What's Left Of Me Part 8

"Really? I begged my parents to let me play when I was younger, but I couldn't skate for the life of me, so I did the next best thing and became a fan." I don't know why I tell him that, but I can tell by the way he is smiling at me, that he wants to add to the conversation. It's not one of his s.e.xy I-want-you smiles, but the smile of a little boy who is excited about a new toy.

"I played all through middle and high school. Then, when I got to college, I did private league stuff around my schedule. I'm a Tampa Bay Lightning fan myself."

"You just said you were a fan."

"Yeah, of hockey. Not the Wild; Tampa."

"What! Tampa? Come on."

He sits up now, taking his feet off the desk. "Seriously. You're going to give me c.r.a.p about being a Tampa fan? At least we won a Stanley Cup. You can't say that of your sweet Minnesota Wild." His eyes challenge me for a response.

"Yeah, that may be true."

"May be true? It is true, honey."

"Okay, that is true, However, Lightning has had a lot more years to develop a team. Wild has only been around for, like, twelve years or so. Tampa has maybe ten years on them!"

"Oh, come on, sweetheart. Twelve years is plenty of time to develop a team."

What is up with calling me honey and sweetheart?

"No. You need good general managers to make a team stronger each year. It's their job to find players that contribute to the team. To build the team up. With the Lightning being around much longer, I would expect them to have had the time to develop a strong team. But mark my words, the Wild will rank higher this year in our conference for playoffs then your Tampa in their conference."

"Oh, baby. Something to know about me is that I love a good challenge and I never back down from a bet. I don't lose. Ever."

There is another one of those words: baby.

"It's on." I feel as if there is more behind our words than just the bet on hockey. His eyes are dancing with mine and his stupid grin is back. I know he's thinking the same thing.

Parker winks at me before leaning back in the chair. "Tell me something else about yourself."

"Why?"

"Because I want to get to know the new employee. Think of it as a delayed interview."

I laugh. "Delayed interview?"

"Yes. I was informed when I was taken on that I would have a say in all hiring. I didn't get much of a say when it came to you."

"Is that so? Well, what would you say so far, Doctor Jackson?"

"So far, I'd say I like what I see. And hear. But I need to know more, so please, tell me about yourself." The smile never leaves his face.

I blush. I have no idea why I can't control it, but I feel the heat spread over my chest and I'm thankful for the t-shirt I'm wearing today so that he can't see the red splotches forming.

Tell me about yourself. It's the one question that is so open-ended I never know exactly what they are looking for or wanting to know. In an interview, it's supposed to be about my work and educational experiences. In personal life, it can be anything.

"Don't you have animals to see?"

"Nope. Lucky for you, I'm all done for the day."

Knowing I won't get out of this, I cross my arms and lean away from him in the chair. If there's anything I learned in psychology, it's body language. Maybe my unwelcoming gesture will give him the hint that I'm not in the mood for discussing my personal life.

When I don't speak, Parker takes it upon himself to start asking questions. "Let's start with an easy one. How old are you? I know you're legal to drink."

"Twenty-one. How about you?" I think it's only fair to ask him the same. Besides, I've wanted to know this question since the first night.

"Not so fast. This is your interview."

I roll my eyes.

"What brings you to Rochester with your sister and Jason?"

This is an easy question. It's one I've already thought about when I had to come here. "School." I don't elaborate any further.

"Huh. What's your major?"

"Astrophysics."

"Wow. That's not one you hear every day. What made you want to get into that?"

"Considering it's the study of the universe, planets, and stars, I would say astronomy," I say with a bite. I have a tendency to be sa.s.sy every now and then.

"Huh, okay, smart a.s.s. We'll come back to that. What interests you?"

You. "Lots of things."

"You're single, correct?" he presses.

Whoa! Not the question I was expecting next.

"That's a personal question. Last I checked, personal questions are not allowed during interviews."

"This isn't the typical interview. You're already hired, and I think I'm ent.i.tled to that one." His voice dips down to a barely audible whisper before he continues, "After all, you did sleep with me. I need to know who I'm up against ... if anyone."

Just then, Shannon walks in, "How's it going in he-"

Saved by the bell! She stops mid-sentence when she sees Parker.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt." She doesn't hide the humor in her voice, or the wiggling of her eyebrows as she backs out of the office.

Before Parker or I can respond, she's out the door.

"Well, looks like our time is up. I gotta get finished up here before Jason gets back," I tell him.

Parker stands. He places both hands on the desk and leans over so he's mere inches from my face. "This conversation isn't finished." He winks at me and turns away.

I sink back into the chair, throwing my head back.

I'm screwed.

That evening, Jason is out for his volleyball league, so Genna and I decide to have ladies' night. This usually includes wine, movies, and gossip, but tonight it consists of watching Genna eat ice cream, and lots of it.

"You didn't tell me about your day?" Genna asks from the opposite end of the couch. She has her back against the armrest and her legs resting on top of my thighs.

"It was good. I just scanned charts. I didn't get that many in, but Jason didn't seem to mind." I realize I didn't feel tired once when I was talking with Parker me. It didn't even faze me that my legs or arms didn't feel like rubber. I felt good. Really good.

Genna holds out her spoon full of vanilla ice cream topped with chocolate syrup, gesturing for me to take a bite.

I shake my head no. My mouth is still sore, and I don't have much of an appet.i.te. Not even for ice cream.

"Well, from what I've heard, it's taking everyone a long time to get those records transferred. Have you decided what you're doing tomorrow yet?" she asks, taking the bite she offered me.

"I think I might go in just for a half day. Jason said he'd bring me home after the morning. I didn't see any of the other staff there besides Shannon or Parker, so it will be nice to see everyone before they get too busy."

"Parker, huh? How was he today?" she asks with glee.

"He seemed ... good. I mean ... I didn't really talk to him much." I fumble for my words.

"Interesting."

"Why do you say it like that?" I look up at her and see the smirk she's hiding with the wine gla.s.s as she takes a sip. Yes, my sister is strange, having wine with ice cream but, as she says, "It's called dessert wine. Ice cream is a dessert."

"Nothing. It just seems like maybe you're into him."

"What! I am not."

"It's okay if you are."

"I'm not."

"Okay ... but if you are, just know I will support you."

"I know."

"And, it's okay to tell him about your cancer."

Why? So he can treat me like everyone else? As if I'm fragile?

"Genna, I am not telling him, or anyone here who doesn't know, about my cancer. Don't you get that? I just want to be me."

"Aundrea, you will always be you."

"No, I won't. I will always be known as the girl with cancer unless I make it clear beforehand that there is more to me."

"Aundrea, you don't have to be scared to tell people about it."

"I'm not! Why does everyone always think I'm scared? Is it too much to ask to just be treated normally for once?"

"Okay. I'll drop it."

"Good."

"Good."

As if someone's ears were burning, my phone beeps with a Facebook friend request. Parker. I can't accept it. I don't want him reading the comments from my friends and family. My parents wanted me to start one of those blogs where I update my progress with my Hodgkin's and where I'm at with treatment. It's too depressing having to write out all the details, so I don't. Instead, I get daily messages or posts asking how I'm doing.

My inbox shows I have one new message.

Parker: Are you going to ignore my request?

Me: Were your ears burning?

Parker: Are you thinking about me still?

Me: No. Genna and I were just talking about you.

I don't get another message from him, so I go back to talking to Genna about her day and what her plans are for the rest of the week.

My phone beeps again, but this time it's a text from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: I like to know I am the topic of discussion.

Me: Who is this?

Unknown Number: How many other men are you talking about tonight?

It's Parker, but I don't recall giving him my number. I'm a little giddy that he found a way to get it.

Me: Scott?

Unknown Number: Who is Scott?

Me: Mike?

Unknown Number: Not funny I laugh at the idea of messing with him.

Me: I thought so. How did you get my number?

Unknown Number: I have my ways.

I don't see him going to Jason for it, so it must have been Shannon or the new-hire paperwork I filled out today.

Adding him to my contacts, I tell Genna I'm tired and heading to bed. Really, I just don't want her to see me blush over Parker.

Me: Of course you do. What do you want, Parker?

Tossing my phone onto the bed, I strip out of my clothes, putting on some shorts and a tank to sleep in. Once I'm changed, I take off my wig, then grab my phone to read his reply.