Black Kat Friday-Kat/Patrick, T

When Black Friday comes
I'm gonna dig myself a hole
Gonna lay down in it 'til
I satisfy my soul

Black Friday, Lyrics by Steely Dan

Rated T for mild language and innuendo.

Summary: Takes place after 1.10, Don't Leave Me this Way. Thanksgiving brings whiny brats, the forced company of relatives, and a hellish descent into mall madness.

Here I sat, surrounded by Uncle Jimmy's five boys (all less than a year apart, no wonder Aunt Debbie hits the sauce so hard). I've been kicked, punched, and pinched in the ass by these hooligans, and they're just getting started. Last time I checked, Russell was eyeing the carving knife and Jack was pulling the cat's tail (he totally deserved the claw marks on his hand). Peter's fingers were shoved up his nose, and little Wally was running around with Dad's stethoscope. The baby was bouncing on Debbie's knee and yanking out fistfuls of Mommy's hair while crowing with delight.

Bianca was racing around the kitchen and trying not to trip on her ridiculously high heels. I grunted when she asked for help and started throwing together one of those gloppy disasters with marshmallows and yams. I ignored my sister's instructions and shoved it in the broiler. I plugged in my iPod and drowned out the wails of Jimmy and Debbie's ever growing brood. But even that was no match for Bianca's shrieks of outrage, and I put my head up in time to see her dousing a fire.

"What the hell…? I started to move forward but was checked by her icy glare.

"You couldn't even help for two seconds," she hissed before pulling out the casserole I'd hastily thrown to the flames.

We both looked down at the blackened remains of the marshmallows and I made a sign of the cross behind her head. "Shall I read the last rites?" I said dryly.

Bianca punched my arm. "It's not funny. This was supposed to be a surprise for Jimmy and Debbie."

I scowled at the back of Debbie's head. "Why, because they've chosen to procreate…again?"

"Children are a blessing," Bianca chided as she scraped out the pan.

Peter chased Russell across the floor and they sent three bottles of wine smashing to the floor. "You were saying?" I said with a smirk as I helped her sweep up the latest disaster.

She sighed when the last of the glass was safely disposed of. "Today was supposed to be special."

I cocked my head. "You're thinking of Mom again."

Bianca looked around at our noisome guests. "She would have loved this."

That's not the Mom that lived in my head. The cool, collected swan with the dancer's build and the penchant for black leather would have hated every second. I was old enough to remember every tight-lipped smile and muttered curse that passed between my parents when his brother descended on us, always taking and never returning the favor on his end. When it was over, Mom would disappear to her studio and paint for hours while she drowned herself in vintage Macallan. It was time to shred the image Bianca had of Mom. "She loathed the entire holiday season," I said flatly, watching as her face fell into confusion.

Dad apparently overheard part of my comment and popped his head in. "I know you're disappointed, but Great Aunt Jenny is not coming today."

"Thanks, Dad." I flashed him a falsely bright smile that reassured him enough to send him spinning back into the clutches of the tiny terrors, who grabbed at his trousers as they played tag.

******

Jenny and Mom had been two peas in a pod. They had nothing good to say about tradition and flew the flag of feminism proudly. I owed every ounce of my activist self to Jenny, and I often accompanied her to charity events.

I'd desperately wanted to help her downtown with the big dinner put on by the Salvation Army, but Dad had put the kibosh on that idea. And when I'd lobbied to accompany Jenny when she delivered meals to underprivileged folks, he'd also torpedoed that plan.

"I know what you're doing," he'd cautioned me earlier in the week.

"Dad, I haven't seen Jenny since…."

He cut me off. "You're grounded, and you'll stay here with family."

"But Dad, it's for a good cause."

"I agree, but you're benched for the rest of the season."

Which effectively grounded me through the end of Christmas vacation. "Look, I know I messed up, and I've more than paid the price."

That comment was met with a raised eyebrow and another dozen chores to add to my already crowded dance card. "At this rate, I'll be grounded through graduation," I muttered with displeasure.

Dad pointed his finger at me. "Don't push your luck, missy."

*****

The horde finally left at eight. All the kids were stuffed full of soda and other sugary crap and I hoped they hurled all over the back seat on the way back to Riverside.

I retreated to my room and treated myself to a long, hot shower where I sang along to some punishing tunes from New Model Army. 51st State was cranking up right about the time that Bianca pounded on the door and reminded me that the Earth was weeping at the loss of so much water.

"Damn," I said as guilt washed over me, just as my savvy sister had known it would.

I quickly rinsed off the soap and dried myself off with my usual efficiency. In record time, I had my hair plaited and had just put on my cozy slippers when my phone vibrated. There was only one person who'd dare contact me at this late hour, and I suspected he was waiting outside my window. I glanced down at my phone's display and sure enough, my suspicions were correct.

I've come to break you out of jail.

I stalked across my room and glared at him through the window. With his ever present smirk, he leaned against the balustrade with folded arms and waited for me to cave. The screen was down and locked, so I raised the window a few inches and hissed, "You need to leave."

Patrick hunkered down to my level and smiled. "Scared that the old man might catch us canoodling?"

"Ooh, big words. I bet you memorized that one just for me."

His smile widened. "Don't you wish?"

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, was there something you wanted?"

His grin lingered. "Oh, seriously," he mocked. "Maybe I wanted to see how you were doing."

Kind of crappy, but I wasn't about to get into it with him. "I think the orange jumpsuits are particularly flattering."

Patrick's eyes lit up for a moment, but the gleam faded as he sensed my mood. "You want to talk about it?"

Several snappy comebacks came to mind, but I wasn't in the mood for our usual sparring. "Not really."

He accepted that with a shrug. "Any chance he'll let you off for good behavior?"

I could go to eternity and back and I'd still be grounded. "Not a chance."

"Hmm," Patrick said thoughtfully. "I could swear I saw him passed out on the couch."

Freedom was within my reach, but I knew that Bianca was guarding the fort and would squeal to Dad. Still, once she got texting with her circle of vixens, she might completely forget to guard the tower. "I shouldn't."

Patrick's smirk was back in place, because he knew he had me. "But you will, because you're obsessed with me. I'll meet you around the corner in ten."

******

I slid into jeans and a hoodie and made it to the corner in less than 8 minutes. Patrick was leaning against the hood of a classy old car. "Nice ride," I commented. "57 Chevy?"

His grin practically ignited my senses as I trailed my fingers along one side of the car. "See? You did learn something in shop."

"And I didn't even break a nail," I said sardonically. "How many laws did you break on your way over here?"

"It's on loan."

"I'll bet," I snapped.

Patrick's appreciative chuckle slipped even further past my defenses. "How's that anger management working out for you?"

I growled and almost laughed when he pretended to cower in fear. "Watch your back."

"Aww, hasn't your incarceration taught you anything?"

Patrick and I faced off on opposite sides of the car. "Besides planning your ultimate demise? Not a thing."

"I'm touched." He got behind the wheel and gestured for me to hop in.

I quickly took my place and spared him a glance. "Don't be. It can still be arranged."

"I'll be waiting," Patrick joked. "Where are we off to?"

My second glance was longer and a bit baffled. "You're leaving it up to me?"

"Sure."

I looked over again and was snared by the expression in his eyes. My senses started spinning and it took a moment before I could draw breath. "Head for Central Street and I'll direct you from there."

*****

We pulled into Jenny's driveway and were almost at the front door when Patrick asked, "Who lives here?"

"My Great Aunt Jenny."

He nodded and looked around at the election signs dotting the front yard. "Let me guess. Former 60's radical turned activist?"

"Sort of."

We heard the sound of laughter and loud music. "Sounds pretty lively in there. Are we crashing a party?"

"Maybe." I could hear Jenny shouting over a drunken rendition of Sweet Virginia by the Stones.

"At least she has good taste in music." Patrick jabbed the buzzer before I could stop him.

"The night is young," I countered.

The door swung open and Jenny's sharp eyes darted between us. "Hell, we were just placing bets on whether you'd show up."

"Wally has a tight leash on her," Patrick quipped.

"You're not kidding." Jenny looked him up and down with frank appreciation. "So you're the stud that's gotten her panties in such a twist."

He laughed and extended his hand as she swept us in. "Patrick Verona."

She gripped his hand and pumped it a few times. "Jenny Caldwell."

I put my head down to hide the flush that was creeping across my face. "Will you two get a room already?"

"Not if you get there first," Jenny crowed as she clapped Patrick on the back.

She led him into the living room and introduced him to all her lady friends. Two were holdovers from previous years, but one was someone I recognized instantly.

Patrick sidled in my direction and muttered, "Is that who I think it is?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it's her all right."

The lady in question was named Verna, the life is short lady from the night of the fire.

******

"Don't stand there catching flies," Jenny commented. "Pull up a chair and be ready to get your asses handed to you."

I was used to the Jenny show, but Patrick seemed highly entertained as he watched the ladies finishing up a hand of 5 card draw. Jenny started to shuffle the cards and she speared us with her razor sharp gaze. "You in?"

My smile told Jenny I knew how this would go, and I would not be a party to it. "Not this time."

"How about SH here?"

I almost died at hearing this aphorism directed at Patrick's tousled cloud of curls. He threw me a puzzled half smile and I knew he'd beat the answer out of me later. "I don't answer for him."

Verna and Jenny exchanged amused glances and Verna finally said, "Well, sonny, what's it gonna be? Are you in or out?"

Patrick's eyes crinkled for a moment at my discomfiture. "Bring it on."

There was a growing pile of bills in front of Verna, who clearly outclassed everyone in the room (so far). What Patrick didn't know was that Jenny passed the hat at the end of the night and all winnings were donated to her favorite non-profit.

It was great fun watching the smirk fade from Patrick's face as Verna cleaned his clock. In short order, she'd lifted 50 bucks from him and in the space of an hour, he was shut out. He rolled his eyes as she crowed her triumph and scooted his chair closer to mine. "You could have warned me," he mumbled.

"I could have," I agreed.

Patrick leaned in and whispered, "I let her win."

"Of course you did." My quirked eyebrow made him laugh and he settled back in his chair.

"That was my date money."

Now I was the one chuckling. "Ooh, big spender."

His hand brushed mine as he leaned forward. "Actually, I expect her to cough up the other half."

"Who's the lucky girl?" I asked casually.

Patrick looked over and flashed his smoking hot smile. "I'll tell you, under one condition."

"What's that?"

He tucked my wayward hair behind my ear. "You tell me what SH means."

Jenny came up behind us and handed each of us a soda. "Sex Hair."

Patrick seemed inordinately pleased at this affirmation. As Jenny drifted down the table, he ran his finger across the top of my hand and said, "So about that girl…"

I snatched my hand away. "None of my business."

"You sure about that?" He was sitting way too close, and his heavenly scent of wood smoke and musk was breaking down the last of my resolve. As the room seemed to melt away, Patrick added, "For a smart girl, you can be pretty dense."

******

Verna cornered me in the kitchen as I helped Jenny clean up. "I was right about you two."

I placed the coffee pot in the drain tray. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Yet." Jenny handed me a dirty ash tray and I frowned at the residue from one of her cigars.

"Look, there's nothing going on. We're just friends."

"Didn't look like nothing to me," Verna stated with a tone that said I better not argue with my elders.

My dramatic sigh was cut off by the sight of Patrick entering the kitchen. "Mind if I jump in?" he asked Jenny.

"Be my guest." Jenny and Verna hovered behind us before taking seats at the kitchen table.

The sight of Patrick Verona scrubbing pots rendered me speechless, and he damn well knew it. "Impressed?" he asked mischievously.

"Flesh-eating, soul-sucking hooligans do not help in the kitchen."

"Really? Then I guess I'm done here." Patrick started to dry off his hands but stopped when I touched his arm.

"You should finish what you started."

He smiled at that statement, for we both knew I was referring to our earlier conversation. "Is that an order?"

I turned the tables on him and used one of his tricks. "Do you want it to be an order?"

Patrick sidled closer and I shivered when he ran his hand down my arm. "Yes, ma'am."

*****

"What the hell?" Patrick watched as Jenny scooped up the cash and tossed it in a bag.

"It's going to a good cause."

"Save the Naked Mole Rats?" He looked amused rather than annoyed that his date money was going to a cause he didn't support.

Jenny handed him a flier. "Cheetah Conservation Fund."

Patrick read the contents and tucked it in his back pocket. "I can get behind that."

I remembered the picture of him with some guy at the San Diego Zoo. "So can I."

"Glad you came tonight?" Jenny queried, more for his benefit than mine.

He looked at me and nodded his head. "Sure."

"Kat never invites anyone here."

I started to protest but was cut off by Patrick. "How can she? Wally keeps her locked up tighter than Fort Knox."

Jenny had no love for my Dad, and the feeling was mutual. "How'd you manage to escape?"

"I let down my hair," I joked, enjoying the grin on Patrick's face as he moved off to inspect Jenny's wall of portraits.

Jenny smiled knowingly and moved off to watch TV in the den. Patrick was standing in front of a Stratford family photo, where my Dad was smiling in a way I hadn't seen since my Mom died. His arm rested on her shoulders (nearly even with his) and her hands surrounded younger versions of me and Bianca. "Wow, you look just like her."

"Yeah."

"It must be tough for your Dad."

"Sometimes." I looked and acted like Mom and was a constant reminder of what he'd lost.

"Sucks to be you." His slightly flippant statement was tempered by the sympathy in his voice.

"Thanks."

"How long has it been?"

"Seven years ago, on the day after Thanksgiving."

Patrick touched my shoulder for a second. "You ready to head home?"

"In a minute." I stuck my head in the den and waved bye to Jenny.

She got to her feet and hugged me. We both knew why I'd stopped in, and our annual visit meant more to me than the forced pleasantries of dinner with Uncle Jimmy's brood. "Tell SH I'm keeping an eye on him."

"OK. Anything else?"

"Find that motel room, before someone beats you to it."

And with that banging around my head, I moved out to the main room and followed Patrick out to the car. A comfortable silence ensued as he drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the seat between us. My hand was only a few inches from his, and I closed my eyes when his fingers closed over mine and squeezed. I sighed when he released his hold and returned his attention to driving me home. He parked around the corner, but surprised me by falling into step beside me. "You like courting trouble?"

"Sure do." He was looking straight at me when he said this and I looked away before he caught me smiling.

We both looked in the front window and saw Dad still passed out with his mouth hanging open. "Thank God," I whispered.

Patrick followed me up the stairs to the balcony and leaned against the dormer, which effectively blocked my path to the window. "Come out with me tomorrow."

Tomorrow was Black Friday, and the worst day of the year for me. "I can't."

"Even if I show up with a get out of jail free card?" He leaned in until our noses almost touched, and I nearly swooned when his hair brushed against me.

"Don't think that will fly." My voice cracked and Patrick grinned at the effect he was having on me.

"Well, if anything changes, I get off at 4." He slid a business card into my hand and I was surprised to see the logo from a record store at the mall.

I tucked it in my pocket. "Thanks."

"No sweat."

"You mind moving so I can go inside?"

"Sure." Patrick stepped to one side and just before I raised my leg to climb in, he caught me around the waist. The motion propelled me against him, and I quickly discerned that he was aroused.

"I have to…" My words faded at the look in his eyes.

"I know." His lips brushed mine like the soft touch of a butterfly's wings, and in the space between thought and motion, he was gone.

I touched my mouth and stood for a moment before heading in. Instead of my nice, quiet room, I was greeted by Bianca standing at the door with an evil smile. "You are so busted," she announced with barely concealed glee.

******