Strong [h.s]

Trouble In Paradise

I s i s

"Right here, just get off here." I point to the rest stop coming up ahead and lower my feet from where they rest on the dashboard. The windows are down to let the pleasant warm air, a welcome contrast to the blizzards occurring in Ohio. Palm trees line the interstate and I'm already sweating from the heat.

Harry parks us in front of a white-brick building that sits upon a large grassy area dotted with picnic tables. I slip out of the car and open the trunk, searching mine and Randie's bags for cooler clothes to wear. Harry soon joins me, and once we all have our change of clothes, we head for the building.

"Are we in Flirda?" Randie asks, taking her outfit and walking into the handicap stall in the bathroom so we both have space.

I nod and begin to change into my jean shorts as Randie goes for her shirt, humming a song I don't know--most likely a made-up one. I decide to just leave my T-shirt on and help Randie button her flower-print shorts. Our boots are exchanged for sandals, and we leave the building looking Florida-ready.

Harry's standing under a palm tree with his camera, face pressed against the eyepiece and lifted towards the branches. He's still wearing his black skinny jeans, but changed into an old-looking Kiss shirt in which the sleeves had obviously been cut or ripped off. The only thing I can think (after I tear my gaze from his bare arms) is that it won't be long until we have to scrape him off of the pavement from the heat.

"You ladies look lovely and local," Harry compliments with a grin.

"As local as a tourist can look?" I can already feel the sun beating down on my back, seeping through my thin shirt and under my skin. The Southern heat doesn't feel like home anymore, it's just familiar.

"More local than me," Harry responds, effortlessly lifting Randie into his arms.

I walk a couple of feet over to a circle of stone benches that surround a fountain. A big part of me wants to just stay here and bask in the energizing sun, but I know we have to get down to the Keys. I run my fingers through the cool water and turn back to Harry, who has his camera pointed right at me.

I smile and roll my eyes. "Should I pose for you, Mr. Photographer?"

"Give me your best!" He calls back playfully.

With a coy smile I make sure Randie isn't watching me, then look right into the camera lens and give him the middle finger. A look of shock registers on his face and he almost drops his camera, erupting into laughter within seconds.

"Was that good?" I ask innocently.

Harry nods furiously, coughing from his fit of laughter. "Perfect," He replies, clearing his throat.

It's four o'clock when we begin the drive on the highway that leads through the keys, which is mostly one long strip that goes over the ocean and links the islands together. It's neat to be able to look out my window and see the clear water, a Counting Crows song playing through the radio.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Harry asks, moving his hand to rest on my knee.

I suck in a breath and nod. "Two hours of this doesn't sound so bad."

We spend our remaining time in the car listening to '80s music, singing any songs we know, and talking about anything that comes up. There's a period when Harry tells a dozen jokes, a few of which he makes up on the spot.