Wednesday 8:13 PM
Joy ordered Asian pear sangrias for both of us. In fact, she ordered our food, appetizers, and everything. I don't know why I was surprised. I say that because I didn't know her that well. She sure as hell could take the initiative, though. The way she handled that Hollywood wanker was artful, and I was still impressed.
"I freakin' love this place, Joy. Whatever this is, this Asian Mexican fusion, whatever the hell they call it. I'm hooked. Have you ever eaten at Chico Chan's?"
"No, I don't think I've ever heard of it."
"Same stuff, only they started it a few years ago. You can order Ala-carte; you know, chicken lo mein with a side of rice and beans if you want. Freakin' awesome. A friend took me." I paused in thought, but it fled quickly out of my mind.
"Anyway, I was hooked then, still hooked now. I'm going to dent your quarter mil starting right now."
"When did you decide you were going to leave town?" She asked pensively.
Joy had that far-off stare planted on me. Like someone before her, she was just too pretty to look at for long. That was one of those times.
"A while back, months."
"Before or after you saw me?"
"Funny you ask that. I'm not sure why it would matter, but in many ways, because I saw you."
She smiled that kittenish smile of hers, and I just melted inside but kept my composure so I could explain. Our first round of drinks came, and I was glad for the support.
"So you see, Joy, I had been in a funk for a while, years okay, well, to be honest, a little over a year. Seeing you, no, noticing you was the kick in the ass I needed to get my heart beating again."
Again she smiled and began playing with the end ringlets of her beautiful cinnamon mane.
"Who was she?" She asked.
I shook the question off with no intention of going anywhere near that ball of yarn. But she wasn't about to let go that easily.
"The point is, Joy, I was interested in you. Yes, it was based on looks alone at that time, but that was enough to kick my life back into high gear and make some changes. I did. Hell, I bought the trailer and sold all my stuff weeks ago. I decided then what I was going to do. I looked for you, too, every day driving to that shitty job. Every time I went out, I looked but never saw you, not until you almost ran me over in that stupid Audi. Remember we discussed all this before?"
"You told me some of it. I didn't come anywhere near you either."
"Well, only 'cause I got the hell out of the way. See, my decisions had nothing to do with the actual you," I said, waving my hands around her shape as I talked.
"Meeting you was just my dumb luck, but I'm glad I did."
Joy traced the rim of her glass and smiled to herself.
"Umm, not so dumb."
I had a mouth full of teriyaki taco, but the weight of what I had just heard forced me to talk with a mouth full.
"Spill."
She raised her eyebrows.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I parked where I did on purpose."
I was stunned. I continued chewing, trying to get my food down to question some more, but she elaborated.
"That stupid Audi was nowhere near there. I could have parked anywhere. It's a parking garage, for fuck sakes."
"You recognized my truck?"
"Yeah," she cocked her head in surprise.
"I told you I loved old things. I wasn't talking about you."
"Burn," I smiled.
We clinked glasses and drank to that.
I beamed. I could feel myself smiling. It was hard to stop.
"Wow, just wow. I'm just shocked and a little speechless. Why in the hell didn't you tell me that the other day?"
"I don't know; I was mad, not at you but myself."
I had to shake that off. I wasn't about to cross a minefield that large.
"What was it that made you interested?"
Joy laughed. She was so pretty when she laughed. It was a quiet, giggling laugh that she couldn't seem to do without her shoulders shaking.
"You nut! I wasn't interested. Okay, I was interested, but it was all about looks like you. I didn't know you. I knew you drove a cool truck. I knew you were trying to catch up to me to look at me."
I nodded in agreement.
"True."
"I don't know, Nick, you just looked so," she paused, searching for words.
"Interesting."
I dropped the rest of my second taco back onto the plate and finished the rest of my sangria with a long gulp.
"Interesting? That's about the nastiest thing you could have said. Who the hell wants to look interesting?"
"Well, I don't know what to tell you," she said laughingly exasperated.
"I like interesting. Liked it enough to chase that stupid Audi down to the building you worked in."
I was going to say something, but I realized what she said, so I stopped.
"That's right," she continued.
"I knew you worked there. I checked you out. I thought you were interesting enough for that."
I started smiling again. I hadn't smiled that much in so long it felt strange, but a good odd, something I could get used to. Finally, I looked up at her again. She was so captivating. I felt like the rookie at-bat who, with three men on and two men out, the bottom of the ninth and full count, somehow managed to crack one into the bleachers.
"Nick, does that mean it's more than it looks now?"
I ordered another round.
"Joy, unequivocally yes. I mean, I still don't know you, but," I paused, hesitant about going any further with my feelings.
I chanced a look up at her. She was resting her slender arms on the table and looking at me, not through me. Her burnt umber eyes seemed to be taking me in, my every word.
"Oh fuck it, Joy. I don't know you, but every second I spend with you makes me want to know more about you. I mean, I want to be with you. I like talking to you. You don't ever even say that much, but I like to be there to hear it when you do. I like looking at you; you are exciting. You're whip-smart and witty as hell, and of course, in my eyes, you are just out of this world, lovely."
She smiled and blushed, taking a drink to hide her ever-widening grin. It didn't do any good. I could see it; then it turned into laughter.
"So, here we are."
"So here we are," I repeated.
"Asian tacos, good sangria, and all this talk."
Joy finished her sangria and started her second.
"I'm closing on my house tomorrow, remember. I probably won't be any help. I have to go all the way out to the Perimeter Mall area to the attorney's office. I hope it goes okay. No need for drama this late in the game."
"What are you going to do with the money?"
"Live. It's pretty much all I have now. I mean, I have an investment account that grows a little, and I add to it, but that's about it. Pretty pathetic."
"I don't think so. You just got a fresh start. You don't owe anyone. Now the sky's the limit, right?"
"If you say so."
"I do," she said, raising her glass to me.
Wednesday 9:35 PM
When we finished, Joy left the table with the check. I waited outside on one of the ubiquitous wooden benches around The Square. When she emerged freshened up, I was transfixed. I couldn't even make an effort to look away. I knew the things running through my mind were anything but wholesome, and I couldn't let them get the best of me.
The night air was cooling off a bit, and a gentle breeze from a coming storm had begun to stir oaks in the park. It was still too early to retire. I wanted to go back and get some rest, but I knew I couldn't be trusted. She paused, waiting for me to say something—only one solution.
"Let's walk down here to MacCracken's. It's a great place if you've never been. We can talk business."
She quickly rolled her eyes.
"Or anything else you want to discuss." I relented.
I don't know what she had put on in my absence, but as she sauntered up next to me as we walked, I could smell sweet wildflowers or something. It was light but appealing and made me want to nestle behind her hair and kiss her right behind her ear. She looked over, and I smiled.
"I am going to work on a plan tonight. I have to jot some things down. I have some good contacts, and I can get these damn cars and get them by Monday. I know it. It's just a matter of putting it all together," she said confidently as we rounded the end of the block and dashed across the street to MacCrackens.
The bar was pretty crowded for mid-week.
"What would you like?" I asked, pausing in front of the bar.
I could see several glances in her direction. I couldn't blame them. She was striking, and she didn't even know it. That night I was "that guy." If you know what I mean, you know. If you don't, you don't. But I sincerely hope you have been "that guy" at least once in your life.
"I trust you. Nothing too strong, though, okay? I'm still learning to drink, you know."
"I can't believe you were married to a fucking bartender, and you never drank."
She shrugged. I told her to find us a seat, and I ordered two Moscow Mules. I thought she would get a kick out of the copper mug.
She was waiting in a small booth and the back corner. I brought the drinks, and she slid out; I presumed to give me the seat against the wall. I was wrong. She slid herself in next to me as I sat, forcing me to move over.
"So, what is this?" She said, taking a whiff of the garnished drink.
"It's lightweight as far as Vodka is concerned, but it's good. It's called a Moscow Mule."
She raised her thick, expressive eyebrows.
"I have no idea why it's named such," I said, toasting her cup.
"Ohh, it's cold," she said, holding the cup with both hands."
"Yep, part of the charm, copper cup keeps it cold. Drink up, sis; you have to tell me how you plan on squeezing that quarter mil worth of cars out of your mark."
She took a sip. Her eyes flashed over to me. Then she took another, then another.
"Good choice."
Of all the times I had wanted Joy to loosen up in the last couple of days, I had failed. Now, no matter how direct my questions were, she was not biting. It was like her switch broke during dinner. This would be a mess if I couldn't get her gears turning and thinking straight before we got back to the warehouse.
Turning in the seat and leaning against the wall to face her, I took a long drink of the cold mule and began again.
"Joy, you know I'm impressed with you, and I'm not saying you can't pull this off, but this sounded like an all-or-nothing type deal, and the eight hundred pound gorilla in the room is a quarter-million dollars. That's a hell of a lot of bread there."
She had nearly half her drink gone already.
"I've got it," she insisted.
"Joy," I snapped.
She was equally quick to silence me with her finger gently across my lips.
"I've got it," she whispered again.
"Joy, I don't even know what cars were supposed to be looking for, and you heard him say they weren't all at the mansion. How in the hell are we..."
In an instant more, she dropped her hand to my chest, leaning closer; her tart, alcohol-cooled lips were on mine in a soft, slow kiss that I didn't want to begin, but once it did, I sure as hell didn't want to end.