Prequel | Gotham's Sweethearts

Part 9. Paint Me Like One Of Your French Girls

Pat sat on the rug in his room and kept his guitar on his knees. He had an incredibly beautiful, though old silver electric guitar company Gretsch, a gift from his father on his fourteenth birthday. The guitar had streamlined shapes and sharp edges on top, as well as shimmering band running diagonally from the bottom right edge to the left side of the corpus. At the bottom were three switches that regulate the tone of the guitar, but Pat tried not to use it. He connected the guitar to a small amplifier and began to sort out the strings, singing something. Unlike Sam, Pat has soft, velvety voice, which sounded childish and fun, and grown-up softly at the same time. Pat noticed sometimes that he sings in the nose, causing some words to known songs sounded slurred, but he couldn't overcome. Pat's repertoire was explained by his great love for old music. His father gave him tapes and CDs of songs from the 80's era, which later became platinum: it was the band Queen, David Bowie, Depesh Mode, Prince, the Beatles, Duran Duran and Phil Collins. Special preference Pat gave to Prince. Pat saw such discs and records in Josh's house, but the guy didn't understand what a treasure is in his father's cabinet. Josh was only interested in contemporary hits. But Pat couldn't blame him for that.

Pat held hands on the strings until he realized that he was note for note copies the motif of the lullaby "Twinkle Twinkle". If someone would ask Pat when started his love for music, he'd probably call this song and his childhood.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star

How I wonder what you are

Up above the world so high

Like a diamond in the sky

When the blazing sun is gone

When he nothing shines upon

Then you show your little light

Twinkle, twinkle, all the night"

— Wow — Pat didn't notice how his mother returned home after going to the store. She stood in the doorway of the room and met his son, — I haven't heard this lullaby for so long. I used to sing it to you when you were little. But you probably don't remember it, you were only a year and a half.

— I didn't hear you come in — confessed Pat and put the guitar aside. He was very careful with the instrument, understanding it's value. The guitar was not one year old, but it looked as if it had just removed from the store shelf in downtown Chicago, or somewhere else.

— Yes, I bought a bucket of sweets — Patricia lifted up the object that was in her hand, and Pat saw a small jar full of candy: there were lollipops, and hard candies, and chocolate bars, — Halloween is coming. I was afraid that all the buckets will buy up and have to leave the children with nothing when they come to ask for sweets for the holiday. It's happened. I don't want to experience it again.

— All right — softly agreed Pat, and mother put the bucket on the floor. She came up to him, sat down next to him and put her arms around her son's shoulders.

— You have an incredible talent — she said, encouraging, — Even your father didn't have such an ability for music. And you have an amazing voice. Very, very sorry you can't reach your full potential because of the city we live in. But this is beyond our control.

"Doubt it" thought Pat, but didn't say aloud. He only depicted deep sadness and allowed his mother to embrace him. He was pleased to feel his soul next to him. So he began to feel much better. He forgot about his worries about the future, forgot about the ridicule of bullies in school, which have long not given him a pass. He forgot about the unpleasant event at the party, all the glasses and bottles he had drunk, and all the words he said. He even tried to forget about Sam's threats, but the memory was so fresh that it was impossible to get rid of it.