Mistletoe & Bastards

by Dale, Lindy

  Because Johnny had found something way more fun than me. He’d taken up residence with the younger crowd of junior lawyers and a few of the interns at a booth in the corner. There were girls there who made me feel old and I was never insecure. Well, rarely. Okay, a bit when it came to men but never about the way I looked.

  Someone had swiped Johnny’s Santa hat and re-adjusted it on top of his head like a badly fitted tea cosy, its point poking to the sky. Johnny’s arm was held out in front of him, flexed, showing the gathered, adoring crowd his muscular bicep. Two girls were feeling his muscles. God knows what drivel he was spouting to them but they seemed enraptured. There was an awful lot of hair flicking and lip-licking going on. A given, I suppose. Johnny was mega hot, rich and intelligent. If he’d tried to chat me up way back when I was twenty, he might have had a chance.

  I watched as Johnny signalled the barman to bring a couple of bottles of champagne and glasses for everyone. He knew how to work it. He was laughing, that loud boisterous laugh that was incredibly dangerous and usually meant he was about to do something either illegal or practically illegal. Which, considering he was a lawyer, was quite ridiculous. He should have known better.

  Well, I wouldn’t be saving him this time. When he got caught leading a naked dash down the street in front of our office I wasn’t going to be the one bailing him out.

  With a last look, I gathered my things and made to leave. I’d been right to get away from Johnny as fast as I could. He was a womaniser of the highest order. No good could ever come from fraternising with a man who could do the things with his tongue that Johnny could. Of course, I was only basing this on his monumental kissing ability. I had no intention of letting him put his tongue anywhere else. Ever.

  *****

  About an hour later, I was sitting on the sofa in my lounge wearing my favourite Peter Alexander lacy bed shorts and kimono and watching the end of The Christmas Shoes when the doorbell rang. Usually, I enjoyed the minimalist decor of my home where everything had its place and the only things on show were things I’d put there because they gave me a sense of calm. Tonight, however, everything seemed flat and a little too empty, like something was missing. It wasn’t a new feeling though. I’d been having the same thought repeatedly since Sam and Millie’s wedding. It was like they’d bloody infected me with a need to nest or at least find a partner.

  Realising that a bit of company might be just what I needed; I pulled my robe around me and raced to answer the door. There weren’t that many people who knew where I lived. I liked to keep my private space private and my social space social. More to the point, I guess I’d never found many people I wanted to share my private space with.

  I stopped at the end of the hall, facing the back of the door, curious as to whom it might be. My place was part of a converted mansion house. There were no such things as peepholes back in 1910 when it was built which was probably lucky because if I’d known who was on the other side of the door I may have had second thoughts about opening it.

  “Johnny.” I pulled the robe more tightly around me.

  “Only me.” He wobbled a little on his feet, a goofy smile on his face.

  “Yes, I can see that.” And smell it. He reeked of scotch. “Why are you here?”

  “I wanted to check if you were okay. You never came out of the toilet.” He leant towards me, the fumes almost overpowering me. I stepped backward and he fell face first onto the hall runner. “Oops! There’s a step there.” He let out a giggle that was so girlish I wished I’d had a recorder on me to use it as evidence when he started taking the piss out of me later on.

  Hands instinctively riding to my hips, I graced him with my most disapproving look, which apparently went straight over his drunken head and floated out the window in a cloud of alcohol fumes.

  “Gimme a hand, my little dove.”

  Oh. My. God. I’d give him more than a hand. He was so drunk. More drunk than I’d ever seen him and that was saying something. What the hell was he doing on my doorstep in that condition, well any condition, really. How the hell did he even know where I lived?

  “How did you get my address?”

  As I said, I liked to keep my home life private.

  “Millie texted it to me.”

  Clearly, my friend was suffering from a touch of pregnancy brain and I was going to be left to clean up the mess. Again. Honestly, what was with these people?

  “Come on, then.” I put my palm into his and we both tugged. Not a wise idea in hindsight.

  Suddenly, I was on top of him. I could feel his broad chest against my hands, which were crushed between us. I had to get up before he put me over the limit from the inhalation of his exhalations.

  “Oh Mel, you’re so pretty, so beautiful,” he whispered. He gazed into my eyes and hiccupped. Then he pulled the Santa hat off his head and put it onto mine. As his hands adjusted it, his fingers grazed the skin on the side of my face. “There. Very cute.”

  Hmm. Cute and I were not concepts usually put in the same sentence. I reached up to remove the hat but he stopped me. His eyes bored into my head and I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation but for some reason I couldn’t. My heart was beating incredibly fast and it was all I could do not to put my lips to his.

  Shit. Shit. Shit. This would never do.

  Pushing my hands into Johnny’s chest, I tried to roll off which of course only made him hold me tighter. His arms, big and strong had me wrapped in an embrace that almost made me lose my breath. And it would have felt awfully nice if his hard on hadn’t been poking me in the leg.

  “You’re only saying that because you’re drunk,” I grumbled, making another feeble attempt to get away. “Now let me go, you oaf, before I scream. You don’t want to be waking old Mrs Fenton next door. She’ll hit you with a bloody frying pan.”

  Johnny tittered again. “I love it when you talk dirty. Say something else. Get me all hot and bothered.”

  Hadn’t we been there already tonight? Shoving Johnny in the chest, I scrambled to my knees. “You’re an idiot.”

  “I just saw your boob then.”

  Which, judging by the look on his face had made his night. I pulled at the robe and did up the sash that seemed to have come undone in the fall.

  “Aww. Whaddya go and do that for, Mel?”

  “Because you shouldn’t be looking at my breasts. Now get up off my carpet before I hit you with a frying pan.”

  Johnny seemed to get the drift and he rolled to his knees following me into the lounge.

  “I love what you’ve done with the decorations this year.”

  “It took me hours. Not.”

  There wasn’t a single decoration in the house. My one concession to Christmas was the card sitting on the mantle that my mother had sent from Sydney. It sat next to a tiny tree Millie had given me to ‘get me in the spirit.’ If it had been anyone else I would have tossed it in the bin. But Millie had a soft heart and she was only trying to make me feel better. I couldn’t be mean to her.

  Johnny plonked onto the couch and kicked off his shoes, making himself at home. He picked up the remote and flicked the channel to Fox Sports where amazingly enough he found an old Wallabies game. Bloody rugby. Couldn’t we ever get away from it? He studied it for a bit before asking, “Got anything to drink?”

  “Green tea. Coffee. Water. Juice. You can have one drink and then leave. I have an early start in the morning and it’s past eleven.”

  “We don’t have to work. Office is closed till after Christmas.” He hooked his socked foot over the arm of the sofa.

  “I know but I want to go to the gym. If I don’t go I get into bad habits.”

  “Now there’s a thought.”

  Ignoring his waggling eyebrows, I stomped into the kitchen. The quicker I gave him a drink and rang him a cab the faster he’d be gone. And I wanted Johnny to be gone. Not because I didn’t like him or because he was being an annoying shit but more because I was afraid of the way my feelings seemed to b
e changing, despite his idiocy. As soon as I’d opened the door and discovered it was him my heart had begun to do backflips. And I wanted to smile at his silly rubbish, which was so not me. I was beginning to like Johnny in a way that was no longer carefully guarded disdain. I feared I actually had the hots for him.

  Clearly, I had to blame Sam and Millie for this. If they hadn’t had a wedding I would never have gotten drunk and let him kiss me because I was lonely. It was entirely their fault.

  The coffee machine turned on to heat up, I took two cups from the cupboard, setting them on the bench. I was in the process of grinding the coffee for a short black when I felt a pair of hands snaking around my body.

  “You feel nice,” Johnny whispered, his breath warm against my neck. “Smell nice too. All soapy clean.” He gave my earlobe a nip and I quivered. Only a little, mind.

  “If you don’t let me go I’m going to lift my heel into your balls, Johnny. Now.” I made a slight movement to raise my foot and his hands instantly dropped. He moved beside me and turned, leaning back against the bench so we were face to face. Suddenly, he seemed very sober. A little too sober.

  “Why do you hate me?”

  “I don’t hate you. I just don’t like your behaviour most of the time. You’re so… so… immature.”

  This coming from a woman wearing a Santa hat with her nightwear. I took the hat off and placed it on the counter.

  “I can be very mature when I put my mind to it. See?” Johnny straightened and threw back his shoulders. His face changed from jovial to dead serious in the space of a nano-second. “I can be a grown up, no fun, lawyer type if that’s what you want. Is that what you want?”

  A heaving sigh escaped my lips. “I’d die of boredom, you know I would.”

  “Then let me love you. Let me in. It’s time to thaw out that little ice queen heart of yours and feel something, Mel. I can help you with that. I’m quite good at getting things hot — or so I’ve been told.” He shuffled a step closer to me and taking the teaspoon from my fingers, placed it on the bench.

  “Is that so?” The flirty words left my mouth before I had a chance to stop them. Traitors.

  Johnny moved even closer. His mouth quirked and my heart fluttered a little in my chest. His hip pressed against mine and his hand gently skirted up my side to take hold of me and draw me closer to him. My breathing hitched.

  Nooo! This couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t be getting hot for Johnny. I was a sensible, intelligent woman. I could not be having feelings for this nutcase. Even if he did look smokin’ in that red t-shirt.

  Johnny leant forward and put his lips to mine. Fireworks in red, green and gold began to explode before my eyes.

  Okay. So it appeared I could be having feelings for this nutcase.

  He pulled me closer, his chest against mine. He kissed me again and I think I may even have moaned a little, despite myself. But it was when his hand slid tentatively up to cup my breast I lost all sense of reason. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t not think. I was melting with desire. The sensation of his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth and his hands on my body had catapulted me into some form of excited sexual oblivion. And I liked it. I actually liked it.

  Damn him. The Bastard.

  4

  I woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon cooking and the sound of Christmas carols. Given that I did not keep bacon in the house as a rule or play Christmas carols, especially ones that featured Mariah Carey or Justin Bieber, I feared I may have been the victim of an alien abduction in my sleep. I had been transported into some other girl called Mel’s flat and was laying in her bed staring confused at the ceiling while she’d awoken to find herself in my calm Zen space — without Jingle Bell Rock — and was loving the peace and serenity.

  I looked about me. Nope. Definitely at home.

  Which could only mean one thing.

  That dream I’d had last night about having sex with Johnny had not been a dream.

  Shit, shit and fucking shit.

  Leaping from the bed, I scrambled in the drawer for some fresh gym gear and quickly got dressed. I could not deal with this now. I could not have this man invading my space and cooking things whilst wearing — I peeked around the bedroom door. OH GOD — the Santa hat and a pair of Christmas boxer shorts. To make matters worse, the shorts had a picture of three baubles and a caption that read ‘nice balls.’

  Surely he hadn’t been wearing those last night? There was no way I would have had sex with him if he were, I would have been laughing too much. Though, in my defence it was dark and he did get his gear off rather quickly. At the time, I’d thought it was because he couldn’t believe his luck but in hindsight… hmm.

  No. I had to put a stop to this before he got ideas that we were entering into some sort of ‘friends with benefits’ thing. Because Johnny would never be capable of a full-blown relationship. He was the most fickle person I knew and while I had no regrets about becoming a notch on his bedpost — okay, well maybe one teensy one — there was not going to be a repeat performance. Ours had been a one-night stand. We could finish this now before it began and go back to the banter that was the basis of our friendship before either of us got hurt. Well, before I got hurt. I didn’t know that Johnny was capable of feeling hurt. He was too busy acting the fool.

  Fully dressed and made up, I walked into the kitchen.

  “Well, if it isn’t Santa’s little helper.” He turned to me, his face registering that I was clothed in something other than his red t-shirt. “You’re a little dressed up for this hour of the morning. Going somewhere?”

  “The gym. I have a date with a Pump class.”

  Johnny’s face dropped. He went from cat-that-got-the-cream to the-milk’s-off faster than I could have thought it. “But I made us breakfast. Bacon is great for a hangover.”

  “I know. And thanks. But I can’t eat before I exercise. I’ll throw up.” I watched as he turned off the gas on the cooktop. He stood with his arms folded, studying me. I don’t think he really knew how to react.

  “Okay. I’ll come with you then. We can stop by my place on the way and I’ll grab something to wear. Don’t know how I’ll go though. Exercise and copious amounts of tequila haven’t proven to be a good mix in the past.”

  “Probably better if you just go home, then. Besides I have a heap of errands to run, I wont’ be back for ages—” I reached for my car keys. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I couldn’t look because if I did I’d change my mind. “—But you stay. Eat breakfast. Slam the door when you leave. I’ll see you on Friday at Sam and Millie’s.” I kissed his cheek and before he had a chance reply, I was out the door. If there had been a gold medal for swift departures in awkward situations, I would have won it by a mile.

  The door of the lift was opening as I reached it and I leapt in thankfully, almost knocking Mrs Fenton and her shopping trolley into next week. She gave me a strange look, like I had something stuck in my hair or something. So much so, that I actually reached into my hair to check but there was nothing wrong. Then, as the doors of the lift closed and I leant against the mirrored wall, tears began to come.

  I never cried. Yet, here I was sobbing my lungs out.

  Why had I done that? Why had I pushed Johnny away? All he’d done was try to be nice to me, to woo me, and I wouldn’t let him, I couldn’t let him. As soon as he’d gotten that look on his face I’d had to run. It wasn’t him; it was me. I was such a fuck-up.

  Big plops of tears ran down my face and dripped off the end of my jaw. I had no inclination to wipe them away and even if I had there would have been more, so it seemed slightly pointless. It was as if every bad thing that had ever happened in my life, things I thought I’d locked away so successfully, had come to the surface.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  I hated him for doing this to me. I hated him for making me feel. But mostly I hated myself for being such a bitch to him when there had been absolutely no reason for it other than I was a bitch. Just like he’d sai
d, I was the ice queen. My heart would never thaw.

  5

  I arrived home late in the afternoon, following a lunch alone on the lawn at Parliament House and an unplanned shopping expedition whilst wearing gym gear. Johnny had been on my mind the entire day — hence my need for retail therapy— and the thoughts I’d been having had swung heavily between wanting a repeat performance of that thing he did to me last night and mild abhorrence of the entire episode. I still couldn’t get my head around the fact that I’d slept with him… and liked it.

  Eww.

  My key was in the front door before I discovered it was unlocked and strains of Christmas music could be heard wafting from the living room.

  Bloody Johnny. If he’d gone home and left the door open and the music blaring for hours I was going to wrap his body in tinsel and set him on fire. There were precious things in my house that could never be replaced if someone decided to burgle me and how would I explain an open front door to the insurance? Pushing the door open enough to get my hand in, I reached into the hall and picked up the vase from the hall table. If it was a burglar, at least I had a weapon.

  Vase poised, I tiptoed along the hall runner and into the living room.

  What the hell?

  Stunned, I lowered the vase and looked about me. I’m positive my mouth had dropped onto my chest because a sudden gush of cold air from the air-conditioning was giving me brain freeze like I’d taken a huge bite of ice cream. As Kirby would say this was, like, un-be-liev-able.

  Fake snow flew from a snow machine in the corner and drifted on the air around the room. Fairylights twinkled on the picture rails and snaked their way around the windows and doorframes. A group of comic reindeers frolicked on the windowsill and a nativity scene, complete with baby Jesus, adorned the mantle. Next to the fireplace a Christmas tree the height of the ceiling — and real no less — stood proudly, festooned with tinsel, tiny crystal snowflakes and complete with a star on top.