The Devil Rides

Living with Tony and Randy was a bit like living in a railroad station. While Tony and I had regular girlfriends, Randy had a succession of short-term sweeties. His favorite tag line before a first date was to whisper ” Here comes lover boy!” Tony and I were always cautiously optimistic that we might see one more than once. It would make remembering names easier.

One night, there was a marathon telephone call to a barista we vaguely knew from a coffee shop. Randy had been convinced she had a thing for him because of the heart she put on top of his extra foam latte. We tried to let him down easily by showing him the hearts on our lattes, but it only slowed the pace of “true love.” Finding out her address from a coworker, he sent flowers, bonbons, and a giant heart Valentine’s card. Patrice was a sweet girl with a boyfriend and an ironclad rule against dating customers. Hence the marathon last ditch effort to gain Patrice’s attention. From the living room we knew it was over when we heard Randy cry out, “Oh, Patrice. Please. Tell me! Do I still figure in your life?”

Over the next several weeks, it was a depressed Randy who came home from his job as an EMT overnight. He came in, made dinner, left his usual pile of unwashed dishes in the sink for our girlfriends to wash, and went to bed. Eventually, Tony and I cornered him and asked if we could help. He told us he had reached a turning point in life and was seeking to make a total change in his approach to women. We offered to help in whatever way we could.

Turning Over A New Leaf

Things were quiet for a few weeks. Then one night, there he was in the mirror. He turned to us and told us with a gleam in his eye that He’d learned his lesson. He’d been going after the wrong sort of gal! From now on, ” I want a hottie with black eyeliner, combat boots, and a visible aura of disdain! Fishnet stockings! OoooLaaaaLaaa!” Then, with a wink in the mirror, “Tonight! Tonight the devil can ride!!”

The apartment was back to being a train station again, the dishes piled up in the sink, and our girlfriends complained bitterly about cleaning the common bathroom. On a typical Sunday morning, there was debris from bits of tiny lingerie left behind by the latest Lola, Sasha, or Lana.!

Stripper!

Then came the storm. Randy called a household meeting. His new love, Miranda, an exotic dancer, was moving in. We decided to take a neutral stand on this, but it soon proved difficult. Miranda invited “friends” over. We’d come home to find our bedrooms “occupied” and tossed.

After several weeks, Tony and I called a household meeting. Miranda and her entourage were no longer welcome. To emphasize this position, we physically threw two of the male friends out by the scruffs of their necks.

The next morning, Miranda was gone, and Randy suggested to us over coffee at the coffeehouse that he’d been run ragged. Taking the lid off his extra foam latte, he smiled. There was a heart, as usual, but a slight arrow was running across the heart. He looked at us, and we took the tops off ours to see plain hearts. Looking up, Randy saw that Patrice was smiling at him.

Patrice had broken up with her old boyfriend and had been hoping to see Randy again. Randy’s crazy schedule with his stripper girlfriend had kept him away from the coffee shop. When he walked in that morning, Patrice made sure that there would indeed be a place for him in her life.

Life settled into a nice routine. Patrice always washed their dirty dishes, and became friends with our girlfriends. Life was good.

If you missed the first story in this series here is the link:https://loucarrerascarver.com/2025/06/13/a-heart-in-the-foam/