Little Miss Sunshine
Part 3 of the Johnny Jags story
Tracking Johnny down was never all that hard. It was the making it look like an accident, a coincidence, something of synchronicity and ‘meant to be’s rather than a calculated encounter that required more effort than often proved worthwhile. But this time she was hopeful.
No, hopeful wasn’t the right word. This time she was …
Desperate.
Yeah. That’s better.
This time she needed Johnny to believe her. And if she couldn’t quite get him to believe her, she needed to get him to trust her. Neither of these things were qualities she’d been able to drag out of Johnny in some time. But she needed him. Without Johnny she would surely fail. And if she failed this time, well, it could all come crumbling down.
Everything.
All she had worked for. All she had put effort towards for so long, in hopes that one day she could finally find a way to be happy and live a ‘normal’ life. Well, as happy as someone such as herself could ever be anyways, and she was still working on digesting her feelings towards that other word;
‘Normal.’
So yeah; Failure this time simply wasn’t an option. So she had to use the kids’ gloves approach this time when it came to JJ, and make sure she didn’t lose her temper.
“Fuck, is that even possible?” she whispered to herself.
She just hoped, for her sake, that she hadn’t pushed him too far last time. Hadn’t broke him so completely — something she would never be proud of — that he would finally turn right around and deny her for the first time since they’ve known each other, which, now that she thought about it, was coming up quick on (and off) for 11 years now.
‘Maybe an anniversary surprise?” she thought to herself, realizing she had no idea how long she’d just been lost in her own mind thinking about ….. well, everything really.
“No,” she said to herself, “That’s far too basic. He’d see right through it. Don’t forget Sunshine, he ain’t no dummy.”
And, she also had to take into consideration that when it came to her mind’s time as of late, at the center of all of it, of all her thoughts, all her dreams and all her pain, remained one thing;
HIM.
‘Johnny Fucking Jags,” she said with an almost inaudible chuckle.
Yeah, she’d broken him. A few times. She could never deny that. She did it. She owns it and she carries that weight. But him , he had no idea. No fucking clue that he was the only one she’d ever let get to her. The only one that she ever gave second thought to once she had moved on.
Because though she could never quite put her finger on it … he was different somehow.
Or he’s just a world class glutton for punishment and if that’s the case well it’s his own fault for being such a pussy, so …
But Johnny was no pussy. Even she couldn’t deny that. That son of a bitch would introduce someone to a close up view of the sharp end of an ice pick just for looking at her for too long as they played a game of pool at their local.
Maybe that was it. Maybe it was that he WASN’T a pussy. The only one with at least a little fight in him. A whole lotta fight actually. That poor bastard. And maybe she knew sure as Tuesdays turn in to Wednesdays around midnight every week that some day she’d see him, another woman on his arm, the beaten and broken man gone, replaced with a shinier version of the real him than even when they had fallen head over heels. For a spell anyways.
“It was fun.” She’d give him that.
Fun … and terrifying.
Because for a short while, she even thought about showing him the real her. Thought he’d be able to understand. To see who she really was, and even then still see that she was worthy of his love. Worthy of love period.
But just simply even thinking that was too much for her. For if she was wrong about that, well, there’s a chance she never comes back. Completely surrenders to the darkness. Lets the fireworks fly until there’s nothing left of the part of her she actually likes.
Just strikes a match and watches it all burn.
At least now she is afforded moments, glimpses, of real love. Or at least what she imagines it to be anyways. The smile of a young child as she teases him harmlessly from her back yard, the perfect summer afternoon spent doing the simple things that bring her peace. The little moments.
The ones that give her hope.
And to risk giving even those fleeting moments up, leaving her with only her own thoughts and insecurities, well that also seemed far too great a risk to undertake.
And so here she was, yet again, shooting for deep center field and the glory that comes with it. Never even thinking about just getting on base and playing it safe. Doing what’s best for the team.
Just wasn’t how she operated. No point in fighting it.
And though she hated to admit it to herself, many of those moments — the little ones that matter — these past years involved Johnny. And the idea of never having him around again was almost too much for her to bare. But for this, she would have to risk it. Because this, this could be her one chance at finally putting all the bullshit behind her. Finally move forward in a way that doesn’t have her constantly looking over her shoulder whenever she leaves the house. Waiting for someone from her past to pop out and ruin everything.
So she would have to be careful. If she could convince Johnny to trust her, she would do right by him this time. Or she would try harder than she’s ever tried before. That much she could honestly say. Because at the end of the day, after all the years of failed plans, broken hearts and shattered realities, little miss Sunshine — as Johnny was fond of calling her — had learned one thing for certain;
You can control your effort, but you can never be certain of the outcome.
“Preach,” she said, hopping off the table she’d been sitting on and setting off in to the afternoon sun, dawning a pair of men’s Oakley sunglasses as she set her mind to best laid plans, trying not to think about how they very rarely ever worked out.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — 2 days later
Just seeing the sign sent her mind racing to a time of hair straight back, top down as they headed in to Jackson together for the first time all those years ago.
If she was being honest — which she rarely was — she never really cared much for the town that always brought Johnny Cash and June Carter to mind. She tolerated it for Johnny. And to be certain, they had some great times in Jackson. Top notch memories those were. No doubt there.
But without him, Jackson tended to lose its luster. Just didn’t shine quite as bright, if that made any sense. She may have to think on that later. When she had time to think on such things.
But for now; Back to business.
She knew where JJ would be tonight. There was no doubt of that. Even a basic sleuth could have figured that one out. It was how to ‘bump’ in to him that would be key. He’d see right through bullshit. He would now anyways. He certainly couldn’t always. But she’d fine tuned his bullshit meter over the years. Put him through the ringer over and over again until he barely trusted that his own reflection was actually him at times.
So she’d have to come at him with honesty, and hope for the best. And as previously mentioned, Sunshine had never been very good at the truth. It just tended to be so boring. I mean, why just tell the truth when you could add a little salt and pepper, a little caramel and butter cream frosting if you will, and make it a story all will remember and admire you for for some time to come?
The logic was hard to argue against, she figured.
But tonight, she was just going to come at him with the truth, avoid too may details to be sure, but avoid lying to be certain.
“Fuck … this could be harder than I thought,” she sighed, slamming the door on her baby, her “Little Lady” as she liked to call her. Ascratch and dent free, matte black 67 Mustang Fastback.
Her pride and joy.
And she had no illusions otherwise. She knew it wasn’t her pretty face or her come hither smile that first drew Johnny’s attention.
It was her Little Lady.
And she hoped the old gal still had a trick or two left in her, because Sunshine was going to need every little bit of help she could muster to get Johnny to help her out with this one.
“More like I’m gonna need a fucking miracle,” she sighed to herself, checking her long-practiced million dollar smile in the side view of Little Lady, before setting the alarm and heading in to scope out the layout of the bar ahead of her chance encounter later this evening.
That same evening ………………………. 10:46 pm …………………
10:30 to 10:45 were the longest fifteen minutes of Sunshine’s life. The thoughts raced through her mind so fast she almost had a moment where she wondered if people could see the smoke coming out of her ears. Almost. But not quite.
Because she’s not stupid, after all.
Johnny had always been in to numbers. Like, not in a Matt Damon solving calculus equations when he should have been mopping the floors kind of way, but more in a superstitious, tarot card reader thinks the number 11 is lucky or some shit kind of way.
So that’s why she decided to start with a text.
Sometimes with Johnny she wasn’t just thinking of the here and now. You see, Johnny was the type of guy who was never not thinking about something.
Usually her, mind you, but that was neither here nor there as far as Sunshine’s plan was concerned.
So sometimes she had to drop in some information that though he might not process right away, he would most certainly get to it eventually. And when he did, this information should always be something that will make him think of the good times, not the bad. Despite the fact that the latter far outweighed the former.
He would re-read this message at some point, more than once to be sure, and the fact that 10:46 added up to 11 would certainly make him smile and he’d think of her. And if he noticed immediately, he would see it for what it really was;
A virtual white flag. A request for a truce. A time out. An olive branch.
Take your pick. Either way it would work in her favor.
And if she was right, if he did notice right away, he’d most likely wait until 11:11 to message back. Giving her just under a half an hour to observe him.
His reaction. His emotions. His smile — man, she did like that smile. Whether he immediately hops on his bike — Oh, the bike. She REALLY liked that bike — and leaves her sorting through tears, dust and taillights, in a town she’d most certainly be OK with never setting foot in again.
No, that wouldn’t work for her. Not tonight.
Then she’d have to go all in and intercept him on the freeway and do the whole spiel on the side of the road with half of Mississippi cruising by and making it impossible to hear a thing.
She’d have to cry. And if she started to cry — like, for real cry — in front of him, she didn’t know for certain that she’d be able to make herself stop.
“So this damn text message better work,” she said to no one in particular, steeling herself and putting her game face on as she hit send on the words she struggled with for days, knowing they had to be perfect;
