Our Totally, Ridiculous, Made-Up Christmas Relationship
Copyright © 2013 by Brittainy C. Cherry
Edited By: Mickey Reed
Cover Design By: Berto’s Design
Interior Design By: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing
All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the permission of the above author of this book, except for when permitted by law.
To the hopefuls who believe in the magic of ridiculous, silly, and playful love.
Keep Dreaming. Keep Believing. Keep Loving.
XoXo
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1: Kayden
Chapter 2: Jules
Chapter 3: Kayden
Chapter 4: Jules
Chapter 5: Kayden
Chapter 6: Jules
Chapter 7: Kayden
Chapter 8: Jules
Chapter 9: Kayden
Chapter 10: Jules
I would like to start by thanking YOU, the person who is reading this. For so long these stories have lived in my head and I never dreamed that one day people would be taking this journey with me and giving my words a chance. Giving me a chance. It means the world to me that you took the time out of your lives to read my work, and I hope you received a bit of enjoyment from the experience. XoXo
To my fellow authors—only you can truly understand the fears, the joy and complete madness of this world we live in. I have come across so much talent in this year alone that inspires me to hone my craft. Thank you. Keep writing and I’ll keep reading.
My beta team—the best team ever. Thanks for ripping my novels apart just so I can put them back together, better than ever.
A shout out to Abby’s Book Blog—for all the help you gave me for this novella!
To my Dream Team: Rebecca Berto at Berto’s Designs for the amazing cover. Mickey at I’m A Book Shark, the amazing editor that she is. Debbie Popp Haumesser, thank you for your proofreading skills. I love you so, so much! Jovana at Unforeseen Editing—thanks for your awesome formatting skills! I love you all!
To my best friends—too many to name, yet all so important. Thanks for loving me even though I go MIA while writing.
To the siblings Bryon, Tiffani, Brandon, Candace, Isaiah, Ben, Will: So much love, respect, and pride to be able to call you all family. Love you!
To my papa: Thanks for the love and support! Love you, dad!
Lastly, this one is for you, mom: The one who believed in my dreams when I didn’t know how to. Thank you for standing me in front of the mirror at a young age and having me say over and over again, “I am somebody. And I have a voice.” You’re the Sherlock to my Watson. Love you to the moon and back!
A family gathering. That’s the last way I want to spend my Wednesday night. Why the hell do people act like they actually enjoy these get-togethers, when secretly, they all hate each other’s guts? I mean, let’s be real. You wouldn’t hang out with those people if they didn’t have your last name, right? This sucks ass.
Pulling up to my parents’ house, I toss my cig into the car’s ash tray, cussing under my breath at how annoyed I am with myself for buying another pack. Yesterday I was supposed to have my final smoke, but then Dad called irritating the living hell out of me.
My hands travel through my hair, and I glance in the rearview mirror, rubbing my fingers over my tired eyes. No sleep last night—my full attention was on Britney. Britney…or was it Whitney? The palm of my hand flies up to my eyes and I squint, trying to grasp the faded words and numbers. Eva. How the hell did I get Britney from Eva? Oh well, it doesn’t matter.
My tongue runs across my hand, erasing the lasting ink stain from existence. Never gonna call her again. She might still show up at Hank’s where she met me, cocktail wizard that I am behind the bar. It’s a known fact that girls flirt with bartenders, and I’ve made more than my fair share of trips back to random apartments, always with a different chick on my arm. That’s where Britney—er—Eva met me. That’s where all of the girls meet me. I never led her or any of them on, and I am very straightforward with each girl, telling them that it was only sex and nothing more. That way, I’m pretty sure if any of them build up some fairytale romance then it’s on them, not me.
I look toward the enormous home before me and slowly exhale with a heavy sigh. Everything about Dad is based on showing off. The sheer quantity of tasteless, gaudy decorations filling the yard is embarrassing. It’s one thing if you love Christmas, but the miles of glittering tinsel, the prolific herd of reindeer, the giant Santa, and flashing lights are simply Dad saying, “Look at me! I have money!” I’m pretty sure NASA is getting a pretty good view of all this from up top, too.
For a split second, I think about retreating, pulling off, but then I remember hearing Mom’s voice in the background on the call last night. “He’s really coming?!” she cried out, sounding way too excited about me making time to visit. After spending most of my life letting her down, I figure I should at least show up for an hour. Or twenty minutes. Whatever. I’ll stop in and say hi for five minutes.
Stepping out of the car dad bought me, I slam the BMW door, and rub my hands together, ready to enter a warzone. The hand-written sign on the door hangs and reads, ‘Five days until Santa.’ I want to roll my eyes that Mom still writes the word ‘Santa’ on the door, since my siblings and I are definitely past the age of believing in miracles and the lies parents feed their kids. Yet, I don’t roll my eyes, because it’s kind of cute, Mom’s belief in our youth. She’s a good mom, always has been. Maybe she was too forgiving of me and my screw-ups as a kid, but it’s nice to have an ally. Someone who loves me, scars and all. Too bad she married a jerk.
Dad opens the door, running his hands through his nonexistent hair, narrowing his eyes on me—but yelling so everyone else could hear within the house. “Well, look who we got over here! If it ain’t my son: the actor.” The level of disgust that rolls off his tongue makes me want to knock his ass out.
“Don’t do that,” I hiss, annoyed with him already.
“Do what?”
“You know what you’re doing. If this is going to be a chance for you to sit around and talk crap about how I’m such a disappointment, you can save it for Christmas morning.” Turning to head back to my car, I feel a hand grip into my shoulder and yank me back. When he pulls me closer to him, I smell the burnt cigar smoke that clings to his polo shirt.
“Your mother is in there waiting to see her son for the first time in a long time. So what you are going to do is smile, stand tall, and walk into the house acting like you’re enjoying yourself.”
That’s funny coming from him, the one person who never cared about Mom or her feelings because he was too busy getti
ng busy with other chicks who didn’t have anything close to Mom’s charm. What a dumbass. But after he got cancer and had his balls chopped off, he realized all he wanted to do was be with Mom, the only person who had stood by him through some of his darkest days.
It’s pretty screwed up if you think about it; he had to lose his balls to grow the hell up and become a real man.
Shrugging off Dad’s apparent attitude, I push myself past him and head into the living room, where the whole family is gathered. “Kayden!” Mom squeals, leaping from the couch. She hugs me longer than I let people hold me, but I don’t complain. To tell you the truth, I should let her hug me a lot more often. When she pulls away, she shows her bright smile and lightly slaps my cheek. “I’m so happy to see you.”
I kiss the top of her head and gently slug her on the shoulder, “It’s good to see you, Ma.” My eyes take a once around the space, observing everyone who’s there. My older sister Katie is sitting by the coffee table playing a game of Jenga with my brother Landon and his girlfriend, Jasmine. My Uncle Randy is sleeping in the recliner while Aunt Sally is in the kitchen yapping at her two twin teenagers, Connor and Colin, to sit down and shut up.
“Boys! Video games! Upstairs, now!” Sally yells, and off they go running. When they leave, they shout greetings toward me, not allowing me time to respond. Sally’s whole body sighs with relief, listening to the twins’ voices fade away. She turns, meets my stare, and smiles. It’s not long until she gives me a short hug and pulls away.
Narrowing her eyes, she taps my nose and whispers, “You smoking again?”
“Never stopped.”
Nodding in silent understanding, she rolls up her sleeve and shows me the nicotine patch she’s sporting. Brave woman. “Randy wants another peanut. He must have some type of hate for me. Look at my hair, Kay, I have gray hair. People our age shouldn’t be popping out babies.”
“Kids keep you young,” I smirk at my aunt, whose flair for the dramatic makes her a woman after my own heart.
She rolls her eyes, pats her stomach and slaps her butt. “No, kids keep my stomach huge and my ass fat. Hailey turned seven last month and my doctor said I couldn’t keep using the baby weight excuse.”
“Well, what are you gonna do? Join a gym or something?”
“You kiddin’ me? Hell no. I’m getting a new doctor. Clearly mine’s a misogynist. Freaking creep.”
Looking around, I ask, “Where is Hailey anyway?” I’m eager to see my adorable cousin, who embodies those qualities I admire most in a seven-year old kid: she’s smart, sassy, and the perfect amount of rude.
“Watching those damn Disney movies in the back room.” Hailey’s addicted to anything and everything Disney and whenever I see her, we end up watching some princess movie over and over again. I would get annoyed by it, but it’s cute the way her eyes widen as if she’s seeing it for the first time.
Sally smirks again, slugs me in the arm, and walks over to Randy. “Wake your ass up, Randy! If you were just going to sleep in my brother’s chair all night and not communicate, we could’ve stayed home, saved the gas money.”
I venture over to Kate, Landon, and Jasmine, and sit in the chair across from them. Landon is the lawyer, Kate is the doctor, and I’m the actor. Guess who’s the disappointment of the bunch?
“Hey, Kayden.” Kate acknowledges me with a hello, but doesn’t look up from her intense game of Jenga. Kate is a few years older than I, and has a good head on her shoulders. She graduated a few years ago from med school and has been saving lives ever since. Our relationship is decent; it’s just that we don’t have much to talk about now that we have nothing in common.
Landon doesn’t say a word, but that’s fine, I don’t have shit to say to him either. Jasmine sits next to Landon, not looking toward me, but I know she wants to. If anything, she owes me a damn apology for what happened in the past, but I know I won’t get one any time soon. She snuggles her body closer to my brother and I let out a breath, wanting to disappear into the back room and watch Disney movies with Hailey.
“Oh! We drew secret Santa names at last Sunday’s dinner.” Mom walks over with a folded piece of paper and hands me mine. “Here ya go. Remember, over five dollars and under thirty.”
Landon releases a stiff laugh and an eye roll that’s directed toward me. “Something on your mind, Landon?” I say, leaning against the wall.
“Nope,” Landon huffs, rolling his eyes again.
I can’t stand his smugness; I feel the pressure of family life taking over and the need to escape growing stronger. “If you got something to say, get it out there.”
“Nope. Nothing. I just doubt you staying under a thirty-dollar limit will be a problem.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. “Actually, here’s the five. Just so you can reach the minimum.”
I feel my fingers digging into the palms of my hands. He’s such a damn prick. “I’m good without your dirty lawyer money, bro. By the way, how are you doing, Jasmine? Landon, are you treating her right?” I spit the words out and feel a little guilty after saying them. The mocking tone is clear in my voice.
“Fuck off and get a real life, loser.” Landon grips the edge of the coffee table, knocking over the Jenga game. Kate is quick to yell, and begins to pick up the fallen pieces. Landon’s words float around my head and I can’t help but chuckle to myself.
If I had a penny for every time I’ve heard that…
Landon and I have a past that no one in the room knows about. Things we don’t talk about, but it’s those same things that piss us each off by just looking at one another.
“Kayden, must you be such an ass to your brother? He was trying to give you a helping hand,” Dad complains, sitting on the sofa. The lawyers have to stick together I guess. “By the way, I emailed you and called three times this week. We have a position opening at the firm…”
“Not interested.”
Dad arches an eyebrow and pulls out a cigar that he will probably chew on for the remainder of the night. “What?”
I don’t repeat myself, because no matter what I say, he’ll find a reason to disagree with it. For all these years I’ve been ‘given a chance’ to work as some lame lowly worker at Dad’s law firm. The last thing I want to do is be anywhere near that place. I hate just about everything Dad loves.
“I busted my ass to get you a chance at a better life, a better future. And this is how you act? This is how you show your gratitude?”
Nothing from me. I can feel myself growing more and more pissed. He could have told me this all in private, but that wouldn’t have been as entertaining for him. He prefers to have an audience when he tries to humiliate me.
“Damn actor. Actor my ass. How can you call yourself an actor if you’ve never even booked a job? What are you gonna do, Kayden? Bartend for the rest of your life? Knock up some random girl and end up paying child support you can’t afford?”
“Fuck off,” I finally say, blinking my eyes shut and trying to control my temper. I wish I didn’t allow them to get under my skin so much.
“Yeah well, we’ll see. Either you book an acting gig, come work for me, or find your own damn way to pay your rent. I’m sick of this, Kayden! Look at you! What are you doing with your life? Kate and Landon have their act together, and I’m giving you a free pass. A chance to get started at something. You need to let this acting thing go. It wasn’t even your dream really. You’re just following after Penny’s—”
“Dad, don’t.” Kate whispers, looking up from her game. “You didn’t have to bring up Penny, Dad,” she states, not able to stay out of the argument due to her overdose of compassion.
“Stay out of this, Kate.” I order, feeling a bit lightheaded from the mere mention of Penny. My fists clutch and my body begins to heat up, sweat crawling around the edges of my forehead. Moving to Dad, I stand before him, fearing for my life that there’s a small part of him that lives within me. “I never asked for your help.”
“You don’t
deserve my help, kid. Grow up already!”
“Boys!” Mom hisses, and sighs, her eyebrows frowning in displeasure. She’s shaking, her small frame almost in hysterics, and immediately I feel guilty, hearing her trembling voice. “Stop, okay? Stop. Please? It’s almost Christmas.”
She’s right. It’s Christmastime, and yet another reason for the success stories of my siblings and the struggle stories of me to be brought up. Opening the piece of paper for my secret Santa I cuss under my breath, reading my brother’s name on it. Karma’s a bitch, and she’s after me. Crumbling up my paper, I toss it into the garbage can and head toward the backyard, desperately in need of some air. I haven’t even taken off my winter coat, and I’m already in need of air. How messed up is that?
“Mmm, that smells so good.” Aunt Sally peeks her head outside the screen door to find me sitting on the back patio step smoking a cig, and staring out into nothingness. “Mind if I join you?”
I’ve been sitting here for a few minutes, running my fingers across the engagement ring my late grandmother gave to me six years ago. I take it everywhere I go, looking at it each day, wondering what it truly stands for, wondering if it’s always going to be in my possession. Sliding the ring back into my pocket, I wipe off some of the snow on the step, and pat a spot for my aunt to join me. “Course not.”
She moves outside with her winter coat wrapped around her and shivers as she sits next to me. Closing her eyes, she breathes in deeply, taking in the toxic smells of tobacco. I would offer her a hit, but I know how much she wants another baby, even if she denies it. People don’t put on the patch because their husbands say so. People don’t put on the patch because the family hates the smells. People put on the patch because they believe there’s something out there more worthwhile than a few minutes of solitude. People put on the patch because in their hearts, they want to feel more with each breath they take, every pump of their lungs.
Sometimes I wish I had a reason to wear the patch; but, as long as I’m a screw up, I’ll find a reason to light up.
Our Totally, Ridiculous, Made-Up Christmas Relationship Page 1
