Her foot is on the pedal and her head is in the stars. Joy was a Bettie Page styled hottie on a mission. After a chance encounter with Nick Joy finds a kindred spirit but is she just too much for him to handle?
Hang on tight, this girl drives as...
"It's funny, really. You wouldn't have recognized me a year ago."
She pulled the Jeep carefully out into the narrow street and through an old neighborhood heading toward the square.
"Oh yeah?"
"Look," she said, putting her small black purse on the console between us, rummaging around, then pulling from it a wallet which she handed over to me.
"Open it up; there are some pictures inside."
I did, and there were. One of Joy and a man arm in arm in front of an iron gate. He was taller, much so, maybe six foot two or so. He was skinny with a shock of blonde hair pointing wildly in all directions. It was definitely her, too, the smile was unmistakably the same, but the face and hair and body were all different. She probably weighed thirty more pounds. Her short hair was an auburn brown, and she wore much more make-up. She looked moderately happy, content at least, but her eyes had no sparkle.
"Well?"
I gave the wallet back to her.
"Funny, I didn't picture you as a wallet full of pictures, girl. You look much better now, by the way, nothing wrong with you then, just opinion."
"Yeah, I think so too."
"So what's the deal with the business? Why do you need a partner? You look like you have everything under control."
"Hum," she frowned.
"Not enough under control, not yet, and I'm in hock up to my ass trying to pay for the setup. Bryan started this thing, but like a stupid ass, I put my name on all the loans. Three weeks later, he doesn't come home, then when he finally shows up, he tells me he's in love with someone else. That was it. He took all his shit, and he left."
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We pulled up to Cool Beans' coffee shop just off the square. She parked on the curb, and we jumped out and went inside. The bean roaster was humming, and the smell of fresh roasting coffee beans was nearly sensory overload. And Joy, how uncommon of a story was that? The longer I live, the more common I think it is. I mean, the scenario changes, but the end result is always the same. Men do it to women. Women do it to men; it's is a different world, a confusing, frustrating world. Finding the person, you feel in your heart you can live with until death is a damn tiresome task. Some people never give up. They jump from person to person in a seemingly endless pursuit of the 'right one.' Often these people leave in their wake many broken hearts.
"Blase," she said bluntly, "was a real jerk. I loved him, though. The funny thing is if he came walking through that door, I couldn't promise you I wouldn't go with him."
"Well, maybe he will come and get you," I offered.
"Nope, not a chance. I'm not his type anymore."
I could understand where she was coming from. My divorce had hurt. It hurt my ex, and it hurt me. It didn't matter that the marriage was a bad idea from the beginning or why it failed. Friends and family you thought always had your best interests at heart seem to split off during a breakup. It had been the same when Sofi and I split too. Losing Sofi hurt; folks just didn't understand. I was still tender from that. What comes around indeed goes around. When the boomerang you sent flying days, months, even years ago comes back around and knocks you on your ass, you can't complain. Bryan, whoever he was, was in for a world of shit when Karma caught up to him.
