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...
I took the stairs the rest of the way out of the building, softly laughing the whole way. I laughed even harder as I burst through the front doors for the last time and ran out into the parking lot, where my chair rested on its side among tiny fragments of tempered glass. I jumped and spun as I ran to the stairway to the third parking level. I could hear a car nearby start, then with the engine revving; it made a high squeal out of a parking space. I saw the movement as I crossed between the row of cars. It was a navy blue Audi, and it bore down on me fast.
As the Audi passed, I just made it out of the way, swerving slightly. A flash of black hair and round-rimmed sunglasses caught my eye, but I was not afforded a second glance. It couldn't have been. Nah, no way. The Audi rounded a huge concrete support pillar, tires squealing, and disappeared up the ramp.
I continued walking around the corner to my car, and there parked next to me was Kermit the Jeep. It had to be the same one; no two people could get talked into that hideous color. The odds were uncanny. I toyed momentarily with the notion of leaving a note, then decided against it in favor of living with that beautifully mysterious driver in my dreams, where she would not have the chance to scrutinize what a vagabond I was about to become.
Soon I was home with the windows open to let the sun in, lying on the floor in the company of my red tomcat Henry. Wasting the rest of the afternoon seemed like the best idea. I was in a mood to write, but not the mind nor the stomach. It was too empty and alcohol-free. Soon I fell asleep.
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Monday 6:40 PM
I woke up that early evening hungry and with a splitting headache.
Henry was standing over me and began purring as he saw me open my eyes. He nudged me further to ensure that I would wake up and hopefully dole out some food. So after feeding the cat, I drove down to Mac's diner to get something for myself. I ordered the New Mexican omelet. Mac's never received a stellar bill of health, but they placed their low scores proudly in front of the cash register on the counter. The food was always hot and tasty, and despite the low scores, the place was clean.
After my food arrived, a girl walked through the door and began speaking to the pleasant, heavy-set waiter. I paid them no attention until I was forced to ask for salt. I looked up, and it was she, Phoebe, the girl in the Green Jeep. It was her all right, but she looked nothing like Phoebe Cates. Her hair hung in long wild waves past her shoulders. Her eyes were dark, naturally consuming, hiding secrets you just knew were deadly. The girl's jaw was strong and seemed permanently clenched. I had the impression she could be the one to stand up, draw out hidden Uzi's, and level the whole place without batting a sparkling brown eye.
She was pleading with the waiter with whom she was familiar to do something for her. Mystified, I withheld my request and eavesdropped on their conversation.
