Annihilate Me 2: Holiday

by Christina Ross

  “Well, sweet baby Jesus,” Lisa said. “Blackwell never would have invited him if she didn’t feel that there was some sort of spark between them.”

  “Oh, there was a spark. First on the slopes, and then later at the bar.”

  “I’m missing everything!”

  “You don’t even know. Because you want to know what else you don’t know?”

  “And cry into my pillow because I’m missing it? Fine—torture me.”

  “Girl, you need to sit down for this one.”

  “I am sitting down.”

  “Then you need to lie flat on your back and get ready to take this one in the gut.”

  “Punch me!” she said.

  “Something is happening between Daniella and Cutter.”

  “Bullshit,” she said.

  “It’s true.”

  “What does that even mean? Daniella is a mess. Cutter knows that, and he’d never tolerate her even at her best—whatever that is. How can this even be?”

  I told her everything I knew, and about what I thought had brought them together at this point.

  “Well, when you put it like that, I have to say that it’s true,” she said. “More than any of us, Daniella was the one who was by his side the most when those motherfuckers returned him to us. And you’re right—he wasn’t completely out of it when we got him back. He must remember how Daniella was not only there for him, but also how she stepped up to help him. I remember several instances when she helped Tank clean his wound. It’s possible that Cutter remembers that, especially during those early days, before we thought that he was lost to us. So this is weirdly kind of making sense to me right now. Where do you think this is going to go?” she asked.

  “No idea, but they left for a walk hours ago, and they’ve yet to return. So, where did they go? Back to the Widowmaker Lounge to have a drink or two? That’s my bet—because it’s too damned cold here to be out in the elements for that long.”

  “Oh, my God—I totally remember that joint! We used to go to the Widowmaker whenever we had enough money to go to Sugarloaf to ski when we were in college. We used to work our asses off during the week at Pat’s Pizza just so we could go.”

  “We’ve come a long way, baby.”

  “And this baby has been put in a corner!” she said. “Jennifer, you have no idea. Harold and Ethel—especially Ethel—are making me feel inadequate on every level. I’ve got two more days to convince them that I’m the right woman for their son. But I’m telling you, it’s like the goddamned inquisition when it comes to those two. Where did I go to school? Oh, a state university, how disappointing because their son went to West Point. Why do I write about zombies? Oh, because I have nothing of substance to say that will better the world. Do I vote Republican? Not so much, which makes them all kinds of cagey. And by the way—as for Ethel? She wants to know whether I know how to bake a proper apple pie—and that’s where I’m going to hand that bitch her ass, because I do know how to make a fabulous apple pie, which she’s going to find out tomorrow. I’m going to crush her with my all-American apple pie. I might even put a fucking American flag right in the center of it! Hell, maybe I’ll find a Reagan doll while we’re here in Lincoln and stick it right beside the flag. And do you want to know what?”

  “What?”

  “To top it off, I’m going to make my own vanilla ice cream to go along with it. Homemade ice cream with fresh vanilla beans and all of that shit. I am so going to take her down, I can’t tell you.”

  “Is there any way that you could slip each of them a roofie while you’re there?”

  “Hilarious.”

  “Just trying for some levity!”

  “And I appreciate that. But moving on. How is the house that Alex rented?”

  “Beyond beyond.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  I told her everything.

  “I’m going to sound like a broken record, but God, I wish we were there with you.”

  “Look, you need to suck it up, sister. You’ve only got two more days, and you need to use your magic to convince Tank’s parents that you’re the one for him. So, get with it. Alex and I will spend New Year’s Eve with both of you. And who knows—maybe even Blackwell and Marcus will join us. Time will tell—in fact, I have a feeling that tonight is going to be a critical moment between those two. So, we’ll see. But just know that civilization is coming your way in a matter of three short days.”

  “Short?” she said. “Are you kidding me? Ethel knocks on our door at five in the morning singing ‘Rise and shine! Breakfast in thirty! Please leave the zombies at the door!’”

  “You are so lying about that last part.”

  “I wish I were, but I’m not. As successful as those books are, Harold and Ethel could give a damn about them because they can’t get over that I write about the undead.”

  “Well, then they’re just going to have to accept you for you, because you, my dear friend, are nothing short of a goddamn goldmine.”

  “Now you sound like Blackwell.”

  “Maybe so, but she’d agree. I know you’re worthy of Tank. All of your friends know that you’re worthy of Tank. And Tank certainly knows it. So, either they’re on board or not. If they are by the time you leave—great. But if they’re not, don’t you dare let that rattle you. I expect you to keep your chin up—do you hear me?”

  “I do. And I will. I’m not going to let those two ruin what I have with my man.”

  “Perfect.”

  “So, what else have you been doing today? I’m sure that you’re going to put on one mother of a Christmas Eve party—which I can’t attend! Sadness and woe!”

  “Girl, you do need a martini.”

  “You don’t even know, but Tank will soon be my savior when it comes to that. So, answer my question. Take me away from my life.”

  “Well, when you called, I was putting together a playlist for tonight’s party, and I have to tell you—some of the Christmas music was downright depressing, but not necessarily in a bad way. If you know what I mean.”

  “You were listening to Streisand again, weren’t you?”

  “You know me too well.”

  “Like the back of my hand. And that album is so beautiful and so powerful and so depressing, it’s enough to sucker punch anyone. I mean, my God—talk about going into a dark hole. Leave it to Babs to take us there. But I love that album as much as you do. After listening to it, you feel as if you want to cut your wrists, but you’re also happy that your life isn’t as grim as her vocals. I declare it the most fucked up and beautiful Christmas album ever to come from a Jew.”

  “You did not just say that.”

  “Well, it’s true. She is Jewish, after all—and there is a dichotomy there. And I’m not judging. Thank God she agreed to do that album. With that album alone, Streisand gave to all of us in ways that few ever have.”

  “It’s my favorite Christmas album of all time, but you already know that.”

  “When we were kids and had sleepovers over the holidays, I remember you sleeping with the album cover.”

  “You know—I think that I might have.”

  “You totally did. You hugged it close to your chest as if—well, as if you were holding Alex close to your chest right now.”

  “I don’t think that anyone will ever know just how deeply I’m in love with that man,” I said. “Maybe not even you. It’s that profound. Is it that way between you and Tank?”

  “It is. And I know what you mean. It’s so deep that I don’t think that anyone would come close to understanding it.”

  “Thank God we both found a man!”

  “Girl, truth!”

  “I’m so glad that you called—you’ve totally lifted my day. I didn’t think that I’d hear from you while we were here, but I’m so happy that I did. You must win Harold and Ethel over.”

  “Oh, girl, game on,” she said. “You’ll see. I’m in pure tactical mode now. You want an apple pie, Ethel? Your loins are going to ge
t moist when I serve you my pie!”

  “That sounds lewd.”

  “It was meant to. And by the way, Ethel, do you really want someone worthy of your son? Then get ready for me to serve up the prayer at Christmas dinner, because I already have memorized that shit!”

  “You’re planning on delivering the prayer at Christmas dinner?”

  “You’re damned straight I am. And if that isn’t enough, I have even more in my arsenal. Like what I’m going to wear at Christmas dinner—totally conservative. Light on the makeup, a longer dress that reveals practically nothing. And then there’s how I’m going to be around their son—no touching. No kissing. None of that. I plan on being a total lady. I’m here to win, Jennifer—and I plan to win.”

  “I love you,” I said.

  “I love you, too.”

  “I so wish that you were here with me, because I miss your face. Tell Tank that all of us love and miss him as well.”

  “I will. And look, this Christmas shit with the potential rents is a one-time deal. Trust me—we will be spending Christmas together next year. You know—when the wedding is behind us. I might have to give Harold and Ethel a Thanksgiving or two, but it’s not going to be anything more than that—unless they warm up to me. And that’s on them, not me. Because they’ve hardly been welcoming to me. And this girl is having none of that shit.”

  “As you shouldn’t,” I said. “Look, sweetie, I hate to say this, but I need to go. Time is running out. I want to talk more, but there’s still so much to do. I’m sorry, my precious one.”

  “Why are you going all ‘Lord of the Rings’ on me?”

  I giggled when she said that. “Oh, my God—you’re right. That wasn’t even intentional.”

  “Well, it spoke to the zombie lover holed up in Prairie Home, NObraska, so you nevertheless scored with that one.”

  “Yay!”

  “Say hello to everyone from me and Tank,” Lisa said. And before she signed off, she added: “And ask everyone to pray for both of us. Really hard. I’m talking about getting on their damned knees tonight and praying for us right at their bedside. That’s the kind of support we need right now. Because we do need it, sugar. So, I’ll see you in three days. Have a fantastic evening—and don’t you dare overlook anything that happens between Daniella and Cutter, not to mention Blackwell and her man. Whatever his name is. Because I’m going to want to hear about all of it!”

  “You will. Love you again,” I said.

  “Love you more.”

  And with that, my best friend was gone.

  * * *

  It was only thirty minutes later when my SlimPhone rang again. When I pulled it from my pocket, my heart swelled with affection. It was Epifania.

  “Epifania!” I said. “How are you?”

  “I’m in the Twerks and the Caicos, the cookie,” she said. “And Epifania—she the twerking it like she the working it!”

  “I can’t imagine…”

  “Hey, look—I might be alone for the holidays, but Epifania know that it won’t be for the long! These cabana boys are the super hot—and one has his eye on me right now for the sure! But enough about him—for the now. How are you and the Alex? I wanted to call and say Merry to the Christmas to both of you, even if it’s not officially the Christmas yet. But whatever. Just know that you’re on my mind. Where are you now? In Manhattan?”

  “No, we’re in Maine at Sugarloaf Mountain,” I said.

  “Well, that sound the super sweet.”

  “In a way it is. You should see the house that Alex rented for us. It’s fabulous. I wish that you could be here with us.”

  “Oh, the honey, Epifania don’t do the cold, OK? She perfectly happy to be soaking up the sun while everyone else is freezing their coochies off.”

  “Don’t you have family you could spend the holiday with?”

  “Please,” she said. “They just want to go for the Chuckie’s money, and Epifania is having none of that! Who are you with, the cookie?”

  “Well, Alex is obviously here. And then there's Blackwell and her two daughters. And also Cutter, Brock, and Madison. I believe you’ve met Madison.”

  “Yeah, she totally gonna work for me, that one. You’ll see. Epifania need to hire a personal assistant—STAT. And she the one who perfect for the yob.”

  “I’m not sure that you know this, but Madison has received a significant promotion since you first met her.”

  “Whatever. When I met her, she was Blackwell’s assistant. And if that girl was the good enough for her, then she the good enough for me. I’m prepared to triple her salary.”

  Oh, God…

  “How is the weather there?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.

  “As hot as the men. You know, ever since I had my little meow-meow tightened, I more confident than the ever. I only been here two days, and already my banging body has attracted a shitload of men. Believe me, the cookie, Epifania plan on having Santa’s Christmas sack banging against my little kitty cat later tonight.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just said, “Well, good luck with that!”

  “No luck needed. Epifania gonna get the laid. But the boy I choose? He needs to be hung. No small prick for this one. Epifania want the big cock.”

  The loose cannon of Park Avenue truly has no filter…

  “How are you even going to know whether he’s going to be, uh, you know, as large as you want?” I asked.

  “Epifania have her ways,” she said. “Even if she needs to pay for a strip and a look, she’s totally onboard with that. Because it’s the Christmas to the Eve, for the God’s sake, and I’m not about to ruin it with something that looks like one of those little pickles I see in the grocery store.”

  And…we’re moving right along!

  “Where are you staying?” I asked.

  “I bought a house here,” she said. “Didn’t I tell you that? No? See, that’s why I need an assistant! To get the word out! I bought it a month ago, because I love it here. It’s this big mother of a house that overlooks the beach. You should see it, Yennifer. So pretty. Views to die for. And plenty of room—you and Alex should come!”

  “Well, maybe we will. I’ve never been to the, uh, Twerks and the Caicos.”

  “Oh, Epifania would love if you both come. There’s plenty of privacy. Over eleven-thousand square feet of it. Some random stud could be banging me in my bedroom, and you’d never even know it. Same for the you and the Alex. You two could totally go at it, and Epifania would never know. Think of this as a safe house for sex. And listen to how smart I am. I made certain that the master bedroom was far and away from all of the other bedrooms. So, you know—no one will ever know when I come or when you come!”

  “You’re a genius!” I said.

  “Please, I’m just a girl from the barrio who got on a rubber boat, got to the States, became a stripper and a maid—and made myself five-hundred million in the process. I still the girl I always been. Street smart, for sure—but no yenius, Yennifer. So, look—this guy keeps checking me out and from where I’m sitting, he looks as if he’s hung like a mule. He’s wearing this leetle itty bitty white Spandex swimsuit, and holy mother to the God, he’s either got balls the size of basketballs, or he’s just what Epifania needs to spank her Christmas bells alive tonight!”

  “Well, good luck with him—and, you know, all that. Just be careful, OK?”

  “Epifania always the careful. It’s the men who often leave with the big bruises on their asses because Epifania likes to wallop herself a nice, firm bubble butt. Now, say ‘hi’ to the everybody for me, OK? Even to the darkness that is the Blackwell. Love you, the cookie. Give Alex a big kiss from me.”

  “I will.”

  “Miss you!”

  “I miss you, too!” I said, and then I severed the connection. And in a weird way, I did miss her. As crazy as Epifania was, she was as wild as she was good. Sometimes the combination was hilarious. Other times it could leave your jaw on the floor. B
ut her heart was pure, and I was lucky to consider her one of my closest friends.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  When the house was properly decorated and ready to go, it was agreed that all of us would meet in the living room dressed to the nines at seven-thirty—just thirty minutes before Marcus would arrive.

  The caterers and servers had arrived on time at six, and from their professional behavior alone, it was clear to me that we were in great hands. So, I just handed over the kitchen to them and left to get ready for the evening with Alex.

  When he and I were dressed and ready to go, we appraised each other.

  Alex was in a tuxedo that fitted him to perfection. I was wearing a shimmering cosmos-embroidered tulle gown by Valentino. It was a daring choice since it appeared as if I was nude at the torso, but that was just an illusion—and one that Alex clearly approved of.

  “Pardon my language, but you look fucking hot,” he said when I emerged from the bathroom with my hair straightened and my makeup done up in full force, thanks to Bernie’s many lessons.

  “Is it too much?” I asked. “I mean, it looks as if I’m baring my breasts, which I’m not. I’m wearing a nude bra, but you really can’t tell that I am. Is it too sexy for tonight? I can always change.”

  “Don’t change,” he said. “Wear that.”

  “Well, you certainly said that quickly.”

  “Yeah, because you’re turning me on.”

  “Think about our guests for a moment.”

  “Why? I want my wife to look like that.”

  “Alex, I need you to be serious.”

  “Fine,” he said. “Jennifer, since meeting Blackwell, you have turned into a fashion icon in New York. Everyone writes about whatever you’re wearing now or whatever you’ll be wearing next. You’ve set a very high bar in Manhattan, and because of that, you’ve certainly dressed a hell of a lot more daring than this. And everyone here knows that. All of them are expecting you to bring it tonight, and you have. So, have fun with it.” And then he cocked his head at me. “Did Blackwell pick that gown out for you?”

  “She did.”

  “Then you’ll be getting nothing but applause from your main critic, so relax.”