The Last JoyRide

Part 30

Saturday 8:17 AM

I approached the table cautiously, more cautiously than I expected myself to do, hearing all that was running through my mind. Sasha looked up at me first; her ice-blue eyes scanned me up and down as she listened to whatever Joy was saying. Then I resumed my seat next to Joy, who turned to me surprised, not angry or frustrated, but like she simply didn't know what to say for the first time.

She looked at me without a single blink, rather cold-like, patiently waiting for an explanation. I don't honestly know what had come over me either, but I wasn't about to start taking marching orders from a woman that didn't share my last name. Maybe something needed to be done about that. We were more than sex partners to me. Partners, yes, and possibly longer than we first anticipated. Impetuous, but those were the thoughts running through my head. I offered no explanation, and she didn't demand any.

"Okay, Sash, give me a number where I can reach you, and I mean anytime too, no voicemails or anything like that. This thing could turn up anywhere."

Sasha pulled a card from her purse, and with perfectly manicured red nails with what looked like Swarvoski crystals in the center of each bed, she handed it over to Joy.

"Please don't fuck with me about this," Joy insisted without a hint of jest.

"I'm out on a limb here, and I don't have time to play games."

"No games," Sasha looked concerned, looked over her cup at Joy, and I swear there were tears in her eyes, making the pale blue color of her eyes all but disappear.

"He will need me," she said softly, "and I will be there to take care of him. I can, too, you know," she finished confidently.

"I know. Just be careful. It's a crazy world out there, even for you. I'll be in touch."

With that, Joy left three ten-dollar bills on the table, tucking them under the corner of her plate, then pressed against me to slide out of the booth. I followed her prompt and stayed right behind her as we left the diner.

"I got a line on the Eddie," she said coldly as she pushed the diner door open, walking into the bright morning sun.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. A barnacle named Alabaster is driving it. He's an active little fucker, and does a lot of production work for some of these local recording artists. It's Saturday, though, and I have it on good authority that without fail, he picks up his overnight "friends," at a club on Peachtree in Midtown."

"Okay, so what? Do we have to wait? I asked, trying to keep up with her.

"Yeah, until this evening anyway. In the meantime, we need to unload that Maserati somewhere."

"What? Why the hell would you do that?"

I was incredulous.

"Because I made a deal."

It was all she offered as she climbed into the Jeep, taking the wheel. I hopped in and buckled up quickly as she was already pulling out into light morning traffic.

"We're going to leave it at a bank in Smyrna, it's open on Saturday, and it's a big bank, always people around using the ATM and stuff. Banks are usually safe drops."

Joy's eyes were dark, steeled, and focused. Her face pinched into a frustrated and pensive grimace as we made the short trip back to the warehouse. I dared to speak.

"So are we going to do that now? You aren't hungry?"

"Yes," she said.

"Yes, I mean were are going to drop the car off now. It'll be safe, and yes, I'm a little hungry, but not like I was. Don't worry about me; I'll get something later."