by Vi Keeland, Penelope Ward, Lucy Score, Marie Force, Tijan, Kennedy Ryan
“That’s me.” Or at least it had been me before I’d gotten married and taken Ryan’s name.
“Here you go. Merry Christmas.” The delivery man shifted the arrangement into my arms.
“You’re delivering on Christmas?” I said stupidly.
He grinned, then winked. “Honey, for a thousand-dollar delivery bonus I got no problem opening the shop for an hour.”
“Thanks,” I stuttered.
He tossed me a little salute and whistled his way back to his van.
“Who are those from?” my son demanded when I walked into the kitchen.
“Are those from Mark?” Addy asked. I could tell by her tone that she was reassessing her opinion of the man. My daughter was easily swayed by expensive presents.
I snatched the card away before either of them could get to it.
B,
Thanks for last night, gorgeous. I’ll be thinking about you. Always.
V
My cheeks flushed and my stomach got that warm, tickly feeling in it.
“Look at her face,” my daughter hissed.
“What’s wrong with her face?” Shane wanted to know.
“She’s flushed.” Addy frowned. “Do you have a fever? Do head wounds cause fevers?”
“I’m fine,” I insisted, pocketing the card.
The doorbell rang again.
I opened the door to find my ex-husband and his wife, holding their gorgeous one-year-old. The three of them were dressed in matching Christmas pajamas that Ryan looked less than thrilled about.
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Ryan was not the sentimental let’s pose for a picture type. Which was ironic since he’d ended up marrying a woman who worked as a freelance social media manager and therefore documented every aspect of their life online.
“Merry Christmas,” I greeted them.
“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, stepping in and giving me a kiss on the cheek.
It was weird having him ring the bell at a home he’d spent two decades in mowing the lawn and grilling hamburgers. But that was what life was, weird change.
“I’m fine,” I assured him.
“We thought we’d bring Christmas morning to you,” Valerie said chipperly, handing baby Mathilda over to Ryan.
“I’ll get started on the pancakes,” he volunteered.
Valerie gave me one of her patented back rubbing hugs and then pulled away. “I gotta say, for someone who almost got trampled at a concert, you look fantastic.”
“Uh, yeah. I slept really well last night,” I fibbed.
Valerie glanced over my shoulder, then whispered, “That’s not the face of a good night of sleep. That’s the face of a good night of no sleep.”
She slipped past me, calling greetings to Betty and the kids.
I was just closing the door when another body appeared on the threshold.
“Mark?” I couldn’t hide my surprise.
He had his hands in his pockets and was looking sheepish. “Hey, sorry about last night. The call went long, and I just forgot to get back to you. I saw the news this morning about the concert and recognized you in the video. Are you okay?”
Don’t waste your time with someone too dumb or too blind to see how special you are. Vonn’s words echoed in my head.
I joined Mark on the porch and closed the door on the happy Christmas chaos behind me.
“Actually, we should talk.”
Four Weeks Later
“Have I mentioned that I’m thrilled you’re putting this place on the market,” Michelle said as she popped open the carton of pad thai.
We were in my kitchen after compiling the “Fix Before Listing” punch list.
After my night with Vonn, I’d shifted gears and temporarily tabled my job search in favor of focusing on my living situation. It hadn’t been a difficult choice, seeing as my editor had been really, really pissed that I’d wasted two weeks on tour and come home with nothing. But it had been the right call. Guarding Vonn’s secrets felt better than distributing them to a voracious public. Besides, I’d lost the ability to be objective when it came to a certain tattooed silver fox.
“It’s time,” I agreed, scooping my curry into a bowl.
I was casually shopping for a condo or a townhouse. Someplace dog-friendly that I could make all mine without the crushing weight of maintenance. I didn’t want to face another summer of endless mowing and power washing. I wanted to spend my time the way I decided, not the way an aging farmhouse dictated.
“How did the kids take it?” she asked as we headed into the living room where we’d left our wine glasses.
I’d finally sat the kids down and explained to them why it was time for me to move on…and why it was up to them to find new homes for their childhood memorabilia. Whinnie was going to be boarded on a horse farm just outside of town where she would be part of group riding lessons. Shane’s fifteen storage bins of action figures and toys were in the process of moving to the crawlspace over his father’s garage.
“They were shocked at first. But I think they’re coming around to the idea that I have an entire life outside of being their mother.”
“I’ll say,” Michelle said with a wicked smile. She sank down on the end of the couch where just weeks before Vonn had sat and somehow changed my life. “Have you heard from him?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t expect to. It’s not like we exchanged phone numbers or anything.” No, my night with the sexy, tattooed rocker had been just that. One night. One night that I’d never forget. Vonn had gone on to finish the West Coast portion of the band’s farewell tour, and I had returned to my quest to Become.
Though, I had to admit, there was something comforting and romantic about the idea of a man out there in the world safeguarding my secrets.
Some days I could almost feel him cheering me on.
“I just think that after a night like that and a floral arrangement delivered on Christmas morning he’d have made an effort to keep in touch. Even just to booty-call you. You’re definitely worth a booty call.”
“You’re such a romantic,” I teased.
Michelle and her husband had been married for twenty-three years. Long enough that neither one of them cared if one of them forgot their anniversary, but not so long that they were no longer interested in regular sex.
But I’d known the score when I’d kissed Vonn. It was for one night only.
Of course, that didn’t mean I hadn’t been Googling him daily, soaking up any new stories or pictures.
Vonn Barlowe announces retirement at last concert
Vonn Barlowe plans to mentor young musicians with new production company
“Brunch daddy” Vonn Barlowe steps out with daughter
Sonic Arcade had played their last concert the previous week. A sold-out show in LA Not a bad way to say goodbye.
“You are freaking awesome, you know?” Michelle pressed. “It’s easy to forget who you are outside of family life. But you’re one of my favorite people because you’re so damn amazing.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re my listing agent.”
“Speaking of real estate,” Michelle said. “I sold it.”
“Sold what?”
“The Milton Estate. The deal closed yesterday. Finally!”
“You’re kidding? Congratulations!” I slapped the back of the couch with enthusiasm. The Milton Estate had been on Michelle’s portfolio for two long years. It was a gorgeous property, but there was a very small pool of buyers who could both afford it and wanted to live in our small town.
“I mean, it’s no one-night stand with a rock star. But I thought I was going to be stuck with that place forever. So, I’m pretty happy.” She winked.
“One one-night stand and you never hear the end of it,” I said airily. “This calls for more wine.”
“I won’t argue with that,” my friend said.
I topped off our glasses and pulled my feet up under me. “So who’s the lucky buyer?”
I choked on my wine.
“You okay?” Michelle asked, slapping me on the back.
“Fine,” I rasped. “Totally fine. Did you say Becoming?”
“Yeah. It’s a holding company for who knows what. Not that it matters. It could be a serial killer consortium and I’d still happily collect my commission.”
My head was spinning.
I stood up and stumbled to the back door to stare across the pasture.
“I drove by on my way home from the grocery store, and there was a furniture truck out front,” Michelle called after me.
It had to be a coincidence. Right?
What were the odds that—
My inner pandemonium was cut off by the doorbell.
I spilled my wine in my mad dash to the front door.
“You expecting Publishers Clearing House or something?” Michelle wondered from the living room.
I yanked open the door, ready to throw myself into the arms of…a stranger with an official looking envelope.
“Can I help you?” I asked, trying to smother my disappointment.
“Ms. Aucker?”
My heart was thumping in my head, chest, and feet. “Yes.”
He held out the envelope. “For you.”
“Um, thanks?”
I closed the door and returned to the living room tearing open the envelope like a toddler on Christmas.
“What’s that?” Michelle asked, a spring roll clutched between her teeth like a cigar.
I frowned. “It looks like legal papers.”
She wiped her hands on her jeans. “Gimmie.”
I handed them over and fought the urge to run out the back door to check out my new neighbor.
“Definitely legal,” Michelle reported. “Looks like a contract. Huh. That’s weird.”
“What’s weird?”
“Are you a songwriter?”
“Uh, no,” I said with a nervous laugh.
“Well according to this, Becoming Records wants to pay you for a song you cowrote…with Vonn Barlowe and Tommy Kwik?” Her screech had Betty looking a little nervous.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
“Hey, there’s a note in here. It says, ‘Howdy, neighbor. Thanks for the words. Dinner at my place?’ And it’s signed with an X. No wait. That’s a V. Definitely a V.”
I snatched the note out of Michelle’s hand and read it.
“Is this real? Is this actually happening?” Michelle demanded. Betty was now tap dancing between us trying to figure out what we were so excited about.
“I’ll be back,” I said. In five seconds I had pulled on my back-door boots and was out the door running, tears on my cheeks and a smile so wide it hurt my face.
There on the far side of the pasture stood a lone figure leaning against the fence. Even from that distance, even through the tears, I could just make out the silvery beard.
Still in the holiday mood?
I’ve got a special present for you!
Check out what Vonn and Brooke are doing on Christmas Eve five years later…
1-Click Here
**If you are having any trouble tapping on the extra scene please type lucyscore.net/onobonusepilogue into your phone or computer browser.**
Behind the Scenes
The idea for One Night Only came from Mr. Lucy attending a concert. He sent me a picture of CJ Ramone from Me First and the Gimme Gimmes on stage looking like quite the punk-rocking silver fox and so Vonn Barlowe was born.
Punk Christmas Playlist
“Silent Night” by The Dickies
“Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” by Reel Big Fish
“Last Christmas” by Jimmy Eat World
“Oi to the World” by The Vandals
“Run Rudolph Run” by Slaughter and the Dogs
“Please Come Home for Christmas” by Unwritten Law
“You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” by The Suicide Machines
“It Feels Like Christmas” by Eddie & The Hot Rods
“Silent Night / Hallelujah Chorus” by The Members
“White Christmas” by Bad Religion
Don’t Miss These Holiday Reads by Lucy
The Christmas Fix
Heart of Hope
The Mistletoe Kisser
Terms for this short story:
Messenger = angel
Demon = asshole
KELLAN
I don’t do celebrations unless they’re the worshiping-your-demon sort of thing. I’m all for those, because duh—they’re worshiping me.
Not Shay. Oh no. She likes parties and holidays and events where people dress up, smile, and laugh.
I also laugh on these occasions. I laugh at them, but she says they’re laughing with each other.
Right.
Anyway, I’m down for Halloween. That’s like a shrine made into a whole night of worshiping me. Humans have no idea the root of some of their “customs.”
But Christmas…
My girlfriend, a lovely messenger. (That’s the term we use for those celestial beings up above. I refuse to use the A-word unless we’re calling them assholes, which I’m game for.) But back to my girlfriend, who is not an asshole. Shay loves Christmas.
She gets all glassy-eyed when it comes to Christmas.
That’s the day all demons go into hiding. Who wants to be around to celebrate that kid’s birthday? But I love Shay. She’s the whole reason I came topside and all that jazz. So yeah, if my girl wants to celebrate the prick’s birthday, I guess I’ll have to participate.
But a part of me is hoping to see some form of action. For Halloween, there was a thing with a coven of witches, so who knows. Maybe one came back as a demon, and even better, they want vengeance on me.
Now that’d be a great Christmas.
“Kellan.”
This holiday was off to a bad start already. I turned, seeing Shay’s half-brother coming toward me. Shay was in class, and I was waiting for her. Now I was questioning my demon sanity. Could I go soft? Would that make me go dumb too? I mean, waiting for her in this hallway—where her building attached to the main college campus center—was stupid of me.
Although, I did note the way the college students were moving past me, giving me a wide berth. Good humans. They could be trained.
“You waiting for Shay?” Damien asked, stopping to talk to me like we were friends.
He even looked like he believed this—not fazed, not in fear of me. He watched the humans, but not the way he should have. He was half-messenger, or a little less than half of a messenger. Yes, they’re all saintly and annoying—or at least he was—but he had power. These humans were nothing. They were ants for us to step on. Why didn’t he get that? Why didn’t other messengers?
I’d met a few full-blooded messengers. They weren’t as saintly as Shay and her brother. I was convinced something had gone wrong in their birth. The full-blooded messengers were dicks.
“What’s up?” I asked, before seeing who else was with him.
God.
I mean, not Him. Shit.
Devil.
No. That didn’t have the same effect.
I’ll stick with what I know—hell.
Damien wasn’t alone. I hadn’t noticed them. Why would I? They were ants, as I mentioned. But these were Damien’s fraternity brothers. He cared about them the way a human would care for a pet.
“What’s up with you?” Damien frowned at me.
I frowned back. Oh—I’d already been frowning. So, I glared.
Shay liked to call me on my look of death. I guess I was letting it fly now, but good for me.
Shay didn’t think I missed killing humans.
I did.
A dark, sensual pleasure came from crushing one of those ants. And the more, the merrier. It’d been too long since I’d wreaked havoc.
I eyed Damien’s frat brothers. They seemed like idiots who c
ould be easily pulled a certain way. Maybe I could get them to sell their souls to a demon, have them go back on their deal, and I could be sent after them? Or hell, I’d just go after them. I’d turn vigilante for my kind, no problem.
No demon would care.
“Shay’s coming.”
Right. Fuck.
I slammed my shields in place. I’d kept them down, but I needed to fortify them now. Shay had been distracted. She’d been in class, but now all she’d need to do was walk toward me, and she’d be able to tell something was up.
I kept her out when I was feeling extra murder-y. That vibe tended to upset her, and who could blame her? That was the messenger side of her. Also, that was just Shay. I loved her. I couldn’t pick her apart. She accepted me, so I wasn’t a hypocrite. That’s something non-demons were, but not us. We demons were upfront and honest about our dark side.
“What’s going on?”
I bit down a curse because that was her—her voice in my head—and I could feel her concern. She’d connected to me, so she knew something was up.
I added a second and third layer of walls, keeping her out.
I could sense her internal gasp. “Why are you doing that? What’s going on?”
“It’s finals, sis.” Damien had picked up on our dialogue. “Brings out the evil side of all of us.”
Shay rounded the bend in the hallway, coming from her building to where we were standing. Damien and I both watched, waiting.
His friends looked between us, then down to where we were watching.
One’s eyebrows furrowed together. He’d been drunk the night of Halloween, but me appearing from the black mist in front of him must’ve stuck. He knew something was off, but he didn’t ask any questions today. Instead, he just paid attention. The other friends were ranking girls as they walked by.
“That’s a five, but man—those tits. Good handful. I could make them bounce. They could jiggle so good—”