Lisa – Part 7

If you’re just joining us… Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 ,  Part 5 & Part 6.

There’s almost always a Patrick everywhere you go, I’ve learned over the years. You know the type – the spoiled, cocky, upper-middle class guy who fancies himself a ladies’ man and also a comedian. Boyishly handsome looks tend to get Patricks their own way a bit too often. They are generally tolerable or even fun to hang out with in small doses, particularly when one is ingesting controlled substances, but are often downright unbearable when they perceive some slight to themselves or are denied their favorite cookie. When called on their bullying, they are quick to claim the insulted party merely lacks a sense of humor. Sound familiar? Of course it does. Patricks get around.

Anyway, it was a poorly concealed fact that Patrick had lusted after Lisa for some time. I should note here that most of the male staff had lusted after Lisa at one time or another, mostly because, again, they were young guys and Getting A Hot Stripper As Your Girlfriend = Massive Man Points With Your Beer Bong Buddies. However,  whether out of fear of being deposited in a shallow ditch to be dug up and gnawed on by coyotes, courtesy of Andy’s associates, or the withering blast of Lisa’s own indifference, most of them got the hint early on. 

Except, of course, for Patrick. Oh, he tried to be cool about it, couching his advances in “friendly” hugs that lasted a tad too long and “joking” about trying to grab her ass (he sported a lot of arm bruises from Lisa’s right hook). Lisa endured him with the same detached amusement she endured them all. He’d asked her out a half-dozen times and been shot down point blank each time. The word around the place was that he was secretly convinced he was wearing her resistance down.

Naturally, the nosy little ferrett had been hawking Lisa all night when we’d all been at the Palomino, and he hadn’t missed that first kiss, which he’d gleefully reported back to the home ranch, no doubt plotting how to best finagle Lisa into a menage with whatever pretty ding-a-ling he was dating at the time. Then he’d been bitch slapped with the news that I was recuperating under Lisa’s loving care. I guess the idea of being casually edged out of the race by a dark horse who turned out to be a filly he didn’t even consider attractive (a drunken conversation at a party one night revealed that he might deign to screw me ‘if you swallow’ – are you swooning yet, girls?) kind of got to old Patrick’s surprisingly fragile ego.

I was a little rusty from a week away and still wasn’t 100% anyway, so I focused on my station and ignored the pointed stares and snickering from Patrick and his little gang. Kari, Laura and a few of my usual allies made a fuss over me being back, and all I got from most of  the other staff were interested looks. However, as the night wound down, Patrick began making rude remarks aimed obviously at me whenever we happened to be in the back of the house together. They were pathetically juvenile for the most part – stupid cracks about eating clams and muff diving and the like – but it got old after a couple of hours.

Then, as now, I was usually conflict avoidant to the extreme, preferring to withdraw completely, pretend not to care and then retreat to lick my wounds rather than fight. However, there is a point at which a person can push me too far, and I then react in much the same way a cornered badger will – it might look short, stumpy and a little awkward, but it can rip you to shreds in seconds if you anger it enough. It was unfortunate for Patrick that he happened to hit that point as I was closing out the last of my checks in the back after my station had been closed.

Obviously thinking my lack of response to his earlier jibes meant weakness, he moved in for the kill, flanked by minion Peter, who was equally obnoxious but normally harmless. “So, Coco, you’ve finally woken up to the fact that no one with a dick could ever really be attracted to you, huh? What about the old man, didja let him watch? I’m sure he didn’t want to touch you, but he might’ve gotten off on watching his girlfriend screw a dog.” He sneered.

That was enough. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Laura coming after him, but I was faster. Jerking him down to my eye level by the tie he was wearing, I said, quite sweetly and clearly enough for everyone nearby to hear, “Patrick, darling, it’s so very obvious to everyone here that you’re attacking me because you have a teeny, tiny little penis that hardly qualifies as a dick. We’re all so sorry for the pain you’re in because of that, but if you keep pissing me off, I’m going to turn your wee little balls into earrings. Now leave me the fuck alone.” I could see I’d hit home by the stunned fish-like look on his face. The word on the streets was that Patrick was – erm – endowment challenged, and it was obviously good information. Putting my hand on his chest, I pushed him away from me and made a point of turning back to the terminal to finish my work with my back to him.

Laura was the first one to react, braying out a burst of laughter that was quickly echoed by laughing and scattered applause by the other observers. I was so mad I was shaking, but I managed a smile while Patrick slunk off to go lick his wounds for a change. After I clocked out and changed out of my uniform shirt, I called Lisa from the phone in the back.

“Hi, baby,” she said, and it made me smile for real this time.

“Hey yourself, gorgeous.” I replied, all my adrenaline rushing out of me. I felt weak and still off-kilter, and I just wanted to go home to bed.

“How do you feel?” Lisa asked. I hesitated, chewing on my lower lip, and she seemed to know something was up, “OK, what happened?”

“Nothing. Well, nothing new. It’s just Patrick, being an asshole.” I admitted.

“Ah, hell. About us, right? I knew he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, but I thought he’d come after me, not you.”

“Come after you? Please. He seems convinced I hypnotized you with my evil eye or something and you’re just waiting for him to come in on a white horse and rescue you.” I snorted.

“He’s out of his mind. Are you OK? Should I sic Andy on him?”

“Nah. I’m good. I told him he had a little dick in front of most of the crew. He retreated with his tail between his legs, so to speak.” This made her incoherent with laughter and I grinned myself.

“That’s my girl. Look, I’m just getting ready to leave for work. Are you sure you won’t come over? It’d be nice to find you here when I get home. Please?” Her voice turned husky and coaxing and I seriously wanted to say yes, but I had a double shift the next day and still needed to go pay the electric bill and at least buy enough groceries so that I could eat something besides plain pasta with Italian dressing on it. I owed it to Kari to pick up some slack.

“Lisa,” I murmured, “I have stuff. Seriously.”

“I know, I know. And I promised you a few days to get back on track. So here’s the deal. We work Sunday brunch together, right? Afterward, will you come home with me? We can watch movies, eat pizza, and I can baby my baby all night.” Slow, I remember thinking dizzily, wasn’t I supposed to want slow? I’m falling so fast. But it was just so easy to enjoy being the object of her affections. Lisa was loving and tender and sexy as hell and she made me feel stunning, special, adored. I’d never been treated like this before and I was dazzled by it.

“Yes. Sunday, then. Sunday we’ll do all that. It sounds wonderful.” I sighed, missing her.

“So you’ll spend the night Sunday?” Softly, pulling me in again, “And maybe Monday?”

“Maybe,” I teased, but we both already knew I meant yes, and I barely tried to stop the falling at all.

More to come in Part 8.