Page 34 of Lethal Seduction

I choose the sofa to sit and wait on while he gets ready. The sofa looks comfortable, but as I lower myself onto the cushion it becomes all too obvious it isn’t meant for someone my height or weight. Sinking deeper into the sofa like quicksand, the more I move the further I go. It isn’t long before I realize I’m going to have to roll myself out and onto the floor to escape.

And I do just that.

Quickly, I stand and straighten out my clothes. What the heck is that couch made of anyway? Cotton candy? All looks and no substance? Lifting the cushion I immediately see the problem. The sofa is old and put together like an old 1970s sofa bed my grandmother had before she passed away. The springs that hold the frame together and keep the sofa bed from falling through the frame and resting on the floor are either broken or no longer attached.

I kneel down and begin fixing what I can. The springs are old, a few rusted. The bandage fixes I’m making won’t last long, but they’ll do until Patrick can get a new couch.

“Oh, crap,” Patrick says as he rounds the corner from the hallway. “You sat on the sofa, didn’t you? I was going to suggest the chair, but again… got distracted.” The sheepish look on his face is so cute I could pinch his cheeks and plant a kiss right on his lips.

Nodding, I smile. “Had to roll out onto the floor to escape her clutches. How old is this thing?”

He laughs. “Not entirely sure. It came with the apartment. All I know is anyone heavier than a small child sinks in and can’t get back out. My best friend Tina and I watch T.V. here sometimes, but we each take one of the recliners.”

“Seems reasonable,” I say and stand. “I’ve reattached the springs… or at least the ones that aren’t broken.”

“No way,” Patrick leans in to get a better view. “I tried a hundred times to stretch them far enough to reconnect, but they seemed unmovable.”

“What can I say,” I say showing my hands. “I guess these meat hooks are good for something.”

Patrick’s face turns red, and he appears flustered. “Should… we get going?” He turns away from me and begins rummaging through a backpack on the kitchen table. “My damn keys have to be in here.” He shakes the bag.

The sound of keys tinkling inside renews his efforts.

“Can I help?” I ask.

“Here they are,” Patrick exclaims and pulls the ring of keys from the bottom of the bag. “That’s weird, my badge and keycard are missing.”

“From work?” I guess as the apartment doesn’t look like it’s high-tech enough to require a keycard.

He nods with a huff. “Well, I’m sure they’re in the bag somewhere, but we don’t have time to look for them right now anyway. Shall we go?”

I follow Patrick to the door and then outside where I wait for him to lock up. We hurry to the car and get inside where I turn and look at him. “Patrick?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you decided to come with me to the concert. I didn’t think I could be more excited about seeing Lady Dame but having you along with me is going to make it even better.”

Patrick’s expression changes. The look in his eye softens and the way the redness blotches his cheeks is so endearing. He smiles at me, sincere and true. The butterflies in my belly come alive and threaten to make my hands tremble with excitement.

“I am so happy to come along with you, Michael. I haven’t had a date I’ve looked forward to this much in a very long time.”

“That makes the two of us,” I say as I pull out onto the street and into the L.A. traffic.

This is going to be the best concert ever.

15

PATRICK

Michael gives me my ticket and offers to stand in line for souvenirs while I get our seats. Who would say no to that offer? I rush down the stairs looking for our row, but I don’t see it. As I turn back around, an usher comes up to me with a tiny flashlight and asks to see my tickets.

“Oh, sir,” the usher says. “You can’t get to your seats from this level.” He points down to the next group of rows, just above the floor seats. “You’re three rows back from the floor.”

I turn to follow where exactly he’s pointing, and my breath catches in my chest. Lady Dame’s stage is shaped similar to a cock and balls, the base of the stage two large circles that extend out into the crowd. At the tip of the stage, it balloons out some, and a not-so-creative mind could envision an erect phallus—similar to her new album cover.

“The best way to get there is to go back up and circle around to section 180. The stairs will lead you all the way down front from there.” The usher hands me back the tickets and moves along to help someone else find their seats.

Following his instructions, I make my way to the right section and down to the next level. Once I find our seats I sitdown and take in the view. These seats are even better than the floor. There’s no way Michael hasn’t spent a few hundred dollars on each ticket. The way the cock-shaped stage extends toward us, we’re right at eye level with the stage, no more than fifteen feet from it. We’re going to be able to see every last little stitch or glittering bead on her outfits when she comes walking our way.

---