Magnolia Parks: Chapter 47

Jonah’s launching a new club of his tonight and all the crew is piling in.

I head over to Parks’ to pick her up because I’d usually do that anyway, but I’d definitely do it now that I’ve felt her up in Gucci.

Been a bit in my head about how she hasn’t called me yet, confessing her undying love for me, but I guess these things take time. She still wants me, I knew that from the kiss, from the hands, from the lean in.

I walk into her room. “Parks?” I call out because she’s not in there.

“In here,” she replies from the bathroom.

She looks over at me from the mirror, and her eyes light up. I walk behind her, slip my arms around her waist, press my nose into the back of her head. She lets me for a second before she spins around to face me.

“Like my dress?”

Short. One shoulder. Spotty.

Nod as measured as I can, pretend I don’t love her in spots like I don’t just love her in everything.

“Saw it in Saint Laurent the other day,” I nod. “Was going to grab it for you.”

She tugs on the collar of my shirt. “Amiri, camp-collar, printed silk-twill shirt,” she tells me.

“It has birds on it,” I tell her stupidly and she smiles. She slips her arms around my neck and I actually a bit can’t believe it, that I’m standing here, in her bathroom, holding her like this—and I’m awake, and she’s sober and it’s all coming up roses. I lean in to kiss her—it’s slow and measured, and it’s still blowing my mind that my mouth is on hers when she says, “Can we talk about something?”

I frown on her mouth before pulling away, but not letting go.

Never letting go.

I look at her face, all frowns and eyebrows like an angry cartoon bunny. She doesn’t need to say it. I know it before she can even put words around the sentence.

“…You like him.”

And then the worst thing imaginable happens. She says nothing. Part of me, I think, was expecting some push back. Denial, refusal, anger… being incensed. But none of that’s here and that’s probably worse than her liking him.

I shove both my hands through my hair, breathe out one, long breath.

“Fuck.”

She reaches out, holds my waist. “I’m sorry—”

I put my hand on top of hers without even thinking.

I shake my head.

“No, I—it’s Tom England,” I shrug. “I get it. You’ve always had a thing for him—”

“Not a real thing,” she clarifies unhelpfully.

“Look, if he wasn’t poaching you from me, I’d probably try to shag him too,” I say, forcing myself to laugh because I don’t know what else to do. “So you’re picking him?” I say that like it’s not the end of the world.

And then—her face falters. “No.”

“Then what?” I shake my head a bit, waiting for an answer and she pulls away from me, distressed and sad.

“I don’t know!”

I glare over at her. “Well, don’t ask me to pick—”

“I’m not,” she says like I’ve wounded her. “I wouldn’t.”

Her head hangs. She’s sad. Fuck. I hate it when she’s sad. She could have lopped off my entire arm and if she looked a bit sad about it, I’d offer her my other one if it’d cheer her up.

“What do you want from me, Parks?”

She shrugs all hopeless and beat. “A time machine?”

“…That I can give you,” I say, louder and clearer.

She reaches for my hand, takes it in hers. Plays with my fingers, traces them with her own.

It’s an act of recalibration for us—touch always has been.

Even in the Dark Ages where we’d fucked around and each other over, even then we’d find ways to touch, find our ways back to the centre of us.

I don’t know what the centre of us is, by the way.

Sounds romantic as shit, I know. But it’s more than that. Also worse than that.

The problem with me and Parks is, I think we love each other more than ourselves.

Again, that sounds romantic but it’s not—

Because if she loved herself more than she loves me, she’d have fucked off years ago. I don’t deserve all the chances she half-tries to give me.

And if I loved myself more than I love her, I would have cut the ties between us as soon as she started to strangle me with them. If I loved me more I would have let me drift away, into the dark, out of her light but I didn’t, and I couldn’t and I won’t because when it comes to her, I have zero instinct for self-preservation. I’ll die in her arms or at her doorstep trying to get back into them, I don’t give a fuck.

I kiss her hand. “Parks, where am I losing you?”

She holds her hand against my face and sighs.

“With you—I don’t know. I keep trying to walk through the wardrobe, wait for the feeling that I can’t trust you to fall off me like a coat but it doesn’t. It’s just always on me—” She shakes her head. “I’m wearing it all the time.”

Fuck.

I sigh. “And you trust him.”

She nods.

I shrug in a way that feels like I’m conceding. I’m not. But the truth is—

“He’s trustworthy,” I tell her.

“Are you?” She blinks, eyes too hopeful.

“We belong together—”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I asked.”

“And I’m always going to be here—”

Her eyes go wet. “That’s still not what I asked.”

I hang my head, breathe out. She turns away from me, facing the mirror and the shields go up.

She tucks her hair behind her ears, touches her perfect face that needs no touching.

I turn her back around, look all over her face for a door number two…anything else but the door she thinks she needs me to walk through so we can be together. I know what she thinks she needs to feel like she can trust me again, and she’s wrong.

“Kiss me,” I tell her.

She frowns a little, but I can tell already her resolve is paper thin. “What?”

“Kiss me,” I shrug. “You’ll feel better.”

A hint of a smile appears on her mouth. “Will I just?”

I nod. “You will.”

“Come on,” I say and poke her in the ribs. “It’s what we used to do if we were fighting and about to go out—”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not. We stared at each other.”

“Staring, kissing—” I wobble my head side to side. “Stare at me and see if it doesn’t end in a kiss anyway.”

She stands on her tip-toes and presses her lips into my cheek. I turn my head so our mouths meet and she smiles. I kiss down her cheek, down her neck, I pick her up off the ground and she wriggles and jerks around in my arms as I bury my face in there because she’s ticklish—

Everything that happened just before is a snooze alarm on your phone.

It’ll go off again soon, but we’ve got some time.

“One more thing,” I say, muffled by her neck.

She slumps in my arms. “What?”

“I think Taura’s going to be there tonight.”

She pushes back from me and I accidentally drop her to the ground.

She shoves me backwards.

“Are you shitting me?”

My head rolls back, already exhausted. “Parks—it wasn’t her—”

“Then who was I—”

“Magnolia,” I say through clenched teeth. “Can we not?”

She glares over at me, and I shake my head at her.

“Give me a week,” I beg. “Just give me one week or—fuck, I don’t know—a month even, of just getting to lie in the fucking sun of kissing you any time I want again before we start pulling at all our threads.”

She swallows once, her little shoulders pouting in the way they move.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” I blink. “Really?”

“Yes.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “But I like Tom more.”

I smile at her because she’s a shit and I take her hand in mine because she’s also everything.

“Are you still going to come?”

She considers this. “Do you promise it wasn’t her?”

I nod.

And then she takes my hand places it over her heart.

“Swear it,” she tells me. “On me. Swear it on my heart, that you’re holding—that you didn’t cheat on me with Taura Sax.”

I nod again and look her square in the eyes. “I swear.”

“Okay.” She nods.

“Okay?”

“But you have slept with her,” she clarifies, I don’t know why.

“Yes.”

She frowns. “That’s not my favourite thing.”

“No,” I chuckle. “No, I don’t imagine it would be…” I pull her towards the door. “Come on, we’ll be late.”

We are late… later still because I asked Simon to drive us the long way round so I could kiss her extra in the back seat. We sneak in through the back door because Parks wants to avoid the vultures out front. I toss my arm around her, leading her back to where Jonah will be in the roped off section and I have this sort of euphoric high about being like this with her in public.

Spot my best friend, nod at him. “This is sick, man. Well done—”

He ignores me.

“Parks!” Jo cheers. “Your lipstick looks great—on BJ.” He can barely get that delivery out with a straight face.

Magnolia rolls her eyes and goes around hugging all of our friends, and especially not hugging Taura, whom I toss a consolatory smile to.

Taura’s sitting with a friend of Jonah’s, but I’m pretty sure she came with Jo—there’s no Henry here. Weird, maybe? Don’t want to ask about it because I reckon this whole thing could get messy fast, so I order a round of shots for us all to take the edge off.

A few celebrities, Christian’s coming later with the Haites. Maybe Hen’s coming then?

The vibe of the club is pretty cool. Somewhere between the Playboy Mansion and the 90s Viper Room.

I know clubs aren’t Jonah’s real job, but he has a knack for them anyway.

Parks sticks pretty close to me the whole night, tossing daggers at Taurs with her eyes, holding my hand like I might wander off and get lost if she lets me go—which I think is how she feels.

I get that though. That’s how I feel about her too. We wander off, we circle back, find each other. I wonder how much Tom will change that?

I’m in a conversation with Jo, who’s trying to convince me about how he’s not into Taura in a legitimate way by telling me all the girls he’s slept with in the last month, but I’m rolling my eyes at him, nodding my head at Parks, trying to tell him without telling him that it means fuck all because I’ve loved her since I was seven and I’ve been with hundreds of girls.

And then I hear Perry, as I watch him nod his chin at Taura, whisper to Parks, “What’s she doing here?”

I don’t turn my head to watch the exchange, stay still, use my peripheral vision.

Parks shrugs, a bit hopeless. “He promised it wasn’t her—”

Paili presses her lips together. “Do you think maybe he’s lying, though?”

And then I turn around. “What the fuck was that now, Paili?”

“Uh,” she stutters.

“What did you say?” I lean in towards her, scowling. “Say it again—what did you say?”

She swallows, nervous. “Nothing—”

I shake my head. “I’ve never lied to her.”

“Okay.” She nods.

“Fuck you.” I point at Pails, angry.

“Beej,” Parks says, touches my arm. “It’s okay, she’s just being—”

“Fuck her?” Perry sniffs, talking over Parks, which already makes me angrier. “Fuck you. It’s not like Sax is innocent here—”

I shake my head at him. “What’s your measuring stick for that, Lorcs?”

“Your dick, mate—”

Taura shifts uncomfortably. She and Magnolia eye each other in a way I hate. I pull back, surprised at him. Impressed almost. Annoying timing though.

“Quiet,” Paili whispers to Perry.

“No—he can’t talk to you like that,” Perry tells her, not talking his eyes off me.

“Can’t I?” I blink, squaring my shoulders. “You going to do something about it, big man?”

“Beej—” Magnolia pulls my arm. “Stop.”

And Taurs is watching on, paying attention too closely.

Fuck. If Parks looks at her right now it’ll all go to shite anyway, but she won’t look at her. Can’t. She’s locked on me.

Hands on my cheeks, sweeping the hair from my face. Trying to calm me down—succeeding at it too—because her eyes have got a shock factor. If I look at them properly any time it’s like someone pushing me into a river. I go under real quick, gotta kick my way back up to the surface, body chokes up, I’m just treading water.

“It’s okay,” she tells me again, rubbing my cheek with her thumb. “She didn’t mean anything by it.”

I shake my head and stare down at Paili with my jaw set.

“I went straight to her.” I point to myself. “I might be a fuck-up, but I’m not a fucking liar—”

Jonah sits there, watching it all, looks uncomfortable, looks uneasy.

“Oy, let’s bounce.” He nods towards the door.

“Nah—I’m good.” I shake my head, sitting back down. “I’m good—”

Jonah gives me a look, points his chin at the door.

“I’m calling it,” he says, gesturing to me, Parks, Taura and himself. “Us four are heading somewhere else. You two”—he points to Paili and Perry—“can piss off.”

Perry glares at him. “Really, Jo?”

“Yeah, really.” Jo gives him a sharp look. “You’re a shit-stirrer, Lorcs—”

Perry shrugs. “Shit-stirrer, truth-teller—they’re the same things to liars.”

My eyes shift from Perry to Paili and I scowl at them both. Parks kisses them on their cheeks and we head out.

I’m holding her hand absentmindedly, not thinking straight, just thinking about what happened, angry as shit, when we walk out the front and a billion flashes go off and then the yelling starts.

“Magnolia! Where’s Tom!”

“Are you and BJ back together?”

“BJ, are you and Magnolia dating again?”

“Are you and Tom over?”

About thirty variants of these questions assault us at once and Magnolia just freezes.

It catches her completely off-guard, and I’m still holding her hand, and they’re getting too many photos that will make her life too complicated, and I’m about to hit the photographer next to me who’s physically leaning over my body to get a photo of Parks’ face right now, which, if I was to caption it, it’d be: my deer’s in headlights.

And then Taura breaks free from Jonah’s linked arm, grabs Magnolia’s face and snogs her. Jonah looks at me with wide, baffled eyes as the flashing lights flash faster and the voices yell more but differently now. Not about us, about them.

“Magnolia! Who’s this!”

“Is this your girlfriend!”

“Does Tom know you’re a lesbian!”

Parks is frozen still, doesn’t pull away, doesn’t recoil—lets the kiss happen and just blinks at Taura as she finally pulls away. “Magnolia’s with me now,” Taura declares obnoxiously and the cameras love her. She nods over at me. “She’s had enough of his shit—”

I snort a laugh. “We’re not hiding our love anymore,” she declares triumphantly, and then grabs Magnolia’s hand, pulling her into Jonah’s Escalade.

Jonah and I exchange amused and confused looks and follow them into the car.

Inside Jo’s tinted, bullet-proof Cadillac the two girls stare at each other—it’s dead silent for a long few seconds and then Magnolia blinks a few times before she cracks up.

“You are so weird.” She shakes her head at Taura.

Jonah and I look at each other; I swallow a smile.

“And that is Magnolia for ‘thank you,’ ” Jonah tells her.

“It was a panic move,” Taura says and shrugs.

Parks sighs, leans her head against the window.

Taura keeps watching her. “They’re aggressive with you, aren’t they?”

“Invasive,” she tells the window, then looks over at Taura, perking up a bit. “That should keep them at bay for a few days though.”

Magnolia gives her a small smile and looks away.

Taura looks over at me and excitedly mouths, “Oh my god.”

I sniff a laugh and throw my arm around Parks.

02:02

Perry

Sorry bro.

Yeah, me too.

I love you, Beej. Didn’t mean to be such an arse.

Those girls…

They’ll getcha.

Yep.

19:45

Beej & Tom

You’re both Texting me at the same time.

Tom

Oh, good.

Beej

Hey Tom.

Tom

Hey Beej.

Very civil. Love to see it.

So listen. As you both know tomorrow is the Grand Prix ball and you have both asked me to go with you so I’m not going to go with either of you.

Beej

Stupid.

Beej

We’ll both take you.

Tom

We will?

Beej

Unless you don’t want to, England?

Fine by me. I’ll take her myself.

You want us to go… together?

Beej

Yes.

The three of us?

Beej

A throuple, if you will.

Tom

I won’t.

Hahaha

Beej

You in, Parks?

I suppose.

Beej

England?

Tom

See you tomorrow x

Beej

Sleep well, cutie @Tom