Joy - flash fiction

Joy came hurriedly into the diner and found Ray in their usual booth. When she sat down Ray's eyes widened. The left side of her face was red, and he could literally see the shape of a hand. She had been belted hard. Joy fumbled in her bag for a pack of cigarettes. That bastard, Ray said, shaking his head. I told you he was no good, didn't I? Joy ignited her filterless Pall Mall and took a deep drag. I got in his face, she said, and glanced up at the waitress who came to the table. I just want coffee, Joy told her. The waitress looked with concern at Joy, then at Ray, then said, Okay, and went off. Ray reached out and put his hand on hers. She withdrew it, Ray, she said, like a warning. Max came in the diner a few minutes after the waitress had brought the coffee. He was scruffy, unshaved, a flannel shirt hanging too far over a pair of old Levis. He slid into the booth, after Joy had moved to give him room. So the first thing you do is run to your faggoty friend, Max said, his breath smelling of cheap beer. Ray just shook his head. The young man was ten years his junior, and about thirty pounds lighter. Joy's eyes flashed to Ray, as if to question him. Are you really going to stand for that? But Ray looked into his plate, the hamburger and fries virtually untouched. Max addressed Ray, I don't know what she told you, but she was being a loudmouth. You're her friend, I'm sure you know how she can be. She gets fuckin hysterical. So what we're gonna do is let her finish her coffee, and them Imma follow her home. His voice was like gravel, every word slurred. Ray looked at Joy, her high cheekbones, those flame-blue eyes, that array of fiery, loose, naturally curled tresses. What was she doing with a boy like this? Barely into his twenties, going from job to job, living with two of his friends, neither of them any better. Max put his hand on Joy's leg, squeezed her thigh possessively. Joy gulped her coffee. His hand caressed her smooth white skin, ventured further up until he was at the frayed edge of her little denim cut-offs. Ray saw a sudden sparkle in Joy's eyes. You got a boyfriend, Raymond? Max asked, his hand squeezing her thigh. Ray shook his head, I'm not gay, Max, you know that. Max smiled, Oh, I forgot. You look like one of them queers. At's why Joy likes to come cry on your shoulder. But I shoulda known though, the way you look at her tits. Yeah, she's got one fuck of a rack, don't she? He coughed. Come on, girl, finish that up. I need another beer somethin awful. His hand went further, and he turned his wrist so that his fingers were pressing between her legs. Joy finished the coffee, and by this time the look of fear and revulsion on her face had vanished. She was flushed red, her eyes spangled with expectation and urgency. Have a good night, Ray. You're so sweet, she told him, as she rose to leave. Yeah, he's a real sweetie pie, Max said, Now come on. He swatted Joy on her firm little backside, and cast a derisive glance at Ray, winked, and turned to follow his girl out of the diner. Ray shook his head, and began to eat the hamburger. 

9.21.15