Chapter Five
PATSY
After finishing up my statement to the two LAPD detectives, Patsy, Napoleon, and I left the priest. We wished Napoleon good night at his car before going to the parking garage where I squeezed into the front seat of Patsy’s car once again.
I almost laughed at how silly I must look with my knees drawn up as I folded myself into the passenger seat like a pretzel.
When Patsy got in, he turned to look at me and smiled.
“What’s the story?” he asked.
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
Patsy rolled his eyes. “Looks like I’ve got to teach ya some Irish, mate. It means I was askin’ why yer grinnin’ like a loon.”
I pointed to my knees. “Just the way I have to fold myself practically in half every time I get into this car. Not that I’m complaining, Patsy,” I added quickly.
“You’ve been very kind to drive me around all day and wait for the doctor to see me at the hospital.
I know you skipped work today and I feel terrible about that…
and now you’re taking me home with you to look after me and—”
“Say no more about it, Wes. I deserve to take the day off to help a friend. Besides, it was my fault ya got shot to begin with.” He looked terrible, like he was steeped in regret as he quickly turned away and started the car’s engine to pull out of the parking garage.
In seconds he’d pulled out onto Santa Monica, shifting gears as he drove down the street.
“Don’t say that again, Patsy,” I said.
“What?” he asked, looking over at me with a perplexed expression.
“What happened wasn’t your fault. That gunman was responsible for my gunshot.
You were the hero last night. You took him down and knocked his ass out.
” I slowly reached over and covered his hand resting on the gearshift.
My arm throbbed but I didn’t care. His hand felt wonderful under mine, and though, I wanted to leave it there, I didn’t want him to think I was coming onto him.
Some men hated that and anyone as tough as a guy on an FBI Tac Team probably wouldn’t appreciate it.
Not to mention that my seduction skills were extremely rusty.
I hadn’t gotten laid since before giving up my apartment and moving back home with my sick mom.
I felt myself blush when I realized where my thoughts had strayed and started to pull my hand away when Patsy let go of the gearshift and intertwined my fingers with his.
I instantly looked up at his face only to find him smiling at me.
He tightened his fingers, and I smiled back, trying hard not to be shocked.
No straight man let you hold his hand like that.
I cleared my throat and looked away as he broke eye contact to concentrate on the road.
He made no move to let go of my hand, though.
Warmth ran over my skin, all the way up my arm to the wound, where I was reminded of it.
“Are ya havin’ pain?” he asked, finally letting go of my hand to shift gears.
“I-I forgot about it when you held my hand,” I said quietly, knowing I had to give Patsy the opportunity to deny what I’d perceived.
He grinned but didn’t take his eyes off the road as he drove. “Yeah, I can understand that. I am pretty.”
I smiled, though he wasn’t paying any attention to me…still driving and not looking in my direction. “You really are,” I said quietly. I took a deep breath and then blurted my next question. “Patsy, are you gay?”
He didn’t hesitate or even blink before replying. “Aye, in fact, I am.” I felt a shiver run through my whole body when he confirmed what I’d sensed. I didn’t say anything and when I didn’t, he glanced over wearing a small frown. “Does that bother ya, Wes?”
“No!” Realizing that came out harshly, I cleared my throat to try again, lowering the pitch of my voice.
“What I meant to say was that no, it doesn’t bother me because I’m gay too.
I just didn’t want to presume. Statistically speaking, that kind of thing can get a person in trouble.
I just thought it was better to say something rather than leave you with questions. ”
“Thank you. It’s always an awkward conversation and I still haven’t worked out the right time to bring somethin’ like that up, so I’m glad we talked about it.” He was smiling as he watched traffic and drove us down Santa Monica.
I nodded. “Patsy, you need to take me back to my car.”
This time he did look over. “Sure, that’s grand…but why? I thought ya agreed to stay at my place, so I can feed ya and let ya use my lovely, hot shower I mentioned.”
Dammit. I didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but at the same time, I almost felt embarrassed asking him to make a detour.
“I don’t have any clothes but what I’m wearing, and even though you’ve been too kind to mention anything, you must have noticed that these aren’t so fragrant.
I have clothes in my car. If we can stop there first, I’d appreciate it.
” I felt bad enough for agreeing to sleep over at his place.
It was humiliating. Then again, so was being forced out of my house to live on the street.
Patsy nodded. “I apologize, Wes. I’m so sorry.
Of course, I’ll take ya to yer car so ya can be pickin’ up a few things.
” He turned and glanced at me with something bordering on pity, though, he tried to hide the expression behind a mask.
I hated that he felt like he had to hide from me but understood why he did.
Patsy Good was a decent human and sadly, over the last several months, I’d come to realize there were a lot fewer of those than one would expect.
I was very relieved when he said nothing and drove back to the neighborhood where I’d parked my car.
It took me several minutes of doing breathing exercises to regain my peace of mind and I was almost there until I spotted my car as he turned onto the street where I’d parked it.
All the contentment I’d been feeling in Patsy’s presence vanished as I realized something was terribly wrong.
The driver’s door was standing open and I stared at it, trying to process exactly what I was seeing.
Cardboard boxes I’d used to pack up my few belongings were strewn all over the ground at the back, spilling out through the open tailgate.
I felt sick to my stomach as I spotted my two good suits lying in puddles left behind from the rain, looking like they’d been run over several times.
The few precious photo albums I’d rescued from my mother’s bedroom with all my childhood pictures and those of my parents, were scattered about. It looked like they’d been recklessly tossed to the wet asphalt while someone went through my things.
Worst of all, my mother’s jewelry box which had contained the few pieces of jewelry she’d owned, was lying in the middle of the street, open, broken, and empty.
“What the fuck?” Patsy swore under his breath as he drove up and parked behind the car.
I felt shocked by the sheer and utter violation of the situation, helpless in the knowledge that the few precious things I owned had been trashed.
The reality of it washed over me like a thick, black wave, threatening to engulf me.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there unmoving until Patsy’s door opened and he stepped out of the VW.
As if in a trance, I heard him close the door and a moment later, the door beside me opened.
I looked up, blinking several times as he stared down at me.
The expression on his face wasn’t pitying this time.
It was filled with so much anger, it made me flinch.
He must have seen it because he quickly schooled his features and held out his hand.
I dazedly took it, allowing him to haul me out of the car as he’d done before.
“It’s okay, Wes. We’ll find out who did this,” he said as I righted myself and started walking up to the mess.
I absently began picking up my clothes and putting them back into cardboard boxes when I realized Patsy was making a call.
It instantly snapped me out of my fog as I twisted and looked up at him from my squatting position.
“Please don’t call the police, Patsy. I can’t lose my job.”
“I’ll be buggered if I’m goin’ to let anyone get away with doin’ this to ya.” He waved a hand at me. “Don’t touch the box. There’ll be fingerprints.”
I shook my head and stood, reaching for the phone in his hand. “Please,” I implored sadly, curling my fingers around his. “Please don’t involve the police.”
He stared at me for several seconds before my meaning seemed to dawn on him. “Wes, yer not in trouble here. You’ve been with me all day and night and if the bloody LAPD tries to make a problem, I’ll—”
“No, Patsy!” I said more forcefully than before, taking the phone from his hand, realizing he’d let it go. I glanced down at the screen noting he hadn’t made a call before handing it back.
I looked over at the mess on the street and walked over to my suits, picking them up.
They were stained with oil and the hopelessness I felt at the sight, threatened to take me to my knees right there in the street.
I was supposed to start my new job as soon as the background check was completed.
And had no idea what I was going to do without the money to have them dry cleaned, much less replace them if the stains wouldn’t come out.
I stood there holding them, looking at them through swimming eyes when I felt a hand on my arm.
“Come on, Wes, let’s gather the rest of yer things and get them into my car,” Patsy said quietly.
The expression on his face was full of pity again, and this time I couldn’t hide my own cringeworthy expression.
I hated being thought of as pathetic, but that’s exactly what I was feeling.
I felt insignificant. With no money, and no possessions left, I felt like my world had imploded, crashing in on itself.