Page 63 of The Romantic Agenda
She says, “I heard. She told me.”
“Every time it goes wrong it feels like it’s partially my fault for not protecting her. That’s why I’m here. I couldn’t just stand by and let it happen again. I had to at least try to save her from making another bad choice. I want her to be happy.Safeand happy.”
“You think Malcolm would do something to hurt her?”
“Not on purpose.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that. He’s... They’re,um—I think they’re further along than either of us realized. Standing in their way might not be the way to go.”
“That’s not what we’re doing.”
“It’s not?”
Fox shakes his head. “All we’re doing is spending time together like they asked us to. I don’t know about you, but I’m having a wonderful time. Minus the flying.”
“Really?” Joy tries to keep her smile to a tolerable cheese level. “With me?”
“You’ve seen my RoT account. You think I take pictures with just anyone?”
Joy snort-laughs. “In that case, I have no choice but to cherish them forever.”
Seventeen
Lord Jesus, Joy is desperately in need of a shower.
And once she’s done, for her afternoon ensemble... she’s over it. She picks out a multicolored pastel tie-dye hoodie and matching short set. The fuzzy material feels heavenly soft on her skin and perfect for a low-key, cozy evening. The agenda lists game night and campfire dinner—probably hot dogs and s’mores. Quite the contrast from lunch, but that’s Malcolm too. He’ll never be too good to pass up beer, pizza, and hot dogs.
The game room is located just past the living room. It feels dark and cozy, like a dive bar, with brick red walls, a pool table, a dartboard, a large TV mounted on the wall, and a fireplace. The left wall is lined with standing tables and stools, and the back wall hosts the actual bar and shelves fully stocked with boxes and bottles of all kinds of alcohol. Malcolm likes to be prepared, but that’s an excessive amount of booze. There’s no way four people could drink all of that in a weekend. Not if they want to keep their livers.
There’s also a sliding glass door leading to the backyard. The fire pit has already been started, crackling fiercely in the dying afternoon light. Summer is out there with Fox, each holding a beer. Malcolm pops up from behind the bar and smiles when he sees her.
“Hey, hey,” she says, strutting to the music playing from the speakers mounted in the corners near the ceiling.
“What can I get you?” he asks.
Joy makes a show of twirling the rest of the way to him and leans on the bar. “Read my mind. What am I in the mood for?”
He closes one eye, turning his head to the side. “Rum?”
“No, but I’ll take it,” she says. “Malibu and pineapple juice?”
Malcolm starts making her drink, and it instantly takes her back to college. On the nights when he worked as a bartender, she’d stay for his entire shift to keep him company. But instead of sitting at the bar, delirious and lovesick, she danced for hours, having the time of her life. Eventually the club offered her a job, the start of her illustrious go-go dancing career.
Every memory and every story. My friend Joy this and my Malcolm that.
“We haven’t done this in a while,” she says.
Malcolm places her drink on the bar with a coaster. “I know. We’ve been busy.” He doesn’t look at her as he wipes the counter down and goes back to prepping the food.
Busy growing up, working, and building their lives up from nothing. Side by side and alone, together. “You look tired,” she says.
“Yeah.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
“I guess I’ll leave you to it.”
