She bats it away. “Are you saying my skin is pasty?”
“I think you have lovely skin,” chirps Cece. “How’d you find us, anyway?”
Joy and I engage in a mini wrestling match where I try not to use my superior strength to wrap her up and bind her with my arms.
“You have your location on your Instagram post.”
“Cece!” Joy cries in admonishment.
Cece scrambles for her phone. “I’m sorry! My location is always on. We’re influencers. We’re supposed to be influencing! How are you even following me? I never gave you my handle.”
“You comment on Joy’s posts and vice versa. It wasn’t hard.” These two women are a menace. They cannot be left alone. A frisbee lands near Joy’s feet. I get up and kick it away. A young guy, barely old enough to grow facial hair, saunters over. “Hey, man, did you just punt my disc? That is not cool. Ladies.” He nods toward Joy and Cece.
I step between him and the girls and clear my throat. “Your frisbee is melting. You best go and get it before it’s a lump of plastic.”
The punk leans to the left for a better view. “Y’all look thirsty. We’ve got a mini-keg and some weed over here. Medicinal, of course.” He winks.
“For your erection problem? I heard that doesn’t work,” I tell him. Behind me, the girls muffle a giggle.
“No man. It’s just—look, I know these two. I follow you on Insta, Joy. You, too, Cece. I’m with the HAGs. I’m sure you’ve seen my content on Instagram. I was on the featured page a few months ago for my FOTD. I had the Air Force 1 kicks that I’d copped off the hype drop last season and the RTW Fendi logo large collar button down with the lizard leather hammered gold Gucci belt. I like brand mixing.”
I eye him suspiciously. Is he even talking English anymore? “That’s great, but it’s time for you to move along. You’re blocking the girls’ sun.”
“I thought sun gave you cancer,” chirps Cece unhelpfully.
“I said tanning gave you cancer.”
“I can put some sunscreen on you,” the acronym-spitting dude offers.
“No. You can’t,” I say between gritted teeth. If I pull my gun on this guy, would anyone be real mad? I finger the butt of my gun. Some guys need a good pistol whipping once in their lives. Teaches them manners. I drop my hand to my side with a sigh. Best not do that here. I’ll probably get arrested and then Joy’s bed will be empty. We can’t have that. “Your mom is here, and she’s trying to get your attention.”
“What?” His head spins around so fast it reminds me of a horror movie.
“I’m ready to go,” Joy announces. Her lips are twitching, trying to suppress a smile. “How about you Cece?”
“For world peace,” she says mournfully.
The two stand up with Joy thankfully wearing my bomber which stops at mid-thigh. Next time I should wear a trench coat just in case Joy decides to run around town naked again.
“So soon?” dudebro says, his attention re-engaged. “I’m telling you our party is lit as fuck. We can take some snaps, choose some filters, and upload some sick photos.”
“I really can’t. I don’t think I’m into conjugal visits,” sighs Joy, who bends over to pick up her bag. I grab it from her and tuck it under my arm.
“Conjugate what?” Dude asks.
How has this guy not moved on yet?
“She means that her boyfriend is going to shoot you if you don’t move along,” Cece interprets for the first time.
Dude’s eyes fall to the strap of my shoulder holster and then widen when he realizes what it is. “Y-yeah s-so I’ll see you later. On the internet.”
I growl.
“Or not. I’ll unfollow you actually. I never liked your content anyway.”
“What’d you just say?” This shithead didn’t just insult my woman’s content? I step toward him.
“I’m just going to leave now.” The man turns and flees. I start after him, but Joy grabs my arm.
“It’s fine. I don’t want people like him following my account anyway. My feed is for women and not to pick up guys,” she assures me.
“That does make me feel marginally better.” I throw their beach towels over my shoulder and once all the gear is packed, I usher the two women toward the parking lot. “Since I broke up your beach time, how about I spring for ice cream?”
“We had it before we laid down on the sand,” Cece says.
“There’s no rule against how much ice cream a person can eat in a day.” After I drop everything off in the back of my truck, we walk to the ice cream stand. Suddenly, a motorcycle engine roars loudly and speeds down the road. Joy lets out a surprised yelp. I push the two women behind me and out of the road just in time.