I had to get the company card from Bossman to get my outfit for the next 'gram, and when I'd mentioned not looking like a whore on the scope for a score, he'd rubbed his face and said, "Just order what you need and leave, please." Poor tyke must have been having a rough day, but you'd better bet your ass I took that card and ordered a few less skimpy outfits.
I also had to run out to the beach shops right before my 'gram. My next mark was supposed to be beach themed, and, assuming correctly, I hoped, that meant I was going to be in a swimsuit and cover-up for the duration of my time there.
When noon comes screaming at me, I'm on the beach, searching for my 'gram. I've got on a sexy little red and white striped bikini, a red cover up, some red flip flops, and a big white hat. This 'gram had been ordered after my picture went up, so I know for a fact that they know I’m a girl this time.
I finally find the volleyball area where my guy is going to be and take a deep breath in. Holy wow, these are some mighty fine looking young guys. Like, they are god-like, with their six-packs and their muscles, all glistening with sweat as they play sand volleyball. Yum.
So I saunter up and deliver my line, "Which one of you is Gage Martins?" A blonde with the whitest teeth and biggest eight pack I've seen in my life is pushed forward towards me. I waltz up to him and beckon him closer with a crook of my finger. "If you're Gage Martin, that means you've been a bad boy this year, and as a naughty Santa, I'm going to have to reward you." I give him the one kiss on the cheek this package gets.
Masculine ribbing and catcalls sound out, and the guy just stares at me, a little in shock.
"I'm your Santa Gram, dork, so say thanks to," I say, pausing to pull out the card that came with me, "Josh, Adrien, Michael, George, Sam, and John.” Gesturing to the six guys still by the volleyball pit, I inquire, “I take it that's them over there?"
Gage nods, still with mouth open like a fishy fish.
I tap his chin above me and say, "You'd better close that, might have a fly land in there, and that wouldn't be any fun, now would it?"
His teeth click a little as his mouth shuts and a huge grin takes over his face.
"You guys said we were getting an eighth to play with us; nobody said it would be a beautiful Santa," he exclaims, grabbing me around the shoulders and tugging me forward.
"How long you here for, babe?"
"Well, first off, it's Blake. Second, you've got me for three and a half hours. Third, I am kick-ass at sand volleyball, so bring it on, boys." I announce, flouncing my way to where their stuff seems to be sitting and starting to strip.
Catcalls follow, again, and you know, I'm starting to like the attention. I wave at the boys and smile, getting myself ready to kick some ass.
"So gents, who is who around here, eh? Name yourselves and let’s play," I direct.
"I'll just point them out to you since I'm the only one you need to know, right? Gents, raise your hands when your name is called!" Gage yells. "Josh." Blondie with no abs, got it. "Adrien." Dark hair, glasses. "Michael." Redhead with curls. "George." Way too short of shorts, yeesh. "Sam." Another redhead, freckles everywhere. "John." Brunette with a big nose. "Think you've got it all down, now?" Gage inquires, grinning at me.
"Sure thing, but your time is wasting. What do you want to do, play some volleyball or stand around like a bunch of girls and gossip?" I grin mischievously. I actually am quite good at volleyball, and these guys may be taller, but I'm fast and furious when I play. Am I competitive? Yes, yes I am.
"Well, as the lady demands, boys, let's pick some teams and play some ball!" Gage shouts, grabbing my hand as I strip the last of my stuff off, now clad in only my bikini.
I end up on the team with Gage, Josh, George, and Sam. Let's just say each and every one of these guys is competitive as fuck. Our team ends up losing, and as a consolation prize, I give every one of my team a small peck on the cheek.
"Anyone bring any food? I'm starving after that match. Plus, I have sand where no sand should be. Should we go for a dip out there first?" I ask, trying to wipe off damp sand as best I can and giving the guys a good show.
Gage laughs. "The sand is your own fault for diving into it so many times to get the ball, so I have little pity for you."
"Seriously? I'm going to have sand burn on my tits, and they're nice tits. Why would you want to hurt the nice little tits?" I cry.
"Such a whiner," Gage teases. "Lets take a dip, though I warn you it's fucking cold in there."
"I can totally handle this. I like the cold," I proclaim, marching forward towards the water. The other guys follow, chatting and ribbing each other.
Turns out I can NOT handle it.
"Holy Fucking Cheese Curds!" I squeal, waist deep in the water. "I'm done, I'm good, I'll keep the sand as a momento, and it can just live with me," I stutter, the cold making me shiver.
"Just do a quick dip, scrub off the ladies, and we can get back out and get you warmed up. I have extra towels we can wrap you in to dry off," Gage says, just shaking his head.
“Th-that sounds g-good," I shake out. "Here I g-go." I draw in oxygen like it's the last breath I'll take and go under.
The water hits me like a wrecking ball and make my eyes pop open momentarily. Bad move, Blake, bad move. I screw them shut and quickly start to scrub at my body with the water. I won't have sand on me anymore, but hopefully the salt isn't too bad either.
As quickly as possible, I'm up out of the water and sprinting as fast as I can in water towards the promise of dryness and food. When my feet hit dry land, I'm practically flying towards my towel, Gage and the guys behind me. I grab my bag and pull out the new towel I bought (thank you, Bossman), and turn myself into a freaking burrito. Oh, God, food. Heat and food soon.
"Here," Gage states, handing me an extra towel
"Awesome," I say, then moan as a hot towel is draped around my shoulders.Finally warmer, I plop down onto the ground and unwind my burrito, letting the breeze caress my skin. "So since hypothermia didn't set in, does this mean it's food time?" I ask, puppy dog eyes turned on full blast.
Gage just snorts and shakes his head. "Let's walk down to the pier and grab a bite, my treat. What're you feeling? Hotdogs, burgers, seafood, or other?" he asks.
I take his outstretched hand and let him tug me up. "Hmm, how about some fresh seafood? I haven't had freshly caught in almost a year, probably. Just let me throw some sort of clothing on, so we don't get kicked out."
I towel dry my hair and finger brush it as best I can before making a loose bun on top of my head. Putting the cover-up and hat on, I grab my shoes, and I'm ready to go.
"Lead on, Captain Gage."
I’m totally nailing this 'gram. The score is one to one. Next one decides the day.
When I finally get home, I literally fall into the couch face first and just groan. "Ugh."
"What's got your panties in a twist, darling?" Jenna calls from the kitchen.
"Dough. I had dough all freaking day long. Every single 'gram involved dough in one form or another. And I'm so damned hungry. What smells so good?" I lift my head from my smooshed position on the couch pillows to smell the air. Flavors so rich I swear I can taste them waft from the kitchen. Tomato, oregano, garlic, onion, and italian sausage. I bet we are having-
"My homemade spaghetti sauce with fresh noodles. I just made it today!"
"Well, aren't we the little housewife. Are you making bread and salad, too? I can help if you need or want me to, but you have to tell me because otherwise, I'm going to let my body mold itself into this couch and become one with it."
Jenna stirs her sauce and giggles. "I'm good. But Blake? Ya stink, so why don't you go get your smelly ass in the shower and clean up a little bit before we eat, then you can tell me about your day, and I'll dish about the cutie whose hair I got to cut today. Deal?"
"Deal."
I inch my way off the couch and wonder if I could just shower then streak to my room. You know what? Screw it, I'm totally doing it. I need th
is salt water off of me asap.
I'm sweaty, I'm sticky, I'm salty, and I kind of hate how I feel right now, so that first step into the hot water feels like being washed in the Holy Spirit of Cleanliness. Angels start singing, as does Angela, and my thighs weep at the joy of freedom from all the salt.
Stepping out of that shower is one of the hardest things I've had to do in a long time. I seriously could have stayed in there another hour or more, but the water started to run cold, and I'm not about that life. Snagging a smaller black towel, I wrap my hair up in it and open the door of the bathroom. Steam rolls out in a large fog, adding two million percent more humidity to the air than before. Moving through it, I'm sure I look like some badass walking out of the cloud of dust from an explosion.
I reach my room and strip, lying on the bed that I did NOT make this morning, yet has somehow magically become made and tucked in. The cleaning fairy must have come by, or Jenna had a fit and did it herself. Whichever the case, I'm grateful for the assistance. Now if the cleaning fairy moved my underwear or something, she and I are going to have a talk about personal boundaries.
When I’m finally dry, I grab something comfortable. I'm feeling a bit sassy, so I snag the Fuck You leggings again and add an All You Need is Love sweater that is like four sizes too big. I slowly meander out of my room and make my way past the couch, stepping into the kitchen to see what's what.
"Finally. I figured you'd either drowned yourself or become a prune, neither of which I doubt with you."
"Fuck you, Jenna, I'm just fine."
"Mhm.” The giraffe just rolls her eyes and keeps puttering with her sauce. I have to say, her sauce is damned good. If she just cooked for more people, I'm sure she would get a husband in no time at all. Really, that old saying about hearts and stomachs is a gold standard for a reason, so I say we put this to the test.
“Hey, did I tell you I saw that Johnny guy again today?”
“Johnny? Oh, costume Johnny. The one that knocked you down, right? How was he?”
“Fine, I think. He stumbled his words, and then ran out fumbling on his feet. I don’t know why, especially since I don’t usually go for the nerd type, but he’s really stuck in my head even though I kissed a rich and sexy client today.”
"WHAT?" Jenna practically screams.
"Totally did, because you only live once.”
"So, was he a old, this guy you kissed? Nice? Sweet? A keeper?" Jenna scoops noodles into the sauce as she stirs them.
"Ha. He's just a rich baby. Twenty-two with nothing to do but blow Daddy's money. They had a private beach and the best seats at this surf and turf place that was crazy expensive. I seriously think he's probably the richest person I've ever actually met." I start setting the salad fixings on the table. “But even with all that, he was less interesting than stammering Johnny. Weird, right?”
"Wow, sounds like I really need to get in on this gig."
"Seriously? You missed the point. And I don't know, Jenna. I played sand volleyball today, and let me just say, it was intense."
"That's because you're competitive as fuck. Did you win?"
"No, but only because the guys were too big of pussies to dive for anything," I pout, lining up the dressings and toppings to my crazy giraffe’s liking.
"But you did?"
"Hell fucking damn straight, I did. I dove for that ball like it was a bomb that only explodes when it hits the ground. I played to win and got sand everywhere as thanks. Even poor Angela was complaining. I've never had sand in some places where I had sand today."
Jenna gags. "Eww, I don't need to hear about Angela and her party life.”
"Suit yourself. But no, I dove and kept our team from missing like ten spikes. Doesn't help that their team had the super tall ginger guy. Seriously, he had to be pushing seven feet tall, no joke." I've almost got the dressings lined up perfectly now.
"If you say so. Now, what did you do after the sand volleyball?" Jenna inquires, still stirring her sauce.
"Dunked my ass in the freezing water, almost died of hypothermia, ate some steak and lobster, then kissed the guy goodbye. This time, full on the mouth. Oh, and he tipped me two hundred bucks for the good time. Plus the commission I made off him? Yeah, it was worth it, even to Angela. She can get a new toy now from this check, so she's happy, and he'll be a repeat client, I think."
"WHAT DID I JUST SAY ABOUT ANGELA’S PARTY LIFE?"
"Oops, sorry." I chuckle, deciding the salad stuff is good and plopping my happy ass on a stool. “But I did have a few other clients today. The first was the little old lady at the bakery that gave me way too much sugar. I seriously feel a soul connection to her, so I think I'll just go visit sometime. You should too, she's an absolute doll."
"Why the hell didn't I get some of these magical donuts?" Jenna demands, finally laying the spoon down next to her pot of spaghetti.
"Because they were magical. And they magically disappeared."
"Where to?" Jenna demands, opening the oven to pull out the garlic bread. Yum.
"My stomach. See, magical. They just went there, all on their own."
"Oh, and I'm sure you had nothing to do with it?" she asks, setting the hot pan on the stovetop to let it cool a little bit.
"Nope, nothing from me." I grin, snagging a piece of spinach and tossing it in my mouth.
"Mmkay. Anyways, grab some of the table shit, and I'll set the food over there by you."
"Sure thing.”
"So," Jenna asks while cutting off a hunk of garlic bread, "did you have any other clients? I thought you had a third one today?"
"Oh yeah, I sure did." I chuckle. "You know that pizzeria down on 32nd?" I inquire, dishing up a plate of her famous spaghetti.
"Joe's Pizza? Yeah, that shit is amazing as fuck. Everyone knows it."
“Yeah, I met the guy. Super nice.”
"Wow," is all Jenna can say, mouth open and bits of bread stuck in her teeth.
"Pretty neat, right? So between the baker, the rich boy, and the pizza guy, I was literally rolling in dough today. Get it? Rolling in dough?" I laugh at my own joke because we all know I'm freaking hilarious.
"Ha ha ha. You're such a nerd," she says, rolling her eyes at me. "Can we finish eating now?"
"Hey, you're the one that wanted to talk about our days. I'm just complying with your wish," I joke, shoving a golf ball sized fork of spaghetti into my mouth.
"Well, now I wish you'd stop."
"Fine." I swallow. "We can eat in silence."
"Fine."
"Fine."
So we do, that is until my phone starts buzzing like an angry bee after the bear just stole his honey.
"Will you answer that?" Jenna grouches as my phone goes off a second time.
"Fine, geesh, you're such a drama queen." I open my phone up while sipping my sweet nectar. "It's work. Oh, speaking of, I found out the Christmas party is November 15th, and I can bring four people. Which means just you." I shrug. I open the message on my phone and grin. "Guess who has a full set of pictures up? This girl." I dance a little happy dance, glad to know that I will NOT be mistaken for a boy again.
"Ooh, girl, let me look." Jenna whips out her phone and taps a few times. "Damn. I mean, I was there, but holy hot damn woman, you look sexy as fuck." She stops and then types furiously on her phone.
"What are you doing now, you crazy bitch?" I ask, watching as her fingers fly across her phone like someone on speed.
"I," she says, pausing as she does some fiddling, "just posted it to my Instagram. I have over fifty thousand followers, so it should get you some business."
My jaw literally drops. For real, like in those old cartoons, it just hangs open. "Wha, I, why, why would you do that?" I cannot even speak right now. Maybe I just had a brain tumor pop up, and it's affecting me?
"Because I love you and want you to succeed."
DING. DING. DING DING DING DING DING.
My phone is practically blowing up. I haven't had this many notifications at onc
e, ever. I open it and drop the piece of bread I'd just picked up for myself.
"Holy mother of a blessed pizza."
"What?" Jenna questions, shoving her face with spaghetti now that she's pimped out her best friend.
"I just got fully booked for tomorrow. And half of next week." The dings keep coming. "Holy shit. I need to call Bossman, stat," I stammer, barely able to breathe as I see dollar signs dancing in front of my vision.
Fumbling with my phone, it takes a few tries before I get the number right and am able to get through to Drake.
"This is Drake," he states, as though anyone would call that number expecting someone else.
"I'm going to need car service the rest of my life, and we are going to have to book me spaces between appointments." I put him on speaker and open my app again.
"Why would we need to do that? No one gets planned breaks."
"Look at the app and look at my week," is all I get out. Clicking comes from his side of the line, and then I hear a thunk and far off curses.
"Fuck. Ok, you're going to need more clothes and shit. I'll call Chikos and have them open up early tomorrow. Be ready to go by 5:30. I'll have Dennis get you and be your point man all day. He and the receptionists will get everything that you’ll need in order." I imagine him making a mental list for all of this and snapping his fingers at poor Presley to get on this shit.
I groan at the mention of such an early morning, but you got to do what you got to do when you're a superstar. I pull up my metaphorical big girl panties and reply with a simple, "Sounds good."
"Good. Oh," there's a pause, "Brat? How did you get so busy so fast?"
I giggle. "I have a best friend with over fifty thousand followers on Instagram. Let's just say she hooked me up."
"Right. I'll see you in the morning." The line goes dead.
I hold the phone from my ear and shrug, starting to get used to this man's weird-ass ways. Suddenly, all my senses come rushing back to me and hit me like a two ton bull hits a chicken: really fucking hard.
"Oh fuck, now I'm really hungry," I gush, shoveling my nearly chilled deliciousness into my face. I am forking in noodles in one hand and grabbing and ripping off bread with the other. Excitement and hunger are my new names, and they are fierce right now.
A Naughty Santa Gram Page 12
