Hi everyone. Sorry for the slightly later the planned upload - life got away from me a little. Thank you for all your lovely reviews so far :) It's great to know people are reading and enjoying. Anyways, on to the chapter!
Sunday 19th July 1998:
Excited for the evening ahead of her, Lisbon had rushed through her weekend tasks to be ready to meet Patrick in the evening.
She'd run to the mall to purchase a new dress to wear under her trusty leather jacket. When she'd packed for the police academy, she hadn't anticipated being taken out for dinner anywhere classy, so didn't have anything that quite fit the bill. She'd settled on a tight-fitting little black dress with a heart shaped neckline and a skirt that fell just above the knee. It was by no means designer, but she didn't think it looked half bad.
She arrived at the address Patrick had written onto her hand a little before the advertised time of 7:30. He was performing in the ballroom of a large, old-fashioned hotel and she weaved her way through the lobby then the bar to reach it.
The ornate hotel decoration and the atmospheric lighting added to the ambience. Patrick stood illuminated on the stage, his suit sparkling under the dramatic spotlights. It was an impressive effect, making him look ethereal.
She slid into a chair at the back at the same time as he began speaking.
"I'm sensing a presence", he announced.
Lisbon could see the audience transfixed on him.
"It's an elderly woman", he continued, "she passed over recently and wants to reconnect with her granddaughter".
Lisbon heard a sob break out from the front row and saw Patrick spin round to pick up the lead.
"I'm sensing a "J" connection", he told the woman, "does that mean anything to you?".
"My name is Jessica", she replied tearfully, "My grandma used to call me J".
Lisbon rolled her eyes. A very lucky guess.
"Would you like to join me on stage Jessica?", Patrick asked.
Jessica nodded and the audience applauded as she ascended the steps to join him on the stage.
Patrick took her hands and closed his eyes.
"Jessica, you play a string instrument. Am I correct?", he asked.
Jessica nodded enthusiastically and Lisbon heard gasps from the audience.
"The harp, yes?", Patrick confirmed.
"Yes", Jessica whispered.
"You played it at your grandmother's funeral", he told her.
"Yes, yes", Jessica replied enthusiastically.
"You grandmother wants you to know that she's safe and well. She thought your performance was beautiful and wants you to know it's been of great comfort to her since she passed over".
Jessica's mouth dropped open. "Thank you", she whispered. "I'm so glad she's safe".
"You should keep playing", Patrick instructed, "your grandmother wants you to".
"Of course, I will Grandma", she replied, completely enthralled. Lisbon could see the happiness and hope in the woman's eyes. Although she was being lied to, Patrick's words had been genuinely comforting.
Patrick opened his eyes and spun Jessica around to face the audience.
"A round of applause for our talented harpist Jessica here", he called.
The crowd were clapped and cheered enthusiastically and even Lisbon hit her hands together slowly a couple of times. While she didn't share the belief of those around her, she did appreciate the show Patrick had put on. She could understand why, when he was being met with tremulous applause each night, he might not want to give this life up.
Once the room had fallen silent again, Patrick spoke up.
"Thank you all for joining me tonight. This is my last night in San Francisco, and I feel privileged to have been here with all of you. Travel home safely".
His words sparked another round of clapping, and Lisbon saw him use the opportunity to disappear off through a door at the back of the stage. Once people began to leave their seats, she moved to follow him.
What she hadn't expected was that she wasn't the only person to have followed Patrick backstage. By the time she'd made it through the door into the dressing area, she was in a queue of people waiting to see him.
A man with a clipboard stood near Patrick's door.
"Each private reading takes around 10 minutes, so have a look at the number of people in front of you and you should be able to work out how long you're going to be here for", he announced.
Lisbon took a look around. There were five women in front of her, so it was likely she'd be here for almost an hour. She didn't want to cause a scene and push ahead, but equally he had promised her dinner and she didn't want to wait until half-eight to leave.
A growing sense of unease was coming over her. Each of the women in front of her was similarly dressed up. They were all beautiful, with round lips and doting eyes. She felt inadequate next to them in her cheap new dress. Were these women here for a psychic reading, or did they just want 10 minutes alone with Patrick?
When the man with the clipboard was on his way back from checking the end of the queue, Lisbon grabbed him.
"Hey, I had plans to meet Patrick at 7:30 after the show tonight", she told him. "Is there any way you can pass the message on? I don't want a private reading or anything".
Lisbon felt the man's eyes sweep up and down her, then watched as his face settled into a smirk.
"Oh", he commented, "Patrick didn't say anything about you".
Lisbon could feel the embarrassment start to grow in her cheeks.
"Look", she snapped, "can you just tell him that Teresa is here?".
The man shrugged. "I'd like to help you darling, but I don't think these lovely ladies who have already been waiting aren't going to appreciate me letting you skip ahead and take Patrick away for the evening".
Lisbon glared at him, but as she looked down the line of women in front, she could see she would face some opposition if she tried to push through.
She sighed in exasperation and leaned back against the wall.
The next fifty minutes dragged. Each woman would leave the room after her session with Patrick smiling and with a spring in her step. Lisbon stared each one down.
She wondered why Patrick had invited her here tonight. The thought crossed her mind that he wanted her to see how much attention he got. Perhaps he wanted to make her jealous, or maybe he just wanted to show off how much of a catch he was. Either way, she was not impressed.
She considered whether this was meant to deter her. That he'd told her to meet him in this setting, so she'd get the message she wasn't special, without him having to say anything explicitly. Maybe he thought that she would just get embarrassed and leave. If that were the case, she was going to prove him wrong. She wasn't going until she'd given him a piece of her mind.
Eventually, the man with the clipboard called her forward and thanked her insincerely for waiting patiently.
"Whatever", she muttered at him, storming into Patrick's dressing room.
He had his back to her as she came in, emptying cups of tea into the sink.
"Quite the audience you got tonight", she commented sarcastically.
"Teresa!", he said spinning around in surprise.
"Ah so you do remember who I am", she replied. "Just not that we were meeting tonight".
"Teresa, I'm so sorry, please sit down. I can explain", he said softly.
She remained standing but gestured for him to continue.
"I don't normally do these private readings, but tonight after I came off stage on a big high and you weren't here yet, my manager convinced me to do a few. I told him I'd keep working until you arrived".
"Your manager", she questioned, "is he the guy out there with the clipboard?".
Patrick nodded.
"When I spoke to him about an hour ago, he didn't know you had plans tonight", she told him bluntly.
"Of course he'd say that", Patrick replied, "he gets a cut of everything I earn so he's never going to turn business away".
Lisbon looked at him sceptically.
"What about you though?", she asked, "it wouldn't have taken much to stick your head around the door and check".
"Look Teresa, I'll say it again, I'm sorry".
"Are you?", she questioned, "because at the moment it seems like you're just trying to cover your ass. You don't seem apologetic that I've spent the last hour waiting for you, watching other women stroll in and out of your room. Did you even want to see me tonight, or were you just going to disappear? Hope that I get disparaged and go away?".
"It's not like that", he told her.
She rolled her eyes. She felt like a mark now. An audience member that had been drawn in by his shining eyes and winning smile.
She wondered how many other women he'd treated like this. She had visions of him picking up a new woman in each city, using her to entertain himself, then ignoring them or leaving when he got a better offer. He certainly had plenty of options.
"What's it like then?", she fumed.
"I've spent time with these women tonight because it earns me money" he told her measuring his words carefully. "It's different with you, I think there's something special there. I wouldn't have asked you out for dinner if I didn't think so. And no, I wouldn't have left without saying goodbye. I couldn't promise to stay in San Francisco, but I would like to stay in touch".
"So you've never done this before. Picked up a woman for a couple of dates then dropped her?".
He looked at her with an intensity that made her shift her stance.
"Honestly, yes…" he started.
Lisbon huffed loudly and threw her arms up in frustration.
"But it's different with you", he finished.
She rolled her eyes.
"You can't treat people like this", she told him.
"Really?", he snapped back, "that's rich coming from you. At least I've never run away from an engagement".
She felt the fire grow inside of her, but quelled it so she could speak clearly.
"Don't treat me like a mark", she yelled at him. "I told you not to try and read me. God you're an ass".
She turned and stormed out the room, slamming the door behind her. She heard him shout her name, but she didn't turn around. She was done with him.