What a New Year's Eve

by R. E. Laurel

  “I have had enough calls from them tonight and you. I was busy. Doesn’t, not answering the call mean anything anymore? Jesus Christ, Stan.”

  “You’re still in New York?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “What the hell for? We thought you’d be here yesterday. The weather is hot and so are the babes.”

  “I had a date tonight and I already accepted an invitation to her family home for Thanksgiving.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Maren.”

  “Yes. She was really upset when I let her go. She was in tears. I’m truly feeling like a piece of shit for having to let her go, hell all of them go thanks to the old man. She still doesn’t know who I really am.”

  Stan released a long whistle. “Then, why even bother telling her, you won’t see her after you lay her anyway.”

  Victor remained silent thinking about how many others he had done that too and didn’t care. He was only out for himself, hitting it and leaving. With that reputation, the women still flocked around him. He knew the reason why. One is hoping to become his wife and live the life of leisure.

  “Don’t look for me and tell everyone I’m sorry for being a no-show.”

  “Have fun with the family,” Stan laughed before the call was ended.

  Fun with the family, Victor thought. How weird is this going to be? He hasn’t had a Thanksgiving meal in a real home in a long time. He grimaced when his phone rang again. Looking at the name he was surprised to see his mom’s name pop up.

  “Hi mother,” he glumly answered.

  “Don’t sound so thrilled, son.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I wanted to touch base with you. I will be in Jamaica if you want to fly down and visit.”

  Victor remained silent then asked, “Mother, why didn’t you and father ever get divorced?”

  “Such a question,” she scoffed.

  “I’m serious.”

  “Well, we love each other,” she snapped, astonished, with that question. She ignored the scoffing snort he released. “Really we do. We have an open marriage. It has suited our lifestyle.”

  “Open marriage. Whatever you say. I’m staying in New York this year.”

  “In the bitter cold?”

  “Beats being around the coldness of family.”

  “Well, should you decide to change your mind, that is where I shall be.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Maren woke from a sleepless night, the telltale signs of roughed up bed sheets and bedspread showed no surrender was given. Rolling onto her stomach, she stretched as she glanced at the black digital alarm clock on the nightstand. If she still had a job, she would be in her closet trying to find an outfit for the day. After laying the clothes on her bed, which would be made, she’d go off for a shower and get prepared for ten a.m. and get a busy day before Thanksgiving and Black Friday day in.

  “Never again,” she muttered as her thoughts drifted to a mischievous smile and pale blue eyes of Victor.

  The replay of his touch on her body teased her to run seemingly non-stop as she went to change. She needed to get to her mom’s and get baking those cookies. Since she has failed to call and let her know she didn’t have a job any longer, she would surprise her and show up unannounced. Each year they made a wide assortment and then she would take some down to the local center to give to the children.

  She grabbed a shower, standing beneath the spray as once again visions of Victor Montgomery filled her thoughts, reeling with his touch and how close she gave herself to him. Turning, she let the spray help relax her back. Her brow furrowed as she wondered why he stopped? Was it something she did? Perhaps he really wasn’t turned on by her kiss. She didn’t realize how hot the water was until she stepped from the shower into a steam-filled room.

  Her hand swiped a clear area on the mirror. Through a pout on her lips, her sigh fogged the tiny space on the mirror in front of her. She shot herself a disgusted smirk as she dried her hair and then her body.

  “I can see why I was a turn off to Vic,” she muttered suddenly becoming more critical of herself. “I really can’t help it that I don’t have the height and body of those models. I am what I am and if he didn’t like it then oh freaking well.” She ended with a renewed positive belief in herself.

  Turning her face side to side she closely studied her reflection. “I don’t think I’m that ugly.” With a snarling face, she grabbed a hairbrush to proceed to pull her hair back into a mane, letting the ends free to brush her shoulders. Her bangs fluffed about her temple and face. Pursing her lips, she applied a light shade of mauve and pink eyeshadow and a black liner and mascara.

  Mr. Whiskers released a loud, mournful meow when she entered her bedroom. Walking past him, she gave his head a quick scratch before disappearing inside of her closet. She dug into a drawer to withdraw a pair of navy-blue sweatpants and baggie brightly colored tie-dyed T-shirt. Slipping a pair of bikini underwear on, she decided to go braless and yanked on her clothes. Thick socks came next and then her snow boots.

  “Come on, Mr. Whiskers. I’ll get you fed and I’m off for a busy day with mom,” she announced as she hurried out the doorway, down the corridor, and down the wide wooden stairs. Mr. Whiskers scurried in front, beating her to the kitchen.

  ***

  Maren entered the family owned a farmhouse. With a huge smile breaking forth, she lifted her face, inhaling the aroma of cookies baking. She slipped her hands out of her thick mittens and placed on a wooden hall tree in the entryway then removed her outer garments. After kicking off her boots she scurried past the stairs to the kitchen in the back of the house heading to the source of deliciousness.

  Teresa Wilson had her first batch of cookies rolled out and the first tray baking. She worked at cutting shapes of pilgrim hats, turkey heads, hearts, stars and was about to place them into the waiting oven when she heard the front door open and close.

  “Who on earth could that be?” She muttered. “People should know by now this is one of my busy baking days.” Then she called out, “Hello? I’m in the kitchen!” Her eyes widened at the surprise visitor. “Maren! Why aren’t you working?”

  Maren when to her mom and pressed a kiss on her cheek. “I wanted to surprise you.”

  “Well, you certainly did that. Why aren’t you at work? I thought you were scheduled the day before and after Thanksgiving.” Teresa wondered, holding cookie cutters in each hand to double up on the cutting.

  Maren swiped a finger on the edge of the bowl, getting some raw dough before she climbed onto a stool at the island.

  “Stop that. There are raw eggs in there,” Teresa reminded.

  “I haven’t died yet,” Maren laughed, popping the sugar cookie dough into her mouth. “Mmmm, delicious as always.” She scooted from her seat to stand next to her mother. Reaching for the cookie cutters laying on the countertop, Maren began to bump her mom out of the way. “I’ll cut some and get the next trays ready while you get at those chocolate chips or date pinwheels, oh wait, orange cookies. Now we’re talking,” she laughed.

  “Seems you just named your top four favorites. I’ll begin date pinwheels.”

  “Can’t wait for those ones.”

  Teresa flipped through her cookbook in search of the recipes.

  “I was let go at work. That’s why I’m not there.”

  “What do you mean let go?” Teresa stopped her task of digging into the flour with a measuring cup to look at her daughter.

  “Corporate cutbacks. Thirteen of us got it,” she gave a nonchalant shrug as she placed cut out dough on the waiting cookie sheets.

  “And during the holiday seasons too. You can help your dad at the store.”

  “That’s what I figured I would do until I decide what’s next in this mundane old life of mine.” Maren rubbed the back of her hand across her face, leaving a trail of flour behind.

  Teresa studied her profile and didn’t miss the slightly protruding lower lip, her way of showing the disgust she felt.

&nb
sp; “What else is bothering you? I can tell there is something on your mind.”

  Maren shrugged. “I was on a date last night.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Teresa squealed. “Who? Do we know him? Is there a second date?” She seriously added, knowing Maren’s ways with men.

  “You don’t know him. Tomorrow he’s coming here for Thanksgiving,” she muttered.

  “Oh, Maren. A second date! When were you going to let me know! I have to clean up the house better.” She squealed, measuring out ingredients, adding. “Make some no-bakes.”

  “The house is as always, immaculately clean.”

  “I need to get papers picked up and dust. So much to do. No bakes, Maren.” She reminded.

  Knowing how futile it would be to argue about the cleanliness of an always clean house, Maren relented. “Right on it. I don’t know where Belinda is, she’s supposed to be here to help. She was let go too.”

  They heard the front door open as Belinda called out a hello. “Speak of the devil,” Maren laughed. “In the kitchen!” Maren was measuring sugar and butter out for the cookies when Belinda slowly strolled through the door.

  “Hi,” she said in a sing-song voice. Maren looked up, not missing the extra wide smile. Her eyebrows rose up and down as she began to bite her lower lip.

  She’s nervous, Maren realized.

  “Something wrong?” Maren wondered, turning on the gas stove to set the saucepan on top.

  “Depends, perhaps, I’m not sure. I stopped to fuel up my car and low and behold there is Victor.” Her hand flies in the air.

  At the mere mention of his name, Maren felt the blood drain from her face. Her eyes narrowed, not missing Belinda stalling about something.

  “Who is Victor. A new boyfriend, Belinda?” Teresa asked, wiping an area clean on the counter.

  “Not mine,” she mumbled, feeling the daggers shoot at her from Maren’s eyes.

  “He’s the man coming here tomorrow, mom.”

  “How long have you known him. Since Belinda knows who he is then he must have been around for some time,” Teresa knowingly suggested. Her gaze floated back and forth between the girls.

  “Two weeks,” Maren finally answered, still cautiously watching Belinda.

  “Well, Oh-Em-Gee, guess what. He’s here with me. He didn’t have anything to do today so I invited him to come and help. Isn’t that just marvelous?”

  “Here now? How could you? Why didn’t you call me? I’m a mess, look at me, look at me, I’m a mess!” Maren whispered the squeal of alarm.

  “I did call you. You didn’t answer,” Belinda motioned behind her, turning back at Maren to watch her actions and almost burst into laughter. She decided not to mention the streak of white flour across her cheek. She looked like the child caught doing mischief with huge eyes and mouth drooped open. Her chest rose and fell with her hyperventilation. “Calm down.”

  Maren’s gaze flew to the door. Speechless. That’s what she is, speechless and a most certain excitement flowed through her at the realization that he is here. She glanced at her mother who returned with a knowing grin. Looking at the doorway, she could hear his steps on the hardwood floor. Then he was standing in the kitchen and he looked so good in jeans and a slim half zip rust colored sweater layered over a black t-shirt.

  “Hi Vic,” Maren managed to say as their eyes met and held.

  He smiled, noticing how nervous she appeared. Her hand reached to her hair, trying to put it into some form of semblance. His smile broadened at the flour covering her cheek and chin.

  “Good lord, lady. Can you get more gorgeous?”

  She giggled. “Mom, this is Victor Montgomery. That’s my mom,” she introduced.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wilson.” He extended his arm to shake her hand.

  “The pleasure is all mine, believe me,” she announced in a conspiratorial tone while giving him a wink.

  “Mom, please,” Maren interrupted.

  With a sweeping gesture of her hand, Maren motioned for him to take a seat at the island where the serious baking was taking place. He glanced over the rows and stacks of ingredients in front of him. A twenty-five-pound bag of flour perched on the edge of the counter making it easy access for the next batch. Along with that were bags of sugar, boxes of baking soda, vanilla, you name it, he saw it. Two Kitchen-aid mixtures worked the batches to help get ready for baking.

  “You ladies have quite an operation lined up,” Victor complimented.

  “This is mild. Mom has been doing this for years.”

  “What is the occasion?”

  “Thanksgiving and Christmas are coming,” Teresa explained believing that should be enough said to bring it all to light. “Get back to those no bakes, Maren.”

  Maren rolled her eyes to Victor who chose to sit in a chair at the end of the island counter. He remained quiet, watching as they moved about the area, each knew what their jobs would be. He shook his head in total amazement.

  “How long have you been doing this?”

  “As long as I can remember. Mom also bakes cookies for daddy’s shop to give out during the shopping festivities.”

  “I’d like to help,” Victor announced, adding, “I haven’t done this in ages. This brings back some fond childhood memories.”

  “Sure. We don’t have aprons, though. Better remove your sweater.” She suggested, turning with the saucepan to place on a hot pad to add the last ingredients. A gasp slipped from her mouth at the Adonis-like vision standing, looking at her, anxiously waiting for orders. Her gaze floated over his smooth bare chest to the flat muscle riddled abdomen. His equally muscular arms hung down at his sides. The tribal tattoo around his upper arm, his shoulder and barely down the right side of his chest drew her attention.

  Where the hell did that body come from? She wondered, having a very difficult time looking away. Maren remained dumbfounded as her thoughts dared to drift to wicked thoughts concerning Victor.

  Her hands reached out daring to glide over the smoothness of his chest. He watched, permitting her fingers to trace the outline of the black swirling pattern of the tribal tattoo on his upper arm, shoulder and partially down his chest. Feeling the desire to do more than just touch, she leaned nearer, her mouth moist on his chest, pressing heated kisses in the center. Her tongue slipped out. Tipping her head back she licked the trail to the base of his neck then nuzzling kisses where she felt the heart rapidly beat. His moan of pleasure vibrated beneath her lips. Her hands slid beneath his arms to wrap around his shoulder blades. She felt his arms embrace her while he bent lower to receive her kiss on his chin then mouth. Her eyes closed, enjoying the feel of his hard body pressing against hers.

  “What’s the matter, gorgeous?”

  His voice caught Teresa and Belinda’s attention as they glanced over their shoulders. Quickly they turned away, Belinda snickering at the dreamlike expression on Maren’s face.

  “Hush,” Teresa whispered through her chuckles. She never saw her daughter act this way before.

  Victor stood bare-chested, his hands braced at his waist waiting to be told what to do. “Maren?”

  “Oh shit,” she muttered, causing the others to laugh out.

  “What can I do,” Victor repeated, fighting a grin.

  “Um, hold on a minute while I get these on the wax paper.”

  Victor moved nearer, practically brushing her back with his chest as he watched over her shoulder as she put dabs of chocolate mixed with oatmeal onto wax paper. Reaching, his finger scooped up loose dropping of the hot mixture to place into his mouth.

  “Mmmmmm, this is good stuff,” he muttered bending to press a kiss on her cheek.

  Once over the shock of seeing him partially clothed, she managed to relax. She giggled at the gesture. “Me or the cookie?”

  “Going to say both.”

  Her laughter escaped as he joined her. She missed the amused looks she received from her mother and Belinda.

  “Can you get any cuter with flour on y
our face?”

  “Really?” She wiped the back of her hand across her face as Victor rubbed his thumb across her chin helping

  “Kissing?” Teresa whispered to Belinda.

  “Appears so. I need to have a talk with her.”

  “Hey, guys. How is the baking going?”

  “Hi, daddy!” Maren called out, lifting her face for the normal kiss on the cheek.

  Victor stepped back, smiling, feeling the love between them. He nodded to her father, receiving a nod back along with a look of confusion as he went to Teresa, giving her ass a loving pat along with a kiss on the cheek. “Davis, we have company.”

  “I see that. Why is there a half-naked man in the kitchen?”

  Victor coughed at the bluntness and realized where Maren no doubt received that personality trait.

  “Daddy, this is Victor Montgomery. He came to help bake cookies and I told him he should remove his sweater to keep from getting flour on it,” Maren hastily explained.

  Victor extended his arm to greet him. Davis grasped his hand in Victor’s, squeezing tight. Victor returned the squeeze, tighter before releasing it. “Pleasure to meet you, Sir.”

  Davis winced, giving his hand a brief shake, “Pleasure is mine, Victor. Well hey, I need to get to the shop. I’ll see you all later. I’m assuming you too, Victor?” He added, lowering his chin while giving him the once over.

  “Yes sir,” Victor nodded.

  “Tomorrow daddy. He’ll be with us for Thanksgiving.”

  He turned to Teresa, “Did I hear her right?”

  “Yep, now get going.”

  CHAPTER 10

  The remainder of the morning flew too quickly for Maren. She enjoyed Victor being there as he would tease her mom and she’d give it back. He also did a wonderful job following directions from mixing the icing for the sugar cookies to cutting more out and baking. Maren glanced at the clock on the stove and amazed to see twelve o’clock.

  “Oh wow. Look at the time! I need to get going to the center.”

  “The center?” Victor questioned, sneaking another cookie.