Chapter 608: Abby VI--Dessert

Chapter 608: Abby VI—Dessert

 

 

 

 

            Within ten minutes, Patrick had called him back. David could have collapsed laughing. Could he really be that easy? Of course he was! The old always looked down upon, and dismissed the energy of the young as merely reckless; they never took into account how the young can get under the skin, prickle, needle, and itch until scratched. It’d only been a matter of time before he’d come around to thirsting at home.

            “Of course,” David murmured, scratching his chin, “I am being a little bit cheesy at this point. It’s just a…well… it’s not like this is some sort of stupid movie, or book, and feeling this giddy is…”

            “David?”

            Startled, David jumped and then smiled, blushing, “Good morning!”

            “Who were you talking to?”

            Sweat tickled under his arms and at his waist. “No one, no one honey, you’re finally up I see!”

            His fiancé yawned. “I’m going in for a shower; I think I’m going down to the club to work out a little bit. What are you doing?”

            “Talking to myself,” David smiled.

            She laughed. “Don’t get as crazy as that Patrick, okay? No talking to posts.”

            “Ha ha ha! No, no I won’t.”

            David met Patrick at a downtown music store. Patrick even purchased a few tapes and suggested that David follow him to another address. Not very cold today, David rubbed his hands together and smiled, “That’s not a hotel, Patrick. I would have thought…”

            Patrick frowned. “Hotel? Are you an idiot, eh? Anyone would recognize us at a hotel. Even at a cheap motel, I suspect.” He looked bothered, his lips and nose twitching as if strings randomly pulled at them.

            “Not in a pleasant mood either?”

            Patrick got into his car, raising his eyebrows, “You don’t have to follow.” And he slammed the door, starting up the car.

            David clapped his hands together and jogged to his own car. As he started it, he noticed the clerk in the record store at the glass door of the building. Did it strike him as they’d left that he knew them from somewhere? The clerk watched him pull from the parking lot and then turned away. David smiled as drove, following Patrick’s gaudy, black, recreational Hummer.

            As they made their way through the streets downtown, David even began to feel a little nervous. His hands and his thighs trembled, even his teeth chattered. Why the fuss? Nothing about Patrick at this point was even a mystery to him! The man made a living of crawling under everyone else’s nerves, simply. David shook his head, licked his lips, and tried to cool down, when mental power failed, he rolled down his windows.

            They ended up outside a tall, luxurious apartment complex. David rolled up his windows as he stared at it. “Nice.” He parked his car, across the street from where Patrick was, and he continued to stare at the building as he walked towards it. Gold lettering adorned the revolving glass doorway and he whistled. “Even you don’t have enough money to maintain an apartment here simply on a recreational basis, Patrick. Who lives here?” He looked at Patrick who held a pale dessert box in his hands. “What’s that?”

            “Sweets.”

            “Oh.”

            They entered the building and were met by a guard who sat at a desk with a computer. The guard, a young, dark skinned man, raised his eyebrows.

            “Mr. Rondeau,” Patrick said firmly.

            “Go right ahead, then.” The guard replied, looking back to his computer. “I’ll buzz you in.”

            “Flawless security,” Aebischer whispered as they walked briskly towards the elevator. Fluttering air trickled through his chest, and he found it hard to breathe. “Don’t you think?”

            “He knows me.”

            “Of course.”

            The elevator was a mirrored wonder, glass walls and exquisitely polished floors and ceilings. David couldn’t help but look up at his reflection, feeling the amusement a child would. Patrick looked up as well. “Your cheeks are red.”

            David looked at Patrick who reached out and ran one finger down his frozen cheek, tapping it affectionately at the end of his nose. He couldn’t help but smile. “I drove with the windows down.”

            “Why would you do that, I wonder?” Deep and affectionate warmth thickened Patrick’s voice, gave it a bass kick that David appreciated. It even gave him a mental kick, a sort of pride for catching this strange man’s eye.

            “To look pretty, of course.”

            Patrick liked this answer, his ego stroked of course. He leaned in, and David let him, felt his lips gently on his own. This was a different kiss, not a domineering or even lust filled devouring of senses. For his own reasons, kissed him as David imagined he would a girl, or his wife in their most tender of moments. It rushed through David’s veins, it filled his head to dizziness, and it weighed his feet down with glee. I could get in serious trouble here, David thought, I could thirst for this moment to last forever. If it succeeds in forcing Patrick to fall in love, it would be the ultimate coup.

            Patrick let go of him before the doors opened. He picked the dessert box from the floor and David followed him down the hall. Lush carpeting on the floors, expensive lighting hanging from the ceiling, and prints of rare paintings led the way. David liked this mystery, and with each step he took he felt more overheated, his palms trembled and his head felt lighter.

            Patrick stopped at a door, knocked. Almost immediately it opened, and they were met by Jacqueline Trepanier, a woman David had assumed would have left to meet her husband weeks ago. He’d wondered what had been keeping her around. What a lovely woman, she looked straight at him, and she smiled. “Well…you said you were bringing dessert but I didn’t think…”

            Heat blistered David’s throat and cheeks, he swallowed hard.

            Patrick pulled the string off the box, “None of this was cheap.”

            “I should hope not,” Jacqueline replied in French. David’s heart bounced when she grabbed him by the wrist, yanking him roughly in and he felt as timid as any child following a pretty teacher. He had to jog to keep up with her brisk pace, following her all the way to a yawning, pastel bedroom.

            Was Patrick coming?

            David looked over his shoulder; giddy, to see Patrick sitting on a cream colored chair with the open box on his lap. The crazy man seemed quite content to dig into a danish, savoring the frosting and filling as if there were nothing else in the world. David laughed aloud and as he fell through the bedroom door, Patrick waved jauntily at him, waggling his fingers as if saying farewell.