Bad Boys for Hire_Nick_Christmas Holiday

by Rachelle Ayala

  This Christmas Eve.

  Nick stood at the side of the road staring after them as the ambulance departed for the hospital.

  “Hey, get a shirt on.” Sam threw a black police issued t-shirt at him. “Let’s give you a ride back in the squad car. That’ll shock Heather some.”

  “Hopefully not enough to make her go into labor,” Nick said, and both Sam and his partner laughed.

  “So, it’s now Saint Nick, is it?” Sam teased. “I think I’m going blind with the way your halo glows.”

  Forty-One

  Carol huddled under a comforter in front of her lonely Christmas tree. It was Christmas Eve, and she had made the worst mistake of her life.

  While the rest of her family crowded into Ken and Jolie’s house: two sets of parents and stepparents, Ken, Marisa, Jason, and Jolie, all she had were her memories of Nick, and the tree he helped her put up, and her wheelchair.

  Everything she said in her speech was a lie. She wasn’t brave and eager to take on the world. She hadn’t jumped out of airplanes, trekked to the highest mountains, surfed other than on Ken’s back, and skied down treacherous slopes.

  She’d become a wheelchair bound grump, and every day, it was getting harder and harder for her to fake that she was making it, that her life was perfect, that she was winning, that she could be an inspiration to others.

  She couldn’t even inspire herself.

  “Knock, knock.” Leanna’s voice sounded through her front door.

  Carol closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep, fortifying breath. Leanna was wonderful, rambunctious, peppy, and full of life. She was either here for gossip, or she’d heard about the commotion with Ken punching out Nick.

  That had been the talk of the family after Nick left. Everyone hailed her brother the hero for defending his sister’s honor, and even Marisa and Jason got in on the action, saying they heard all about Brianna’s plot to expose Nick while sitting at the same table as her and her firefighters.

  Of course, none of the firefighters had gone home with her. They told Jason later that Brianna disgusted them with the way she’d smeared Nick and tried to ruin his reputation.

  Problem was, the damage had been done. Her family was one hundred percent, well, maybe not Marisa, but everyone else was against Nick.

  Carol wheeled herself to the door and let Leanna in.

  “I’ve brought cupcakes!” she chortled. “Santa and Mrs. Claus cupcakes. There’s even Santa Boy, Santa Girl, and Santa Baby ones, too. A whole family of cupcakes.”

  “Oh, well, thanks.” Carol followed Leanna into the kitchen. “I’m not sure I can eat all of these myself.”

  “You won’t have to.” Leanna fluttered around her kitchen table. She hadn’t finished her sentence when the doorbell rang again.

  “I thought I told everyone I wanted to be alone,” Carol said. “I couldn’t sleep last night and I doubt I’ll be good company.”

  Leanna hummed merrily while taking out mugs and putting coffee into the coffee maker.

  Carol opened the door and Nikki glided in with a sleeping bag and a plastic bin full of craft materials. “Happy Christmas Eve, Carol.”

  “Aren’t you all tired from last night? Didn’t you all have dates?” Carol yawned and blinked as her friend set the plastic bin on the floor of the living room and threw her sleeping bag onto the couch.

  Since Carol hadn’t closed the door, a trample of additional footsteps clambered through the doorway. Terri, Jolie, and Sherelle completed the ensemble of Bumblebees.

  “For you, dear Carol.” Terri’s face was partially hidden by a large centerpiece of lilies, poinsettias, pine branches, and mistletoe sprigs. She set it on Carol’s lap.

  “I, well, thanks, but this will be wasted here since I’m having Christmas alone.”

  Terri raised an eyebrow, while Jolie bent over and gave Carol a hug. “Ken was being an idiot last night. I’m so sorry.”

  “I thought he was quite gallant, saving his sister from the ogre,” Carol said, as her stomach clenched. “At least that’s what the parents think.”

  “Who cares what they think? What’s important is what you think and feel.” She poked Carol’s breastbone. “And we’re here to find out.”

  “Find out what?” Carol caught a smirk from Sherelle who was ordering an employee to set aluminum pans of food on Carol’s overloaded kitchen table.

  “Why’d you let the best thing in your life go?” Sherelle asked. “We’re not leaving until you convince us he’s a load of crock.”

  She also had a sleeping bag rolled up under her arm.

  “So, you all are invading my place?” Carol spread her hands out, surveying the bustle of activity. “To have an intervention?”

  “When one of us is hurting, all of us are hurting.” Leanna squeezed Carol’s shoulder. “We Bumblebees have a hive mentality.”

  “Right, so let’s break out the cupcakes, coffee, and snacks and you can tell us everything.” Nikki set down a tray of coffee mugs onto the coffee table.

  Leanna handed Carol a cupcake, one with a Santa’s face, while Sherelle switched on the Christmas lights. Jolie selected a playlist of Christmas carols, and Terri lit evergreen scented candles.

  After everyone had their snacks and coffee, they sat in front of the coffee table and stared at Carol.

  What could she say or do? They were her dear friends and they weren’t leaving until she figured this thing out.

  “Where do I start?” Carol asked. “So much has happened since I met Nick. I didn’t particularly like him at first. He was arrogant and hot-blooded. He made me feel things, and I thought he thought of me as a challenge.”

  “But you got past all that,” Sherelle said. “At least from the body language between you two last night. You two clicked. What happened after that?”

  Carol’s hands trembled and she stared at them, unable to meet her friends’ gazes. “I let him down. My mother and stepmother had a run in with Brianna in the women’s room. She told them everything about Nick, his past, his job as an escort, and then Ken punched Nick out. My father and stepfather got into it, and everyone made me feel like I had compromised myself by dating a guy who had sex for money.”

  “Had as in past tense,” Nikki pointed out. “Do you believe he’ll continue to rent himself out?”

  “I heard he quit Bad Boys for Hire,” Jolie said. “When I went to the website last night, his profile and all the reviews were deleted.”

  “That’s good.” Carol heaved a sigh. “Because Brianna told Mom and Amelia to look at his reviews.”

  “His last job for them was last night,” Terri said. “When I hired Nick to be the Santa, Rex told me Nick had quit, but I asked Rex to ask Nick anyway, knowing that maybe he’d do it for us, as a special.”

  “Back to the question,” Nikki said. “Do you believe Nick will continue to have sex for money?”

  “No, he would not.” Carol knew it in her heart the way she knew that she would never sell her body.

  “What made him change?” Nikki persisted. The woman should have been an attorney instead of a photographer and travel blogger.

  “He’s not as insecure as when I first met him.” Carol rubbed her own arms and hugged herself. “He’s changed. I think he used to love being the bad boy of his family. Middle child syndrome, maybe. And he thought it was a harmless way to make money. Of course, he said they signed waivers and they didn’t directly pay for sex, but his training fees were over the top, and well, we know why he had so many of them as clients. I think he was already put on warning and he started to realize it was not an honest way to live. Plus the Brianna mess.”

  “So, if he’s not going back to that lifestyle, what’s the problem?” Nikki concluded, folding her arms and blinking at Carol as if she were an idiot.

  “It’s not him. It’s me.” Carol bowed her head in her hands. “I can’t help feeling that I wouldn’t have gone out with a guy like that if I hadn’t been in a wheelchair. I never went for the bad
boys or the guys who slept around. I preferred the quiet types, the outdoorsy ones who liked to climb mountains and hike.”

  “Like the guy who didn’t even have the decency to visit you once after you broke your back?” Jolie nailed it, thumping her coffee mug on the table.

  “Right, he was a jerk. But the thing is, I never went for the flashy guys, the ones with the tattoos, the ones with all the women clawing all over them. I hate the drama that goes with it. I never liked bad boys.” Carol wasn’t sure her friends understood her because they were exactly the types who were attracted to the dramatic ones with the overload of testosterone.

  “Do you feel you have good judgment?” Sherelle handed her a plate full of finger foods. “Are you a good judge of character?”

  “What kind of question is that?” Carol shot Sherelle a sideways glance. “Of course I am.”

  “But were you a better judge of character before you were injured?” Sherelle stood in front of her like a cross-examining attorney. “This is important, because if you were, let’s say more astute, more intuitive, smarter, and more able to think for yourself before you became a wheelchair user, than you can’t trust us either.”

  “Right,” Jolie chimed in. “We met you after you were already in a wheelchair.”

  “That’s right,” Nikki said. “I remember rooming with you in Hawaii, and maybe I was fake nice to you because I felt sorry for you.”

  “Yes, and I thought Ken was so heroic because of the way he cared for you.” Jolie pointed her finger up toward the ceiling. “I unfairly gave Ken angel wings for the way he treated you. Maybe it was all an act. Ken milking his paralyzed sister to get into my panties.”

  “You know that’s not true.” Carol gaped at the two friends who she spent a wonderful Hawaiian vacation with. “Ken is the sweetest guy even before my accident. He was always considerate.”

  “So is Nick, from what I can see,” Terri said. “He was so cute coming into the flower shop to buy you those roses. Even though I gave him the fifth degree, he said he was afraid he had hurt your feelings by putting work ahead of you. You read his card. He’s devoted to you, and in my neck of the woods, you don’t throw that kind of devotion away.”

  “But that’s the point. He’s perfect,” Carol argued. “He’s perfect for me, but what am I to him? I hate to break it to you, but I’m not the winner who does all the sporty things while in a wheelchair. I’m not satisfied to sit in this thing the rest of my life. And I just don’t think Nick should settle for someone whose every day is a struggle. I’m not the person I portray to all of you, and I think Nick knows that. He knows I’m weak and vulnerable, and I don’t want to involve him in my drama.”

  “Oh, honey, we all have drama,” Terri drawled and pulled Carol into a soft, warm hug. “One day, I’ll sit you down and tell you what happened when I met Ryker, and an entire family feud exploded. The aftermath wasn’t pretty at all, but Ryker and I love each other, and that’s all that matters.”

  “You know about my drama,” Jolie said. “The busted wedding, my OCD, my allergies, and how I couldn’t trust Ken to love me with all my issues.”

  “I have my drama and things I’d rather not talk about,” Leanna said, her eyes tearing. “It’s why I can’t open up and trust. I flirt but I don’t let anyone get close.”

  “Same here,” Nikki said. “I tell myself I’m too busy to get into a relationship, but the truth is, I hate all the game playing, so I find fault with every guy to get out of it.”

  All they got from Sherelle was a big humph. Sherelle, who had brought an unknown guy to the party last night, instead of her stalwart friend, Gage.

  “So, the decision is really up to you,” Nikki concluded. “And if you can’t figure it out, maybe being in a wheelchair has screwed you up more than we thought.”

  “Use your heart, not your head.” Jolie patted the arm of her wheelchair. “Why don’t you get out of that thing and we’ll unroll the sleeping bags and have a slumber party?”

  “This early?” Carol glanced at the wall clock, which showed it to be around lunch time.

  “Yes, and we can write letters to Santa, and bake cookies.” Nikki opened the plastic box of supplies.

  “Watch all the Christmas movies you want.” Sherelle went to Carol’s DVD cabinet and browsed through them.

  “That reminds me.” Carol slapped her forehead. “I don’t have a present for Nick other than what I got at the sex toy shop. It was a joke, but now, he wouldn’t find it so funny.”

  “Sex toy?” All the Bumblebees stared at her and laughed.

  “Yes, it was really kind of silly.” Carol wheeled around them and went to her closet to find the bag of goodies. “I got stuff for all of you, too.”

  “You did?” Leanna followed after her. “But yesterday, when Nick handed out the gifts—”

  “My entire bag is missing!” Carol stared at the empty spot in her closet. “I had everything labeled and I just hadn’t wrapped them yet.”

  “I have a feeling Marisa wrapped them and put them in the sacks last night,” Sherelle said. “After Leanna opened hers and waved her Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Dildo around, we all decided not to open ours.”

  “Ahem, I collected yours and Nick’s from the table,” Nikki said. “So you really do have a present for him. Don’t worry, let’s cut out paper snowflakes and decorate this place and get it all ready for Santa.”

  Carol didn’t think Nick would appreciate the pocket pussy toy or the penis vacuum, now that she’d basically cut him off by the balls. She hadn’t meant that he wasn’t good enough for her, but only that his type wasn’t her usual choice.

  Her stomach roiled and her chest ached at the memory of him leaving last night, without agreeing to be friends. Why couldn’t he give her time to find out about herself? To convince herself that she wasn’t clouding all her decisions around the fact that she was paralyzed?

  Joining her friends on the floor, she eased herself off the chair and dragged herself over the sleeping bags to the coffee table.

  For the next six hours, they cut snowflakes, made wine cork angels and reindeer, strung garlands of popcorn and cranberries, drank hot chocolate and apple cider, watched movie after movie, ate, drank, gossiped, giggled, and baked and frosted cookies for Santa.

  Carol had never felt like she belonged to any group as much as she did with her dearest friends, but when evening came, one by one, they kissed her and said they had places to go—family dinners, church services, and other events.

  They helped her straighten up her apartment and take out the trash, but left their sleeping bags, promising to come back if she needed them.

  “Come back to my place for dinner,” Jolie said. “Mom, Amelia, Dad, and Bob texted, and they said they miss you. Ken’s sorry he decked Nick.”

  “I’m not sure I have the strength.” Carol wiped her eyes. “I hate facing them when they think so lowly of Nick.”

  “They promised they won’t mention him.”

  Carol shook her head. “I appreciate them coming up to surprise me, but I feel like a phony. Maybe tomorrow, I can muster up some Christmas cheer, but tonight, I need to go to sleep early.”

  “Okay, then, Merry Christmas Eve.” Jolie kissed her on both cheeks. “Don’t forget to leave milk and cookies out for Santa.”

  She winked and waved from the doorway.

  It was only later, right before she went to bed, that Carol realized she couldn’t find her letter to Santa. She dutifully left her milk and cookies out, as per their family tradition, and retired early to her room with no visions of sugarplums or anything else dancing in her head.

  Forty-Two

  Nick’s entire family sat around the firepit after a Christmas Eve meal of grilled rotisserie rib roast and chickens. Even though it was drizzling on and off, the men had the grill going and the food flowing.

  His brother Bryce had a rare Christmas leave, and his parents and Heather’s parents and siblings were all present as the elders swapped stories of th
eir life growing up and talked about their brave Comanche ancestors, who lived free on the plains and plagued the early settlers.

  As the fire died down, the stories took a turn to the present day, and each person was supposed to add a story to the family lore. Sam told one of making a traffic stop. They had chased an SUV which ran a red light and fit the description of a vehicle involved in an armed robbery. Instead of pulling over, the SUV drove along as if nothing was happening. Finally, they set up a road block and surrounded the SUV with guns trained. It turned out to be a group of nuns. They were on their way to visit a dying bishop and thought they had a police escort.

  “Did you ticket the nuns?” one of the uncles asked.

  “No, they playfully slapped our wrists and prayed for us,” Sam said. “But we did catch the robbery suspects a few minutes later when they stopped at a convenience store.”

  “Who’s next?” their father asked, looking at Nick. “You must have some fun stories to tell, working out with rich ladies.”

  Nick wasn’t in the mood, but he wasn’t going to dampen his family’s evening. Storytelling was a big deal with his clan, and every story became part of the fabric of his heritage.

  He cast in his mind for something humorous, like Sam’s story, but came up empty. “This isn’t really a story, but I know what I want to do with my life.”

  “That’s wonderful,” his mother said. “Tell us.”

  “I met a woman who told me that I’m really good at helping people. I’m attentive and calm, but take charge when I need to. I think I’m going to be a paramedic.” A peace settled over his heart as he verbalized what he’d been considering.

  “You’re not joining the police academy?” Sam interrupted.

  “No. That’s your thing, not mine.” He warmed his hands close to the fire. “I delivered a baby today at the side of the road, and when the paramedics pulled up, I said to myself, I can be one of them.”

  “Sam was talking about it all day,” Heather said. “Why don’t you tell us what happened? I’ve already heard the version where his partner almost shot you.”