The doctor's diagnosis put Balfour at ease, and he nodded with a sigh of relief, "Well, that's good."
Patricia's eyes twinkled, "Balfour, the doc says my foot ain't that bad; I wanna go check out Ellinor's performance; I'm a bit worried about her."
Balfour furrowed his eyebrows, "Patri, the doc advised you to stay put and get some rest."
Patricia pouted, "But I really wanna see. Balfour, could you take me there, pretty please?"
Balfour's brow furrowed even more, "No can do. Patri, Ellinor's performing in your name; if people see you there, it's gonna stir up trouble."
Patricia was taken aback; she hadn't forgotten that. But she still wanted to see Ellinor's performance. If she screwed up and pissed off old Mr. Bagley, she could always pop up and prove that it wasn't her on stage and make up a story about Ellinor pretending to be her to ruin old Mr. Bagley's birthday bash. That way, she could play the victim and frame Ellinor.
"I just wanna peek from afar. We can make sure nobody sees us."
Balfour didn't budge, "Patri, stop being so stubborn; you need to get treated and rest."
"But bro," Patricia whined with tears welling up in her eyes.
Balfour was unmoved.
Quinton, watching the standoff between Balfour and Patricia, made a suggestion, "Ms. Howard, you should listen to Mr. Howard and rest here. I can stream Ellinor's performance for you on my phone."
Patricia, while disgruntled, knew that Balfour wouldn't change his mind and reluctantly accepted Quinton's proposal, "Alright. I'm counting on you then, Quinton."
Quinton replied respectfully, "That's too kind of you, Ms. Howard. It's no trouble at all."
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