If It Fits - 22. Chapter 22

October 3, 1995

“I told you they'd find him innocent,” Brad said as I drove him to the office. He'd flown back to Palo Alto with me to sit in on a few meetings today.

“Now that this trial is over, I am wondering what you will do with your spare time. You will not have OJ to obsess over,” I teased.

“It was the trial of the decade,” Brad asserted. “Justice meets good marketing. You have to admit the Dancing Itos were hilarious on Jay Leno.”

“They were. Jay Leno really is the nicest man,” I said. “I am amazed that he made it in Hollywood. No one ever has a bad thing to say about him.”

“You made it, and you're nice,” Brad joked.

“I did not make it in Hollywood. I was on the periphery. Greg made it in Hollywood.”

“He was pretty nice too,” Brad said. He looked at me, watching to see how I'd handle that.

“You're right, he was. I guess it is possible.” I think by agreeing with him I irritated him.

“So what's on your schedule for today? You have time for lunch?”

I smiled. “I have already blocked it out. Lunch with Brad, even though I am already in trouble for starting late.” It was almost 10:00am. “I have an interview this morning.”

“An interview? For what?” he demanded.

“It seems I need a personal assistant to manage all my toys and my social life,” I told him. “Someone to keep gas in the jet and make sure my bedroom gets redecorated before your father kills me.”

“Probably a good idea. So how many people are you interviewing?”

“Just one,” I told him. He seemed as surprised by that as I was. “A Mr. Brian Parnell. Graduated this summer from the University of Santa Clara with a business degree. He so impressed Eloise she wanted me to meet with him right away.”

“Eloise likes him?” Brad asked. “Eloise doesn't like anyone.”

“Eloise likes Brian Parnell,” I told him. “Evidently he's from Western Pennsylvania, not too far from Claremont, and he thinks I'm some sort of local hero.”

“Super Stefan,” Brad joked.

“You are jealous because of my great renown in that backwater of middle America,” I said with a faked egotistical air. “But in any event, he's obviously done his research, and that must have impressed her.”

“Maybe he's straight?” Brad asked. “Maybe she wants to fuck him.”

“Maybe, but he was active in the GLBT club on campus. May not mean he's gay, but one can hope.”

“Why would he put that on his resume?” Brad asked.

“Because he's applying for a job with me, and he knows I'm gay. It differentiates him. You're the marketing expert. You should know these things,” I teased.

“Well if he's that bright, hire him,” Brad said.

“You want to meet him? The interview is at 10:30am. Come by my office,” I told him.

“To see the amazing, incredible Mr. Parnell?” he teased. “I might just do that.”

I strolled through the doors and straight to my office. There was tea waiting for me, courtesy of Eloise. She was really being nice to me. She really wanted me to hire this guy. “So what is it that impressed you about this young man?” I asked. Brad rolled his eyes and vanished to take care of his own issues.

“Well he's very handsome, if you don't mind short men,” she said.

“My partner is pretty short, so no, that does not bother me.”

“I'm teasing. He is handsome though. He just struck me as being incredibly organized, and very bright. I think he could really be an asset to you,” she said.

“Well we shall see,” I said, teasing her. “I hope he lives up to your promises.”

“Oh I've made no promises; I just did a little pre-screening.” She grinned at me. Damn she wanted to dump all that personal crap really bad.

I handed her all the papers I'd worked on over the weekend, briefing her on a few, when the phone buzzed. I hit the speaker button.

“Mr. Schluter, there's a Mr. Parnell here to see you,” the receptionist said.

“I'll go get him,” Eloise said. I rolled my eyes at her, stood up and walked over to my desk. I really needed to bring in some family photos, a picture or two of JP. It seemed so stark and impersonal.

There was a knock on my door and Eloise came in with a man almost hidden behind her. “Stefan, this is Brian Parnell. Brian, Stefan Schluter.”

I stared at him, my jaw dropping and just hanging there, leaving me looking like an idiot. I was frozen; I could say nothing, I was totally stunned. Standing in front of me was an almost exact replica of JP when he was in his 20s. I thought back and realized that even though JP always wore stylish clothes, he always looked a little dweeby. This guy didn't have the stylish clothes and he looked really dweeby. Parnell held his hand out and I just stared. I looked at his eyes and saw how terrified my reaction was making him, and that kicked my social skills in much like a jump start can fire up a car.

I shook his hand warmly. “I am sorry for my reaction, you just remind me of someone I know.” He was wearing a gray suit, probably his one good interview suit.

“That's alright,” he said. He had an accent, even stronger than I heard in Claremont, but it had a smoothness to it that was captivating. If I had to place it, I'd call it refined Appalachia. “Never ran into anyone who looked like me though.”

“Please have a seat,” I said. “That will be all Eloise.” She looked at me, worried, and then left. “You have certainly impressed Eloise.”

“Thank you Mr. Schluter,” he said shyly. God, he was cute. Just like JP.

“Now that is completely unacceptable. You must call me Stefan, and I will call you Brian. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said.

“So tell me about yourself,” I said. He rambled on and on about his achievements in school, and about his sketchy work experience. He really was quite dorky.

“That is all interesting, but it is already in your resume. You listed your activities with the GLBT club at Santa Clara?”

“Are you asking me if I'm gay?” he asked.

“I do not think I am allowed to ask that in an interview,” I said, thus asking it indirectly.

“I am. I know you're gay, I mean, it's pretty well known, plus I did a lot of research before this interview. I figured this was one time it probably wouldn't hurt me.”

“Well that was smart thinking,” I said, chuckling. “So you did a lot of research on me?”

He smiled and blushed, then looked down a little bit. “I really want to work for you, so I wanted to do everything I could to impress you, to show you how interested I was in this job. This probably sounds like totally sucking up, but you really inspire me.”

“Well thank you Brian,” I said with a smile. He was playing this perfectly. He was evidently sharp as a tack, very motivated, and his hero worship was hard to resist. “You understand what this job is?”

“Ms, uh, Eloise told me that I'll be responsible for all your personal needs.” Was he flirting? “She said you generate a lot of projects, and you have a lot of toys.” He was. How adorable.

“I do. I am a very busy and multi-faceted person. I am wondering if you can keep up with me.” I flirted back.

“I'll bet I can,” he said, then got nervous and shed his flirtatious manner. “I'm sure I can do a good job for you Stefan.”

“I think you will too. You are hired.” I told myself that I would have hired him even if he didn't look like JP, that that was just a bonus.

“Really?” he asked.

“Unless you do not want the job?” I asked.

“No, I do. I definitely do,” he said. “I'm just surprised. Usually I have an interview, and then wait two weeks for the position to get filled by someone else. Someone straight.”

“Well this time you have an edge on them. You are free today?” I asked.

“You mean right now? Sure,” he said enthusiastically.

“Good. There are some things I'm going to have to explain to you,” I told him. “I'm going to set up some lunch plans for us.”

“I can handle that for you,” he said, ready to jump in and start proving himself.”

“Not these plans,” I said. “Where are you from?”

He got nervous. “Western Pennsylvania. I can't knock the accent.”

“I spent many years in Claremont Ohio. Have you been there?” I asked.

“I have,” he said, his briefly disdainful expression clearly telling me what he thought of that part of the country, despite his attempts to hide it. He wasn't as much like JP as he seemed. JP would never have let something like that slip out.

“What did your parents do for a living?” I asked. If my suspicions about him were right, this would be painful and uncomfortable.

“My mother worked for Washington County in their records department,” he said neutrally. “We lived a little west of Washington.”

“What about your father?” I asked gently.

“I don't know anything about him,” he admitted. “I guess that makes me a bastard.”

“Join the club,” I told him with a smile. He didn't really grin back, he only smiled unconvincingly. “Do you know who he was?”

“My mother refused to talk about it, and she died last year, ran her car off the road and slammed into a house. She was drunk. How stupid is that?” he said bitterly.

“It is very stupid, but you were not driving, so it does not reflect on you at all,” I told him.

“When she died, the secret of who my father was died too,” he said. “It’s been so frustrating, going through life, not knowing about half of my heritage. All because of her pride, or whatever it was. And now she's dead, so I'm pretty much all alone. So that's why I couldn't answer your question.”

“I knew you would not be able to,” I told him. “That's why I asked.”

“What do you mean?” he asked me, thoroughly confused.

“As your first assignment, I want you to humor me. Do that and I will promise you one enlightening lunch,” I said.

“Are you always this mysterious?” he asked.

“Only with cute young personal assistants,” I teased.

“Do I get to sleep with you?” he asked, teasing me.

“No,” I said.

“Then I'll need more money,” he shot back. It was so out of character, this dorky guy, hitting on me, that it made me giggle. There was a knock on my door and Brad peered in.

“I stopped by to meet Mr. Parnell,” he said in his jocular manner. He walked in, took one look at Brian, and froze just like I had.

“Is there something wrong with me?” Brian asked, now thoroughly paranoid.

“No, I'm sorry,” Brad said, and shook his hand warmly.

“You will be joining us for lunch?” I asked, more of an order. “I'm going to invite your father as well.”

Brad's eyebrows rose up, and then he smiled. “You do love drama.”

“I do.” I turned to Brian. “Brad and I are taking you to lunch. You will get to meet my partner.”

“Alright,” Brian said nervously, trying to figure out what was going on.

“In the meantime, I'm going to have Eloise take you down to personnel and fill out the appropriate paperwork, and then she can show you around.”

“Thanks Stefan. That sounds great,” he said smiling. I buzzed Eloise and she came in and led a somewhat stunned Brian off. Still, he'd just secured a pretty good job. It paid well, and the perks were cool, flying around with me, maybe going to a Hollywood party or two.

As soon as he was gone, Brad turned on me. He was not happy. “You want to explain this?”

“No. I will let your father explain it.” He glared at me and I glared back, then he seemed to get it that I wasn't saying anything. “It is his place to do so, not mine. Do as I ask on this, please?”

“Alright,” he said, grumpy. “I'll meet you in the lobby at 11:30.”

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed JP's number. He didn't answer, so I dialed it again. Still no answer, so I called his office number.

“Professor Crampton's office,” came the crisp answer.

“I need to speak to Professor Crampton,” I said.

“He's in a meeting right now,” she said, her voice nasally.

“Tell him it is Stefan. He will take my call,” I told her. She put me on hold, and then came back a minute later.

“He wants to know if he can call you back,” she said.

“Tell him no. I need to talk to him now,” I said crisply.

“One moment,” she said. A few clicks later and I was through.

“Stef, I'm in the middle of a Departmental meeting,” he said in a hushed but angry whisper. “What is it that can't wait?”

“You are doing lunch with me today,” I said firmly.

“You interrupted a meeting to tell me we're going to lunch? I have plans for lunch.”

“Cancel them. This is important,” I told him.

“I don't have time to argue,” he said, now very irritated, approaching angry.

“JP, this is important,” I said in my voice that meant I was dead serious.

“Can't you meet me here on campus?”

“Absolutely not,” I said.

“Why?” he demanded.

“Do you have time for details?” I asked.

“No. I have to finish this meeting. I have to go.”

“Meet us at that French restaurant near the mall,” I told him. “At noon.”

“I'll try,” he said.

“No. You have to be there. Promise me.” I told him fervently.

“Dammit Stef,” he said, really pissed. “Fine. I promise I'll be there.” Then he hung up.

I called Rafael and asked him to come pick us up in the limo, but after that, I was unable to do anything for the next 30 minutes other than think about this situation. This was really going to traumatize JP. He was going to be outed, after all these years, as a bastard. One of his deepest, darkest secrets was about to be exposed. I was worried about how he'd handle it. Maybe I should cancel lunch and just tell him later? No, Brad knew, and he'd demand answers. The cat was out of the bag. And Brian needed to know who his father was.

I picked up Brian's resume and looked at it carefully. He'd graduated from high school in 1991, and then finished his undergrad degree this summer. That meant he was probably born in 1973, and conceived in 1972. Damn, Bill Hendrickson must have been one horny guy. Both of JP's parents were sex fiends, I thought playfully. No surprise there. I paced back and forth in my office, worried about JP, and worried about Brian and how he'd handle the news. Brad would know, so he'd have to tell Ace. And Claire! Claire was JP's natural daughter. She'd grown up just like him, encased in the Crampton name, the Crampton heritage. How would she handle this?

I thought about Claire. So much like her father, but not as cold, or at least not as cold as he used to be. She'd bury her feelings deep, very deep, but she would feel this.

Brad came stomping in, still pouting. “You will need to stay over tonight,” I told him.

“Why?” he asked.

“Bradley, do not be petulant. You know there is something strange going on. You are going to be needed. Do not argue. Just do as I ask,” I said, much louder, and much meaner than I intended. He looked at me and read me like he always did, like he always could.

“I'm sorry Stef. I'll stay over.”

“Thank you,” I said. “And now we must get Brian and go meet JP for lunch.”

“I don't think he'll enjoy this one,” Brad said.

“I tend to agree with you,” I said. “We must do our best to make Brian comfortable. You must help me with that.”

“If you say so,” he said. There was a knock on the door and Brian came walking in.

“Ready for lunch?” I asked cheerfully.

“I think so,” he said, concerned.

“Come along then,” I told them. The ride over was tense at first, so I did my best to lighten things up.

“So where do you live?” I asked Brian.

“I'm staying with some friends,” he said grinning. “Housing is expensive here in the Bay Area.”

“It is,” I agreed. “I made a small fortune investing in real estate in this valley.”

“A small fortune?” Brad teased.

“Do not be crass,” I chided him playfully.

“If this job hadn't worked out, I would have had to move back to Pennsylvania. A fate worse than death,” he said morosely.

“How interesting that you feel that way. I visited Claremont this summer and left feeling exactly the same way. Living there would be hell,” I said lightly, but honestly.

“I probably would have gone already but my Toyota is pretty rusted out. I don't think I'd have made it,” he said, smiling now.

“That might have been interesting,” I said. “You could have driven until it stopped running, and then made that place your home.”

“Probably would have broken down in the desert,” Brad said. Leave it to him to be logical.

We pulled up in front of the restaurant. We were a little early, and I didn't see JP's car there yet. They sat us right away, as always. The owner came out to say hello and speak French with me and Bradley. Shockingly enough, Brian jumped right into the conversation.

“You speak French?” Brad asked.

“But of course,” Brian said in that language, smiling. “It was what they taught in school, so I learned it. I kind of liked it, made it a hobby.”

“Your grammar is very good,” I said, surprised. “So is your vocabulary. But you will pardon me for noting that your accent will forever brand you as a foreigner in France.”

He laughed at that, the first time I'd seen him do it. He even laughed like JP. “I never could master that.”

“You have never been to France?” I asked.

“I'm lucky I made it to California,” he said, shaking his head.

“Do you have a passport?”

“No,” he said.

“Well you must get one. I occasionally travel overseas and may need you with me.” He nodded and pulled out a small notepad to scrawl down some notes. So organized.

The waiter came and we ordered appetizers. It was 12:10 and JP still wasn't here. If he stood me up, I'd kill him. I was babbling on about my apartment in Paris and how I needed to visit when I felt someone standing next to me. JP. He leaned down to kiss me, trying to atone for being a dick, he smiled at Brad, and then he saw Brian, and Brian saw him. I felt JP tense up and held his hand.

“JP, please join us,” I said, nudging him into action and hopefully out of his shock, but it was not to be. He sat down and stared at Brian, while Brian stared back. Pale green eyes staring into pale green eyes. Having them there in front of me made the similarities so much more obvious. The same beautiful blond hair. The same look; they both looked like Ricky Nelson. I looked at Brad and he raised his eyebrow.

“Can I get you something to drink?” the waiter asked.

“A double shot of vodka, straight up,” JP said.

“I'll have the same,” Brian echoed. Their voices were even similar, although JP's was smooth and refined, while Brian had that twang.

“You could have prepared me for this,” JP said to me angrily in French.

“As I recall, you barely had time to argue with me about meeting us here. You wanted to meet on campus. You are a victim of your own brusqueness,” I said lightly, trying to tease him out of his crankiness.

Their vodka came and Brian held his up to JP. JP clinked his glass and they both downed them simultaneously. Then they smiled at each other. “Hey, if we're doing shots, I want one,” Brad said.

“We have to be sober,” I said.

“I'll have to explain everything now dammit,” JP said to me in French. He looked at Brian. “I'm sorry, I should speak English.”

Brian replied sarcastically. “English or French, makes no difference to me,” he said in perfect French.

“Are there any more surprises in store for me?” he asked, glaring at me.

“I am not sure, but I am hoping,” I told him playfully.

“So you must be my father? Why did you just leave me there in fucking Pennsylvania with a drunk mother? Asshole,” Brian said, so bitter, so full of pain.

“I am not your father,” JP said gently, “but if I had known that you existed, I would have made sure you had a very different life.” JP was being so caring, so sincere, I was so proud of him.

“Then how come I look just like you?” Brian asked, mellowing a bit. The inner torment he was feeling had spilled over now, so visible on his face. The pain, and more than that, the loneliness.

“Well Brian, I live in academia, where we form hypotheses and then try to prove them,” JP said, sounding just like the professor he was. For him to revert to this mode he must really be freaking out.

“I'm not stupid. I went to college. I know how that works,” Brian said angrily, not willing to tolerate being patronized at this point.

“Then let me explain further,” JP said in his maddeningly deliberate tone. “If my hypothesis is correct, you are my brother, or half-brother to be more precise. And that would mean that your father was probably a man named Bill Hendrickson. He is dead now, unfortunately. He was generally a pretty good guy, quite the good old boy. He lived in Claremont, owned the local mill. Quite successful, and evidently quite the ladies' man,” JP said.

“Wait a minute,” Brad said. “Don't you mean Grand?” He was referring to Jack Crampton, JP's ostensible father.

“No. I mean Bill Hendrickson,” JP said. “He was my father too.”

“What?” Brad asked, stunned.

“I don't understand,” Brian said.

“Do you think I could sell this story in Hollywood?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. “General Hospital has nothing on you.”

“Very funny,” JP snapped. Then he sighed. “My real father was Bill Hendrickson,” he said, more to Brad than anyone. “My mother and Bill had a fling, and here I am. My grandfather and Bill's father, well, I guess he was my grandfather too, covered the whole thing up. So to this day, no one knows that I'm not really a Crampton.”

“He must have fucked around with my mother later on then,” Brian said. “He could have a least sent us some money now and then. Things were pretty tough.”

“Maybe he didn't know,” JP said. “Since they are both dead now, we will never really know.”

“How many kids do you have?” Brian asked.

“I have three. Of them, only my daughter, Claire, is my natural child. Not that I loved any of them differently,” he added hastily to placate Brad. Brad just looked at him and nodded, not needing those reassurances.

“This is going to turn their lives, and yours, upside down,” Brian said. “If I weren’t here, no one would know any differently.”

“What are you saying?” Brad asked.

“I'm saying that I should just vanish, move away. Then no one will ever know that I exist, and no one will ever know you're not a Crampton,” Brian said.

“Where would you go?” Brad asked. I glared at him, pissed that he would even consider such a thing, but I studied his demeanor and recognized his pattern. He was stringing Brian along for information, and giving JP time to think.

“I don't know. Maybe Texas. Or Florida,” he said.

“You'd need some money to get there,” Brad said, almost an offer.

“If you could loan me enough money to make the trip,” Brian said sincerely, “I could pay you back when I got on my feet.”

We all knew that if he left, we'd give him money, and it wouldn't be a loan. Brian was trying to tell us that he wasn't going to blackmail JP, that he wasn't playing that game. It was a really touching gesture.

Brad, Brian and I all stared at JP. He was the de-facto family patriarch, and it was his life that would be churned up the most by this. I smiled as I watched Brad and Brian try to guess what JP would do, what he would say. I didn't have to guess. I knew exactly what he'd do.

“No,” JP said. One simple word, with so many different consequences.