by Josie Brown
“Your son—Oliver, isn’t it?—we think he’s become Zoe’s little crush.” Barry chuckled. “We should get them together sometime.”
“Get rid of him,” Kimberley muttered.
Brady smacked her head harder this time. “I’d—we’d like that.”
“By the way, your wife—Jade, isn’t it?—she’s looking for you now.” It was just light enough to see Barry’s broad grin in the moonlight. “Shall I tell her I found you?”
“No! I mean—I need some fresh air.”
“I hear you. Do you mind if I come down and join you?”
“No, not at all.” The moment Brady said that, Kimberley punched him in the nuts. He had to control the urge to kick her in the ass as she crawled off the terrace and back inside.
She’d just disappeared through the door when Barry came bounding up. He looked around, then shrugged. “Your little friend didn’t go on my account, did she?”
“You—saw her?” Brady was glad it was dark, so that Barry couldn’t see his face turn purple with shame.
“Bird’s-eye view.” He assessed Brady with the tilt of his head. “You give a new meaning to the term ‘motherfucker.’ So, stud, tell me, how many of these lascivious ladies are you banging, anyhow?”
“What gives you the idea—”
“Give it a break. You were just about to get head, and you’re standing less than fifty feet from your wife! Not to mention Ally is there, too, right beside Jade.” He shook his head in awe. “I should tell Ally so that she can quit believing your cockamamie bullshit about love everlasting.”
“No! Don’t! I—” Despite the cold, beads of sweat were forming on his brow. “I really do love Ally. Jade and I are just together for the club membership, and that’s it! I mean it. If you tell Ally about…about Kimberley, she’ll hate me. I met her before Ally. I wish I hadn’t gotten together with her, but I needed to. For Oliver’s sake.”
Barry, in awe, flopped against the wall. “You people and this stupid club! It’s going to ruin all of you. Can’t you see that?”
“If it hadn’t been for the club, I would have never met Ally. And she and I are smart enough to keep it from coming between us.”
“For her sake, I hope you’re right.” Barry nodded toward the party. “You’ve got to tell Ally the truth about Hedda Handjob. You don’t want her to find out from anyone else. Like me.”
“I will. I promise. I just have to find the right way to position it to her, so that she understands why I got myself into this mess.” Brady shook his head. “How do you guys do it?”
“By ‘you guys,’ do you mean those of my persuasion who refuse to come out of the proverbial closet?” Barry laughed. “Beats me. I jump back out as soon as Ally and Zoe are official club members.” He pointed to Keith Overton, who waved to Barry even as he put an arm around his wife, Kelly. “Ask that guy, there. The reason I’m out here is that he’s been doing his best to hit on me all night. Go figure. I don’t know what the guy is thinking. San Francisco is not much of a closet to hide in. It’s more like a glass box. Sort of like your little mommy harem—I mean club. Eventually, the parent realizes that what’s right for their child isn’t what they thought. Our kids have minds of their own. And bodies. And emotions. Someday we’ll have to accept that we can’t change our past, or their future. That we can’t live vicariously through them.”
Brady shrugged. “Great sentiments. Check in with me in a couple of years when you and your hubby have a kid of your own. I’ll put in a good word for you, with Bettina and company.”
Barry’s laugh rang out into the darkness. “As if. Yeah, I can see it now, Christian and Bettina as besties. I can see what all the ladies see in you, that sense of humor. Let’s go in. I’ll buy you a beer. Unless you’d like to join me in having a cosmo…No? Didn’t think so. Our first toast will be to Ally. Our second, to stereotypes. Viva la difference, eh? Ah hell, Doctor Keith is walking this way. Quick, let’s pretend we’re discussing the 49ers...”
***
“Where have you been?” Ally asked Jillian. “Bettina’s already done her head count, so go over and say hello.”
“My damn sitter got a better offer. From Sally, I think. How low is that? I had to take the girls to my mother’s.” She looked around. “I better go find Bettina.”
“She was headed toward the kitchen, to bitch at the caterer. I don’t know why! I told her I’ve gotten it all under control, but she insists they’re moving much too slowly.”
Jillian nodded as she ran that way.
But she froze when she opened the kitchen door. Yes, Bettina was there—
And so was Brad.
This was the catering gig he had wanted her to work?
No! Oh no….
Bettina was probably nagging him about the fact that he was shorthanded. Yes, he was, because of Jillian.
In unison, they looked up and over at her. All she could do is smile wanly at them, and wave.
Brad scowled. Bettina smirked. Gotcha.
In fact, as she walked past Jillian and out the door, she murmured, “You know how I feel about tardiness. Still, in the spirit of Christmas, I’ll cut your infraction in half.”
Jillian nodded mutely. She waited until Bettina was on the other side of the door before she ran up to Brad.
“Glad you showed up. But who told you to get all dressed up? Someone might spill something on you.” He shrugged. “Here, put on this apron and pick up a tray. That bitch is threatening to cut our fee by a third because we quote-unquote aren’t living up to the service we promised.”
“But Brad, I’m—I’m not here to work.” Jillian bit her bottom lip to keep from crying. “I lied to you. I’m here as a guest.”
“Is that so?” Brad tossed her apron to the floor. “That’s it, I’ve had it with you! Who the hell do you think you are? No, don’t answer that. Because whatever you say will be another lie.”
He was right.
Jillian turned around and walked toward the door.
She made a note to herself to bring home a doggie bag. Now that she’d lost her job, she’d need all the handouts she could get.
Chapter 16
Monday 24 December
9:36 p.m.
“You’re being silly.” Even through the cell phone, Jillian could hear the disgust in her mother’s voice. “They’re only sixteen months old! They’re never going to know they didn’t have a Christmas tree in their living room.”
“That’s not the point, Mom. I will know. And I can’t do that to my kids.” Jillian leaned her head against the kitchen window, but its icy pane did little to cool the heat of her anxiety. “It’s Christmas Eve for God’s sake!”
“A tree for one year olds is an extravagance you can’t afford, Jillian. Look, if you want them to see a tree, take them to the mall. The tree there will be nicer than anything you can do for them, anyway,” Jillian’s mother must have covered the phone with palm of her hand because her next sentence, addressed to Jillian’s most recent stepfather, sounded muffled. “More bourbon and less nog, Fred! Jeez, I’m barely feeling a buzz…”
Jillian slammed the phone onto its receiver. How could she expect her mother to understand? They rarely had a tree when Jillian was growing up. Her mother had other things to spend her money on.
Starting with booze.
Jillian had set herself a gift budget of ten dollars for each of the girls. Yesterday she had gone on a shopping spree at a bargain store in the Mission District while the girls were at a play date with Zoe and Ally. This allowed her to grab enough cheap trinkets to put under the tree.
Now she just needed a tree.
There had to be some Scotch Pine or Douglas Fir or something left on one of the city’s many lots that might be had at a fire sale price.
She loaded the girls up in the car. Time to hunt for a bargain. Or better yet, a freebie.
***
“Sorry, lady,” the lot manager gave an adamant shake of his head. “We ain’t giving them away
, even tonight.”
Jillian couldn’t believe her ears. It was almost ten o’clock at night and not another buyer in sight. She looked around the lot. Only a few trees were left. They looked forlorn, tossed sideways in a pile. The man and a helper were throwing them into the back of a large flatbed truck.
“I—I can give you five dollars for that little one, there. Please.” Her hoarse plea came out in fogged breath that hung between them in the cold, damp air.
He thought for a moment, but then shrugged. “We can chip them up, bag it and sell it for more. I got to put presents under my kids’ tree, too.”
Jillian stumbled back to her car. The girls were sleeping in their car seats. She had wrapped an extra blanket around them, which they had pulled up tight around their necks. They breathed in and out in tandem.
She was glad they were asleep, so that they wouldn’t see her crying. About losing her job. About having a tough Christmas—
In desperation she thought, maybe I can cut down a tree.
But where?
There were plenty of trees in Presidio Park.
She had remembered something Caleb had said as they ate her pie in his large house off Lover’s Lane: How budget cutbacks had left the Forestry Department shorthanded. People were always fishing and hunting illegally, even digging up plants growing wild in the forests. It was up to him and a handful of other rangers to catch them, not to mention all their other work in monitoring local wildlife, watching for forest fires and catching the occasional pot grower.
She hadn’t seen much of Caleb in December since his schedule placed him across the Golden Gate Bridge, in the Marin Headlands. His crew would be even more sparse this week, since one had gone back East for the holidays.
The eucalyptus grove outside of Lover’s Lane was dotted with small evergreens.
She drove back over to the house to get a hatchet, a rope and flashlight. She parked her car in the small deserted lot adjacent to the start of Lover’s Lane. A cluster of evergreens just steps away. She’d work fast, and the girls would have their proper Christmas after all.
***
In moments, she saw the perfect tree: a Noble fir, a foot taller than Jillian. In fact, she could see the shadow of Caleb’s house from where she stood.
The first thwack of the hatchet on its base seemed to echo through the woods. Birds flew out of the branches of a Redwood tree that swayed wildly above her. She stopped to listen for the siren of the police car that was surely on its way to arrest her, but other than a barking dog and a shrieking wind, there were no other sounds.
Well, that and her pounding heart.
I have to work fast, she thought.
With each whack, another damp bead of sweat rose out of her skin and rolled down her spine. By the time the tree tilted and fell, she was soaking and had stripped off her coat.
She was certainly too busy to hear the footsteps of the man who now stood behind her. “Theft of park property is a Federal crime. Did you know you can get five years for that?”
She froze at the sound of Caleb’s voice.
His mouth dropped open when she turned around and he saw who it was.
“What the hell, Jillian? What do you think you’re doing?”
Did her explanation make sense to him? She couldn’t tell because it rushed out of her on a wave of guilt and tears and choking gasps. Somewhere between her babbling about losing her job, the fact there was now less than thirty bucks in her bank account, and that she was tossing every cheap paperback into the fireplace to heat the house, he had grabbed her, her ax and the tree and tossed them into her car and drove her and the twins up to her place.
She was still sobbing out an apology as he pulled up to her house. He hauled the tree while she picked up the girls and took them upstairs to bed.
The moment he walked through the door with it, the smell of evergreen filled the cold dark house.
He cursed as he planted it into the tree stand, not because the damn thing was lopsided, but because he hated being privy to her crime.
But he also made it clear to her—through his ranting and kisses and pacing to and fro—that he hadn’t stopped thinking about her since the last time he saw her.
“So…you’re not going to turn me in?” she asked between sniffles.
“Nope. But only because Folsom Prison is too far away for me to visit you.” He said it so seriously that she thought he meant it. But she figured out he was kidding when he added, “And orange isn’t your color.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
She kissed him as if she’d never let him go.
“Merry Christmas to you, too.” He sighed.
Then, after they made love on the rug in front of the fireplace, he helped her decorate the tree.
Chapter 17
Tuesday, 25 December
5:24 a.m.
“Our living room looks like Toys R Us,” Jade murmured.
“Nope. We’ve got way better crap,” Brady declared. “More like FAO Schwarz.”
“But Oliver won’t know that.”
“I will. Call me a snob.”
“I do. Often. Behind your back, though, so it doesn’t hurt your feelings.”
Oliver’s toy bounty was in fact a sight to behold. A Fisher-Price obstacle course surrounded a mountain of Lego Duplo sets, which included a Little Tikes Sandy Lagoon Waterpark, a Playskool Explore ‘N Grow Busy Ball Popper, and a Laugh and Learn Playset. An army of super hero action figures stood guard over a menagerie of stuffed animals.
She’s right, thought Brady. Oliver will outgrow most of this booty before he knows he has it. But isn’t that what Christmas is all about–spending more than you need just so you can enjoy watching your kid’s eyes grow large at the sight of it all? This will be the first of many overindulgences for my little guy.
Oliver had been in awe of the giant tree since it went up three weeks earlier in the two-story-high living room. His biggest joy was pulling off the ornaments within reach of his tiny fists. Once, Jade had caught him trying to climb the tree. Her shouts of “No, no, no, Oliver!” did nothing more than make him laugh and run away.
He only listened to Brady, who was like a baby whisperer when it came to calmly and slowly explaining the Do’s and Don’ts of Life. To make his point about the tree, Brady allowed Oliver to touch the tree’s needles, to roll them around his fingertips. The little boy didn’t like its stickiness. He put his fingers to his mouth to suck off the sap, but the bitter taste had him spitting it out.
“No more hurting the tree, Oliver, okay?” Brady waited until Oliver nodded. “If you hurt the tree, the tree will hurt you, too. It will fall over and poke you.”
Again, he kept eye contact until his son nodded and muttered, “No hurt, Dada.”
Brady has us both in his spell, Jade thought.
It had been her idea that they wake up early, even before Oliver, in order to photograph the tree before the presents beneath it were scattered throughout the house. She had another reason, too. She crawled behind the tree where she found the gift box she had hidden there.
“This is for you,” she said, handing it to Brady. “I want you to have it now, before Oliver wakes up.”
Brady stared down at her and then at the box. “Sure, okay.”
Slowly he stripped the wrapping paper off the box. Inside was a photo album. The cover was quilted in a scene of stick children dancing on a field. Embroidered were the words: OLIVER AND FRIENDS – YEAR ONE.
Brady cocked his head and smiled. Then, very slowly, he flipped the gilt-edged pages, each of which held six four-by-six photos of Oliver and his friends. Sure, all of the other Onesies were in the pictures, but the hands Oliver held onto most were those of Dante, Amelia and Addison, and of course, Zoe. In the pictures the children were hugging, laughing, and stealing each other’s toys. Their smiles were wide as they swung high, or as they picked flowers off bushes, and as they rolled down the park’s velvet lawn.
“You’re the reason Oliver
has so many friends,” Jade explained. “If you hadn’t thought of joining the club, he wouldn’t be having so much fun this year. Since you’re not allowed to be there, I thought this was one way you could share in our fun.”
“This is…it’s perfect.” The lump in his throat seemed so large that he could barely get his words out.
In some of the photos, the legs and arms and partial profiles of the children’s mothers could also be seen. Brady recognized Jillian’s straight blond ponytail in one. Lorna’s long khaki-clad legs were never far from where Dante sat.
In another shot, he recognized Ally’s slim, freckled arm. It was wrapped around Zoe, who was looking up adoringly at her mother, oblivious of Oliver’s courtship offering: his pacifier.
Brady tried hard not to linger on that page because he knew Jade was watching him. As he moved through the album, he realized that Ally wasn’t in any of the other photos. Jade still suspected his love for her friend. That was clear by what was missing in the album.
He looked over at Jade. Her face was serene, but was it the reflection of the tree’s light in her eyes that made them sparkle? No. It had to be tears.
“I can’t think of a more thoughtful Christmas gift. I’ll never be able to thank you enough,” he murmured.
Her kiss caught him off-guard at first. He could have pulled away from her. By all means, it would have been the smart thing to do. But the part of him that still loved her refused to listen to reason, even though he knew sharing this precious moment with her would fuel her hope that he still loved her.
Since she’d come back to him, their lovemaking had always been at her behest. Yes, it was easy to get a rise out of him. But despite the expertise of her hands and mouth and groin, his responses were usually fast and perfunctory.
This time, though, it was Brady who responded ferociously. His lips and hands roamed, slowly and methodically, from Jade’s lips to her plush breasts, then down onto her taut stomach, before he plunged deep inside her.
The wave of moans that woke Oliver weren’t hers, but his.
