Feather Light (Knead Me) (22 page)

That much was true. Liz had been close to hysterics during her scheduled massages. She’d often threatened to divorce her husband because of his passive nature, especially in the bedroom. One of their sessions had turned into a verbal therapy of sort, forgoing the massage in favor of talking.

Parker had met Steve at a gathering they’d attended together, and he’d somehow sensed Liz’s husband needed a little spark in the bedroom. Quiet and reserved as he was, all Steve needed, in Parker’s opinion, was a little nudge, a different approach to how to express himself. He’d ended up showing Liz a few tricks—in particular, how to find a person’s erogenous zone. Of course, this was all based on his personal experience and what he’d learned from school, and there were no guarantees, as every single case was different. They’d spent several weeks practicing before Liz had felt confident enough to try his tips at home. He hadn’t heard from her for over three months and had begun to think his suggestion hadn’t produced the results they’d been hoping for.

“Well, you did all the dirty work.” He laughed. “I didn’t do anything except listen. You’re the one who made it happen. So you’re here for a pregnancy massage, then?” 

Liz giggled again. “Yes, I want the whole shebang.”

“You know the drill. Remove all your jewelry, except this time, lie on your side, and call me when you’re ready.”

Parker left to get ready, thinking of Ann the entire time. Why hadn’t she returned his text or even called? 

He had just finished strapping on his oil and lotion belt when he heard Liz’s enthusiastic “woo-rah.” He started the soft music, took a deep breath, and returned to the dimly lit massage room. 

The hour went by so fast. Liz’s chatter was a welcome distraction that kept him from thinking of Ann. Massaging a pregnant woman required specialized training, as well as a good amount of concentration. At the end of their session, Liz was near tears. Happiness and pride welled from her, and Parker could feel her emotions just by touching her. Pleased with the outcome, Liz thanked him before she left. 

As soon as Parker emerged from his office to go to his next appointment, Cork intercepted him at the end of the hallway.

“Hey, bro, what’s up?” Cork asked. He sounded a little too perky in Parker’s opinion.

“Not much. You?”

He wasn’t up for small talk at the moment. All he wanted was to finish his last appointment and have at it with the treadmill as soon as he got home. Cork walked alongside him while he made his way to the massage room.

“I got a call from a casting agent. They want you to do the next X-Pro commercial. Do you want details?”

Parker stopped and faced his brother. “Is that the new sports drink?”

“Yeah.” Cork chuckled. “The one you said tasted like pee.”

“I don’t know. It sounds hypocritical to endorse a product I can’t stand. What do you think?”

“I think it’ll be good exposure for you and for Knead Me. Besides, it’ll give you something to take your mind off whatever it is that’s bugging you.”
 

“Have you been talking to Webster? I swear you guys are acting like two mother hens. Lay off me, will you? I’m okay.” Parker reached the room of his next client and not a moment too soon. “Fine . . . I’ll meet with the agent. Give me the details later. Meet me at the bar after work.” 

“Dude, I’m sorry, but I can’t. I have something planned after I drop you off later, but I’ll give you a call tonight.”

Cork was being evasive again, but he wasn’t about to pry. Parker nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll see you later.” 

The day passed at an excruciatingly slow pace. By the time five o’clock rolled around, Parker was not faring well at all. He needed to get rid of the tension building inside him. What he
really
needed was a massage, but he wasn’t feeling up to talking or subjecting himself to Andy or Mark’s scrutiny and inane chatter, so he decided to chill at home for the night and maybe run his treadmill into the ground.
 

As soon as Cork dropped him off, he changed into gym shorts and running shoes and got to work. Without bothering to warm up, he chose a full-out run and set the machine on a steep incline. Parker ran for over an hour, expending the same amount of energy he’d burn up if he was running outdoors. By the time he finished, sweat was rolling off him by the bucketful. Tired, cranky, and in need of a shower, he stayed under the spray until his nerves calmed down.

After dinner, he surfed through the channels until he found a familiar rerun of
ER
. He listened to the television program, hoping it would distract him. He needed something,
anything
, to keep his mind off Ann. Getting more agitated by the minute, he grabbed his cell and sent her another text message—the last one he was planning to send, since his other two had been ignored.

With several hours to kill before bedtime and with nothing better to do, he powered up his laptop and activated the screen reader program. He checked his e-mails first, none of which required an immediate response. Parker thought of what Webster had said earlier. How well
did
he know Ann? If Webbie had any serious doubts about Ann, why hadn’t she mentioned anything? Regardless, he’d be dammed if he was going to ignore her subtle warnings.

Parker typed Ann’s name into the Google search box, and after a few seconds, the mechanical voice announced several choices. He went down the list, but each one produced unfamiliar results. One Ann Sutton was an exhibit curator residing in Egypt, another was a real estate agent from Arizona, and another was a quilt maker from the South. He listened to a few more until he got to a blog written by a woman who claimed to have been a high school classmate of Kelly Ann Sutton—also known as Kelly Storm. The blog had more than four thousand hits. His interest piqued, he listened while the screen reader read the entry for him, not certain if he wanted to hear the blogger’s entire post of her attempt to be famous.

The part where the woman claimed Kelly Ann had always been a great actress in their numerous high school plays intrigued him, so he listened for more. The woman mentioned the school where she and Kelly Ann had both graduated—Chicago High School, class of 2004. He recalled Ann telling him she was twenty-six years old. Was this a mere coincidence, or was the truth in there somewhere?
 

His stomach tightened at the improbable coincidence. He dug some more, opening another tab and then typing
Kelly Storm
into the search box. Parker couldn’t see the images on the screen, no matter how hard he strained. All he could make out were blurry faces and figures.

Frustrated, he dialed Webster’s number. When she answered, he didn’t waste any words. “I want you to come over right away. Call Cork and tell him to swing by, too.”

“What’s going on?” Webster asked, sounding alarmed.

“Just come as soon as you can.”

Parker threw the phone on the bed and paced the floor, feeling like a caged animal. He needed to confirm if the woman he was “seeing” was the famed actress. If it were true, then she was probably laughing her ass off at him. He got even angrier as he tried to walk off his growing resentment.
 

To help pass the time while waiting for Cork and Webster, he downed several shots of Everclear, one right after the other. He was nursing a good buzz by the time they arrived. Feeling a bit mellower than he had been an hour ago, he led them to his bedroom and his laptop.

Cork and Webster followed him. He sensed from their silence that they already knew what he wanted from them. He didn’t say anything until he moved the touch pad and the screen reader announced the picture of Kelly Storm.

He heard them move closer to look. No one said a word, so he spoke first.

“Did either one of you suspect she might be the woman I’m seeing?” Parker laughed bitterly at his own words. Not seeing was the problem. He had no idea who he’d been
seeing
all this time.

Another silence stretched before them, and he assumed Cork and Webster were deciding who was going to answer him. Cork coughed and attempted to clear his throat.

“I’m not sure, bro. We saw her in the restaurant last week, remember?”

Parker nodded his head with impatience.

“I didn’t know back then if there was a connection, but thinking about it now, there has to be. The way she was staring at you that night, the surprised expression on her face, and the way she left the restaurant might very well be signs that she’s the same person. But I’m not one hundred percent sure because I haven’t seen the
Ann
who came to see you at work.” Cork’s explanation made sense.

“I know you haven’t seen her, but do you think they’re the same people?” he asked, pointing to the monitor, his anger mounting.  

“Could be, but don’t you think you ought to ask her first before you get all upset?”

He ignored his brother’s question and turned to Webster, who hadn’t said a word since they’d arrived.

“Webbie, you’ve seen Madame Baba. Do you think she’s Kelly Storm?”

She sighed and placed a calming hand on his arm. He shook it off and glared at her. “Tell me what you think!”

“It’s hard to tell. Madame Baba had black hair. I can’t remember her face that well. She walked fast and avoided eye contact even with her dark, oversized sunglasses. I wish I could be sure, although to tell you the truth, I suspected the connection when you gave me her name.”

“Suspected? How could you not mention anything to me? You think because I’m blind that I wouldn’t find out?” 

“Hold on, Parker. I’m not the enemy here. No one is. If I haven’t mentioned anything, it was because I wasn’t sure if I should be the bearer of the bad news.”

“Damn it, guys! I’m fucking blind, in case you haven’t noticed! There’s no way I’d find out about some things unless those closest to me point them out!”

“Park, I’m sorry,” Cork said. “I should’ve listened to Webster when she came to me and asked if we should mention the connection to you. We’ve always minded our own business, right? I just didn’t want you to think I was being overprotective
because
of your blindness.”
 

As upset as he was by the possibility, Parker knew he was going at it all wrong. The only person who could answer his questions had gone missing. If he knew where to find her, he wouldn’t be standing in front of his brother and his friend, blaming them for protecting him. He slumped down onto the edge of the bed.
 

“I’m sorry for yelling. I have no right to talk to either of you the way I did. It’s just so frustrating. I thought I’d met someone worth pursuing, and now it turns out she’s been lying all along.”

“No harm done, bro.”

Ann Sutton was Kelly Storm? Although he had no solid evidence, he had a sick feeling it was true, considering the way Ann . . . Kelly . . . whoever she was had been avoiding answering direct questions about herself.

“It’s still early. Why don’t you guys join me for drinks? We’ve got time to get ripped together.”

“I’m game,” Webster replied, sounding relieved.

The moment Kelly’s plane landed at LAX, she turned on her cell and retrieved all her messages, including three texts from Parker. She checked each one as she waited for her luggage at the carousel. People around her were staring, pointing, and taking pictures while she tried her best to keep her composure. She kept her head low and tried to show very little emotion while she read all his incoming messages. He sounded worried and was urging her to contact him. A deluge of guilt rained down upon her.  

The whole week had been hectic, and she’d been shuffled from one press junket to another to promote her upcoming movie. Afterward, she’d been whisked away to attend private and business parties hosted by Gucci bigwigs as part of promoting their new product line. As much as she’d just wanted to curl up in her hotel room, she had an obligation to fulfill her contract. The difference in time zones hadn’t helped, either. The latter was more of an excuse, because she’d wanted to avoid hearing his anger and disappointment.
 

Feeling drained and in dire need of a bath, she couldn’t wait to get home and soak in the tub, but she needed to visit someone first. When her luggage came, she met her ride and instructed the limousine driver to take her to Westwood Village Memorial Park.

Jessica was waiting for her at the entrance of the cemetery, where they switched her luggage from the limo to Jessica’s Beemer. Jessica hugged her as soon as they stashed her stuff in the trunk.