Patience, My Dear

by Bower Lewis

  From the ruckus in her pocket, she might well have stashed a tiny marching band inside. Zane stepped between them and reached a hand for her arm.

  “Patience, please. It’s time we stopped.”

  The priest pulled him back and studied Patience with a heavy look on his face.

  “When you say that God has been ‘up in your business lately,’ what do you mean by that?”

  The chimes died mid-tone as Zane crossed his arms and looked down at her alongside the priest. She felt a third, omnipresent, set of eyes staring as well and the scrutiny was unbearable.

  “Miss Kelleher, are you suggesting that God speaks to you?” She reached for her drink, but he stopped her hand. He was turning a bit pale as he recaptured her gaze. “Do you mean to say that He speaks to you directly?”

  Patience’s heart fell and her lip followed in its wake as she stared up at the need to know—and the desperation to dismiss—stamped so candidly into his face. She nodded and pulled her hand free of his grasp. Zane had been right, of course. This wasn’t going at all as she’d intended.

  “In the beginning, He did, but I ignored Him because I thought I was only schizophrenic. So now, He’s a little more creative with His methods, but, yes, He speaks to me directly. I’m sorry I bothered you with this, Father Rick. I’m pretty confused about the whole mess, and I’ve had more than my share of tequila. If I’ve been rude, or blasphemous in any way, I sincerely apologize.”

  She turned to go, but he reached for her arm again. His aftershave mingled with the scent of beer and honest work as he pulled her back to face him.

  “I have prayed my entire adult life to discover God’s plan for me and sought new ways of serving Him. I have taken a vow of poverty. I have taken a vow of chastity. I’ve devoted my whole life to the Church. And now you’re telling me that when He needed something here on Earth, He overlooked my devotion and years of steadfast servitude, and turned instead to the pink-haired non-believer in the Buzzcocks T-shirt sitting three stools down the bar from me?”

  “Oh.”

  His grip tightened and Zane stepped forward again. This time, he blocked the priest’s attempts to hold him off and it was Patience who held him back. She looked up to face Father Rick’s incredulity full on, but he just laughed and released her.

  “The only thing more absurd than what you’ve just told me is the fact that I believe you.” He turned his face to the bar. “Can either of you explain that part to me? Your story is clearly absurd, and I’m not a stupid man. Why on Earth do I believe you?”

  A bead of sweat broke free of his hairline and Patience looked back at Zane. She looked to the phone next but, for once, neither seemed to have any advice for her. She touched the wrecked clergyman’s sleeve and he flinched.

  “You shouldn’t believe me, Father. I’m a liar, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

  The swinging door banged at the end of the bar as Frank pushed through with a keg in his arms. He nodded hello to Father Rick, then stopped in his tracks as the priest’s expression registered. He set the keg down on the floor mat and turned to face his goddaughter.

  “I’ve been gone less than ten minutes, Patience. What have you done now?”

  She looked from Father Rick to Frank, and then she turned her eyes down to her hands.

  “We were just having a conversation. I wasn’t trying to upset anyone.”

  The priest touched a napkin to his forehead and drained the last of his beer as the three stood by helplessly. He rose from his stool and turned back to Zane.

  “You seem like a fairly forthright man. Would I be wise to believe that this young lady is a liar?”

  Frank saved Zane the trouble of responding.

  “You would not, Father Rick. My goddaughter is truthful to a fault. It’d be a blessing if she’d learn to lie on occasion, quite frankly. It would save the rest of us a lot of anguish and confusion. Whatever atrocity she’s been confessing to you, I’m afraid she’s got to own it.”

  The priest dropped a couple of bills onto the bar and turned toward the door without another word. Patience felt like a murderer, watching him push his way through the crowd.

  “Have you considered that I might just be insane?” she yelled after him. “I lied about being a liar, didn’t I? And to a priest! What kind of a person does a thing like that?”

  The pub’s door slammed shut behind him, and Father Rick was gone.

  • • •

  Patience stared listlessly down at the water Frank had set in place of her confiscated margarita. She’d been trying to end the evening forever, but Zane kept right on talking and The Biz was more revved up than ever about SolarTech and its lab.

  He chimed in again, and a new image appeared on the screen. She pressed her lips closed and banished it with the others.

  “Would You cool it with the Apocalypse shots? If You’re that hot for a Jerry Bruckheimer finale, go make nice with Father Rick or something. I’m sure he’d be delighted to set off Your pyrotechnics for You, as long as You supply the firepower and free passes through the Pearly Gates.”

  NO FREE PASSES! AND NO X-PLOSVES 4 FR RICK!

  She raised her glass to the priest. “Well, kudos to him. It’s nice to hear I’m not the only one around here who’s too rational to believe she can launch grenades into a busy laboratory without spilling a drop of blood.”

  HES NOT 2 RATIONL! HES 2 DRUNK! ;)

  She whimpered and dropped her head onto the bar. “He was in uniform, Zane, practically paraded in front of me. What was I supposed to do?”

  “I think it’s time we settled the tab.”

  U CULD HAVE TALKD 2 HIM

  U CULD HAVE SOT HIS COUNSL

  U CULD HAVE ASKD HIM ABOUT HIS FAITH OR HIS JOB

  U CULD HAVE TALKD ABOUT THE RED SOX 4 ALL I CARE!

  U WERE NOT SUPPOSD 2 BREAK HIM!!!

  “I was simply offering him an opportunity I felt he was better suited for than I am. I never meant for it to—”

  I TRIED 2 STOP U BUT U WULD NOT LSTN!

  U R MORE OBSTINATE THN JONAH!

  Zane grabbed the phone, his eyes flashing with startling intensity. “Look, You must have known that she’d be difficult when You came to her. It’s not as though she hides it well. I’m doing everything I can to help You out, here, but if You’re going to toss around allusions to characters You’ve allegedly coerced into compliance via some rather smitey techniques, then I’m sorry, but this is where I step off.”

  Patience just stared at him for a moment. Then she took the phone back from his hand.

  “I’m sorry about Father Rick.” She sighed. “Please don’t smite me.”

  There was a pause, and then a chime.

  NO SMITING

  “Thank You.”

  She set the phone down on the bar again.

  “What if I decide that I can’t do this, and I honestly mean that I cannot do it? What then?”

  ITS UR CHOICE 2 MAKE & URS 2 LIVE WITH

  “You still won’t smite me?”

  WHT DID I JUST SAY ABOUT THT???

  She pushed it back, half-wishing her interaction with Father Rick hadn’t been such a sobering experience. She pressed her lips together and looked up at Zane.

  “The grenade launcher is out, but if He really feels this strongly that it’s got to be me and not, say, the Armed Forces, who needs to do this, I suppose I could try to find another way.”

  Zane glanced down the bar to check Frank’s location, and then he slid his vodka over. “Wouldn’t you rather tell Him this?”

  “He can hear me just fine. The election isn’t until Tuesday, right? So, why don’t we just knock Joey Forsyth out of the race and cut out SolarTech’s connection? That should be easy enough to accomplish, and no one needs to get hurt.”

  He raised an eyebrow and leaned back on his stool. “Define ‘easy enough,’ please.”

  “Any task that doesn’t involve hordes of people flailing and screaming through the massive ball of fire we’ve just lit up i
n their workspace.”

  He shrugged and handed her the phone.

  STOPPNG FORSYTH IS A BAND-AID

  SOLARTECH IS A DEEP WOUND

  “But a Band-Aid will stop the bleeding, won’t it? Isn’t that what it was designed to do?”

  There was another pause. They held their breath as the screen lit up at last.

  UR WAY WILL NOT B EASY

  She exhaled. “Story of my life.”

  She shut the phone off and took a long sip from Zane’s vodka, then pointed a finger down to the darkened screen.

  “Do You think we could finish our drink now in peace?”

  U BET

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Patience frowned at the Valentino that was hugging curves she was certain hadn’t existed before she’d strapped herself into it. The dress and the curves were equally disconcerting—even more so than the buffing she’d endured at the salon that afternoon—but there was no time to dwell. She checked the time and turned away from the mirror, fastening the bag Zane had sent over with the dress as she crossed to the door. She dropped it to the floor and turned out the lights, and then she returned to the window to wait. She was as ready as she knew how to be. It was time.

  A whine, like a jet engine, accompanied by a throaty rumble, approached from the street and diminished into an authoritative, guttural sound resembling the purr of a Bengal tiger. Patience stared down in dismay as a red car, sleeker and more intimidating than anything she’d seen in her life, glided to the curb below in perfect choreography with its resonance. She crossed her arms and willed the driver to get his GPS programmed back to Beacon Hill. The car demanded attention simply by existing, and she was determined to make as surreptitious an exit as possible.

  The driver’s window lowered and a pair of brown eyes caught hers through the darkness.

  “Son of a bitch!”

  Patience grabbed the bag and her keys and flew downstairs in her calamitous heels. The passenger door opened from the inside and she dove in as Zane hit the gas. The force of acceleration slammed her door shut for her and pressed her back into the leather seat as she struggled to straighten herself out.

  “What the hell is this?”

  He appeared perplexed by her reaction. “Whatever do you mean? I told you I was going for the car.”

  “Yes, but you never said it was a… What in God’s name is this thing?”

  “This ‘thing’ is a Bugatti Veyron. It’s got over a thousand horses under the hood and a top speed of more than two-hundred-sixty miles per hour. It’s certainly a lot more accustomed to impressing women than it is to repelling them. It’s my car, Patience, and it’s quite a good one. Why are you yelling at me?”

  She shook her head, speechless for the moment. She tugged at the dress, hoping to avoid wrinkling it, but gave up on that soon enough. “We are about to abduct a Massachusetts state senator, Zane. Don’t you think a little stealth might be in order?”

  He didn’t respond to that. He looked indignant. And insulted. Patience turned to the window until the cranky silence between them was interrupted by a burst of organ music from her bag. She grabbed the phone at the sound of her latest ring tone and turned an accusing eye to Zane.

  “What?” he said. “It’s funny.”

  “It’s hilarious.” She pressed the button and glanced down at the screen. “Whatever His thoughts about this latest development are, they’re all yours. I am not touching this one.”

  PT ON UR SEAT BLT!

  “That’s it?” Patience was aghast. “That’s all You’ve got to say right now?”

  There was a pause, and then another half note from the pipe organ.

  PLEASE?

  She shot Zane another look as she reached back for her seatbelt. “Well, I certainly hope you know how to drive this thing.”

  He kept his eyes on the road ahead. “I do, actually. It’s one of the few things I do very well.”

  Patience brushed her expensive hair back from her face and sat with that for a moment. Her irritation dissolved and she reached over to touch his arm.

  “I don’t believe that there are few things you do well, Zane. Anyway, how would you know? To hear you tell it, a hell of a lot had been done for you until now.”

  He just shrugged, leaving her to stew about the absurdities of God and man, the fact that she’d been AWOL for two days now from a job she actually liked, and the fear she’d been able to neither squelch nor give in to, despite her best efforts. They were risking everything in the hope of saving a world that irritated her just about every moment of every day—a world that seemed determined to burn itself out soon enough, anyway—because, no matter how hard she’d tried, she’d been incapable of doing nothing.

  Zane glanced over as she scowled at the phone. She thought she heard him say something, but the words had been devoured by the Bugatti.

  “What?”

  He paused and eased up on the gas. The engine quieted to a moderate roar.

  “I said it gets from zero to sixty in two-point-five seconds. It’s a better car than you think.”

  She just stared at him for a moment and turned back to the window. God help her if he was going to start rambling about turbochargers and torque. The Bugatti itself was surprise enough.

  She was pulled back by another blast from the pipe organ.

  HE SED HE HOPES U NEVER TURN UR HAIR BACK 2 BROWN

  UNLESS EVRYONE ELSES TURNS PINK

  “What the…?” She gaped in dismay at the smiley winking up at her from the screen. “I can’t believe You just ratted him out like that! What the hell is wrong with You?”

  The Biz was unabashed. Zane looked over and Patience hit delete. The messages disappeared as he touched a finger to the screen.

  “How have you two been getting along since I left you today? Are things starting to smooth out, now that you’ve agreed to help?”

  She turned the phone over in her hand. “He’s discovered rickrolling,” she grumbled. “And He’s started inventing His own emoticons. They don’t even make sense.”

  “Oh.”

  “I swear, it’s like having my dad follow me everywhere I go. Showing up at parties, dressed in plaid shorts and sandals with tube socks, and then trying to be cool in front of my friends. He’s not cool, Zane, and this texting business isn’t helping Him. Why can’t He just speak to me like a normal human being?”

  Zane didn’t reply to that. The phone chimed again and she held it up.

  “This one’s all yours. I’m officially out for the night.”

  He glanced down and raised an eyebrow. “A punk rocker with acne and a very tall Mohawk?” he guessed. “Or, perhaps it’s a zombie wearing a top hat?”

  She shrugged and silenced another blast of Toccata and Fugue in D Minor.

  ITS A BNNY RBBT WEARNG SNGLSSS! U DONT SEE IT?

  Patience deleted the message, along with the SNGLSSS wearing BNNY RBBT.

  “I’m turning You off now. I can either attempt to stop Joey Forsyth from destroying the world tonight or I can play along with Your iPhone nonsense, but I can’t do both. And please, don’t just turn the phone back on whenever You feel like chiming in—unless Your true goal is to watch me blow this thing straight to hell and spend the rest of my days awaiting the Apocalypse from the confines of the federal pen. Okay?”

  KTHXBAI :)

  “You bet’cha.”

  • • •

  She shook her head at the house, and then she shook her head at Zane. The opulence was oppressive. Patience had never seen so many wings and levels and walls made of glass, in real life or on television. It didn’t fit with any of the neighboring Brookline mansions, nor did it appear to want to.

  “What will we do if he won’t let us in?”

  “That’s not a concern.”

  “But what if he isn’t—”

  Zane cut her off with a smile and gunned it up Forsyth’s runway of a drive. It was lined with gold leaf bricks and flanked by a number of statues, most of which depicted naked
women of indeterminable origin or era. When they arrived at the top, she looked at him again, but that only intensified her apprehension. He appeared at ease in his tailored trousers and silk fitted shirt, and so different now from before. She could barely watch him as he stepped from the Bugatti.

  The manner in which Zane carried himself charged the air around him with an aura of indomitable wealth. It intimidated Patience more than the house above them. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and tried to ignore the tendrils of inadequacy creeping up from her gut as he opened her door for her.

  “I can’t go in there,” she whispered. “Look at that house, Zane, and look at you. He’s never going to believe that I’m with you. No one would ever believe that I’m with you.”

  He reached down to release the lock of hair she’d exiled from the others and smiled as he smoothed it back over her face.

  “He’ll believe it,” he said. “You’re a knockout, Patience, and a shock to the system. There isn’t a woman in the world I could show up with here tonight who would better satisfy Joey Forsyth’s expectations of me than you do in that dress. You look smokin’ hot in it, by the way. I’m not sure if I mentioned that.”

  She frowned down at it. “It’s so tight, and these are definitely not my boobs. What the hell have they got woven into this thing?”

  “The crushed hopes and dreams of a million would-be starlets who can’t afford the ten-thousand-dollar price tag. Let’s put them to good use.”

  Patience choked and pulled back. “Ten thousand dollars? Christ, Zane! Do you have any idea how clumsy I am? What on Earth were you thinking?”

  He just smiled and remained maddeningly silent as he reached again for her hand. She looked up at this new Zane—this controlled, commanding, moneyed Zane—and wondered how he could possibly be the same man she’d first seen in flannel pajamas at his window only two days before. She could barely find a trace of that guy in the titan standing before her. The same slight clip to his speech and occasional stiff word choice that came across as awkward and quirkily endearing in Allston were anything but in his native habitat. As he stood beside the passenger door of his insane car, below Joey Forsyth’s garish mansion, Patience finally understood what he’d meant about juxtaposition. There was nothing awkward or quirky about him here. He was completely alien to her, and he was stunning.