by Cassia Leo
I smack his arm. “Santa! Keep talking like that and you’ll be on the naughty list.”
“Ho! I’ve been on the naughty list a looooooong time. Why do you think Rudolph’s nose is permanently red? Right, Rudolph?” Sparky looks up at Liam on cue and I have to take a few deep breaths to calm a second bout of uncontrollable laughter.
My belly is getting sore, but I can’t seem to compose myself, so Liam holds up the selfie stick to take a picture of us while I’m indisposed with my fit of the giggles. I usually try to cover my face when he takes pictures of us. He snaps a few shots and I finally calm myself.
“Oh, my God,” I gasp. “This is the best Christmas present ever. Thank you.”
“We’re not done yet,” Liam says, grabbing my hand and leading me toward the armchair near the living room window. “It’s time for you to sit on my lap and tell me what you want Santa to bring you for Christmas tomorrow.”
He takes a seat on the gray chair and whistles to get the dogs’ attention, then he tells them to go to the garage and they obey him instantly. They disappear around the corner into the kitchen and the last thing I hear is the flap of the doggy door.
“Wow. How did you get Skippy to do that?”
“You’ve gotta learn to be the pack leader,” Liam says, patting the top of his thigh. “Sit down, young lady.”
I try not to laugh as I take a seat on his lap, but the moment I sit down I can feel he already has a slight erection. I press my lips together to hide my grin as I adjust my position and his erection grows.
“What’s so funny?” he whispers in my ear.
“Your banana.”
“You find my banana funny, do you?” He sets the selfie stick down on the carpet and grabs my legs to turn me sideways. “What if I told you that bananas are radioactive? Would you still think that was funny?”
“No, now I’m just scared.”
“Okay, I was just kidding.”
I laugh again, but not for long. He turns my face to kiss me and it takes my breath away. Once I have my bearings, I twist my body around so I can wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss him hard. Placing my knees on either side of his hips, I lower myself down on his erection and grind against him as he kisses my neck.
“You’ve been a very naughty girl this year,” he says, reaching under my shirt to undo my bra. “Do you know what happens to naughty girls?”
“They get coal in their stockings?” I reply, snatching the Santa hat off his head and tossing it onto the floor so I can tangle my fingers in his silky hair.
“No, they get bananas in their creamy surprise.” He wraps his arm tightly around my waist, surprising me with his strength by carrying my full weight as he stands from the chair. “I’m sorry I freaked out yesterday when you were at the café.”
His words surprise me more than his strength.
“It’s okay,” I say as he gently sets me down on the carpet. “You wanted to see me on your lunch break. You were frustrated that I wasn’t there. It’s forgivable.”
“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have questioned you. I was just… a little stressed about this new job and I was taking it out on you. It was wrong. I’m sorry.”
I brush my fingers over his cheekbone. “Is everything okay at work?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he nods. “Just takes a little getting used to a new work culture. It’s… not the same as Intel, but I’ll get used to it. Anyway, enough about me. I just wanted to apologize, and now that I have, I want to make it up to you.”
He begins slowly undoing the button of my jeans. I smile as I help him out of his ridiculous Santa suit, until we’re both completely undressed. Once again, he surprises me by taking the lead and forcing me into the chair he just vacated. Then he kneels before me.
Liam has only performed oral sex on me once, and it wasn’t that great. Though I chalked that one up to the fact that it was almost pitch black in our bedroom. He probably couldn’t see very well. But it is definitely not dark in this room right now. He can see everything, which makes me more than a little nervous. No one other than Houston has ever seen me in the light of day in such a compromised position.
He spreads my knees apart and looks up at me with that perfect smile. “I hope you like tonight’s surprise. Tomorrow, I’ll give you your real Christmas present.” Then he lowers his mouth onto my throbbing center and my eyes roll back into my head.
I let out a soft whimper and reply, “I love it.”
December 31, 2014
I pull up to the curb next to the United Airlines check-in terminal and turn to Kenny. “Do you have everything you need? I mean, do you need money for cab fare or anything? My assistant took care of the flight. It’s first class, so feel free to get drunk on the plane.”
Kenny purses his lips as he stares at the revolving door leading into the terminal at Portland International Airport. “Houston, you’re making me feel like a whore or a slave. A slave-whore to Operation Gay Agenda. This is not the way it’s supposed to feel.”
“Sorry, I just… I don’t want anything to go wrong.”
He turns in his seat and stares at me for a moment before he sighs. “Oh, the things I do for you and Rory. I could be home, sipping hot toddies with a hot Toddie, and Rory would be coming to me.”
“Kenny, we went over this. I need you to go to her. I need you to make sure she’s okay.”
He purses his lips again. “She’s fine. As we speak, she’s probably huddled safely in the arms of the lumberjack.” He sings the last six words to the tune of “Angel” by Sarah McLachlan.
I clench my jaw and take a deep breath so I don’t fly off the handle. “Don’t say stuff like that. You make me want to get on that plane with you and that would not turn out well.”
He rolls his eyes. “I was just trying to draw a comparison between Rory and an abused shelter dog.”
I fix him with a searing glare to let him know I’m getting dangerously close to calling off the whole operation.
“I’m kidding,” he insists. “Rory’s more like an adorably helpless lost puppy who was taken into a stranger’s home, but not abused.”
“Okay, I think we get the point. Let’s just drop the comparison.”
“Okay.” He slings the strap of his carry-on bag over his shoulder and reaches for the door handle. “I’ll report back to you tomorrow.”
“Tonight.”
He rolls his eyes again and grumbles his agreement. “Tonight.”
I watch as he heads into the terminal, my stomach fluttering with anxiety, my mind drifting to sickening thoughts of Rory curled up in Liam’s arms. Is she really safe with Liam? If she is, is it time I let her go?
A car horn blasts me back into the present moment and I quickly set off out of the airport, toward Barley Legal headquarters in Northwest Portland. When I arrive at the pub on the first floor, I find Troy holding a meeting with the servers in the kitchen. He’s going over the agenda for tonight’s Barley Legal New Year’s Eve party. It’s only our second year doing it, so the servers have to be prepared for the madness that’s going to descend upon this building in about six hours.
“There are four holiday cocktails that Wilma created just for tonight: the Holiday Ménage, Absolutly Legal, the Portland Legspreader, and Just the Tip for the Bartender. They’re not the same drinks as last year, so make sure you learn the specials before the doors open,” Troy says, scrolling through the notes on his iPad. “And we’re running low on bottles of Red Light District, but we still have it on tap.”
“Denny from Cascade sent us a few cases of blackberry ale. We can offer that if we run out of Red Light,” I say, grabbing the plate of pizza the cook just handed to me.
Chef Ramos knows I don’t have Tessa to cook for me anymore, so I’ve been eating in the restaurant a lot. I’ve had to ramp up my workout routine and substitute some meals with protein shakes so I don’t gain weight from this new diet of pizza and burgers. I fucking hate being a bachelor.
Troy watches me scarf
down a slice of pepperoni pizza, almost in awe. “Blackberry ale and cranberry cider are not exactly the same thing, but I guess there’s no harm in offering.” He turns back to the servers and waves them off. “Go see Wilma and get to work. And don’t forget, it ain’t fun unless it’s Barley Legal.”
Everyone rolls their eyes at Troy’s cheesy tagline, then they head out into the dining area to see Wilma, the head bartender.
Troy watches as I wolf down my second slice. “Are you training for a fucking eating competition? Slow the fuck down.”
“I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day,” I reply through a mouthful of food.
He shakes his head. “You need a girlfriend. Or you need to get laid.”
I set down the plate of pizza on the stainless steel prep station and wipe the grease from my lips with a napkin. “You don’t know what the fuck I need. Besides, I have a girl. She’s just temporarily indisposed.”
“Have you invited Rory to my wedding?”
“No, I haven’t spoken to her.”
He shakes his head in dismay, as if I’m a total fucking amateur. “Then give me her fucking address and I’ll send her the invitation myself.”
“Don’t tell me Tessa’s making your invitations.”
He glares at me with utter incredulity. “Are you fucking kidding me? I wouldn’t let her within a hundred miles of my wife.”
I shrug. “A hundred miles is hardly an obstacle for Tessa. You’d need at least a thousand miles and a unit of Navy SEALs to stop her.”
“Bullshit. All I’d need is one clone of you to distract her.”
I shake my head. “Damn. How I wish that were a joke.”
“She hasn’t contacted you?”
I lean back against the steel prep table. “She’s trying to get me to go to her niece’s birthday party. Don’t get me wrong, Morgan’s cute as shit. Great kid. But she’s not mine. I’ve got enough girls in my life to drive me crazy without feeling responsible for some kid I’ve hung out with three times in the last year.”
“Don’t let her get to you, man. First it’s the guilt, then she starts asking for small favors, then she’s calling you just to chat and showing up at your work… Just cut her off.”
“I did. But she keeps calling me from different phone numbers. One time she called me from her mom’s phone. Then her cousin’s phone. Then she changed her number and called me from her new phone. I can’t fucking keep up.”
“Just get a fucking restraining order.”
“I can’t do that. She could lose her job and then she’ll really come after me. At least now she’s got a steady job to keep her busy forty hours a week. That’s forty hours I don’t have to worry about her.”
“What about when Rory comes back? What do you think Tessa’s going to do if she catches you two together?”
“I hope she knows better than to go near Rory again, because I won’t hesitate to take her down if she threatens Rory.”
Troy shakes his head as he makes his way toward the dining room. “You’re so fucked.”
Ten hours, five double IPAs, and one glass of champagne later, I’m blasted out of my gourd. I’ve hardly been drinking lately, so the IPAs hit me hard. But it’s the one glass of champagne innocently handed to me by one of the new servers that tips me over the edge.
Troy pulls me toward the front corner of the brewhouse where we’ve set the 66-inch TV screen jutting out of the wall above us to a countdown clock. Troy’s fiancée, Georgia, clumsily climbs the steps onto the small stage we sometimes use for live entertainment. Troy wraps his arm around her shoulders and plants a hard kiss on her cheek. She pretends to wipe it away as if she’s grossed out. I can’t hear what she’s saying over the music and the roar of voices in the pub, but as I watch them, I find myself wondering what Rory’s doing right now and why Kenny hasn’t called me yet.
The countdown begins at sixty seconds to midnight, and my pickled brain is having a hard time keeping up. I glance around the room, blinking furiously to keep the spinning to a minimum. Then I see her.
The count is at twenty seconds and she’s shoving her way through the drunken crowd as if it were a sea of puppies and she were Cruella de Vil. Actually, come to think of it, Cruella would be a great nickname for Contessa.
Ten, nine, eight, seven…
She climbs up the steps onto the stage and smiles as she saunters toward me. A glowing million-watt smile that reminds me of the way she looked on our wedding day.
Four, three, two…
December 31, 2014
Kenny sets his bag down on the bed in the newly furnished spare bedroom and looks around. “It’s perfect,” he says, though his smile looks a bit forced.
I wait for him to say the room is perfect just like me, the way he normally finishes that statement, but he just smiles and waits for me to respond. I didn’t realize how much I’ve come to rely on Kenny’s positive affirmations until now.
“Great!” I reply, ignoring the burning emptiness in the pit of my belly. “I guess I should offer you a drink or something. That would be the hostess-y thing to do, right?”
He glances at Liam, who’s standing right behind me in the doorway, then he looks back at me. “Aurora, can we please chat first? In private?”
The burning emptiness swirls into a sinking feeling. “Sure.”
I look to Liam and he flashes me a tight smile before heading down the hallway toward the kitchen. When I turn back to Kenny, his smile is gone. Why do I have a feeling he didn’t offer to come here to save me the plane fare?
“What do you want to talk about?” I ask, using the heel of my boot to push the bedroom door closed behind me.
He pulls off his gray scarf and sits on the edge of the double bed, patting the mattress for me to join him. Taking a seat next to Kenny, I begin to feel like a teenager about to be chastised for coming home too late on a school night. Kenny reaches out and threads his fingers through mine, squeezing my hand gently. A small gesture to assure me that, despite what he’s about to say, he has the best intentions.
“How have you been, gorgeous?”
I glance sideways and he’s wearing a soft smile that instantly breaks down my defenses. “I’m fine,” I assure him, my voice taut with emotion. I try to swallow the knot in my throat, to make a second attempt at this lie, but the lump only grows painfully. “I’m just a little homesick.”
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close so he can kiss my temple. “Honey, it’s okay to miss your home.” He wraps his other arm around me and squeezes. “It’s also okay to admit you made a mistake.”
And just like that, my defenses are rock solid again. I gently push him off me and stand from the bed.
“Can we please not go there?” I say, already heading for the door.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he says, jumping off the bed and beating me to the door. “I’m a jerk. I shouldn’t have said that.” He turns his face sideways and taps his jaw with his index finger. “Go ahead. Slap me like a soap opera star so we can both feel better.”
I try not to smile, but it’s impossible. “Get out of my way. We’re supposed to be getting drunk. Not crying and slapping each other.”
“You are one million percent correct, as usual. Let’s go get Liam drunk so we can spank him instead.”
“I think he might go for that.”
He smacks my arm. “Don’t corrupt me. Besides, I’d much rather spank you. You naughty little minx.”
I sigh as I smile up at him. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you like crazy. Zucker’s is so dreary without the glow of my precious Aurora.” He reaches up and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Jamie hired a new cashier to replace the guy who replaced you then quit a month later. The new girl has red hair almost exactly like yours, and she’s totally boring. I think Jamie misses you, too.”
“Are you saying I’m boring?”
He flashes me a radiant smile then takes me into a bone-crushing hug. “You’re the lea
st boring, most screwed-up girl I know.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, letting me go. “Now let’s get you drunk so I can take advantage of you.”
Opening the door for us, I head into the kitchen with Kenny following close behind. Liam is rearranging the food in the fridge to make room for the beer and champagne we bought on the way home from the airport. He sees us enter behind him and offers us a couple of bottles of Pliny the Elder. I don’t say it aloud, but in my head I’m thinking how this is one of Houston’s favorite beers.
Kenny, Liam, and I decide to stay safe and low key tonight and we celebrate the New Year at home with Pliny, Ryan Seacrest (on mute), Kenny’s Sinatra playlist, and Cards Against Humanity. Liam and I sit on the sofa while Kenny sits cross-legged on the floor, collecting the cards from each round. When Liam dazzles me with the winning combination of [Oedipus complex] + [kid-tested, mother-approved], I lean over and tug his beard to show my appreciation for his literary acumen.
He smiles as he leans in to kiss me. “I should break out my knowledge in traumatizing ancient literature more often.” He stands from the sofa. “But right now, it’s time for me to drain the lizard.”
Kenny watches Liam as he heads for the hallway, turning to me the moment he’s gone. “What time is it?”
I dig my phone out from between the sofa cushions. “It’s 11:23. Why?”
He reaches for the bottle of Jim Beam on the coffee table and pours me a double shot. “Here. You’re not drunk enough.”
I cock an eyebrow as I take the shot glass from him. “I’m just buzzed enough to not question your motives right now.”
“Drink,” he urges me on.
I down the double shot of Jim and instantly reach for my bottle of room-temperature Pliny to chase away the biting alcohol flavor. “There. Are you going to seduce me now?”
“Oh, you wish,” Kenny replies, then he purrs at me. “I’m just trying to get you drunk so you can drunk-dial your ex.”
“What?” I ask, my drunk brain having trouble deducing whether this is a joke.
