Friday's Child

by Clare Revell

  Anyway, Patrick was looking for some bloke named Foster. And she didn’t know anyone by that name.

  Her conscience berated her, making her feel ten times worse. She shouldn’t have sniped back at him. She stood and crossed to the doorway, intending to apologize, again. She opened the door.

  A grunt of surprise greeted her as Patrick tumbled backwards through the opening, landing rather unceremoniously on the floor at her feet. His cheeks burned as he looked up at her. He must have been leaning against it.

  She gazed down at him. “I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

  “I think so.” He scrambled to his feet, dusting himself off. “No harm done.”

  “Good. I wanted to apologize for the way I spoke to you. It was uncalled for. I’m not used to people inquiring after my lack of relationship with God.”

  He nodded. “But it’s important, Elle. Just as important as your health is. If not more so.”

  She shook her head. “Let’s just say I’m past saving and leave it at that.”

  “No one is past redemption, Elle. God is bigger than that.”

  She shrugged, really not wanting to have her sins hauled over the coals. Especially this one. Especially not with Patrick, her co-conspirator in the sin, if there even was such a way of phrasing it, standing right in front of her, looking every bit as handsome as he had done years ago. And even if God did somehow forgive her, Patrick wouldn’t. She’d had his child and never even attempted to find him to tell him. All she had were excuses. Mum hadn’t wanted her to, but she could have defied her, like she had with naming the baby.

  She sucked in a deep breath and changed the subject. “I have a favor to ask. I have to go to the club and as my car is at home, I was wondering if you’d be able to take me in. Please.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I have to. If I don’t go in, he’ll sack me and then Mum will...” she floundered. She had to go in. P.J. expected her and probably had another job for her to do. She just couldn’t tell Patrick because he wouldn’t understand.

  “Your mother will do what? You make her out to be some kind of an ogre.”

  “Please, Patrick. Let me go in tonight. Don’t you think it would tip them off if I don’t show? I’ll work something out with Zeke. Take some leave perhaps.”

  Patrick sighed heavily. “I’ll check with my boss and make the arrangements. But I tell you for nothing, if he says no, you stay here. And you don’t tell anyone you’re living anywhere other than at home. Understood?” He pulled out his phone, and turned his back on her.

  She turned and went back into the bedroom. Not that she had anything much with her. She had a toothbrush, which was something, and a week’s worth of clothes. She hadn’t picked up anything to sing in.

  “People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. That outfit you wear on stage leaves very little to the imagination.”

  His words echoed again, drumming home what she’d always thought of her work attire. She hated the slinky dresses. They made her feel cheap and dirty. But that was all she deserved.

  She was tormented by images and feelings that, despite her wishes, wouldn’t go away. She’d carried this sin for the last fourteen years, unable to forget—not that her mother would let her—even if she wanted to. And after she discovered she was pregnant and learned Garth died, there was no way out. It was all linked, every inch her fault and there was no going back.

  Patrick’s words floated through the doorway. It sounded like a heated discussion, but if she weren’t mistaken he was arguing for her rather than against. Why was that? She’d just angered him, made him fall on the floor, and yet he was doing his utmost to do what she wanted.

  He turned back towards her, his smile stilted, but a smile none the less. “You go on the condition Shay and I come, too.”

  “Zeke won’t like that.”

  “That is too bad.” Patrick slid his phone back into his pocket. “Soon as Shay gets back, we’ll leave.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Welcome. See, it just needs a little give and take on both parts.”

  “I give and you take?”

  He tilted his head, a slight twinkle in his eyes. “Something like that.”

  “I’ll go change. Not that I have anything “tarty” to wear.”

  “So wear something plain and simple. Go for the understated look.”

  She glanced down at her jeans and shirt. “In that case I’ll sing as I am.”

  This time a real smile crossed his lips. “Looks pretty good to me.”

  8

  Eleanor nodded to Patrick and then headed through the back entrance of the club, while Shay went in through the front as a normal punter. She glanced behind to see him head around the front to join Shay. He’d tried to insist on coming in the back with her, but that would have been wrong. She’d have gotten into trouble for that.

  The office door was shut and she heard PJ shouting at Jake as she passed. She glanced into Zeke’s office, which was empty, then headed into the bar itself. She shivered as Zeke’s gaze ran over her. He didn’t approve, and she knew that before he even opened his mouth.

  He reached her in several large strides. “You can’t sing in jeans and a shirt. Where’s your evening dress?”

  “I can sing perfectly well like this, and my dress is at home. What I wear isn’t going to affect my voice.” She pushed past him, to find him grab her arm, his fingers digging in painfully.

  “Just remember who you’re talking to,” he hissed. “I hold the purse strings and the record deal. That can vanish as quickly as you can blink.”

  “I know that.” She kept her voice low, not wanting to worry Patrick. He stood by the bar, keeping his steel gaze on her. Shay had seated herself near the door. “But it still needs cleaning after you spilled that drink down it, therefore I don’t have anything to wear. I can’t get it to the cleaners for a couple of days yet.”

  “Then I’ll give you an advance and you can go and buy one for tomorrow night.” He opened the cash register and pulled out a wad of twenties. He folded them, and leaning forwards, tucked the notes inside her shirt. Her skin crawled and she shuddered. “PJ has given special instructions concerning you, babe. But if you think that makes you invincible, think again.”

  Her cheeks burned and she turned her face to one side, not wanting to see Patrick’s reaction. She slapped Zeke’s hand away, then her head jerked as his hand connected sharply with her cheek.

  Suddenly Patrick was there. “Elle, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Her face stung, but she wasn’t going to give Zeke the satisfaction of knowing that.

  “Do you want to press charges?”

  “No, I need to go and get ready.”

  “OK.” He looked at Zeke and lowered his voice. “You raise your hand to her again and I’ll have you arrested for assault. No matter what the lady wants.”

  “I think you need to leave.”

  Patrick drew himself up to his full height. “If I leave, so does Elle.”

  Zeke stared at him, smirked, then raked his eyes over her. “Is that so? Is he your boyfriend or something? Are you really going to jump because he says to?”

  She swallowed hard. She’d never stood up to him. She’d always been afraid of what he’d do. But now he’d actually hit her? She wasn’t so scared. At least, not with Patrick at her side protecting her. “Yeah…” Her voice wavered. She cleared her throat. “Yes.”

  Zeke’s face creased in shock. “I’m sorry?”

  “I said yes. I asked Patrick here tonight. If he can’t stay, nor can I.” She held his gaze. “So, do I sing or do I walk?”

  “Sing. Then we discuss this. You, me and the boss. Your boyfriend can wait here for you.”

  Patrick opened his mouth to argue but Zeke cut him off.

  “It’s non-negotiable. She won’t be more than half an hour.”

  “Elle…”

  “I’ll be fine, Patrick.” She turned to Zeke. “The meeti
ng sounds thrilling. I can’t wait.” She pulled the money from inside her shirt and dropped it onto the bar. “I don’t need this. As I said, what I wear doesn’t affect how I sing. I’m sure the punters won’t care either.”

  She walked over to the microphone to begin the first set. As she sang, she watched Patrick. He sat at the bar, sipping his iced water keeping his eyes alternately on her and everyone else. Shay sat near him but not with him, watching the crowds coming and going.

  They made a good pair. Almost as good as she and Patrick once had—with him she’d felt invincible. She’d thought, hoped, prayed that they’d be together forever. But things had turned sour after one night in April and she had been left with no alternative but to run.

  Before she realized, the music ended and the audience clapped. Was the first set over already?

  She got up and walked across to Patrick, gratefully taking the glass of water he held out to her. “I don’t remember any of that.” Her hands were shaking

  “Well, you knocked their socks off,” he said, toasting her.

  She chinked her glass against his. “Glad to hear it.”

  “You honestly don’t remember singing?” He leaned forward, concerned.

  “No. I assume I didn’t fluff the words at all.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. At least not the ones I knew.” He took a long sip. “Do they have the music for any that you wrote?”

  “I don’t know. Probably not here. Why?”

  “I’d like to hear something that you came up with.”

  She tilted her head, studying him. Was he just playing with her now? Was she just a case to him? Or was he trying to reopen old wounds and continue the conversation from before despite her wishes? She had to keep him at arm’s length because if she didn’t he’d be back in her heart before she knew it. “Really?”

  He nodded. “I expect it’d rock this place. Even if it were a secular one.”

  “I told you, God and I parted terms…”

  He tipped his glass at her. “One thing you need to remember about the Lord, Elle. You may let go of Him, but He never lets go of you.”

  “It’s too late,” she whispered, grief filling her heart.

  “Why?” he asked. “No one is beyond redemption, no matter what they think.”

  “I am. I can’t explain here, but I am.”

  “You’ll have to explain later.”

  She finished her water. “Maybe not tonight. I’m tired.”

  “Fair enough, it’s been a long day for all of us. But at some point you’re going to have to come clean.”

  She looked down at her empty glass, hesitating. She didn’t want to talk about it at all. Perhaps if she agreed, he’d drop it and then forget about it.

  “OK.” She touched his hand for a moment, jerking back. She hadn’t expected the jolt of electricity to pass between them.

  His gaze held hers and then he took her hand. “You felt it too.”

  “I did, but I can’t act on it.”

  “Why not? We’re both adults here. There is nothing stopping us from going out with each other once this is over. Start again, see where we end up.”

  She sighed. “Patrick, I made a promise to someone and I have to honor it.”

  He dropped her hand like a lead balloon. “Were you engaged? Are you now?”

  “No. Nothing like that. I would have told you if there was someone else when we were together.”

  “A promise to do what, then? Stay single?”

  Sucking in a long deep breath, she stood. “As it happens, yeah.”

  “A promise? Who to?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “The promise stands. It has to.”

  She headed back to the stage. But it did matter, because she now knew without a doubt that Patrick had stolen back into her heart where he belonged.

  ****

  Eleanor followed Zeke back to the office. Patrick had made his objections again, but Zeke had over ruled him. She glanced behind as the door shut, seeing Patrick sat at the edge of the bar, eyes trained on her and the door.

  “You are treading a fine line here,” Zeke told her. “Just because the boss fancies you, doesn’t mean—”

  “I’m sorry?” She looked at him in amazement. “The boss what? I am not involved with Jake.”

  “I mean PJ. He owns the club. Jake just manages it. Besides, everyone can see it. The cozy chats you have in his office. The huge pay rise he just gave you. Tell me, are you sleeping with him?”

  Her hand shot out and slapped him before she realized what she was doing. “How dare you? No, I’m not, and even if I was it’d be none of your business.” She stormed ahead, barging into the office without knocking.

  PJ jumped at the sudden intrusion and turned, sliding something into his pocket. “Can’t you knock…Eleanor, babe.” He crossed the room and kissed her cheek. He glanced at the two men in the room and nodded to the man slumped between them. “Get him out of here.”

  The men nodded, dragging the unconscious man from the room.

  Eleanor swallowed hard. Was that Jake? Was that blood on his shirt? Was he dead?

  PJ dragged her attention back to him, by kissing her cheek again. “You were great tonight, watched you from here. Your outfit though leaves a lot to be desired. I thought I made it clear you had to sing in a dress. Not dressed like a tramp.”

  She snorted. “I look more like a tramp in those slinky silver things than I do in this.”

  Zeke scowled as he shut the door. “I told her she should change. She came up with a pitiful excuse why she couldn’t. Her boyfriend even threatened to have me arrested.”

  “Only after you hit me,” Eleanor snapped. She looked at PJ. “What’s this about a pay rise?”

  “I was going to talk to you about that. And something else. Have a seat. Zeke, leave us. I’ll deal with this.”

  She perched on the edge of the seat, suddenly aware that she was alone with PJ and he was well and truly in her personal space. “I haven’t got long tonight.”

  “Hot date? I assume it’s the bloke who’s been hanging around.”

  “Something like that.”

  He trailed his hand across her shoulders. “Known him long? Is Zeke right about him being your boyfriend?”

  “I’ve known him a while. Years actually, we’re old friends. Look, what is this? There is nothing in my contract that says I can’t have a boyfriend, is there?”

  “No. I’m just looking out for you.” PJ sat opposite her. He slid another package over the table. “Keep this for now. I can’t have it here.”

  “What is it?”

  “Doesn’t matter what it is. Look after it. It’s sealed and I want it sealed when I get it back.”

  She slid it into her bag. “OK. Where do I take it?”

  “You don’t. Someone will come and pick it up. It’s a one off doing it this way. It’s perfectly safe, so don’t worry.” He smiled at her. “While you’re here, I wanted to talk to you about your father.”

  She looked at him. “He’s dead. He was killed in a hunting accident several years ago.”

  “Yes. Tragic, but if you play with fire, then you get burned.”

  “Huh? You’ve lost me.”

  PJ opened a file on his desk. “I thought I might have. I also thought it was time that someone told you the truth about him. Did you know he worked for me?”

  She frowned. “That can’t be right. Dad was an accountant, nothing to do with the music industry...or bars.”

  “I haven’t always worked in music and nightclubs. I made my money elsewhere. Your father was my accountant when I first started out, a working relationship that lasted until his death. He was a pretty good one too; he’d worked for my father for a few years. That is, until he got greedy and started skimming the books.” His eyes hardened and he shut the file with a resounding thud. “Then he decided to run something on the side, and got a little too arrogant. It didn’t work.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t u
nderstand.”

  “It was my money that put you through college. He worked for me for years. You kept moving because I told him to, to go where I needed him most.”

  “What?” Bile rose in her throat and she twisted her hands. “I thought…” Had her parents lied to her? They’d said it was the embarrassment of her illegitimate child and the shame of her being a nightclub singer. And she’d believed them...

  PJ smirked. “Yes, Eleanor. Your father was as corrupt as they come. But a bent accountant has their uses. Hence, he kept working for me, and you kept moving when I needed him elsewhere. And with you singing in my clubs, I could keep tabs on you as well.”

  “Oh…”

  “You can go far if you do what I tell you.” His hand reached over the desk and ran up her arm. “Record deals are just the tip of the iceberg.”

  She pulled her arm back, not wanting to talk about her father any longer. She needed to assimilate what she’d been told and she couldn’t do that here.

  “I need some time off.” She took a deep breath. She hated lying but didn’t have much of a choice. Patrick would never go for her coming here every night, not matter how much she begged. Once had been pushing it. “Looks like I need to babysit the next few nights and as I can’t bring my sister here, then I need to stay at home with her.”

  “No can do. You’ll need to find a babysitter. Hey…” he winked at her. “Maybe the boyfriend could do it. Zeke said he took her the other night. I’m sure he’d oblige.”

  “I can’t ask him.”

  PJ looked thoughtful for a moment, then smirked at her. “If he loves you as much as it appears he does, he’ll do anything for you. Ask him. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  ****

  Driving back to the safe house, Patrick glanced in the driving mirror at the two women in the back of the car. Shay was ever vigilant. Elle, on the other hand, had her eyes closed, exhausted, no doubt, by the twists and turns the day had taken. Totally understandable. He’d been pushed to the limit the last few days, without the emotional strain of Elle being thrust back into his life again.