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July 23, 1985
Almost 20 days since the Starcourt Mall incident; almost two weeks since Mayor Kline was arrested on multiple charges; a little more than a week since Live Aid; and almost a week since the temperature dipped below 85 during the day.
Being the chief of police was a pain in the ass most days in Hawkins, but today it was pretty nice. Using his power, Hopper was given the keys to Hawkins Community Pool for the rest of the summer evening. About 5 p.m. when the mercury still hovered around 87, he and El take a break from patching up the cabin and take the new Blazer to pick up Joyce and Will. Joyce’s hair is tied up in the cutest ponytail that reminds him of those high school days spent in the stairwell. She smiles so wide and he smiles right back, and El and Will exchange a look behind them he half catches. They never made it to Enzo’s that following Friday, they were together at her place, because, well, the cabin was in such disrepair. They’ll get there someday, maybe next week.
They drive to the pool with the white noise of the new A/C, something he and El don’t have at the cabin.
Hop parks right by the front gate and he spots Mike, Max and Lucas over by the bike racks and Steve and that ice cream girl – Rhonda? Molly? Wendy? Robin! – pull up in his car with Dustin in tow. (He still can’t believe how that Harrington kid changed from party monster of Hawkins to responsible teen mentor/protector. He can believe a lot of things lately, and yet that one is the hardest one to stick.) Jonathan and Nancy are expected soon, possibly with pizza.
The pool is all theirs until sunset when Lifeguard Adam will swing by to make sure everything is locked up for the night. The ladies go in one direction and the guys in the other direction.
The boys get out to the pool area quickly and he waits a beat in the changing room. He looks at his gut in a grimy mirror and reminds himself that Joyce has seen him shirtless a few times this month. He slings his beach towel over a shoulder and heads out.
There he sees her.
Joyce. In a green one piece that looks brand-new. She looks sensational. She doesn’t have to try like Karen or those other moms he’s seen sitting poolside with their high heels (at the pool?) and gawdy necklaces (again at the pool?). Joyce isn’t even wearing makeup, as far as he can tell. The woman is a goddess.
She’s sitting there in a lounge chair digging out a paperback from her bag, but he knows she’s just trying to keep herself busy until he settles down and they exchange looks. He hasn’t seen her so scantily clad since high school. The woman is known to stick to her oversized, well-worn jeans even in the hot summer months so this ensemble is something spectacular. The word spectacular is the one word his brain can handle at the moment.
He’s about to ask a question, any question, maybe ask her what book she’s pulled out of her bag when one of the girls breaks out a tape player and one of the boys figures out to hook it up to the pool’s speakers and before he knows it Huey Lewis’ “The Power of Love” is killing what little tranquility the group had achieved.
And before he can bellow out and frighten the teenagers, Joyce says in her stern mother-at-a parent/teacher-conference voice that is, yes, a turn-on for him, “Kids, turn it down or we leave right now!”
Every single child responds with a “Yes, Mrs. Byers,” chided as if they had forgotten to feed the dog or take out the trash. It’s quite impressive.
As the volume is turned down to a reasonable decimal, Joyce says without looking at him, “I’m glad they listened, because I don’t think I could have carried out on my threat. This is really nice, right?”
All he can get out is “Sure is.”
She sneaks a glance at him, smiles shyly, clears her throat and settles in with her book (or so he suspects). He, too, clears his throat, runs a hand through his hair and finally gets back on track and asks her what book she’s reading. She puts a thumb on a page to mark her spot in the big book and closes it partly to show it off.
“Um, ‘Lonesome Dove.’ You might like it.”
“Oh?”
She then goes on to describe a bit of the plot, and she’s right, it does seem up his alley. They reminisce about old Westerns, the ones they grew up on and the ones he’s seen with El. They try to recall an old movie star and just can’t think of his name.
They settle again into companionable silence observing the kids in the pool. El and Max are chicken fighting while atop Mike and Lucas; and Will and Dustin are practicing their dives with Robin offering guidance.
Steve walks by and launches his charm attack on Joyce, noticing that Jonathan’s mom is darn cute. “Hi, Mrs. Byers. How are you doing today?”
“Fine … Steve …”
“Keep walking Harrington.”
“Um, yeah, sure, Chief.”
Keeping an eye on Mike and El from time to time – sometimes giving Mike a menacing eye just to amuse himself – Joyce and he fall into their easy patterns of banter when he remembers he brought a cooler of pop in the Blazer. He asks for her help so he can make his move away from prying eyes.
She knows what he’s doing. She knows he can carry a cooler on own. She glances over at Will, safe with Steve and Dustin, and El whispering and giggling with Max now, and makes her way to the pool gate with Hopper quite a bit ahead. When she gets to the truck, he’s leaning against the back and before she knows it he’s pulling her by the middle and his lips are on hers. First a little rough, then so surprisingly gentle. She breaks free and looks at him and he looks back at her hopeful. He pushes a strand of hair from her face and she smiles and then her hands are in his hair and her lips have returned to his.
They’re going at it as much as they can. Her hands have moved to the back of his neck and his have gravitated to her ass. They lose track of time until they don’t hear Jonathan pull up.
“Mom!”
They break apart – slightly – the appearance of Joyce’s eldest does little to quash his passion for this woman and Hop’s hands stay around her waist while hers go to his bare chest.
“Hey. … Hey, Nancy. You got the, eh, pizza? Great. You can take it through there and we’ll be in shortly with the pop.”
Jonathan stalls for a second and Nancy tugs at him to get a move on.
Now that, possibly, there won’t be anymore interruptions, Hop playfully pecks at Joyce’s collarbone. “I wish we could get out of here … just leave them for a while …” Her lips interrupt his words.
“Maybe tomorrow night?” She whispers against his ear. He responds with sneaking a hand underneath the back of her swimsuit. “Maybe you can see if El wants to stay over at Max’s …?”