than he did before, if such a thing were possible. "Ethan is fine and this was just some kind of false alarm with your 'Inner Sense.'"
"Not exactly. I guess this friend of Ethan's is alright because she got wind of a guy in the business, an agent who was recruiting underage girls for *private* photo sessions, and raised hell about it. Club owners are constantly under seige by community groups, religious organizations, feminists, whatever, so they just hate this type of thing. They don't want to give the people trying to shut them down any ammunition so they're pretty good at self-policing. The guy immediately became persona non grata in the club circuit. Suffice it to say, he was more than a little ticked off about that."
"I think I can see where you're going with this. He came after Ethan's friend."
"Lisa. Her name is Lisa and, you guessed it, he threatened and roughed her up a bit. When Ethan found out about it, he went after the guy, guns blazing."
"Uh-oh."
"Exactly. The ER records indicate that little brother took quite a beating. I guess this guy is never without his posse, a couple brainless but large creatures that Tiny informs me work out at his gym."
"You'll have to give me the name of that gym," Jarod said menacingly. He *would* deal with them.
"Oh, that won't be necessary," Parker responded with an enigmatic smile.
"Why? What did you do?" he asked, eyeing her warily.
"All will be revealed in due course, Jarod. Oh, that reminds me..."
She reached into her pocket, produced a piece of paper, and handed it to him. It was an address in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He cast her an inquisitive look.
"That's where you'll find Ethan. Lisa took him back to her folks' place to recuperate. Bunny tells me they've grown even closer over this. I think our boy may be in love. When you head up there tomorrow, will you please ask him to check in with his sister once in a while?"
Jarod's only response was to stare, agape.
"Don't look so surprised. I *do* have the gene, remember?"
He remembered and he knew how capable she was; he'd always known. Perhaps he had begun to take her level of intelligence and skill for granted, which, in the case of this woman, was a perilous thing to do.
"And my role in all this was?" he asked rhetorically then sighed.
Shrugging, Parker offered, "Comic relief?"
"Cute. Not funny, but cute."
She laughed and that feeling in the pit of his stomach, which had abated somewhat during their discussion of Ethan, returned. Then something occurred to him, compelling him to inquire in a slightly accusatory tone,
"Wait a minute. If you already had everything you needed, why did you find it necessary to go through with it? Tonight, I mean. You didn't have to... you know."
"And waste all those long hours of practice?" Her eyes glowed with mischief. "Do you think it's *easy* to swing around that pole?"
"Well, I guess you're not *obliged* to tell me," he grumbled, feeling decidedly cranky.
"You're right. I'm not," she replied with smirk. "But I know how your twisted little mind works. Whether or not it's any of your damned business, if I don't answer each and every one of your questions to your satisfaction, you won't rest until you find out another way. And I don't need any more surprises right now."
He didn't bother to dispute her statement because he couldn't.
"Well?" he prodded impatiently.
Parker shook her head then began, "I can understand how, under the circumstances, the novelty would have *completely* worn off for you but..."
"What?" he asked softly and leaned forward in anticipation. He very much liked it when Parker confided in him; it made him feel hopeful and worry about her less. Although she had done so a few times over the years, it was generally under more harrowing circumstances.
"There's just something so... liberating... about becoming someone else. I mean, it's not as though being me is any trip to the Fair."
"Based on what I've seen since I've been out here, I don't think life is a trip to the Fair for anyone, Miss Parker, at least not all the time."
"Perhaps not but I have to think that, for most people most of the time, it sucks less than mine does."
"And life as a stripper would be better?"
"Well, of course not. It's just that..." She cocked her head and gazed thoughtfully into the distance.
Jarod was reminded of the way it used to be, when she'd sneak off to find him at the Centre and they'd talk for hours. The feeling in the pit of his stomach was now accompanied by a familiar constricted sensation in his chest. He was in dangerous waters now and had to remind himself that to have her friendship back would be too much to hope for. This was just a temporary detente brought on by their shared concern for Ethan, nothing more.
"Miss Starr is well-liked, and not just for the *obvious* reasons. Bunny was following me around like a puppy dog all afternoon and Tiny treats me like I'm a princess. I know you may find this hard to believe," she added with a wry chuckle. "But I don't tend to get a lot of that back home."
"Oh, Parker," Jarod sighed. He smiled sadly and shook his head. Apparently he wasn't the only foolish one in the room.
"What?" she demanded, looking adorably incensed.
"I can't believe you managed to miss the supreme irony here."
"Irony? What irony?," she asked, crossing her arms defiantly before adding, "C'mon, spit it out, Wonderboy."
"The irony here is that the Miss Starr you pretend to be is a lot more like the real Miss Parker than Miss Parker is."
"Excuse me?"
"You're not *really* going to make me repeat that, are you?"
He raised an eyebrow; she scoffed.
"Even though it's been a while, I recognized her right away; that smile, those eyes, that wicked playful streak. It seems a pity that you allow a bunch of beer-soaked strangers see a side of you that you keep hidden from the people in your life. Then again, given the quality of some of those people, I can't say that I blame you. They're even less deserving than the beer-soaked strangers."
"Whatever," she huffed, rolling her eyes.
"Like it or not, Miss Parker, you sparkle."
"It's called body glitter, Jarod, and I'm wearing about half a ton right now."
*Well,* he figured, *since we've come this far...*
"Fair enough, but how does that account for the other 364 days a year?"
"Oh, shut up," she muttered, a small, grudging smile forming on her lips as she looked away from him.
A long silence fell as they sat, side by side, each staring off into space. Jarod began to feel awkward, well aware that, by any reasonable standard, it was time to bid her adieu and catch a cab back to the club to pick up his car. The problem was he didn't feel like it; in fact, depriving himself of her company was about the last thing he felt like doing. He opted instead to prolong the encounter by remarking,
"Direct from your villa on the French Riviera... fancy."
Shrugging, she turned to him and said, "I thought it sounded more exotic than 'Direct from her stone cottage in Delaware.' Besides, Miss Starr *is* a veteran of all the best clubs in Europe: Berlin, Amsterdam, Paris."
"Very clever," Jarod observed. "It gives her an air of legitimacy while explaining..."
"Why nobody over here has ever heard of her," Parker tacked on proudly.
She appeared content and thoroughly at ease with herself, and he thought it quite possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. The dual sensations in his stomach and chest now combined to form one large knot.
*You sparkle.*
Glancing away from her, he confessed, "I still don't know how you could do it, though. All those eyes on you, leering. I'd never be able to..."
Jarod looked up to find Parker grinning at him and it stopped him dead in his tracks. He knew that look; like he'd told her earlier, he recognized it immediately. When they were kids at the Centre, he'd get that look whenever Miss Parker was feeling playful, mischievous. Only, now that they were all grown up, it seemed to be working to an entirely different effect. He swallowed hard and tugged nervously at the collar of his shirt, which suddenly felt too tight.
"You see, Jarod," she began, her voice sounding somehow different, deeper.
He thought it evocative of a purring cat. Yeah, that was it... purring. Purring.
*Uh-oh.*
"I fell back on a little trick of the trade. When they're up on stage, a lot of girls pretend that, instead of stripping for the sweaty masses, they're performing for one special someone. They'll play to a person whose world they'd really like to rock. Some use fantasy men - Brad Pitt, George Clooney, whoever happens to float their boat. Some use forbidden fruit like the husband of a friend or relative. And some... some use the men in their lives... boyfriends, husbands... whoever."
"Whoever," Jarod repeated distractedly as he noticed that Parker had inched a bit closer to him on the couch.
*Uh-oh.*
"And I must be a real natural." She leaned closer, close enough to give him another whiff of that heavenly perfume, and whispered, "Wanna know why?"
*No, I most definitely do not. In fact, I believe that would be a very bad idea.*
Even as those words formed in his mind, he nodded yes emphatically.
"You know that person whose world I'd really like rock?"
He nodded again, having apparently lost the capacity for speech.
"Well, I must have been pretending so hard that I made him materialize before my very eyes."
"Y... you did?" he stammered.
What if he were mistaken about her intentions? It would be beyond humiliating and would probably destroy the good will that now existed between them. The only prospect more terrifying was that he was absolutely correct about her intentions.
"I did," she replied, wiggling her eyebrows at him.
"Tomorrow," Jarod blurted, desperate to know which fate she had in store for him. "Y... you said when I headed up to see Ethan... *tomorrow.*"
"Indeed, I did," she concurred throatily then gracefully rose from her seat and turned to face him.
"So tell me," she began, arching a perfect brow at him.
*You've let your guard down around her.*
"Ever been the recipient of a private lap dance, Wonderboy?"
*OH... MY... GOD!*
The only response he could muster was to shake his head gravely. His fate was sealed.
*You're dead.*
# # # #
TBC... That is, if anyone is even mildly curious about how that lap dances goes! ;-)
I Would Remember Something Like That, Part 3
By Ginger
It was all too strange. Surreal was the word for it, actually. If someone had told him that he would find himself on a couch in a bungalow in Clearwater, Florida – a bungalow currently occupied by Miss Starr, exotic dancer – he'd have replied that they were crazy. If they had deigned to mention that the lovely and talented Miss Starr happened to be none other than Miss Parker, then he'd have called the authorities to have them committed. As it was, he was beginning to think that having himself committed wasn't a bad idea.
From the moment he'd seen her on stage, everything had simply spun out of his control. Ever since his escape from the Centre, it had generally been his preference to be firmly in control. Sure, he'd had the occasional lapse over the years but never quite so publicly or humiliatingly… and never in the presence of *her.* In fact, he had always been particularly careful to retain control whenever he was in physical proximity to her, even under the most arduous of circumstances, because somehow he'd always known…
*If you let your guard down around her, you're dead.*
Well, maybe not dead but more than likely captive. Jarod still didn't know exactly what was going on and that troubled him. On the ride from the club to the bungalow, she had been less than forthcoming about her recent *activities,* opting to hum along with the radio rather than engage in conversation. The sound of her soft humming, combined with the scent of her perfume in the close quarters of a small sedan, had made it difficult to think straight.
In retrospect, climbing into a car with her probably wasn't the most prudent course of action. He should have insisted on taking his own car and following her or, at the very least, driving her car. For all he knew, Parker could have been delivering him right into the hands of the Centre. With her behind the wheel, it would have been much more difficult to escape without injuring her, which was out of the question. But when they'd stepped out into the parking lot, she had turned to him, brushed her fingertips tenderly across his bruised jaw, and voiced concern about his recent, albeit brief, period of unconsciousness. Although he had no recollection of doing so, Jarod must have agreed with her because he soon found himself speeding off into the night with Miss Parker planted squarely in the driver's seat.
So far, there wasn't a Centre operative in sight, except for Miss Parker, that is. As promised and without incident, she had delivered him to a cozy little bungalow on a quiet, tree-lined residential street. He had followed her inside where she'd amiably advised him to take off his jacket and have a seat on the couch then said she'd be right back and disappeared. He had done exactly as she'd asked even though, for all he knew, she'd gone into another room to place a telephone call. Perhaps the Centre had finally struck upon a sure-fire way to trap him. A sweeper team might come barging through the door at any moment and, yet, he felt disinclined to move a muscle.
As she had pointed out earlier, if Parker wanted to bring him back to the Centre, she had already forfeited a golden opportunity. If this were a Centre trap, the most logical place to spring it would have been the club. Dressed as law enforcement personnel, a sweeper team could have dragged him out of there without an objection from anyone. If he had protested that they weren't who they claimed to be, everyone would have thought him delusional at best, deranged at worst, and justifiably so based on the behavior he'd exhibited.
Jarod chewed his lip nervously. He had just done something that would appear ludicrous to any rational being cognizant of the circumstances of his existence. He had placed himself completely in the hands of his would-be captor, his huntress, Miss Parker. Oh sure, he could claim that he'd done so out of concern for his - for their - younger brother but he knew that was nonsense. He could have insisted she spill her guts in the parking lot and parted company there. He was, indeed, concerned for Ethan but this trip to a cozy little bungalow was about something else entirely.
It was about her. It was about why she would undress in front of a bunch of men who, under normal circumstances, she'd be more inclined to pistol whip. It was about her smile; a smile he hadn't seen in decades and yet there it was, on stage for the enjoyment of a bunch of strangers who could never begin to comprehend its value or truly appreciate its beauty. It was about how easily the words rolled off her tongue when she described him as an ex-lover. And it was about the feeling Jarod got in the pit of his stomach when he heard her describe him as such. It was precisely the feeling he had worked so hard to quell whenever he'd been in close proximity to her in the years since his escape. Only, this time, he had failed miserably.
*You've let your guard down around her. You're dead.*
"Careful there, Jarod. You'll rupture something."
He looked up to see her leaning in the doorway and holding two plastic sandwich bags filled with ice. Her hair remained pulled back in a ponytail, she still wore the warm-up suit she'd put on in the nightclub, and she had yet to remove the rhinestones and glitter adorning her face... and other locations. *I wonder if all that glitter comes off on her clothing,* he thought to himself before stammering,
"U... um, did you say something?"
With a heavy sigh Parker glided into the room and replied, "I could see all those little wheels turning in that hyperactive cranium of yours. I can only imagine what it's like in there right now... but I think I'd rather not."
A small smirk playing on her lips, she stopped right in front of him and held out the bags of ice. The smell of her perfume assaulted him once more and, for the life of him, Jarod could not comprehend the significance of the offer. His only course of action was to glance dumbly at the bags of ice then up into her face, all the while feeling like a complete idiot.
Shaking her head, Parker leaned forward. Jarod couldn't help but flinch as she reached around his head to place one of the bags on the back of his neck. She chuckled and it was a low, throaty sound that did nothing to ameliorate the feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Now, lean your head back," she instructed softly. "There you go," she added in a tone that one could actually describe as warm, maybe even affectionate.
She pressed the other bag gently to his jaw then reached down to lift his hand and place over the bag to hold it in place. He could feel her warm breath on his face as she hovered, tending to him.
"This isn't necessary," he whispered awkwardly. "I'm fine."
"Yeah, you seem fine," she responded wryly.
He could feel her fingertips on his forehead, brushing aside a lock of his hair. Apparently, he had closed his eyes at some point; he couldn't recall when.
*Oh yeah,* he thought. *You're dead. She'd never be this nice to you. It must be a trick. Maybe she's abandoned the idea of bringing you back in favor of murdering you with her bare hands. I can imagine the headline now: Body of Mysterious John Doe Found in Quiet Residential Neighborhood.*
Sensing the loss of Parker's presence, Jarod blinked his eyes open and turned his head slightly to see her take a seat beside him on the couch. Frowning, he adopted a tone that suggested he'd long since conceded this round of whatever game they were playing and inquired,
"So, Miss *Starr,* you mind telling me what the hell is going on here?"
Her wide, triumphant smile was as cruel as it was beautiful but he couldn't help but offer a small smile in return. Like just about everthing else this evening, it was simply beyond his control.
"Well," she beamed. "I've found Ethan and he's safe."
"You've seen him?"
"No, but I know he's safe. He'd been living down here for a while and befriended a girl in the business."
"When you say business," Jarod said as he straigtened and removed the bag of ice from the back of his neck, tossing it and the one for his jaw aside before continuing, "I assume that you are referring to the field you have temporarily entered."
"Indeed," she replied cheerily, adding, "But I am happy to report that baby brother doesn't frequent strip joints. Apparently, they lived in the same apartment complex and that's where they met."
"That all sounds lovely but I got a message from a friend saying that he was in trouble."
"By the way, want me to thank that *friend* of yours when I get back to the Centre? It will require climbing into the ventilation ducts but I'll be happy to do it if you like."
Parker raised an eyebrow and smirked. Jarod glowered.
"Oh, come on, Jarod, I've known for ages. Besides, how do you think Angelo knew? I woke up in the middle of the night with a funny feeling. It was like someone had whispered something into my ear, something about Ethan. So, I dug out a letter he sent me a while back and took it to Angelo. He pointed me in the right direction and I knew damned well that he'd..."
"Contact me about our brother."
"I figured it couldn't hurt to have us both on the case but I never in my wildest dreams imagined you'd come bumbling into my path the way you did." Shaking her head and sighing, she added, "Which, when you think about it, was really rather stupid of me. Don't you think?"
Jarod shrugged. Parker smiled.
"So," Jarod remarked with a frown, feeling even more foolish than he did before, if such a thing were possible. "Ethan is fine and this was just some kind of false alarm with your 'Inner Sense.'"
"Not exactly. I guess this friend of Ethan's is alright because she got wind of a guy in the business, an agent who was recruiting underage girls for *private* photo sessions, and raised hell about it. Club owners are constantly under seige by community groups, religious organizations, feminists, whatever, so they just hate this type of thing. They don't want to give the people trying to shut them down any ammunition so they're pretty good at self-policing. The guy immediately became persona non grata in the club circuit. Suffice it to say, he was more than a little ticked off about that."
"I think I can see where you're going with this. He came after Ethan's friend."
"Lisa. Her name is Lisa and, you guessed it, he threatened and roughed her up a bit. When Ethan found out about it, he went after the guy, guns blazing."
"Uh-oh."
"Exactly. The ER records indicate that little brother took quite a beating. I guess this guy is never without his posse, a couple brainless but large creatures that Tiny informs me work out at his gym."
"You'll have to give me the name of that gym," Jarod said menacingly. He *would* deal with them.
"Oh, that won't be necessary," Parker responded with an enigmatic smile.
"Why? What did you do?" he asked, eyeing her warily.
"All will be revealed in due course, Jarod. Oh, that reminds me..."
She reached into her pocket, produced a piece of paper, and handed it to him. It was an address in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He cast her an inquisitive look.
"That's where you'll find Ethan. Lisa took him back to her folks' place to recuperate. Bunny tells me they've grown even closer over this. I think our boy may be in love. When you head up there tomorrow, will you please ask him to check in with his sister once in a while?"
Jarod's only response was to stare, agape.
"Don't look so surprised. I *do* have the gene, remember?"
He remembered and he knew how capable she was; he'd always known. Perhaps he had begun to take her level of intelligence and skill for granted, which, in the case of this woman, was a perilous thing to do.
"And my role in all this was?" he asked rhetorically then sighed.
Shrugging, Parker offered, "Comic relief?"
"Cute. Not funny, but cute."
She laughed and that feeling in the pit of his stomach, which had abated somewhat during their discussion of Ethan, returned. Then something occurred to him, compelling him to inquire in a slightly accusatory tone,
"Wait a minute. If you already had everything you needed, why did you find it necessary to go through with it? Tonight, I mean. You didn't have to... you know."
"And waste all those long hours of practice?" Her eyes glowed with mischief. "Do you think it's *easy* to swing around that pole?"
"Well, I guess you're not *obliged* to tell me," he grumbled, feeling decidedly cranky.
"You're right. I'm not," she replied with smirk. "But I know how your twisted little mind works. Whether or not it's any of your damned business, if I don't answer each and every one of your questions to your satisfaction, you won't rest until you find out another way. And I don't need any more surprises right now."
He didn't bother to dispute her statement because he couldn't.
"Well?" he prodded impatiently.
Parker shook her head then began, "I can understand how, under the circumstances, the novelty would have *completely* worn off for you but..."
"What?" he asked softly and leaned forward in anticipation. He very much liked it when Parker confided in him; it made him feel hopeful and worry about her less. Although she had done so a few times over the years, it was generally under more harrowing circumstances.
"There's just something so... liberating... about becoming someone else. I mean, it's not as though being me is any trip to the Fair."
"Based on what I've seen since I've been out here, I don't think life is a trip to the Fair for anyone, Miss Parker, at least not all the time."
"Perhaps not but I have to think that, for most people most of the time, it sucks less than mine does."
"And life as a stripper would be better?"
"Well, of course not. It's just that..." She cocked her head and gazed thoughtfully into the distance.
Jarod was reminded of the way it used to be, when she'd sneak off to find him at the Centre and they'd talk for hours. The feeling in the pit of his stomach was now accompanied by a familiar constricted sensation in his chest. He was in dangerous waters now and had to remind himself that to have her friendship back would be too much to hope for. This was just a temporary detente brought on by their shared concern for Ethan, nothing more.
"Miss Starr is well-liked, and not just for the *obvious* reasons. Bunny was following me around like a puppy dog all afternoon and Tiny treats me like I'm a princess. I know you may find this hard to believe," she added with a wry chuckle. "But I don't tend to get a lot of that back home."
"Oh, Parker," Jarod sighed. He smiled sadly and shook his head. Apparently he wasn't the only foolish one in the room.
"What?" she demanded, looking adorably incensed.
"I can't believe you managed to miss the supreme irony here."
"Irony? What irony?," she asked, crossing her arms defiantly before adding, "C'mon, spit it out, Wonderboy."
"The irony here is that the Miss Starr you pretend to be is a lot more like the real Miss Parker than Miss Parker is."
"Excuse me?"
"You're not *really* going to make me repeat that, are you?"
He raised an eyebrow; she scoffed.
"Even though it's been a while, I recognized her right away; that smile, those eyes, that wicked playful streak. It seems a pity that you allow a bunch of beer-soaked strangers see a side of you that you keep hidden from the people in your life. Then again, given the quality of some of those people, I can't say that I blame you. They're even less deserving than the beer-soaked strangers."
"Whatever," she huffed, rolling her eyes.
"Like it or not, Miss Parker, you sparkle."
"It's called body glitter, Jarod, and I'm wearing about half a ton right now."
*Well,* he figured, *since we've come this far...*
"Fair enough, but how does that account for the other 364 days a year?"
"Oh, shut up," she muttered, a small, grudging smile forming on her lips as she looked away from him.
A long silence fell as they sat, side by side, each staring off into space. Jarod began to feel awkward, well aware that, by any reasonable standard, it was time to bid her adieu and catch a cab back to the club to pick up his car. The problem was he didn't feel like it; in fact, depriving himself of her company was about the last thing he felt like doing. He opted instead to prolong the encounter by remarking,
"Direct from your villa on the French Riviera... fancy."
Shrugging, she turned to him and said, "I thought it sounded more exotic than 'Direct from her stone cottage in Delaware.' Besides, Miss Starr *is* a veteran of all the best clubs in Europe: Berlin, Amsterdam, Paris."
"Very clever," Jarod observed. "It gives her an air of legitimacy while explaining..."
"Why nobody over here has ever heard of her," Parker tacked on proudly.
She appeared content and thoroughly at ease with herself, and he thought it quite possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. The dual sensations in his stomach and chest now combined to form one large knot.
*You sparkle.*
Glancing away from her, he confessed, "I still don't know how you could do it, though. All those eyes on you, leering. I'd never be able to..."
Jarod looked up to find Parker grinning at him and it stopped him dead in his tracks. He knew that look; like he'd told her earlier, he recognized it immediately. When they were kids at the Centre, he'd get that look whenever Miss Parker was feeling playful, mischievous. Only, now that they were all grown up, it seemed to be working to an entirely different effect. He swallowed hard and tugged nervously at the collar of his shirt, which suddenly felt too tight.
"You see, Jarod," she began, her voice sounding somehow different, deeper.
He thought it evocative of a purring cat. Yeah, that was it... purring. Purring.
*Uh-oh.*
"I fell back on a little trick of the trade. When they're up on stage, a lot of girls pretend that, instead of stripping for the sweaty masses, they're performing for one special someone. They'll play to a person whose world they'd really like to rock. Some use fantasy men - Brad Pitt, George Clooney, whoever happens to float their boat. Some use forbidden fruit like the husband of a friend or relative. And some... some use the men in their lives... boyfriends, husbands... whoever."
"Whoever," Jarod repeated distractedly as he noticed that Parker had inched a bit closer to him on the couch.
*Uh-oh.*
"And I must be a real natural." She leaned closer, close enough to give him another whiff of that heavenly perfume, and whispered, "Wanna know why?"
*No, I most definitely do not. In fact, I believe that would be a very bad idea.*
Even as those words formed in his mind, he nodded yes emphatically.
"You know that person whose world I'd really like rock?"
He nodded again, having apparently lost the capacity for speech.
"Well, I must have been pretending so hard that I made him materialize before my very eyes."
"Y... you did?" he stammered.
What if he were mistaken about her intentions? It would be beyond humiliating and would probably destroy the good will that now existed between them. The only prospect more terrifying was that he was absolutely correct about her intentions.
"I did," she replied, wiggling her eyebrows at him.
"Tomorrow," Jarod blurted, desperate to know which fate she had in store for him. "Y... you said when I headed up to see Ethan... *tomorrow.*"
"Indeed, I did," she concurred throatily then gracefully rose from her seat and turned to face him.
"So tell me," she began, arching a perfect brow at him.
*You've let your guard down around her.*
"Ever been the recipient of a private lap dance, Wonderboy?"
*OH... MY... GOD!*
The only response he could muster was to shake his head gravely. His fate was sealed.
*You're dead.*
# # # #
TBC... That is, if anyone is even mildly curious about how that lap dances goes! ;-)