In my opinion, the clock tower is the most beautiful part.
“Did you know they’ve built a flat in the clock tower? You can actually rent it. The ceiling is ten meters high.”
“I didn’t know.”
He takes pictures of me while I make a fool of myself trying to find the best pose of Jess and The Clock Tower, and then he hijacks my pictures with a selfie with both of us, like he did in Worcester.
“You really love London,” he says.
“Yep. But it’s getting late, and you’re leaving early tomorrow, so we should call it a night.”
Parker takes one last selfie of us, then drives me to the apartment.
Dani is still sleeping, and after Parker leaves, I lay out my clothes for tomorrow. For the rest of the evening, I try to think about strategies to improve my boss's opinion of me, but every time I remember his outburst, I hear my father's words, feeding my desperation. "Ye'll end up coming back home, you worthless, ungrateful brat."
Worthless.
That word is synonymous with my name to my father. And until a few months ago, I hadn't done much to change that perception. My job search went surprisingly well. While most of my colleagues in my art and history classes, and Serena herself, struggled to get interviews, I breezed through them. I finally had a chance to put a lifetime of bluffing my way through school and college to good use. Apparently, a good bluffer does not make a competent worker. But I'll be damned if I won't become the best one.
Work is awful on Monday and borderline brutal on Tuesday. On Wednesday I finally snap and tell Mr. Norton to pull out that stick he's got up his ass and shove the report he made me redo for the fifth time inside instead. Instead of firing me the next minute, he apologizes and says he isn't acting like himself these days, then shuts himself in his office. Fiona swears she heard him cry after a courier delivered his divorce papers, but I have to see it before I believe it. He turns back to being an ass in the afternoon anyway, so I don't feel guilty in the slightest.
When I arrive home, Dani is eating some of the pudding I cooked yesterday.
"Sorry," she says with a sheepish grin, "I was starving."
"No problem." I help myself to what is left while Dani becomes engrossed in back and forth texting on her cellphone. "In demand much?"
Her cheeks redden. "Just a friend."
Dani's comment makes me think of how much I miss talking to Serena. Thanks to the time zone difference, Serena is still stuck at work, but maybe I can talk to her for a few minutes. I've been bursting to tell her about Parker. I never told her what happened between us when I was home. Out of shame because he rejected me. I've always hidden shameful things from Serena.
But things have changed now. I hover my finger over the message icon of my screen, thinking whether I should send her a message first, asking her if she has a few minutes. Just seeing the message icon makes me seriously blush, which has a lot to do with the fact that Parker and I have been sexting like crazy all week. He warned me that he’d have no way of calling me during the day, or even the evening, because he's got back-to-back meetings scheduled from the wee hours of the morning until late in the evening. But at night . . . let's just say the hotness level of his texts is enough to give me nightlong steamy dreams. It feels clandestine, too, which makes it even hotter. He won't text me for another few hours though.
I go to my room, light a cigarette, and decide to call Serena. Thankfully, she picks up. I start talking right away.
"I am going to tell you something and I don't want you to interrupt me until I am finished. I think I have something like a huge crush on Parker. I've had it for some time. Since he was in California actually. But then we had a . . . umm . . . fight, and then everything sort of fizzled out. Anyway, we've been together a few times since I moved here." I pause, unsure of what to say next. Unsure of why I called, actually. It's not like I wanted to ask her advice on the matter. Then I realize I just wanted to share this with someone I trust and care for deeply.
I hold my breath, waiting to hear her speak. But it's not her voice that comes through.
"Interesting." The voice belongs to James.
"James," I say, leaping up from my bed so brusquely that I accidentally burn myself with my cigarette. "Fuck," I yelp, rubbing the burned spot. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"You specifically asked not to be interrupted," James says in an amused tone.
"I asked Serena not to interrupt me."
"Actually, you never mentioned her name."
"Wasn't the fact that I called her an indication that I wanted to speak with her? Never mind, why are you answering her cell phone?"
"She's at home, sleeping. She's been sick the past couple of days."
"She's working too much," I say.
"I agree. Look, I can tell her to call you when she wakes up."
“Please do.”