The Last JoyRide

Part 33

I have never been so happy to see a wino in my life. He was staggering reasonably straight up the sidewalk, only feet away. I stepped toward him, snatched the brown bag from his hand, and poured whatever was in the bag into my mouth and down my face, shirt, and all over everything. He was starting to put up an argument in protest, and I didn't blame him.

Joy had piled Alli into the cab when I pushed the wino away and watched the cab pull away from the curb.

"Come on," she said.

"Wait!" I yelled.

She stopped suddenly and waited while I pulled a twenty out of my wallet and handed it to the bum.

"Are you ready now?" She asked impatiently.

"Yes, dear, I'm ready now," I grunted, exasperated at how the whole situation was going.

"I'm not sure I'm good to drive."

"Well, you fuckin' better be." She demanded as we walked to the crowded parking lot behind the bar.

"That was some fucking scene you made back there. What the hell is that stink anyway?" She asked, sniffing me.

"Scene? Listen, wise-ass, did you see what happened?"

"A fuckin' kiss, big deal. You didn't have to kiss back or anything. If I hadn't been here, you probably would have had much worse."

"Fuck you! If you hadn't been here, I wouldn't have been here. I don't fuckin' get into shit like this on my own!"

She threw me the keys to her Jeep.

I caught them and threw them right back but harder and overhanded too. Joy wasn't ready for that, and they hit her square in the chest with a thump and dropped to the ground.

"Oh no. Hell no! I had to be the flirt, I had to get the Mickey, I had to get kissed. You were wrong the whole fucking time. I'm driving the Goddamned Lamborghini!"

I don't know what made her relent, but she did, quickly and simply too. She picked up her keys and tossed me the keys to the Eddie. I caught them and walked past her to the lowest damn car I had ever seen in my life. I stood and looked at my reflection in the window. I looked like shit, smelled terrible, too, like a cheap three-day drunk. There was no damn door handle or lock.

"Well?" Joy prodded.

"Well, how the hell do you get in the damn thing?"

She snatched the keys from me and put them into the button concealed in the black slotted vent behind the door glass. She pushed the button, and the door made an audible metal clunk as it opened.

Then without further words, she put the keys in my hands.

"Don't even fucking start it if you're not good, though. There are only 500 or so of these things left in the world, and none of them were ever owned by Eddie rocks your face VanHalen."

"I got it," I huffed.

"Okay, get home and clean up. I'm going to make a pass through Buckhead before I come home. Sasha told me Mystic would be there for a release party for one of his flunkies. I'm going to see what I can see. I'll be home shortly. Keep your phone on."

"Got it," I barked my affirmation and waved a dismissive hand in the air.

She blew me a kiss and went to her Jeep, started it up and backed out, and waited on me. Damn, she could give orders. I climbed in and felt like I was sitting on the ground. It took me another minute or two to adjust the seat and to realize I couldn't see out the back window. Finally, I fired the engine, and that baby had grunt! Headlights were on, reverse gear in the shift gate, and we were off. I followed Joy slowly and carefully up Juniper and made a right.

The car was much easier to drive than I imagined for a car of that age. The pedals were standard, although a little far apart. The clutch felt like I was stepping on a ripe peach, whereas the gas pedal was stiff like an anchor was tied to the other end. The steering wheel rested on my knees. It handled agile enough, but the one thing I found out immediately is that damn V-twelve didn't like going slow. The thousands of Italian motor parts clanked and sputtered and backfired through the twin pipes on downshifts and even quick releases of the gas pedal. I could hear the carburetors sucking air only inches behind my head through the firewall behind me.

We turned left on Tenth Street and passed the Four Seasons hotel, the location where all this mess was set into motion. I followed Joy as far as the freeway access ramp, but as soon as we turned right onto the ramp itself, I hit the gas, shifted to third, and passed her like she was going in reverse. I would have given her a blast if I knew where the horn was. Suddenly the popping and hesitation stopped, and the engine began to growl steadily as I shifted to forth. At speed, the steering became amazingly light. All I could hear was the mechanical music of the engine doing its thing. Traffic was light heading north, so I took the inside lane and shifted the gentle monster into fifth. It smoothed out even further. I looked down, and I was going one hundred and fifteen miles per hour.

No damn wonder traffic was light; I was passing most of it. I backed off quickly, even shifted back to forth to avoid lugging the grumbling engine only inches behind me. Joy was nowhere to be seen, and I would keep it that way. I wondered why in the hell Mystic had lent this car to a wanker like Alabaster. And I just knew she would come up with something on her trip through Buckhead. I was dead dog tired, and sure as shit, that is when another car would pop up. I had to get home and clean up quick. The uncomfortable and uncanny feeling of a very long night was washing over me like a wave of dread.

The smooth Dellortos behind my head were humming me to sleep. Not a miss or hesitation. I had settled the car down to a very comfortable eighty miles per hour with plenty of pedal left should I need it. Eddie Van Halen, I thought to myself, then yawned, speeding up the freeway toward home. Little did I know how long that night was going to be.