Page 58 of Grift

Patrick

When we pull up to the museum’s parking lot, I direct him to a specific spot.

"Park here," I say, indicating the employee of the month spot.

He gives me a side-eye grin. "Breaking the rules after hours?"

I try not to ignore the heat in my cheeks. "Actually no. I really am the employee of the month."

He laughs out loud.

It's a short walk to the staff entrance and the night security guard, Donald, greets me with an easy smile. "Hey Jessica, what are you doing here so late?"

When his eyes go to Patrick, his face takes on a steely look. Apparently, he recognizes him. It doesn't surprise me. Donald and his family have lived in Everett forever and I know that the Trinity Casino has made it difficult for them to hang onto their family's house.

I decide to just introduce them, because Patrick is looking agitated at Donald's familiarity.

"Donald, I want you to meet my husband. Patrick, this is Donald. He’s been a security guard here at the museums for almost 30 years and has personally saved me from at least two awkward encounters with the paparazzi in the past year alone.”

Patrick reaches out and shakes his hand. I continue talking. "I need to grab something for my office and wanted to show Patrick the new exhibit we’re working on while we’re here."

A few moments later, Patrick has his badge and we’re making our way to the exhibit. Scanning in several times as we pass through secured doors, we’re finally in the inner sanctum.

Everything’s protected by security cameras, so it’s perfectly safe. But when the lights come on, it has the intended effect.

“Holy shit.”

The collection is called A Thousand Faces, and represents a thousand different masks and facial images from across Egyptian history. To the casual eye, they’re grouped by material or by theme. It’s actually a bit more complex than that, but I figure I’ll spare the detailed lesson for another day.

“Which one is your favorite?” Patrick asks me suddenly.

I lead him to the far corner of the space. In a dedicated case, a small collection of golden masks cluster around a much larger and ornate one. “The centerpiece is the pharaoh’s funerary mask,” I point.

“But look there. The one with the wide eyes. Do you remember the mask I saw in the exhibit as a kid? This is just like it,” I say.

Patrick kneels down and reads the card below it. His athletic body moves easily, and I appreciate his grace. I’m trying not to go full lecture mode. I’ve seen enough eyes glaze over when I’ve taken a deep dive into the specifics of ancient material culture that I know when I need to measure my words. But he seems interested. Truly interested.

“What do you like about it?”

There are two answers to that question. One is nostalgia, and that early passion for certain technical details of the mask. But the second is truer, and I decide to trust him with that one.

“There’s a lot of controversy around this one,” I explain. “Even though by our standards she’s quite lovely, the mask wasn’t done in the style of the day. Experts have essentially concluded that the pharaoh ordered that his wife’s likeness be accurate, rather than stylized.”

“He loved her,” Patrick says simply.

“I think he did.”

I show him a few of the other galleries, and let him try on a VR set to do a quick tour of the Pyramids.

“I’m impressed.”

“Maybe you should give me a tour of your work,” I say, considering.

“Oh yeah. Here’s Mabel. She gambles seven days a week and pinches my ass every time I walk by her slot machine. Here’s the dumpster where I beat up the guy that got too handsy with the hostess,” he freezes at his last words.

But I let them pass. “I’m going to need to have a talk with this Mabel woman.”

He grins.

It’s good to see him smiling. He’s been very serious the last several days, like something’s weighing heavily on his mind.

“If I were close to finding a solution that could get you out of this,” he gestures between himself and I, and I try to ignore the pain that’s pulling at my chest, “what’s the one thing you’d want to make sure we did?”

It’s like I instantly know. “Follow me.”

My office is small, hot, and tight. It’s perfect.

“Have you ever thought about having sex with an archeologist in her office?”

Patrick gives me a wicked grin, as he double checks the locks on the door. “Absolute top of my bucket list. Tell me what you want me to do, professor.”

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