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Joe Hardy knew how to flirt.
That was apparent to anyone who saw the sleazy grin spread across his face whenever he was in front of a woman. It was easy for him to lay on what he often called the ‘Hardy charm’ and get a girl to lock arms or lips with him in a matter of hours.
Romance was easy too. Sort of came with the charm, Joe had always thought.
Most of the time, it happened when he and his brother Frank were on a case. Joe would coincidentally run into someone who would then be considered the most beautiful girl in existence, someone he just had to get to know.
Frank would almost always insist upon the opposite, lamenting the destruction of Joe’s focus, or suggesting that the new girl of interest just may be wrapped up in the mystery they were trying to solve.
Joe almost always ignored these qualms.
He’d lay it on thick, the romance, the charm. Smooth, alluring words and a little bit of that witty humor that found itself in any conversation with Joe Hardy. A few winks and jackets around shoulders would probably win him a dinner and a kiss at the end of the night.
Maybe more, if he got lucky, which he so often did.
And then the case would end, and Joe would have to bid his girl of the week goodbye. There was talk of ‘see you later’ or ‘let’s get together the next time you’re in town’, but it never really happened. Joe learned to expect that, by the time he’d sat on his hundredth plane and stared out his hundredth window with a slightly hollow feeling in his chest.
But soon, the plane would land and a new girl would catch his eye. Once that happened the name of the girl before would fade into the recesses of his brain, the hollow feeling replaced by a newfound excitement and want.
Because that’s all it was, really. Pretty girls, sex, and little shots of dopamine while his life spun out of control, pulled every which way by the insanity he called his job. Who had time for anything else? Well, besides Frank, who’d had the same girlfriend for years and could pine unlike anyone Joe had ever seen.
He’d never understood his brother’s ability to do that.
What was “ that” exactly?
Frank’s ability to crave one person while staying with another and not doing anything about either?
Simply his ability to love?
Probably the second one, Joe had thought. His chest was heavy then too, because out of all the girls he’d come to know, he couldn’t honestly say he’d loved any of them.
Well, until Iola Morton, of course.
They had been friends for so long Joe never thought in a million years she’d confess to him under the big oak tree beside her family’s farmhouse. Not even when, after a while, he’d felt himself drawn toward her every time he ended up back in Bayport. It was unlike any feeling he’d had for any girl on all those crazy adventures. Joe thought it must’ve been love.
So when Iola’s green eyes stared up at him in the shade of that tree he couldn’t stop himself from saying something to the effect of “Yes! I like you too, and why don’t you be my girlfriend while you’re at it!”
He stayed in Bayport that summer, spending half the time picking up inane, miscellaneous cases with Frank, and the rest of the time with Iola. Joe noticed too, that the longer his brother spent with Callie in Bayport, the more the longing look in his eye faded, and the less he talked about Nancy Drew.
Joe did everything you were meant to do with a girlfriend, all the dates, and the intimate moments, and even the I love yous. Nothing had told him he shouldn’t do any of those things.
After a while though, it felt different. It was like once the honeymoon stage had worn off, their relationship was nothing more than it had been the day before she pulled him under that oak tree.
He started craving excitement again. He wanted to go abroad again, meet girls and recover hidden jewels or something with Frank. His patience was wearing ever so thin when Iola had dragged him, Frank and Callie into some political campaign.
What a boring way to end the summer, was all Joe could think about as they set up chairs for a rally at Bayport mall. He wanted to tell Iola they were on the outs once the campaign was over, save her the stress.
Only, he’d gotten the timing all wrong.
When Joe thought about it now, the details didn’t really matter. All he knew was that he’d felt the excitement, he’d felt the want with some attractive girl at the mall. He’d leaned up against that stupid pillar and fed her a line, though he couldn’t remember what it was.
What was really burned into his memory, though, was the look Iola gave him when he complained about going with her to his car to get more fliers. The way she snatched his car keys from him with her brows creased deep, and hatred in her eyes as she turned away and stormed off.
Joe knew Frank had pulled him off the other girl, at that point, that was the only reason he had gone after Iola in the first place. Well, that and the godforsaken look in her eyes.
At the time, he had no idea why he had such a bad feeling in his stomach.
But then he’d reached the car, reached Iola, with Frank close behind him and it all started making sense.
It happened so fast, and yet Joe recalled the whole thing in slow motion whenever he closed his eyes for too long.
The way his car was there one minute, and in flames the next. The deafening sound of the explosion, the heat on his face, the shrapnel barely missing him as he collapsed onto his knees beside the wreckage. He remembered Frank tugging him backwards, his yells muffled by the ringing in his ears.
He remembered the biting pain of his fist colliding with Frank’s jaw, and the burning on his skin as he so desperately tried to get Iola back.
There was another explosion, Joe was sure, though Frank had managed to yank him away by his collar just in time.
His tears had stung, his body numb.
His heart screamed in anguish, and guilt.
And love.
It was too late.
For everything.
***
Winter rolled around, and Frank and Joe found themselves in New York on another case. It was their first big one since they’d gotten involved with the Network, and everything had happened with Iola. Joe’s anger toward the terrorist group who had caused her death had simmered into a quiet determination. That didn’t mean, of course, that he wasn’t constantly on the brink of boiling over with a need to beg the Network for another terrorist-busting case.
But Frank had some obvious ulterior motives too.
Nancy Drew.
“A case as big as this one deserves some extra help!” Frank had insisted with a little too much enthusiasm, and he had given Joe the most desperate look he’d ever seen. So he said yes. New York was only a state away after all, and it was a pretty big case: involving cat burglars and some crowned prince. Joe decided he could take a week off from his personal vendetta, if it meant watching his brother make a fool of himself in front of the red-headed detective herself.
Guess he’s not really over her… Joe thought once they’d reached their hotel. He never really believed Frank was over his long-lasting crush on Nancy Drew, but after seeing him joined at the hip with Callie Shaw all summer, Joe was a little surprised. Only at his brother’s audacity.
Frank was soon busy checking them in, leaving Joe to gaze mindlessly around the lobby. High ceilings, fancy art, right in the middle of New York City, all for free. It was one of the perks that had come with the case, and it was easy to get lost in all of the luxury.
Joe wished his mind could get lost.
He could only think of how much Iola would’ve loved it.
Despite being from the small town of Bayport, and living on an actual farm, she always loved the city. She’d sit on her legs in the middle of Joe’s bed, her hands digging into her knees as she’d watch him unpack from one of his many trips. And then she’d throw a long series of questions at him, almost always the same ones anytime he found himself in the city. He’d answer them, because he’d loved to watch her flop backwards against his pillows and sigh, expressing her want to come with him someday on a case, like Callie did.
Joe stared at a painting in that grand lobby, eyes tracing over the intricate details of the antique frame it was in. He swallowed, his fists clenched and his fingernails pitting his palms.
In the end, it was his work, which she had been desperate to be a part of, that had killed her.
His work, and his stupid old habits.
It’d been months since it all happened. Sometimes Joe felt like he could move on, using his anti-terrorism work as a way to always keep her in his memory. Other days were a lot like this one, where everything reminded him of her. Everything made him angry, and sad and more vengeful than usual.
And forget dating. Hell, forget casual hookups. Nothing satisfied him. Well, he was used to jumping from girl to girl without much reward other than sex, but this was a different kind of unsatisfying. He just wasn’t sure what it was or what it meant.
He felt a hand clap him on the back, and he jumped a little, sprung out of his thoughts.
Frank held a key in front of his face,
“583.” He said nonchalantly.
“What?” Joe exhaled tiredly, as if he had forgotten that Frank’s mind was on a totally different track than his. Frank noticed his brother’s wandering head,
“...You okay?” He asked. Joe shrugged offhandedly,
“Fine.” Frank didn’t seem convinced, but he straightened out the crease between his brows and explained,
“Our room number. Nancy said she and Bess are shopping on Fifth Avenue. Let’s head that way after putting our bags down.” Frank told Joe as the latter snatched up the key. Joe’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion this time,
“Wait, Nancy and Bess?” He started to follow Frank up a big center staircase. The older Hardy brother glanced behind him, smiling amusedly.
“Yeah, she begged to tag along. And I thought it might be good for you.” He didn’t say anything else, but Joe felt a pang of emotion in his chest at the words.
“Good for me? I’m fine, Frank.”
“Whatever, Joe. Let’s go.”
They continued to make their way towards their room, Joe lagging behind Frank.
Bess Marvin was an interesting case.
Joe always thought they kind of fit together like the last two pieces of a puzzle. The kind of pair that would meld perfectly even after weeks apart. She was pretty, obviously, and Joe kind of knew Bess considered him alright too, since they threw flirtatious words back and forth constantly.
But then she’d always meet some other guy, and she’d do that thing where she fell head-over-heels in love in the span of a day. Then it was like Joe was invisible.
She’d never done that with him. Fall head over heels, that is.
So it was safe to say nothing had ever happened between them, and Joe wasn’t sure anything ever would.
And he was fine with that, wasn’t he?
Surely, whatever he had going on with Bess was just as dopamine-driven as any other girl he’d met on a case, anyway. And, of course, to hell with dopamine.
Besides, Joe was trying his hardest to remember the last time he’d even seen her. It was probably the last time they’d seen Nancy since Bess was her favorite travel buddy. And that was well over six months ago. Now, with everything that had happened with Iola, Joe didn’t know how he’d feel about being around Bess.
He supposed he’d just have to find out.
They didn’t spend much time looking around the room, just set their bags down and hailed a taxi to Fifth Avenue.
Joe wondered where Nancy might want to meet. They got out of the taxi practically in the middle of the street. The two of them jogged toward the sidewalk with apologetic waves to the other people in cars who were trying to traverse the Christmastime traffic. Joe pulled his brown bomber jacket tighter over his shoulders, and glanced at Frank, who was rubbing his hands together and blowing hot air onto them.
New York sure was cold this time of year, but then again, so was Bayport.
“Frank.” Joe got his brother’s attention, “Where does Nancy want us-” He was cut off by the sound of some kind of commotion down the street. People were gasping, and eventually some guy with a shopping bag crumpled in his hand pushed through the crowd. The guy was looking behind him as he ran at full speed,
“Who’s this joker?” Joe scoffed.
“Looks like trouble.” Frank replied, and as soon as he did so the guy slammed head first into a woman in the middle of the sidewalk. The impact forced both of them onto the ground, the guy dropping the shopping bag, and the woman losing hold of a binder she was holding. Frank and Joe instantly jumped into action.
Frank helped the woman up and retrieved some of the papers that had spilled out of the binder. Joe reached for the other guy, but he scrambled up from the sidewalk before he could. Once he did, he shoved Joe squarely in the chest and ran past him, leaving the shopping bag behind. It was clear to Joe that the guy was running from something, and he probably wasn’t keen on getting slowed down. Not to mention the crowd that had slowly begun to form around them.
“Should I go after him?” Joe asked Frank, once the latter was done helping the woman. Frank put his hands on his hips and let out a breath. He eyed the crowd around them,
“No. We don’t need anymore attention on ourselves. Nothing to see here people! Merry Christmas!” Frank began shouting and waving everyone away. Joe eyed the shopping bag on the ground, and picked it up. He doubted he’d be able to find the owner, but he was in the mood to be nosy. He peeked inside, his eyebrows raised slightly once he saw its contents.
It was… chocolate?
“What kind of thief steals chocolate…” Joe wondered aloud. Frank was next to him again, peering into the bag as well.
“Maybe he wasn’t a thief.” He suggested. Joe scoffed again,
“Right, Frank. And I’m the Queen of England.” Frank rolled his eyes,
“I’ll call Nancy and see where we should go…” He meandered a few feet away from Joe to make the call. Joe was alone for all of five seconds before he felt someone grab him by the wrist. He was about to react, until his knees buckled from the force of the same someone kicking the back of them in.
“Ow, fuck!” Joe cried as he fell to a kneel, his arm wedged behind his back. He craned his neck around to see who it was, and was met with the sight of Nancy Drew’s face above his. Her cheeks and nose were stained red from the cold, and she was seemingly out of breath. A look of realization passed over her face,
“Joe Hardy!” She gasped. Joe heard Frank laughing from his place further down the sidewalk. Nancy’s gaze left his, making eye contact with Frank instead. She let go of Joe’s arm,
“That prank was low, Joe. Even for you! I thought you were-”
“Chocolate thieves? It’s a real problem around here.” Frank interjected coolly, extending a hand down to Joe. He reluctantly accepted it with a huff and brushed himself off. Joe was quickly realizing Nancy and Frank’s eyes were still locked together.
Does she actually think he’s cool? He thought to himself with an eye roll.
“You took Joe down pretty easily. This is yours?” Frank held out the shopping bag to Nancy, who took it with a smile.
Oh sure, use me for your stupid flirting techniques. Although he had to admit Frank was doing better than usual. Months away from Nancy Drew would usually leave him tongue-tied. Joe was almost convinced his brother had actually moved on, but he could see the blush on his face, one that was most definitely not from the cold this time.
“She caught me off guard..” Joe defended himself with a grumble. Nancy chuckled a little,
“Next time, Joe. Oh, and the bag belongs to Bess. But you should know that since you snatched it right out of her hand.” Nancy answered Frank’s question, and then chided them a little. Both Hardys looked lost.
“Hey, we didn’t-” Joe began, only to be cut off for the second time that day.
“There you are!” Bess’s breathless voice caught up to them. She nearly toppled over once she stopped next to Nancy, weighed down by countless other shopping bags, “Jesus, you run fast Nancy. Did you catch those guys?” It was then that she noticed Frank and Joe, and she found herself dropping the bags onto the snow-covered concrete. She began to fix her hair, strands of which were flying all over the place. When she made eye contact with Joe, she started doing it faster with an awkward smile. Joe’s throat went dry, and he swallowed a little.
“The guys in question…” Nancy gestured to the Hardys, and Bess’s smile turned into a look of disapproval,
“Hey, what? That’s just mean, Joe-”
“ We didn’t steal your chocolate!” Frank hurriedly explained what had happened with the guy, while Joe nodded along. He was glad his brother had taken over. Something about Bess’s disapproving gaze made his stomach flip flop.
Mean. She had called him. His chest ached along with his stomach.
But then Bess was smiling again, no longer angry at the possibility that Joe could’ve done something like that to her. Had she really been angry? Upset at him? Why did he care so much? And why did he still have that weird feeling in his chest even now that the moment had passed and no one was mad anymore?
He didn’t have time to think any harder about it, because Frank was patting him on the back again, saying something about going to dinner, and that he should help Bess with her bags.
So he did, naturally. Knelt down and collected all of Bess’s shopping bags until he looked like he was made of them. Once he had done so, Nancy and Frank were ahead of them, but Bess stayed put beside him.
“Thanks Joey.” She said softly, getting up on her toes and planting a kiss on his cheek. She gave him a smile and turned to catch up with Nancy and Frank. Joe’s feet moved to follow them too, but he was sure they were on their own. He could still feel the spot on his cheek where she’d kissed him, as if her lips were still pressed into his skin.
His chest fluttered again. Ached as it had six months ago when he’d stood with Iola Morton under that big oak tree.
The flutter turned heavy at the remembrance of her name.
Now all Joe felt as he followed his friends down the snowy streets of New York, was confusion.
***
And it stayed. The confused little flutter in his chest stayed when he sat next to Bess at the restaurant, and when she insisted they share a menu when the waiter told them they’d run out. It stayed while he stared down at her, telling her some crazy story that happened during one of his cases, even while his arms were gesturing wildly as he did so. There was something about the way her eyes never left his, how it felt like they were the only two in the room despite Nancy and Frank sitting across from them.
He was hyper aware of Bess beside him too, as Frank and Nancy started talking about the case. The reason they were there in the first place. Joe was sure he’d given some input somewhere. He couldn’t remember what, because his eyes were drawn to Bess again.
That was when the feeling in his chest reached its peak. Bess wasn’t listening, she wasn’t even looking at them. Her gaze had been pulled to some other table, where some other guy sat. Some handsome, princely guy. Bess didn’t tear her eyes away from him until Nancy presumably got her attention from under the table. When Bess whipped her head back toward the group, her face flushed and she gave them a sheepish look.
As usual. Was all Joe thought. Until they ran into the guy later in the hotel lobby.
“John” he’d introduced himself as. “Jean Claude, Crowned Prince of Sarconne” they all found out way later than they should have. It didn’t matter to Joe, who had almost immediately decided he disliked the guy, regardless of his status.
At some point, John invited them to go out and party until dawn. They went, because someone had to keep an eye on the guy, and Bess, who was head-over-heels already. The only thing Joe remembered was that he was severely pissed off everytime John so much as looked at her.
And then, on the dance floor of the club they’d been dragged to, John cut in to dance with Bess when she and Joe were already having a fine time. Joe nearly boiled over, as he so often did with his unruly temper.
The flutter in his chest was now anger, clear as day.
He huffed and stalked over to Nancy and Frank. They had retired to a table five minutes after they got there, away from all the people melding together on the dance floor.
“Woah.” Frank remarked as Joe plopped down in the seat next to him. Joe just rolled his eyes and huffed again.
“What’s the matter, Joe?” Nancy asked after taking the last sip of her drink. It was getting late and she looked antsy to leave.
“Nothing.” He mumbled in response. Because he really didn’t know what the matter was. He and Bess hadn’t made any commitments, not that Joe was good at that, but surely whatever was between them was purely physical. Besides, he hadn’t felt anything for any girl since Iola died. So what the hell was going on?
Frank and Nancy exchanged a glance, Joe saw out of the corner of his eye. They didn’t buy it for a second. Joe didn’t exactly blame them. He wasn’t able to give them a witty comeback though, since Bess was stumbling over to them.
“ This is what I always thought New York would be like! What a guy…” She exclaimed with a lighthearted sigh as she leaned her elbows against the table between Frank and Joe. From across the room, John was at the bar collecting a pile of shots.
“What a phony…” Joe muttered offhandedly. Frank’s eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead and he looked over at Nancy again,
“Ah.” Was all he said. Joe could’ve decked him.
“What?” Bess asked, tilting her head sideways.
“Shut up, Frank.” Joe put in at nearly the same time. Frank put a hand up in surrender.
“I didn’t say anything.” His voice was high in defense. Nancy suppressed a smile. Bess was understandably confused, but she didn’t ask anymore questions.
Then John returned, shots in hand, and Joe raged on.
***
Joe really knew there was a problem when he was scouting the hotel lobby for anything relating to their case. He saw maybe one of the most beautiful women he’d ever laid his eyes on standing in the middle of it. He had a big, bulky camera in his grip, playing up the tourist act like Frank had suggested. He didn’t know what he was doing, what he was trying to prove or to whom, when he lifted up the camera and aimed it in the direction of the gorgeous auburn-haired girl, who was admiring the Christmas decorations.
He knew Frank and Nancy were watching. Making sure he was staying on task, waiting for him to join them, he wasn’t sure. Maybe that was what he was trying to do. Show them that everything was fine. He was regular old Joe, who flirted on command with anything that walked and didn’t need anything else.
Joe snapped a photo.
He felt something in his chest. Looking back, it was probably nerves more than anything else.
The girl saw him as he put the camera down, because who wouldn’t notice the blinding light flashing in their direction. He glanced away from her, acting casual, but of course she strode over to him from the other side of the room. Joe realized he was silently hoping she wouldn’t.
And then Frank and Nancy were in his line of sight, staring at him. Frank probably wanted to see how badly this interaction would go. He felt a tap on his shoulder from behind and then there she was. Just as beautiful up close, flipping her hair behind her shoulder.
“Do you always take pictures of strange girls in hotel lobbies?” She spoke smoothly, a posh British accent filling Joe’s ears and it was official. She was perfect, she was lovely and Joe felt nothing but unease.
“I’m sorry. I was taking some architectural shots, and I guess I got carried away. You’re very photogenic, you know.” He said the lines, he used the Joe Hardy charm.
“Oh, you’re a professional?”
“Just an amateur with an eye for beauty.” There was no feeling of confidence when she extended a graceful arm in his direction.
“I’m Fiona Fox.”
“Joe Hardy. The pleasure is mine.” There was no want, or dopamine or whatever there usually was, which Joe had already realized was slowly becoming his new normal.
He told her some excuse about meeting up with his brother, which was actually true. He said he hoped to see her again, which wasn’t. She gave him a flirty smile, they parted ways, and when Joe found Frank and Nancy again they began to chide him about his lack of focus. Joe didn’t really hear any of it.
That thing with Bess must have been a fluke.
Right?
Because he felt no want for the beautiful Fiona Fox in the lobby. And he hadn’t felt the want for Bess, either. But that was different. As different as all his dissatisfaction with the girls like Fiona.
He took a seat with Nancy and Frank in the hotel restaurant, but Nancy excused herself momentarily. Joe knew Frank was eyeing him. He sighed a little,
“Frank.”
“Hm?” His brother was trying impeccably hard to sound like he wasn’t waiting for him to speak.
“You’re the smart one.”
“Thank you? Are you gonna ask me for money or something-?”
“No.” Joe interrupted in frustration, “Just… you know about data sets?”
“Duh.”
“So… when you have an outlier in a set of data. You’re supposed to throw it out, right? Because it messes things up and doesn’t make any sense?” Frank furrowed his brows as his brother spoke. Clearly he was confused.
“Well… It depends. Some outliers are an indication of a screw up in the methodology, or…”
“Or?” Joe followed up, intrigued by math for the first time in his life.
“Or… it’s real. A natural variation I mean. You can’t throw it out if it means something.”
Joe felt his chest flutter again.
If it means something. Did it mean something? Was this thing with Bess… real?
“Joe, what is this all about?” Frank threw him out of his revelation. Joe swallowed thickly,
“Um… Nothing. Nothing. But thanks. That helped.”
And boy did it.
Bess, the one constant in his life of chaos and confusion.
Bess, who understood him like no one ever did.
Bess, the only one to make his heart beat faster after he never thought it would again.
Bess, who was and did all of those things after months apart.
And it wasn’t lust, it wasn’t dopamine or that strange ever-fleeting want that he’d felt with every girl before Iola. No. That shit only reminded him of heartache, pain, the hollow in his chest when he remembered how it got her killed.
No, with Bess it was love. And it wasn’t Iola-love, because Joe wasn’t sure he could ever feel Iola-love again. But he didn’t want to. He missed her, he grieved her, but he knew he needed to move on. He knew he needed to change.
He didn’t want want. He didn’t want stagnate love.
He wanted Bess.
And maybe one day… he could have her. And it could satisfy him.
Loyalty could satisfy him.
If only he could satisfy her.