Dashing Through the No

by Sivec, Tara

  Bodhi: It was a golfer and… never mind. I’m outstanding. Better than outstanding, actually, and that’s why I’m texting you. I’m in love, Millie. I’m in love, and she’s perfect, and my woman needs a break, and I need to get her away from here for a few days so I can try proposing again, and hopefully she won’t tell me to fuck off again.

  Millie: OMG I love her already! Bring her to me. Bring her to me right this instant so we can go to lunch, and go shopping, and get facials, and be BFFs forever!

  Bodhi: Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. As much as I love you, I haven’t been back to L.A. in twelve years, and I’m definitely not gonna come back now. And also, Tess is a little… high strung lately. She needs quiet and calm and anything flammable kept a good distance away from her unless she’s safely outside. I was wondering if you’re still friends with Allie Parker and if she’s still with that guy whose family owns the bed and breakfast you told me about last Christmas.

  Millie: That is exactly what I’m saying! I’m at The Redinger House right now helping out, and you HAVE to come! Jason’s parents went on vacation for the first time ever and left Allie and him in charge. And it’s Allie Redinger now. She got married to Jason over the summer, and OMG I was just stunning in the bridesmaid dress I had Vera Wang whip up for me. I haven’t noticed, but according to Allie, it’s a little busy here right now, but it’s fine. I’ll just cancel someone’s reservation.

  Bodhi: What? No! Don’t do that! It’s the week before Christmas!

  Millie: Done! I cancelled Mr. and Mrs. Carter Ellis. They sound like hideous people anyway. I’m texting you the address now. Bring the Merry Kushmas with you, and I’ll include a free bottle of champagne and your own personal butler. I’m pretty sure I’m authorized to do that.

  Millie: And don’t be scared by the West Virginia address. They actually do have indoor plumbing and electricity! I know. It shocked me too. You will have to bring your own wine sommelier, however.

  CHAPTER 3

  Bodhi

  “Oh deer.”

  “Do not ring that Santa bell again!”

  “Get that out of your mouth! We do not eat Christmas ornaments.”

  “No-no, don’t touch the animated Mrs. Claus! We look at the animated Mrs. Claus; we do not touch it.”

  “Sure, I guess it does look like sparkly noodles, but that doesn’t mean tinsel is food.”

  “Pine garland is not to be used as a jump rope. Put that down!”

  “For fuck’s sake, Bodhi, you are the only other adult in this room with me. Stop encouraging them!”

  I finally put the pine garland down when Tess uses her outside voice, and the toddler I was playing with immediately flops down on her butt and starts crying. And like a set of dominoes, once the first one goes down, all the rest tumble after. Ten kids ranging in ages from old enough to crawl to old enough to kick you in the junk all throw themselves to the floor, screaming and crying with big, fat tears falling down their cheeks.

  “I’m in hell,” Tess whispers, staring around the foyer of the check-in area for The Redinger House as a motion-activated Santa sitting on the counter drops his red velvet pants and starts shaking his plastic butt cheeks back and forth while “Jingle Bells” plays from a speaker by his feet. At least it’s in perfect harmony with all the crying. “You brought me to hell.”

  Walking across the room and gingerly stepping over crying kids to stand behind Tess next to the check-in counter, I rest my hands on her shoulders and start giving her a gentle massage, bolstered by the fact that she doesn’t immediately smack me away or ram her elbow into my crotch. With Tess, a massage can sometimes act as a stun gun, rendering her completely immobile and unable to inflict damage on those around her.

  When we first pulled up to the white two-story colonial with black trim nestled in the mountains of West Virginia in a tiny town called Snowfall Mountain, it was modestly decorated with just pine garland and white lights on the porch railings and a festive wreath hanging on the door. Tess actually gave me a smile from the passenger seat before we trudged through the snow and came inside. I figured the nap she took almost the entire day of driving curled up against the passenger door in the car we rented was just what the doctor ordered. And then we walked through the front door of the bed and breakfast, and I’m honestly surprised nothing on my body is currently on fire.

  Aside from the explosion of Christmas decorations in the entryway that take up every available surface from garland and lights lining every inch of the ceiling, doorways, and windows to at least fifteen animated Christmas dolls and three fully decorated trees, The Redinger House seems to have been taken over by kids, and we haven’t seen an adult since we got here fifteen minutes ago. I’ve been having a blast playing with everyone and trying to keep them alive until we figure out what’s going on, but my poor Tess looks like she might throw up any second now. That will not do when I specifically brought her here to get away from the Christmas chaos on Summersweet Island, relax, and become more agreeable about spending the rest of her life with me.

  Staring at Tess’s profile, I continue with my soothing shoulder rub as her face gets paler and paler while she looks around the room in disgust. Probably for about the millionth time since I walked into the pro-shop at SIG six months ago and saw this feisty little thing with—at the time—bright red hair and a killer smile, I wonder how in the hell I got so lucky. One of the worst parts about my previous life was the monotony and the map of my life with only one set of directions I had to follow. Waking up every day knowing I’m going to do the same things as always and follow the same path. Wear the same clothes, associate with the same people, go to the same places, study the same things, and make all the same choices. Even though after I left I never saw myself staying in one place ever again, waking up every morning with Tess and not knowing if she’s going to want to suck my dick or slice it off like a Ginsu knife going through a tomato makes staying put worth it.

  Life with Tess is fucking terrifying and exciting all at the same time. I never know what’s going to happen from one second to the next, and it’s the best goddamn adventure I’ve ever been on in my life. And I once convinced a Buddhist monk to go on a three-week bus ride through Germany with me after he did a line of coke off of a prostitute’s wrist in Amsterdam.

  I love that she changes her hair color more often than I buy weed, although I am quite fond of the bright royal-blue she’s had for the last month. I love that her closet is filled with nothing but black clothes but she owns a pair of Converse in every color of the rainbow. I love that the map to Tess Powell is like Harry Potter’s Marauder’s Map, constantly disappearing and changing and making me guess. But usually with a lot more fire and people screaming while mischief is definitely not managed. I love how fiercely loyal and protective she is of the people she cares about. I love that even before she knew anything about my past or my struggles with anxiety, she never once made fun of me or judged me for my marijuana usage. And after she found out? Well, let’s just say I became one of the people in her life she’s fiercely loyal and protective of, and I have felt like the fucking king of the world ever since then.

  Maybe not a king. That’s too much pressure. Something more along the Lord family. Lord Bodhi Armstrong of Tess Powell Manor has a nice ring to it.

  But I’m scared to death she’s sick of my shit and the best high I’ve ever had in my life is going to throw me in the trash with all of the used and crumpled Christmas wrapping paper on December 26th.

  “Oh, God, it’s on my foot. It’s on my foot!” Tess complains as I look over her shoulder to see an adorable baby boy wearing a red onesie with Rudolph heads on it, crawling over the top of one of Tess’s black Doc Martens. “Can I kick it off?”

  With a laugh, I drop my hands from Tess’s shoulders, move around her, and scoop the little guy up before he gets to the tree next to the counter and tries to eat the low-hanging branches again.

  My head whips to Tess as soon as I have him in my arms when a weird, m
oaning-choking sound comes out of her as she stares wide-eyed at me.

  “You okay there, Firestarter?”

  A part of me kind of hopes she’s looking at me holding this baby and is all “Put a baby in me right now, Bodhi!” But the chances of that happening are about as high as the chance that I am currently not high.

  For anyone not paying attention, that would be zero, folks. I am high as fuck right now.

  Before I can figure out if Tess is going to throw up or punch me, another adult finally joins us and swoops the baby right out of my arms as she walks by, talking a mile a minute. Or at least I think she’s talking a mile a minute. It could quite possibly be the weed.

  “Bodhi! It’s so good to see you, even though I’m sure you don’t remember me from high school, because no one ever remembers there was a third Parker sister. But anyway, I am so sorry about all the kids. I have no idea what’s happening, but let me get you guys checked in ASAP. You must be Tess. I’m Allie Redinger, your Doc Martens are bad ass, and now I want a pair.”

  When Allie finally stops to take a breath, the Doc Martens comment from her thaws the usual ice around my girl when she first meets someone new. The fact that Allie is wearing a flannel over a T-shirt with a pair of holey jeans and Vans, and not decked out in a hideous Christmas sweater, probably earns Allie a few Tess bonus points as well. Tess gives Allie that killer smile that makes me want to strip her naked right in this foyer, while Allie hefts the baby up higher in her arms. Then she shoos another one away from an electric socket and then spins around in a circle with a look of panic on her face, while the rest of the kids decide they’re finally finished with their little crying jags and are ready to fuck some shit up again. A small tree on a side table gets knocked over, a strand of lights gets pulled down from one of the windows, and I’m no baby expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s not chocolate the one in the corner is finger painting with on an animated snowman swaying back and forth with candles in his snowman hands.

  “I’m back, and you’ll be happy to know I’m stress-free, and that facial peel made me feel ten years younger!” The front door flies open with that announcement, bringing in wind, snow flurries, and my old friend Millie as she pulls the lapels of her brown, floor-length mink coat tightly together and shivers before giving the door a bump with her hip to slam it closed.

  “What the hell, Millie?” Allie screeches as she scoops up the only other kid in the room who can’t walk yet, holding a baby in each arm as she tries to block three toddlers from getting behind the counter. “This daycare for parents so they could have a kid-free day of Christmas shopping and going out to eat in peace was your idea! You said you would watch them in the new kids’ playroom addition Jason put on a few months ago so I could finish cleaning up all the dishes from dinner!”

  “I did. I watched them do nothing for like, five minutes, and it was super boring. You never said I had to watch them the entire time.” Millie rolls her eyes as she quickly trots across the room on the toes of her sky-high stiletto boots, air kissing both of my cheeks before moving right to Tess.

  “Bodhi was right. You’re perfect and you’re a goddess. What are you doing the rest of the night? My schedule is wide-open, so we should do cocktails.”

  Tess opens her mouth to reply but is immediately cut off by Allie.

  “Your schedule is not wide-open. You are here to help out, like you promised when you said you wanted to come for a visit during the busiest time of the year.”

  “That doesn’t sound like me.” Millie shakes her head as Allie stops one of the toddlers from putting a strand of lights in her mouth.

  The front door opens and closes again, bringing in a short bald man wearing a pair of reindeer antlers on his head, who looks to be somewhere in his forties.

  “I don’t know how you can walk so fast in those heels. I had to run the last three blocks just so I didn’t lose sight of you,” the guy says to Millie as he brushes snow off the shoulders of his coat, stepping forward to hold out his hand to me.

  “Hi. Name’s Sheldon. Merry Christmas! I saw a photo of you on Millie’s computer, but I’m sorry I don’t know your name.”

  “Oh my gosh, where are my manners? Sheldon, this is my oldest and dearest friend Bodhi and his girlfriend Tess,” Millie introduces as we shake hands. “And this is Sheldon Johnson. My stalker.”

  I immediately drop Sheldon’s hand, my arm darting out and in front of Tess as I quickly move her behind me and farther away from this guy. Most shocking of all is that Tess actually lets me be protective of her. For about five seconds until she punches me in the arm and moves back out from behind me.

  “You guys, it’s fine!” Millie reassures us as she smiles down at Sheldon. And I do mean down. The guy is at least an entire foot shorter than Millie’s five-foot-ten inches. “He followed me here all the way from Utah. I mean, that’s some serious dedication, and I feel it deserves the proper recognition. I noticed him lurking in an alley next to the spa when I got out, so I invited him for coffee. Sheldon didn’t really want to filet my skin from my body and wear it as a dress; he was just having a bad Monday. We all have them. He’s actually pretty chill, and everything is much funnier now that I know he didn’t use actual pig’s blood to write all those letters.”

  When Sheldon and Millie share a laugh, it’s Tess’s turn to put a protective arm out in front of me as she forces both of us to take a couple of steps back. Thankfully, Allie has been busy bouncing two babies up and down and trying to shush them while they cry again and hasn’t heard the joyful news that there’s now a stalker with a fondness for skin dresses staying at their bed and breakfast this holiday season.

  “Millie!” Allie finally shouts over the screaming babies while she manages to herd all the rest of them into what looks like a living room right off the foyer. “Get over here and watch these kids so I can check in our guests.”

  Millie air kisses me and Tess again, promising to stop by our room later once we’re settled in, before grabbing Sheldon’s hand and tugging him behind her. She disappears into the living room with the toddlers, and Tess mutters a low, “Oh, Jesus God,” when Sheldon happily dispenses Allie of both babies, cooing and baby-talking them as he bouncy-walks them into the living room with Millie.

  “Not our kids, not our problem,” Tess whispers over and over a few times as Allie rushes back across the foyer and behind the check-in desk, quickly clacking away at the computer. I count down the seconds until Tess and I can finally be alone, and she can get the peace and quiet she needs. Preferably after a few orgasms.

  “Let me just clear up a few things first before I show you up to your room,” Allie says as I wrap my arm around Tess’s shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze to let her know that regardless of the shitshow we walked in on, everything will be smooth sailing for the rest of our stay here. “In case Millie told you that we have personalized butlers for each guest, room service for pets, complimentary workout gear, 24-hour massage treatments, Prosecco baths upon request, or rosé vending machines in each room like she’s been telling anyone who calls or checks in, we do not.”

  “I still cannot fathom how you live like this,” Millie says, peeking her head back in the foyer from the doorway of the living room. “It’s like you’re Amish now.”

  “It’s totally fine,” Tess reassures Allie when Millie disappears back into stalker daycare. “We’re pretty simple, and we don’t need anything fancy like that anyway.”

  I nod in agreement when we hear a crash from the living room, followed by Millie’s loud voice.

  “Who wants to play Guess What’s in the Unmarked Prescription Pill Bottles in Aunt Millie’s Birkin?”

  “I’m just gonna—”

  “Yep,” Tess and I both cut off Allie at the same time when she points to the living room, pauses a beat, and then runs as fast as she can out from behind the counter and into the living room.

  Knowing Tess is probably about two seconds away from punching me in the dick for bringing h
er here, where so far there has been anything but peace and quiet, I quickly grab onto both of Tess’s shoulders and turn her to face me. Tugging her against me until all of her soft, perfect parts are pressed up against my hard ones, I drop my mouth to hers and kiss the hell out of her, hoping it will at least distract her long enough that she doesn’t reach for the lighter in her bra.

  CHAPTER 4

  Tess

  “I’m gonna Comet on her Vixen.”

  “I want—”

  “I want a—”

  “I want a hippo—”

  “I want a hippopotamus for—”

  “Bodhi!” I shout, wincing when the sound of my own voice makes my headache get worse. “Stop opening and closing the door.”

  With a big sigh, making me feel bad for about two seconds that I cut off his fun, Bodhi finally leaves the door to our room shut for the first time since Allie brought us up here and happily informed us her father-in-law installed a mechanism in the doors of each guest room to play the coordinating song that goes with the room’s theme every time you open and close it.

  I am in hell when I enter this room, and I am in hell when I leave this room. Everywhere I look, there are jolly hippos wearing jolly Santa hats. We have Santa hippo sheets and a Santa hippo bedspread with a mountain of pillows with hippos on them, an animated hippo in the corner on the floor that slowly takes his Santa hat off and then puts it back on again, a five-foot-tall tree in another corner with white lights filled with nothing but, you guessed it, Santa hippo ornaments. And about a million other wall-hangings, knickknacks, and decorations all around the room and the adjoining bathroom to go with that horrendous Christmas carol theme that I have no other choice but to start reaching for the lighter in my back pocket.

  “Sweetie, you can’t burn anything in this room. We’re guests here, and it wouldn’t be polite,” Bodhi speaks in a slow, calm voice over by the door so as not to spook me while I pace back and forth by the end of the bed, and I regrettably remove my hand from my back pocket. “How are you feeling?”