Part 39

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Monday 6:14 PM

I opened my eyes again. It felt like it had been an eternity since I had them closed. They burned a little. It was one of those wake-ups where your brain is stuck in neutral. My surroundings were totally unfamiliar. As I glanced around slowly, nothing made sense. For split seconds my soggy brain tried to send panic waves throughout my body until something finally registered. Yeah, Joy, stupid brain.

I drew a deep breath and let it out, yawning at the end and stretching my arms. Whatever movement I had made in the process of waking drew Joy's eye, and she spoke, getting my instant attention, for a good reason too. Her movement actually startled me. I sat up on one elbow as my eyes adjusted better to the lights in her bedroom. Our eyes locked, and I was nearly speechless.

During my sleeping absence, Joy had dressed and how. She faced me in a red number off one shoulder, above the knees, and snug in the right places. She had brushed her hair out and pinned it back on one side, opposite her bare shoulder. It hung beautifully in ringlets down the bruised side of her face, neck, and back. Large silver hoop earrings and a heavy silver chain choker completed the ensemble. Her make-up was uncharacteristically dark, her eyes in dramatic shades of brown and traced expertly in black with a cat-eye effect which seemed to make her eyes look larger and even more sultry than usual. Her cheeks, shoulders, and other areas of exposed skin had a beautiful shine I could see in the dim lighting of the bedroom. Gone were any traces of the beating she had received the day before. But I knew they were there.

She smiled demurely as I took her in and brushed her hair to one side, exposing her bare shoulder.

"Holy," I couldn't finish, dumbfounded. The words couldn't make their way out.

"Thank you, Nick. How do you feel?" She said as she approached with a warm and comforting look in her familiar brown eyes.

She ran her fingers through my hair gently as I woke. She knelt on the bed, brushed my hair back, and felt my forehead and neck. She smelled like heavenly ambrosia of powder and sage. It was intoxicating.

"Wow, fingernails too," I said, admiring her glossy red nails.

She smiled a near laugh and kissed me gently on the forehead.

"You've been out a while," she said.

"I bet you're hungry."

"Come to think of it, I am. I'm thirsty too."

She handed me a glass of water that had been sweating on the nightstand for who knows how long. I took a swallow or two, and it felt so good going down. My throat still burned from the power puking, which thankfully seemed like weeks in the past.

"Nick, I went into your trailer and got you some clothes. I didn't think you would mind. I was just really looking for something clean. I found some cool stuff. I brought them in, brushed everything off, and hung them up. I want you to take me to dinner before we go to the party. This is our last night before the big payoff."

My head was swimming; too much information coming at me too rapidly. That was Joy, though. I was still taking her in, sight, scent, and touch; she had left the moment and moved on to other things.

"This would look the part," she said, laying my creamy-white dress jacket on the bed with a pair of black pants and a clean white shirt.

"This is a classic look, my boy. I love it! You're gonna be one handsome fellow tonight."

I looked up at her.

"How long have I been out?" I asked.

She glanced into the kitchen at the clock and then back to me.

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