Pride & Precedents (The Park Brothers #2)

9. Henry

Chapter nine

Henry

T his is what death feels like. I'm certain of it. The tiny jackhammer in my head pairs beautifully with the rusty nails piercing my eyeballs every time a ray of sunlight manages to get past my sleep mask. I untangle my arm from the practically vintage flannel sheets on my childhood bed, but when I reach to pull down my mask, I'm met with more face instead. Huh.

Keeping my eyes firmly closed, I feel under my pillow for my sleep mask, and…nothing. Double huh.

I fumble for my glasses on the bedside dresser and proceed to knock off several AP textbooks and an ancient package of Pop Tarts in the process. Way to turn my room into a time capsule, Mom.

No longer blind but still heavily incapacitated, I sneak a peak from under my eyelids to see the culprit behind the rusty nails: my curtains are wide open, letting in the springtime sun, the chirping of birds, and the sound of cyclists whizzing by Mom and Dad's Clinton Hill brownstone.

I slept through the night with no sleep mask or blackout curtains and no noise machine? I tug on my sheets to check. Yep. Unweighted. And I'm in yesterday's clothes, so I definitely didn't have a shower. How much alcohol did I drink last night that I didn't need the sleep ritual I've used for 20+ years? From the feel of the jackhammer in my head, I'm guessing all of it .

"Henry, Jr.!! Did you want any breakfast before you head back?!" Mom yells from downstairs, replacing the jackhammer in my head with ice picks. Seconds too late, I wrap my pillow around my ears, desperate to escape the noise.

"Marie!" Dad's deep baritone answers, splitting my head open like a ripe melon. "Leave him be. He's clearly sleeping off a bender."

OK. That's enough. I pull myself out of bed, the pillow still tightly wrapped around my ears, and practically slither downstairs, holding onto the railing for dear life. I find my parents in the kitchen. Dad has his arms wrapped around Mom from behind as she stirs scrambled eggs on the stove. I flop onto the barstool at the counter.

"Why were you two yelling if you're in the same room together?" I whisper around a mouth full of sand.

Both my parents turn and level me with a look that makes it clear they knew what they were doing. I take my pillow from around my ears and lay it on the counter, followed by my throbbing head. So Mom and Dad have jokes. I see how it is.

"So, do you want any breakfast, Junior?" Mom asks in her perpetually cheery voice. "I'm making eggs, and bacon is already done."

The corner of Dad's mouth twitches.

"Perhaps some 'hair of the dog'?"

I sigh and prop myself up on one fist.

"Yes to the eggs and bacon and no to 'hair of the dog'. I might need to take a break from the hard stuff for the next few months. Maybe years."

Dad chuckles and hands me a cup of coffee. I smile gratefully.

"What had you out partying like a college kid? I don't think I've ever seen you hung over."

"That's because this is a first for me." I gulp down some of the black gold and almost moan when it dampens the booming in my head. "And a last . I was out celebrating a new client with Noah."

Mom turns to get flour and sugar from the cabinet for what looks like pancakes. Sweet! If crashing at home means a spread like this, I may have to make it a habit.

"Oh! Who did he sign?"

"Some K-drama heart throb. Camila went crazy over him." I tried and failed to keep the edge out of my voice.

Mom drops her whisk abruptly and turns to face me. The smile on her faces stretches from ear to ear. Uh oh.

"Who is Camila ? Why has Noah met her and not me?"

I shift uncomfortably in my chair. Even Dad is eyeing me from over his newspaper at the table in the breakfast nook.

"Just my paralegal."

I round the counter and snag a piece of bacon from behind Mom's back before she can stop me. She frowns.

"Your paralegal? And you went out drinking with her to the point of having a hangover?"

Dad folds his paper and clears his throat.

"Your mother's right, son. Mixing business and pleasure is never a good idea."

I catch myself before I roll my eyes; Dad doesn't tolerate disrespect.

"C'mon, Dad. There was no pleasure . We just ran into each other at The Commodore and Noah invited her and her sister to join us for drinks."

Dad doesn't look convinced. He shares a look with Mom, who's all but forgotten the pancakes.

"Well…make sure it stays that way. Not only can things get tricky when you get close to people you work with, but you should know there's a legal risk as well."

This time I do roll my eyes. Talk about blowing things out of proportion. Dad's frown deepens.

"Nothing happened. You think my paralegal's going to sue me because we had a few drinks? That happens at most client lunches and you know that."

Rather than stick around to head the end of Dad's lecture, I pull my phone out and text Murray. Time to head back to Westchester. It's a shame I'll have to miss those pancakes. Nothing's better to soak up last night's bad decisions.

I come behind Dad's chair to give him a pat on the back before walking over to kiss Mom on the cheek.

"Listen, Murrary's on his way and I still need to shower." I head towards the stairs and Mom suddenly looks worried.

"You're still coming tomorrow for family dinner, right?"

I turn and give her my most reassuring smile.

"Of course, Mom. I wouldn't miss it."

After a shower and a fresh change of clothes, I feel human again. I made Murray stop at Burger King for my greasy hangover remedy, and that plus two Excedrin finally conquered that beast of a headache. Thank God! I couldn't fucking think.

Before I can settle into the back of the Navigator for the long drive down I-95, my phone dings.

Noah

Noah: Hey, bro. Thanks for coming out last night!

No problem, man. Honestly, I probably needed it more than you.

Noah: Is this Henry? Henry Park, Jr.? Partner at BYOB? Since when does the worst workaholic I know ever need to go out for drinks?

You're such a dick. You know it's BBS&P.

Noah: Oh, I definitely know. I just like annoying you.

Alright. See you at Mom and Dad's tomorrow

Noah: Wait wait wait! I'm just kidding. Damn, bro.

Noah: What happened? Why did you need a drink?

I debate whether I should even tell him. What good will it even do to talk about it? But Noah is one of the few people who knows the full history of the situation.

Noah

We got a new client yesterday, too.

Noah: And? Don't leave me hanging, bro!

It's Naomi.

Noah: ???

Naomi Watanabe. The girl I was thinking of getting serious with in law school.

And she looked good . Really good. Why couldn't she have had the common decency to show up with a terrible haircut or missing a few teeth?

Noah: Oh shit, bro. That's rough.

I sigh. "Oh shit" is right.

Noah

Even worse? Her soon to be ex is that fuckin cum stain, Tanner

Noah: Tanner?! That dude was a hookup at best and she MARRIED him?

I smile to myself. He may be a pain in the ass, but Noah has always had my back.

Noah

LOL. Tell me about it.

So, if I seem a little on edge for the next few months, now you know why.

Noah: You got this, bro.

Noah: Anyway, I'm sure Camila could help take the edge off.

I look at my phone like it's grown legs. What's Camila got to do with anything?

Noah

Uh…Yeah. She's a great paralegal.

Noah: LOL! A great paralegal? What are you talking about, bro?

What are YOU talking about?

Noah: Wow. You're really going to play dumb?

Please. Enlighten me as to what I'm missing.

Noah: That woman wants your dick, bro. BAD.

Noah: And from the look on your face when Rory and I left, the feeling was mutual.

So much for always having my back. Now he sounds like Mom and Dad!

Noah

Everything between me and Camila is professional.

She happened to be there. We know each other. Nothing more.

Noah: Whatever you say, bro. I wasn't there to verify

Noah: But I'd bet my bonus on Song Kang that something happened.

Noah: Either you're lying or maybe you were too drunk

Whatever, man

I toss my phone on the neighboring seat and let my head fall back against the seat. Why is everyone so sure I crossed the line with Camila? Sure, she's beautiful. Even hidden under those cheap cardigans and too-long skirts, I'm guessing she's got a killer body. I've even seen glimpses of it over the years. But she works for me and never once have I let our attraction go anywhere. There's no way I would let my control slip now, not after all these years.

Once I get home, I attempt to skip my routine like I had at Mom and Dad's, but no dice. And after an hour on the treadmill, a hot shower, tea, and some unusually rigorous masturbation, I finally pass out asleep.

From the warmth of my cocoon, awash in blackness, I see her. Features slowly come into focus. Full red lips. Eyes as dark as the strongest espresso. Soft, round hips hidden beneath a sensible black skirt. Firm breasts that arch into my palm as she whimpers into my mouth. My hands pull her closer against me, close enough to feel her heart racing under my touch. I'm sweeping loose tendrils aside, gripping her throat, angling her mouth until it's at my mercy.

I wake up with a start before my alarm can even go off. The pounding in my head is nothing compared to the ache in the pit of my stomach. Everyone was right. I did cross the line.