All I Want for Christmas
2nd Day of Christmas
Hadley Raydeen
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Author Hadley Raydeen Appreciates You!
About the Author
Prologue
Bryson- Five Years Ago
“What the hell is this?” My father stormed around his office, waving what appeared to be the morning paper in hand. At this hour of the morning, I was too bleary-eyed to see or much less care. My head felt like a bunch of ant-men were marching around inside my skull, jackhammering away, and my mouth was drier than the Sahara Desert in August. And, he wanted answers? Now, of all times, I needed to explain myself, yet again, to dear ol’ Dad.
Fat chance, man.
But, I knew better than to go there with him, when his face was red as fire, and his blood pressure clearly surpassed anything considered safe. I could tell by the bulging vein in his forehead, it was no time for my usual snark.
“Dad.” I held up a hand. “You are making way more out of…whatever it is you are talking about, then what’s really…um, you know…what needs to be…” I waved my hand in the air, willing my foggy brain to clear, so I could complete a damn sentence.
God, I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about.
I was drunk as shit; l mean, beyond blitzed, and feeling every part of the epic hangover that would come in the morning...or was it already morning?
Hmm.
I looked over at the windows.
Yep, looked like morning.
I hadn’t even been to bed yet from the night before. But, the damn birds were already up and chirping.
How could I even hear that?
That couldn’t be birds in the middle of December when it’s snowy out. They had to be hibernating or something.
Oh, it’s just the coo-coo clock on Dad’s mantle, indicating the time.
It seemed like the volume was cranked to the max when I wanted it silent. I needed a quiet room and sleep and—
God, my head.
“Bryson, are you even listening to me?” My father snapped his fingers in front of my face, and I made an attempt to look up at him.
Well, that was a mistake.
I immediately put my head back down.
“Jacob, just let him sleep it off, Dear. You can read him the riot act once he sobers up. This isn’t doing any good. He can barely lift his head.” My mother’s calming voice reached my ears at a volume level I could handle.
Thank God for mothers.
She sat across the room in her favorite chair, legs crossed at the ankles, wearing her favorite light pink, fluffy robe wrapped around her body. She sipped what I imagined was hot tea. It was her go-to morning beverage. She glowered at my father over her reading glasses, a discarded book in her lap.
How could she read this early, with my dad carrying on like he was? It was beyond my inebriated comprehension at the moment. But, leave it to Mom to catch up on her literary pleasures, while the love of her life put a foot up my ass.
Just another Tillerman household, Saturday morning…early morning too freaking early.
I tried to count the bird chirps, but my head was spinning. I think it rang six times. I’d left the bar around 1:00 A.M.
Well, there was that after hour spot at the mall with Tanya.
The sound of my father’s voice cut through my thoughts about my girlfriend; I use that term loosely.
“You baby him too much, Diane. He is damn near thirty...”
I wasn’t. I’d just turned twenty-six... I guess that’s close to thirty, but I still had time before, ‘It all goes downhill from here.’ as Dad liked to put it.
I’d just finished my MBA, and it was my birthday. A group of my friends and grad-school cohorts decided to go out and celebrate. I tried to shrug, but that wasn’t happening, not when my shoulders felt like 100-pound weights were pulling me down.
But, what the hell; I was allowed to celebrate. I knew it would be my last night of freedom before I was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the family business.
My father owned just about every property in this town. You couldn’t throw a rock without hitting a property he’d flipped, owned, sold, or leased out. Now that I, his deviant, wild child, had finally gone off and got his education like a good son, I’d be part of the long legacy of Tillerman men doing as Father instructs.
I tried to plant a smirk on my face, but I’m sure I looked more like a cross between a fish and a platypus. My mother shook her head at me while Dad looked like he could strangle me with his bare hands.
“I’m going to get him some coffee,” my mother mumbled, laying the book on the table by the fireplace, before standing and shuffling across the room in her fluffy slippers.
“Can you bring back an aspirin or...five, Ma? My head kills right now.”
“Well, I’d say so. When the cops found you, you’d made your way to the bottom of a bottle of Jameson. You were passed out in your car in the mall parking lot.” She turned to me.
“Holy shit. I drank that whole bottle of J?” I quipped.
“Bryson Nicholas Tillerman, I swear to God, if you don’t straighten this nonsense up!” My mother stomped a fluffy covered foot on the hardwood floor, which was so out of character for her. I was used to my dad ranting, but to see my mother raise her voice, calling me by my first and middle name; I’d gone a step too far. “You just turned twenty-six-years-old. You just graduated with honors, with your MBA, and what do you do? You-you...go out and act like a fool! And now, you are making jokes! You had me worried sick!” My mother’s voice cracked as she teared up, sobering me up quicker than any coffee could. In the past, I’d ticked my father off just for sport, but my mother had always quietly had my back. I’d overplayed my hand, and I felt as small as the ant-men inside my skull.
“Ma, no, please don’t cry. Come on, I’m sorry.” I tried to stand, but the floor spun underneath me, and my dad caught my elbow as I slid back into the chair.
“Go ahead and get the coffee and pain meds, Honey. I’ll deal with this.” My dad’s voice had calmed down when he saw the state his wife was in. She put a hand to her mouth, suppressing a sob, and left the room.
“Damn it. I didn’t mean for—”
“Actions have consequences, son.” My father sat in the chair next to me and tossed the newspaper into my lap. “You made the front page again.”
Golden Boy, Bryson Tillerman
Found Deep in the Drink.
“Shit,” I mumbled.
“Shit, indeed,” Dad grumbled with a nod.
I’d been well known around this town, having been a football star in high school and the heir to Tillerman Property Development; everyone knew my name. This news would spread like wildfire.
“Did they arrest me?” I asked, putting my hand to my head. “Mom mentioned the cops?”
“No. Your officer friend Julian Bower was on duty tonight, and he got your ass out of there before any other officers came on the scene to write up a report. He drove you back
here, instead of your apartment. Your car is still in the lot at the mall.”
“That old, run-down shit hole Parkway Central Mall? What in the world was I doing there?” I asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine, son.”
“Where is Tanya?”
“Hmm, Frank already called me. They are on their way over. I’m guessing she can shed some light on what happened.”
Frank Cavanaugh was Tanya’s father and one of my dad’s best friends. They had done business together in the past, investing in some properties together. Their friendship had pushed Tanya and me together since their family had spent Christmas and vacations with us often over the years. It was sort of an unwritten rule that Tanya and I would end up together. But, she was a spoiled brat. The luster of her being the first girl I’d felt up had worn off a decade ago. She was not right for me. We’d just stuck together all this time because our dads were still friends.
“I sure as hell hope you weren’t driving drunk, because I did not raise you like that,” my dad continued.
I tried to remember, but it was all hazy. “I think Tanya drove us there,” I responded.
“Well, where was she when the cops arrived?” Dad asked.
Good ass question.
My mother entered the room with a tray topped with a massive mug of steamy liquid, a glass of water, and a bottle of painkillers.
God bless her soul.
“Look who stopped by,” my mother said through clenched teeth. She set the tray down on the table next to me. Snagging the bottle of aspirin, she yanked the cap off and dumped one, two, three of the pills in the lid before handing it and the glass of water to me.
I looked up as Frank Cavanaugh entered the room; Tanya flaunted in behind, popping her gum and flipping her bleached blonde hair. She’d never been shy about the way she dressed in skin-tight and too short clothes. It’s what attracted me to her in high school when I’d gone through puberty and just the sight of her gave me a boner. She’d been fun and allowed me to explore. When she’d followed me to college, the appeal had started to fizzle; especially after senior year in high school, when she’d been one of those ‘mean girls’ to everyone.
She’d lured me back in when we hooked up at college graduation. We were on-again-off-again, putting on an act for our fathers. She wanted to get her MBA but decided to take some time off, before she went back to school, while I’d decided to go straight through. The sooner my schooling was finished, the sooner I could start making some real money and maybe move out of this town for good.
“What the hell happened to you last night?” I barked at her, swallowing the three pills back and gulping the water down.
“Bryson.” My father cast a warning glance in my direction.
Tanya twirled her hair and looked around the room, cracking that annoying gum I’d asked her to throw away half the night while we were out.
“You were so drunk, Brys. I got an alert on my phone that there was a checkpoint, so I pulled into the mall parking lot. I thought you could sleep it off before we got pulled over for a DUI.”
At least she was smart enough to think of that.
“I was gonna call for help...but, the nightclub in the mall was letting out right when we got there and—”
“Is that how the paper got the picture of him?” It was my mother’s turn to snap. She didn’t much care for Tanya but treated her nice enough since her family was friends with my father.
Tanya glanced at my mother, shooting her a look that would have earned me a swat to the back of the head if I tried it.
“I mean, I guess. I didn’t know people took pics and sent them to the newsroom floor that quick.” She looked at my father, apologetically. I knew that look. She was trying to earn brownie points because she knew she was wrong for leaving me.
“Where did you go, Tanya?” I asked, getting annoyed; she was leaving out important details.
“I hopped in a rideshare. I knew a few of the people leaving the club. I went with them.”
“So, you called the police on Bryson, but you Ubered home?” My mother stepped toward Tanya.
“Diane.” My father stood in front of my mother before she could advance farther.
“I’m just trying to understand the details, Jacob.” My mom threw a glance around my father.
“The police showed?” Tanya asked. She looked like it was the first time hearing anything about that. She looked a little too happy at the possibility of the 5-0 finding me passed out in my car.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Yea, Jules Bower brought me home. You called him, right?”
“Jules is our friend. He wouldn’t arrest you. Look, I care about you, Brys. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” Tanya rolled her eyes.
I shook my head, not wanting to get into it with her right now. I just didn’t have the energy, and she wasn’t worth the little I had left.
“Well, I think you both better get cleaned up. You have work in…” My father looked at the time over the mantle. “Two hours.”
“What? Work?” Tanya and I said in unison.
“Dad, it’s 6:30 A.M. on a Saturday. You can’t be serious.” I reached for the cup of coffee on the table beside me.
“I’m as serious as that headache I’m sure you’re sporting, Son. You two partied hard last night, but now, I have a project for you. We start working on it today.”
“Dad, I’m in no shape to be working right now,” I protested. I tried to stand, but as I did, the doorbell rang.
“Who in the hell could that be? Diane, were you expecting someone?” my father asked.
“Of course not,” she responded.
“I swear to goodness, it better not be the press,” my father said, rushing into the foyer as the bell rang again.
Chapter One
Bryson- Present Day, 10 years later
“The numbers for quarter three are pretty dismal. It’s gonna take an act of God to pull this dump of a mall out of this mess.” Tanya rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair, crossing her arms in front of her.
Clara, my executive assistant, slid the tablet, with the accounting spreadsheets, from in front of Tanya over to me. She shot Clara an evil glare, but as always, the look was ignored. I sat at the head of the table in the conference room on the third floor of the city’s largest shopping mall. It happened to be the same mall I’d had my drunken episode the night of my twenty-six birthday. My father decided to buy the ‘rundown, piece of shit mall,’ as I so aptly called it back then, and handed it over to my merry band of misfit friends and me to turn back around again. I was finally over the age of thirty, thirty-six, to be exact. It had yet to ‘all go downhill,’ according to Dad. He was watching me every step of the way, though, no doubt waiting for me to screw this project up like only I could.
“I want to see what you are made of, Bryson. You have been in this business long enough and watched how I make this building development thing work. You will put this mall back on the map, no matter what. Do I make myself clear?”
I could just hear my father’s words, delivered as more of a demand and not an option. What does a Tillerman son say to their father when they are ordered to do something?
Aye-aye, Cap’n.
I released a deep sigh, steepling my fingers in front of my face. So far, we’d built this place back up from the ran-down shambles it was when I was in grad school back to the state it had been when I was in high school. The problem now, was getting the shoppers here. Online shopping was such a hit; no one wanted to trade their fuzzy slippers for the hustle and bustle of a mall, especially at Christmas time.
“I honestly think you can turn this place around, Bryson. I mean, look at what you’ve accomplished so far. The mall has never looked better. You have faithful tenants, with new ones signing leases every day. And, you are in the newspaper for something positive, now.” Clara pointed at the front of the same newspaper that had bashed me a decade before. Now, a more flattering picture and write up about how Tillerman
Development had renovated the space was the front-page news.
“You see that? You did that.” The older woman reached across the table and patted my hand. I grinned at her, feeling a bit of my confidence coming back. She was always good for a pep talk when I got down on myself.
I looked at the others sitting at the table, part of my management crew that had moved in to help me take over this place and turn it into a money-maker again. It was just a matter of how to do that in such a short period before Christmas. But Clara was right; we’d brought it too far, to leave it now.
“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Clara,” I said with a wink. The woman was old enough to be my mother, but she still blushed when I winked at her.
I chuckled and turned back to the others. “Well, you heard her, everyone. I’ll be damned if we are sitting in this same spot this time next year. I got my pops breathing down my neck over this mall. And, it’s not a ‘dump’, anymore.” I side-eyed Tanya, before continuing. “We have worked our asses off for this, and he is ready to see some return on the sizable investment Tillerman Development put in. Hell, I’m ready to see it, too; I’m sure the same for all of you.”
The crew around the table nodded in agreement. “We’ve been working together since that shit show of a night ten years ago. You helped with getting my name back in the good graces of this town and my father.” I shook my head. “Sure, we still have our work cut out for us if we want to see a return come in the new year. In front of you, in those folders, are your assignments. Clara has printed up some reports for us. These are the stores we need to look at; their profits have been down this last quarter. We need them to pick it up and find ways to get shoppers in here for that.”
All I Want for Christmas Page 1
