4th Musketelle

by Brian Bakos

5. The Great Patricia Arrives

  Patricia Armstrong terminated the call to her younger brother and dropped the phone into her purse with a decisive motion reminiscent of her father’s abrupt gestures.

  This ought to be quite a family reunion at the hospital, she thought sourly.

  Still, she could not help but smile at Henry’s initial panic reaction. It had been fun to yank his chain a bit. He deserved it.

  When people looked at Patricia, the words power sex often came to mind, and members of both genders desired to make her acquaintance. She’d inherited her mother’s beauty along with her father’s toughness. She blended the strong points of her heritage well, although the severe look her face often assumed in unguarded moments spoke to the fact that she favored Frank more than her mother. She was the true inheritor of the family cojones.

  At 33, she was two years older than her despised ‘step mother,’ Laila – a.k.a. the cocktail waitress, a.k.a. the gold digger. Patricia would probably have to confront her at the hospital today. That promised to be a real ‘grin and bear it’ situation. Dad was fond of his little bauble, and any overt hostility toward her wouldn’t be smart.

  Patricia cracked the passenger side window and lit a cigarette. Her rule of three cigarettes per day would have to be violated now. The news of her father’s accident had stressed her out badly. In her mind, he’d seemed like a force of nature that would always be strong and towering. But fallibility was starting to undermine him, as it eventually did every other man.

  She blew out a heavy puff of smoke, observing the airstream suck it out the window. She settled back in the leather seat, savoring its luxurious aroma and contemplated the direction her life was going. Until today, it had seemed to be pretty good. But now she realized that she’d been letting things slide too much. If she wasn’t careful, they might slide away from her all together.

  Her early life had been sheltered, increasingly affluent. Frank spoiled her rotten; her mother was a benign, rather aloof presence, and little brother Henny was a general pain in the butt – as he still was. Things had been good.

  Then came her mother’s decline into alcoholism and all the attendant stresses. Patricia had been glad to enroll in a residential high school out of state to avoid the hassle. She’d heard about her parents’ divorce when she was away at college and was not surprised. Her father’s abrupt remarriage to a woman 24 years his junior had shaken her badly, however.

  She’d taken the endowment Frank provided her upon graduation and parlayed it into a tidy little fortune through intelligent investments and shrewd backing of some start up companies. She’d seemed on her way to becoming a real power player, but the fast success had lulled her into a life of ease. While her money worked for her, she lived in her upscale apartment indulging her artistic side as an amateur fashion designer – and indulging her erotic side with numerous sexual adventures.

  Her taste these days ran mostly to women, ten years or so younger than herself. Not that she had anything against men, they were wonderful diversions. But they were hard to dominate – and the ones she could dominate, she didn’t respect. Women, on the other hand, were soft and pliable, easier to bend to her will.

  But none of this was enough, now. She didn’t want to be a professional designer or a professional anything; she was getting tired of meaningless affairs. She wanted to be Frank’s successor. She was the only one with the strength and intelligence to keep things going properly after her father no longer could. And that day might be coming sooner than anybody imagined.

  She looked across her car toward Kristen in the driver’s seat. The girl was scrumptious with her masses of genuine blond hair and her innocent face; but she was really just another young, bi-curious tourist who was dazzled by money. The relationship with her wouldn’t last much longer, Patricia knew from experience. In any case, she was starting to get bored with the girl, time to move on to another one soon.

  “Is this where I turn?” Kristen asked.

  “Yeah,” Patricia said, “left at the light. The hospital will be coming up on the right side.”

  Kristen made the requisite maneuvers. Patricia loved the way the girl’s bracelets tinkled on her wrist as she turned the wheel. It made her feel very hot and regretful that she was going to Belmont hospital rather than straight to her bedroom.

  Kristen pulled the car up to the visitor entrance.

  “Would you like me to wait for you?” she asked.

  “No, just go do your shopping,” Patricia said. “My brother’s driving me back. See you at home.”

  “Okay, thanks, Patricia.”

  Patricia wanted a kiss, but there were people hanging around the entrance, and who needed the judgmental stares? So, she just got out of her car and watched Kristen drive off with it. They’d been on their way to a clothes shopping date at an upscale mall when the message from Debbie arrived. Patricia had ordered an immediate detour to the hospital.

  Well, Kristen would just have to get along without her at the stores. The credit card Patricia had given her would ease the pain of separation nicely. And tonight, Kristen would express her gratitude. Patricia was smiling in anticipation of the ‘thank you sex’ as she entered the hospital lobby.

  She made a bee line for the gift shop – not that Dad would appreciate anything she bought for him. That was his style, and it was her style to buy him a gift, anyway. Despite his gruff demeanor, he’d be offended if she didn’t bring him something. She understood this about Frank Armstrong as she was a lot like him, much more so than Henny was.

  This nasty surprise had ruined her day. What the hell was Dad doing up on a ladder like that? Why didn’t the cocktail waitress stop him – was it because she actually wanted him to fall?

  Patricia selected a beautiful arrangement of red roses from the display case and gave them to the shop girl for wrapping.

  “We sell a lot of those, when they’re available,” the girl said. “We just got in a fresh shipment this morning.”

  “Is that so?” Patricia said coldly. “How nice.”

  The curt, borderline sarcastic remark rather nonplussed the salesgirl.

  “Yes, well ... I’ll just get them ready,” she said. “Would you like a card?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Patricia said.

  Patricia hadn’t meant to be so abrupt; she was just pissed off generally at the girl because she was beautiful and sexy – and totally straight. Patricia had developed a fine eye for such things, and she knew that this girl was off limits. She’d have to look elsewhere for Kristen’s replacement.

  Even so, Patricia enjoyed watching the girl wrap the flowers and work the register keys for the cash purchase. She had truly beautiful hands.

  “Have a nice day,” the salesgirl said, handing Patricia the flowers.

  “You, too,” Patricia replied, less coldly now.

  She turned away from the unobtainable girl and brought the flowers toward her face.

  Lovely!

  The fragrance brought serenity into the hectic day. Patricia closed her eyes and momentarily forgot about the tensions with Kristen, about her grumpy, difficult father and his broken wrist – about the cocktail waitress lurking in the background like a spider waiting to seize the family wealth.

  She didn’t notice her younger brother walking into the gift shop.