Funny You Should Ask(19)

Mentioning it to Gabe, though, felt a little teacher’s pet-y.

“Do you visit them a lot?” I asked.

Gabe nodded, still looking around. “I bought a house for my mom and then helped my sister and brother-in-law with the down payment on theirs. I usually stay at an apartment above the store when I visit.” He put his hands on his hips. “My manager said that it’s a waste of money to keep renting a house here—that I should just buy something.”

“You’d have plenty of space for your family when they come to visit,” I said.

“I told them I wanted a pool and guest rooms, but now that I’m seeing it, I don’t know if I need this much space.” He looked thoughtful. “I like my current place a lot.”

“It is really nice,” I agreed. “Seems like it suits you.”

He grinned at me as if I’d said something profound. “That’s funny,” he said. “Because even though I’ve never lived here before, the place feels kind of nostalgic for me. Almost like it’s part of a collective memory about Los Angeles.” He leaned back on his heels. “It has this great energy, you know?”

I did know.

“Sorry,” he said. “That probably sounds pretty cheesy. It’s just I can totally picture Brian Wilson hanging out by my pool, or Dennis Hopper rummaging through my fridge.”

I nodded eagerly. “I know exactly what you mean. You can practically smell the weed and righteous rebellion.”

He laughed.

“You should get a house like that,” I said. “Not something big and grand like this. A home.”

Unfortunately, I said that right as the real estate agent was walking back into the room.

“I think you’re right,” Gabe said before turning to her. “I might need to rethink what I’m looking for.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile, but the moment he turned away, she shot me a glare.

I couldn’t really blame her. I’d be pissed too if I lost the commission on this house.

We drove back to his rental in Laurel Canyon. The puppy fell asleep in his lap, but rested her nose on the armrest between us, her hot breath tickling my elbow. Gabe didn’t say much on the ride home, gazing out the window while I only got lost once.

“Hey,” he said, as I stopped at a stop sign. “The mountains.”

I glanced over to what he was pointing at. We were almost to his house, about to go around one of the many cliffside curves. The sun was beginning to set.

“Gold and pink,” he said.

It was beautiful—a shadow across half of the Valley—the rest of it looking like it had been painted with vibrant watercolors.

Behind me, a car honked.

As I pulled into his driveway, I knew that I’d totally blown the interview. That I was going to have to go back to my little apartment that I shared with two people I didn’t like very much and attempt to write an article that I knew was not going to be very good.

It would be functional and it would serve its purpose—I’d find a way to make Gabe seem like he was a perfect fit for Bond—but it wouldn’t be anything more than that. It wouldn’t be special, and I desperately wanted to write something that was special.

I shut off the car and turned to Gabe, planning to thank him for his time and make as much of a gracious exit as I could.

“I should probably have some coffee,” he said before I could even open my mouth. “Do you want some coffee?”

“I don’t drink coffee,” I said.

It was such a dumb thing to say. If it meant more time with Gabe, I could drink coffee. I could choke down a whole fucking carafe of it.

“I have tea,” Gabe said.





VANITY FAIR


GABE PARKER:

The Man Who Would Be Bond

[excerpt]


By Tash Clayborne


He can’t stop gushing about his family. Parker is the youngest of two, though “we were practically raised as twins,” he says. “We shared birthday parties, shared a room, shared almost everything until she started going to school. I know technically you’re only Irish twins if you were born within the same year, but we’re only thirteen months apart. Maybe you could call that Montana twins, or something.”

He has equally loving things to say about his niece, who just turned two.

“She’s the love of my life,” he tells me, pulling out a picture of a chubby-cheeked child with dark curls. “I mean, she’s way smarter than I am, but besides that we’re actually pretty similar. When I go visit my family, it’s usually just the two of us at the kids’ table, laughing at how silly peas are. Because they’re pretty silly, aren’t they?”

We talk about his list—about the things he always wanted to do when he became successful—and how most of them ended up being gifts for his family.

“My mom was a high school teacher,” he says. “We didn’t have the kind of money that other families had to go on trips and vacations. I wanted to take her everywhere that she dreamed of going.”

They’ve been to Bali, Paris, Argentina, and Kenya. Next on the list?

“She wants to eat her way through Italy,” he says. “I think we’re going to take the whole family for that one.”