The Christmas Fix

by Kristen Kelly

  The smell of sex. It was suffocating. The fleshy aroma, sharp inside my senses. He kept moving and grunting until we both flew into orbit. It was fast and jerky and my head threatened to collide into the wall. The table hopped on its legs, pushing us to climax until we both came apart.

  As I righted myself and Zac zipped his pants I burst into tears. I didn’t know if it was because I was overtired or if I had a legitimate reason to be upset. I smoothed my skirt. “I should go now.”

  “Did I do something wrong? I thought you wanted...” he said helplessly.

  “No. No, it’s not that.”

  “Then what?” He sagged back down on the couch, looking dejected. “You know, I promised myself I’d treat you different tonight. I had this whole romantic breakfast planned and everything.”

  “It’s not you, Zac. It’s...it’s me. I’m tired. Just tired.”

  “You sure?”

  “No.” The truth was he’d made me realize that this was all I’d ever have with him and suddenly I knew it wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t.

  “Then what is it? Tell me.”

  There was no way I was telling him the truth. I took a letter out of my backpack and handed it to him.

  “What’s this?”

  “My acceptance letter. To Stanford.”

  “You got in? Fantastic! I knew you could do it.”

  I handed him another letter. The one outlining my tuition payments.

  “Oh,” he said with a dour look. “I see the problem. Hey, we can work with this. Figure something out.”

  “It’s a lot of money, Zac.”

  “If they can put a man on the moon...”

  I laughed. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Besides, it’s not due until next May.” It may have been tomorrow for all it mattered, because there was no way I would be able to raise that kind of money in a few short months, even if I worked day and night nonstop. I gave him a weak smile.

  “Next May. Right.” He pulled me into his arms. “With that huge brain of yours, I know you’ll find a way around this minor detail, but on the off chance that you don’t...I can always be your backup plan.” He fluttered his lashes, making me laugh.

  “I’ll...I’ll let you know.” I didn’t really mean it though. “Tell me now. Tell me about the date you have planned for us.”

  “Well, I thought we’d start by getting coffee once in awhile?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Then graduate to lunch at this hot-shot diner that just opened down the street. Better yet, we could grab a hotdog from the kiosk, eat it on the way to my apartment.”

  You have got to be kidding!

  One brow quirked upwards. “Now there’s that fire in your eyes I love so much. Come on, Charlotte.” He chucked me under the chin. “Do you really think I’m that cheap?”

  “Or I am.”

  “Nope. Nothing about you is cheap, sweetheart. Actually, I do have something better in mind. A nice dinner. Dancing. Beautiful surroundings. The whole nine yards. We’d have to get dressed up. Be seen in public ya know. I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty tired of sneaking around.”

  “Me too.”

  “So is that a yes? You’ll go out with me?’

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Great. How about being my date for the Christmas party on the twenty-second?”

  “Okay.”

  “Oh and we can still get that hot dog and coffee sometime.”

  “I love coffee. Donuts, pastries, all that stuff. But I draw the line at hot dogs. I read a report. I know what they put in those things. Donuts may not be healthy, but they’re much safer.”

  “You got it.”

  Chapter 17

  Charlotte

  I was floating on clouds, ready to take the risk on love. I stood in front of the elevator of Abby’s apartment, foot tapping; I couldn’t recall being this happy in a very long time. Not since Papa died. Not only that, I was so excited to be going shopping for a fancy date dress, I couldn’t stand still.

  Ding!

  The doors slid open with a swish. I took a step forward, then paused. The arrow said down and I needed to go up. I stepped back.

  The scents of rich aftershave, as four men, all good-looking in their thirties wearing expensive suits and carrying briefcases walked past, got on the elevator. One caught my eye and winked.

  I thought of Zac. Did he wink at all the women in his building? The block he lived in was smaller, but it was just as impressive. Wood-paneled elevator. Marble floors. Crystal chandelier in the lobby. Had he always lived that way? I didn’t think so, since he told me that his mother—so weird that he called her by her first name—was a widower twice; the first husband having been a shoe salesman turned short order cook from Albuquerque. New Mexico was a long way from New York. Sometimes I caught a little bit of his accent.

  An older woman with white hair piled high up on her head, apparently waiting for the same elevator, showed up at my side. She looked at my shopping bag—an inexpensive tote from Kohl’s with pictures of unicorns on it. Suddenly, I was aware of the jeans I was wearing—worn at the knees—my hair pulled back in a ponytail and no makeup! Why hadn’t I worn makeup?

  “Hello,” I said, feeling awkward but trying to make conversation.

  “Oh.” Her brows raised as if she were surprised that I’d spoken. “Do you need directions? Are you...delivering something to someone?”

  “Nope.”

  “I see.” Shaking her head almost to herself, she got on the opposite elevator, ignoring me completely.

  Rich or not, Zac would never act that way. He’d shown up early every Monday, Wednesday and sometimes Friday evenings, brought me fabulous meals and helped me finish my work so I could leave early. Strangely, it sort of bothered me. Not that he came to see me and certainly not the wonderful food, but encouraging me to leave work before everyone in the office showed up? Was he ashamed to be seen with me or simply being chivalrous?

  Was I fooling myself into thinking this was more than just a prelude to sex?

  I groaned, a little too loudly, when I saw the elevator halt on floor twenty-five then go back up again.

  “Gonna be awhile,” said a young woman standing beside me with purple hair.

  I agreed.

  Was I making a mistake with Zac? We’d not actually talked about being exclusive with each other, but I’d canceled all the dates I’d booked on the dating site the week before because really, what was the point? Here was this great guy and he was about to show me off in front of everyone at the biggest, most publicized event of the year. Remington Enterprise’s Annual Christmas party. No more sneaking around. No more secret liaisons in closets, basements, or empty offices. Okay, maybe I didn’t want that to end—it was fun and sexy—but I liked that we were starting a new chapter in our relationship. Everyone at Remington’s would know we were a real couple.

  When he’d shown up on Tuesday to see me, he looked a wreck. Cute, but still a wreck. Hair unwashed. Eyes droopy. He had to be exhausted, but when I insisted he go home; he refused, stating that he’d have plenty of time to sleep when he was dead. I found a way to say thank you. We worked together on an important merger. I didn’t mind work, in fact, it was fun.

  Zac’s latest project was so over his head. What was it with these rich tycoons that they had to give their best buddies the highest paid positions, whether they were qualified or not? Zac didn’t belong in accounting. Sure, he had an MBA degree, but he was in the wrong role. I could tell by the glazed look in his eyes when I tried to explain a simple mathematical problem, the latest one costing the company millions before I showed him the errors omitted in a cost report from three years earlier. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Okay, maybe it did.

  Ding!

  Abby stepped out of the elevator wearing a white woolen coat, black leather boots and Gucci strappy purse over one shoulder. “This elevator takes forever. I thought it would be quicker if I met you down here instead.”

&n
bsp; “Good thinking.”

  “The driver is right outside. Ready?”

  “Ready.” She handed me her arm. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to my Kohl’s bag. “Under things. Oh and shoes.”

  “Give here.” I handed her the bag. After peering inside and frowning, she walked over to a large silver trash container. I thought she was going to throw out my shoes by the way she picked them up and sneered at them. It was true, they weren’t anything special, but they were the only heels I owned. In shock, I watched her not only throw away the shoes but the whole bag as well. “Now that we’re starting fresh, let’s go.”

  “I loved those shoes,” I protested as we walked out the revolving doors toward the limo.

  “You don’t love the shoes,” Abby said.

  “They were my mothers,” I lied.

  “More like your grandmother’s”

  “I wasn’t counting on...” I was going to say I wasn’t counting on purchasing new shoes and under-things, but I knew better than to argue with Abby.

  Our driver for the day, a tall black man in traditional dark suit, stood by a long pink limo. I could hardly believe what I was looking at.“Wow, it’s been months since I...”

  Abby stared at me with narrow eyes.

  I bit my lip. “I mean... It’s pink, Ab. Freaking pink!”

  “Yeah,” She turned to her driver. “Simon, take us to the upper Eastside.” She grinned. “Then Bloomingdales, Dolce @ Gabbana, and J. Mendel’s.”

  “J. Mendel’s,” I shrieked. “Abby, I’m not wearing fur!” I climbed into the back seat and the driver closed the door behind us.

  “You have to and you will. It’s my Christmas present for you. Now don’t argue with me. Who else am I going to spend my money on at Christmas? Let me do this, Charlotte. Let me buy you something nice to wear to the party. What good is money if I don’t have anyone you love to spoil? It’s not like I have kids or anything.” She slumped back in the leather seat, eyes watering, looked out the window. Suddenly I felt ungrateful.

  “Okay, Abby, but no purses.”

  Her head swiveled in my direction. Then she clapped her hands with glee and yelled, “Good, I already bought you a Louis Vuitton yesterday.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  SIX HOURS LATER AFTER shopping until we dropped. Literally. We sat in the back of the limo drinking Pina coladas and munching on burritos we bought from a local vendor. “Tell me about Zac,” Abby asked looking smug with her arms crossed over her chest. “Oh, don’t worry. We haven’t said anything to anyone. Your secret is safe. Well, until the party that is. Oh my God, Charlotte you are going to blow his mind in that dress!”

  “You almost look...happy for me,” I said. “Almost like you didn’t tell me just a few weeks ago that it was a mistake, that I should break it off because he would break my heart.”

  “About that. Chase told me Zac hasn’t been in a serious relationship in three years. I guess he’s not a player after all.”

  “What else did he say?”

  “That he’s not been with nearly as many women as I thought. I guess he dates maybe once a month? According to Chase. And those women are usually the ones Margo finds. The last one was a trick. She told him it was a business meeting.” She laughed. “So he took her out to dinner. Made the best of it but neither were right for each other. According to my husband.”

  “Zac and Chase. Do they...tell each other everything?”

  “Just about.”

  Shit!

  “I guess Zac usually shuts it down after the one date.”

  “Yeah, that’s what he told me.”

  “So there you go. He’s a standup guy. A keeper.”

  “I don’t know. What about the reputation?”

  “A misunderstanding?” She paused. “Boy, this drink is yummy. The coconut and pineapple are awesome together. Thanks for talking me into it.”

  “You’re welcome. You sure Zac isn’t a player? I mean we get along fantastic and the sex is out of this world but... I don’t know. It’s like he’s too good to be true plus reputations are usually born of fact. Aren’t they? Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think he’s a player myself, I just wonder how he got such a bad image is all.”

  Abby slid into me as we took a rather sharp corner. “Simon...anything wrong?”

  “Sorry, just trying to miss a cat is all.”

  Snowball!

  “Charlotte, I don’t know Zac all that well, but I do know my husband, so I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess they may have similar personalities. Do you know how Chase convinces people to invest in his company? Especially before we’d even turned a profit.”

  “No.”

  “People gravitate toward him. They like him. Everyone likes Chase and for good reason. He’s supportive, outgoing and if anyone has a problem there’s my husband ready to jump in and save the day. You know, I once saw him break up a fight between six angry tourists on the island of Maui. And one of them had a knife!”

  “Holy shit!”

  “Yeah, that was one time I wished he was more of a wallflower.”

  “Who were they?”

  “Irish mafia. God, it makes me shudder just thinking about that night.”

  “Did he know they were mafia?”

  “Oh yeah. I didn’t, but he did. Didn’t matter to him. He just wanted them to stop before someone got hurt. By the end, they not only shook hands but sent my husband a case of Guinness.”

  “And your point?”

  “My point is; people get the wrong idea about Chase. People who don’t know my husband, or strangers and yes, sometimes his competitors, they think because Chase pays attention to those around him means he’s got ulterior motives, that he’s up to no good, when it really means he just likes people. All people.”

  “Even women.”

  “Especially women. I can’t tell you how many women get the wrong idea.”

  “They think he’s hitting on them.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But Zac isn’t Chase.”

  “I know, honey. But I think that’s why Zac is thought of as...well you had the word for it, not me.”

  “A player.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you had the wrong idea. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Perhaps. I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair. I should give everyone the benefit of the doubt before I know otherwise. I usually do but...”

  “You were just trying to protect me.”

  “I guess I was.”

  Chapter 18

  Zac

  We had two rooms.

  Two rooms for fuck’s sake. Who the hell made these reservations? Certainly not Chase. That is, unless he had a sense of humor, because he now knew everything.

  Almost everything. Actually, he’d figured it out for himself. First, by interrupting us in the closet and then I’d sort of left some evidence in our secret client room. I chuckled to myself, recalling that I’d called it the Boom Boom Room. I’d made up for Charlotte’s amusement.

  Of course. I remembered why we had two rooms. Only two people at Remington Enterprise were privy to Charlotte and my relationship. Neither Abby nor Chase would tell anyone I was in a relationship with an exotic-looking brunette with chocolate brown eyes, a mane of dark curly hair, and skin the color of a mountain cliff. Whomever made the reservation, had no idea.

  Relationship.

  There. I’d said the word. Or thought it. This was all new to me. What the hell was it about Charlotte that made my blood run hot, my brain numb, the words in my head stop yelling, cheater, cheater, cheater.

  Jane.

  A hard jagged stone lodged inside my throat. I stiffened, recalling what my therapist told me a hundred times.

  It wasn’t your fault.

  Yeah, right.

  I was moving on though. Wasn’t that what he wanted? What we both wanted.

  I tucked my shirt in and pulled on the suspenders. It was the first time I’d not taken a professi
onal to anything work related. Not appeared with some random stranger I was paying a thousand bucks a night to smile and look pretty on my arm.

  The bracelet.

  Yeah, I was moving on, but it didn’t mean I was letting go. Not completely. I needed to remember that shit,.

  I buckled the grey polyester cord bracelet—a gift from Jane—onto my right wrist.

  “For survival,” Jane had told me one day.

  “A Paracord?”

  “I knew you’d know what it is!” She was so pleased with herself, to have bought me something I didn’t already have. “Not just any Paracord. This one is special. It actually has a whistle, a fire cable, and a Ferro rod. A real survival tool.”

  “What the hell am I gonna do with a whistle?” I’d asked pulling her into my arms. “And fire? You’ve got plenty of that, baby. I’ll just rub your two legs together and...” I’d tickled her mercilessly until she screamed.

  She’d buckled it on my wrist, then said, “I bought this for you, because I want you to remember that whatever happens between us, and God forbid you go through something even worse than combat, I want you to survive, Zac. Always. Even if...even if we aren’t together some day. Wear it when you’re feeling down. All the time. It will remind you that you’re a survivor.”

  “Okay.” I’d had her naked on the bed, was trailing kisses along her hot skin, all the way from her navel, down to her...

  I’d looked up from between her thighs, enjoying her little mewing sounds. I’d paused as she arched her back. “Survive what exactly?”

  “Oh my God! Will you just...?” She’d giggled. “On...us. Life. Whatever. Present time is over. Get back to work, Mr. Taylor.”

  “Yes, Maam.”

  I hadn’t thought of anything happy concerning Jane in a very long time. Hadn’t allowed myself any good memories and there were plenty. Did that mean the demons were finally kept at bay?

  I’d taken off the bracelet three years ago and hadn’t worn it since. Taken it off after Jane saw me with another woman. Saw me more disgustingly drunk than I’d ever been in my life. The last time she saw me, because after that she’d run out of the apartment in tears, right into the line of traffic. She was hit and killed by a drunk driver. Ironic how life works sometimes.