Carolina Christmas Kiss: A Vixens In Love Novella

by Bailey Peters

  “Strawberry or lime?” she asked.

  “Strawberry, no question.” She handed me a glass rimmed with pink sugar crystals so I could pour the amount I wanted.

  “You know the deal,” she said. I nodded, turning over my car keys into her outstretched palm. Shania made her drinks stiff. She also made sure her friends didn’t drink and drive. That’s why when you went to Shania’s house, you brought your pillow and a sleeping bag. I had more fun at her sleepovers than I ever did at the ones I went to as a kid.

  I hoped that we’d still be doing things like this in ten or twenty years, but part of the reason I savored nights like this so much was knowing they were numbered. Soon, half of us would be scattered across the country. The logistics would be much harder for get togethers.

  Once we all had a drink and had settled on the mishmash of couches and bean bag chairs, Shania clapped her hands together. “Okay, girls. I promised a night of fun and I intend to deliver, but first, we have to do just a teensy bit of work.”

  Isabella groaned and scrunched up her face. “What are you up to this time?”

  “Nothing terrible, I promise. Just a little photoshoot.”

  “Good thing I brought my makeup bag so that I could get ready for class tomorrow,” Iman muttered. She wasn’t quite as keen on surprises as the rest of us.

  “But what about clothes?” I asked. I was in a pair of sweatpants and an ancient shirt with the logo for my family’s marketing company on it. The ensemble didn’t exactly scream polish or sophistication.

  “That’s where the fun part comes in. I took the liberty of going on a shopping spree at the thrift shop down the road. You can wear what you’ve already got on or you can dawn one of the beauties on my bed. I found some flowy dresses that will probably fit all of us.”

  I shook my head, smiling. You could never predict what you were going to get into when Shania was around. She kept us on our toes.

  “What’s this for, exactly?” Latosha asked.

  “Just a little advertisement for the date auction.”

  We collectively rolled our eyes.

  “And an opportunity for us to take nice pictures as a group. I wanted to be able to print them and frame them up nice to give to you as Christmas gifts.”

  “Way to guilt us into not being Scrooges about it,” I said, taking a sip of my drink. Shania always had a way of getting what she wanted. Honestly, she was kind of a genius.

  “Why do you think I didn’t warn you in advance? Didn’t want to give you a reason to cancel on me.”

  Twenty minutes later, she had me styled in a flowing maxi dress that she paired with a funky pair of costume earrings that felt like they were a hundred pounds hanging from my earlobes. She wasted no time having me scrub off my chipped nail polish and replace it with a coat of shiny pink.

  As much as I loved Shania’s bright bursts of color, I wasn’t sure I wanted them on my face. I was inept when it came to makeup and typically didn’t wear any of it, so I surrendered my face to Isabella’s control. Below the feathery touch of her makeup brush, my skin transformed with highlighter and bronzer, eyeshadow and blush. We skipped foundation and powder altogether. I didn’t own any and every girl in our group had skin that was dramatically different in color— milky white to varying shades of caramel to deep mocha. I loved the diversity of our group.

  When we’d all been sufficiently polished and plucked and primed, Shania rolled out an extravagant setup she’d checked out from technology lending program at the campus library. We pushed her breakfast table to the far wall in the kitchen and did our best to transform the rest of the small space into a studio. It took two of the Vixens to wrangle the transportable green screen into submission while Iman set up the lighting stands and I tried to figure out all of the bells and whistles on the fancy HD camera she’d brought.

  “How’d you manage to get all of this home with you?” Latosha asked.

  It was a good question. There was no way all of it fit in the little compartment behind the seat of her motorcycle.

  “I had a little help,” she said. Immediately after, there was a loud knock on her front door. “And I believe that would be him,” she said, smiling.

  In walked Shania’s dad, a stout man with a handlebar mustache that looked like he might have a scar or two beneath all his leather. “I came to visit a friend in town for a crawfish boil and Shania told me she needed someone to take a group picture so she could be in it.”

  We all hugged him hello before getting into position in front of the green screen.

  He swapped out one lens for another, adjusted the lighting, and started snapping.

  “What’s up with the green screen?” Iman asked when we were in between poses. I’d also been wondering. At the beach, there were a thousand gorgeous places outdoors where we could have taken the pictures in natural lighting without the accessories I wasn’t convinced any of us knew how to use.

  “Shania’s mama is always making me watch those reality tv shows where strangers get together to find love. The contestants are always running their mouths about dream dates and how they’ll know when they’ve met their perfect man. Shania told me about your date auction, and I thought it might be nice for you girls to make little fliers with your pictures on them with your dream date destination as the background. That’s what the special effects are for. People will get to know your personality and not just your face.”

  Shania scrunched up her nose. “He’s leaving out the part where he wants me to have a hunting stand in the background so all the boys will think I’m a redneck and get scared off.”

  Her dad shook his head. “I just don’t want her to waste her time on some pretty boy that doesn’t know how to catch and clean a fish.”

  * * *

  I was in Agroecology the next day when an email came through from Shania. I took a glance around the room before opening it up to look at the pictures.

  The group shots of the Vixens turned out incredible. I never would have taken Shania’s dad for a photography buff, but he clearly had some talent.

  When Shania asked me what I wanted the backdrop to be in my portraits, I’d had to think fast. The last date I could remember going on involved Andrew and I sharing a takeout box stuffed with fried chicken from the cafeteria in front of a movie that put me to sleep. Whatever I wanted definitely wasn’t that. In the end, I thought about what I loved. Being outdoors. Behind me was an image of the forest.

  Unfortunately, the email wasn’t just pictures. There was also a stern reminder that by the end of the day, I had to write a short blurb to introduce myself. I hovered my hands over the keys and thought for a moment. It was doubtful this was going to help me land Mr. Right, so I figured I could probably throw out pretty much anything and it wouldn’t make any difference.

  I’m Jody, a junior studying Sustainability and Environmental Science. I’d love to meet someone that’s not afraid to get their hands dirty and that likes to spend their free time outdoors. My dream date? Foraging through the woods for edible plants to incorporate into a homemade meal we’ll make together or going camping out under the stars.

  When Shania messaged me back, it was to say my blurb was probably going to attract some stoner boy interested in foraging so he could find a certain kind of edible mushroom for its hallucinogenic properties. I bit my lip to keep from laughing in the middle of my lecture. I was in a class where I was surrounded by guys just like that. My program had a certain reputation for graduating people that were just as likely to go to jail as they were to change the world, if not both. There were rumors that some of my peers were putting their skills from the farm to use by growing weed with red lights in their closets.

  By dinnertime, the Vixens already had their faces plastered up on a bulletin board in the student union beside pictures of the sorority women that would also be participating in the auction. It was embarrassing, as were the corresponding social media blasts. I’d asked Shania not to tag me in them, but it seemed that she’d f
orgotten.

  I kept reminding myself that it was for a good cause and tried not to think about it too much. Luckily, I had plenty of schoolwork to distract me.

  6

  The date auction was on the last day of class, scheduled at 3:00 PM. By then, all of the classes would have let out for the day, but it would still be too early for the beach bonfires and the slew of end-of-semester celebrations that would roll around come dark.

  After lunch, the Vixens all went their separate ways to get ready. Besides brushing my teeth and maybe running a comb through my hair, I didn’t feel like there was anything I else I needed to do. I wasn’t going to submit myself to another makeover. That felt disingenuous. Assuming someone was actually going to bid on me, they should know what they were getting: a down home girl that wasn’t going to get dolled up to go on an obligatory date that would probably wind up being something generic like dinner at a chain restaurant and a movie. Hopefully, any bidders knew what I already understood going in. It wasn’t about us at all. It was about the charity. It was about raising money so that veterans could have access to job placement services and therapy that could ease the transition back into civilian life.

  With over an hour to kill at the student union before I had to be in place behind the stage, it seemed like the best use of my time was starting to study for my first exam. There was no doubt I’d be suckered into going out by the Vixens later to sneak in more time with Iman and Latosha while we still had the chance. I wanted those memories, but I couldn’t let my grades pay the price, which meant I needed to cram every free minute I had.

  This semester has been a beast. Last year, I worked my ass off to make extra money that I could use for studying abroad. Knowing that I had to save for an entire year in a place where I wouldn’t be able to work, I’d socked away every penny I could. When New Zealand didn’t happen, I decided to make the most of my savings by stuffing all my most difficult classes into one semester. I knew keeping my grades up would be a challenge, but I had enough money in the bank that I didn’t need to work. Without a relationship or a supervisor to be accountable to, that meant all my time and attention could go to my classes. Well, minus the time I gave the Vixens.

  Every second with them was worth it. They gave me a second family and kept me sane.

  Next semester my course load would be a lot lighter, but I’d have to go back to work.

  Ten minutes into studying, my phone started vibrating in my bag. The screen showed that it was Reggie calling, which was a bit strange given that we usually stuck to texts.

  “What’s up, Reggie?”

  “Hey, Jody. Listen— I’ve got some news that you’re probably not going to like.”

  You and everyone else, I thought. “Hit me with it.”

  “Well, there are two things. The first is that I have a wicked stomach bug, so there’s no way I can bid on a date with Latosha at the auction. The second is that I ran into Andrew on the way to the infirmary.”

  “I hope you’re contagious and you breathed on him,” I said, unable to help myself. “I’m guessing he was here registering for classes next semester?”

  The thought of Andrew back at Coastal College wasn’t a pleasant one, but our classes were on opposite sides of the campus. With fifteen thousand students around, he should be easy enough to avoid.

  “No. He was headed to the student union so that he could get a good seat at the auction. He saw the post you were tagged in and thinks this is his chance to win you back.”

  “Thanks, Reggie. I appreciate the heads up. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Just a new immune system.”

  After we said our goodbyes, I closed my eyes and fought my own wave of nausea.

  The only reason I hadn’t blocked Andrew on social media was because I wanted to seem unphased by him. If the best revenge was a life well lived, I wanted him to see mine one happy, shiny photograph at a time. Clearly, that plan backfired.

  Part of me was tempted to claim that I was coming down from something and back out of the auction at the last minute. Then I remembered all the stats from the nonprofit the auction was raising funds for— how many people they’d helped, how many more were in need of services.

  I could just as easily cut my own check as I could have a guy bid on me, but I knew it would make the Vixens look bad if I didn’t follow through on my commitment. Given that some of the others were probably just as inwardly hesitant about this whole debacle as I was, it didn’t seem fair for me to back out while they were stuck on stage like pageant contestants.

  The thought about using my own money sparked a different idea. After throwing my books into my bag, I headed for the student union’s ATM.

  If I knew one thing about Andrew, it’s that he was terrible with money. He hadn’t done half the work I had to save extra for his trip. After paying a premium for an early return flight back home, he was probably broke.

  He also probably assumed he wouldn’t have any competition.

  I withdrew three hundred dollars from the ATM and stuffed the cash in my pocket. Then I started my mission. I had about forty minutes to find someone to outbid Andrew with my own damn money.

  I walked by the Greek Life office first. There was no way I was going to go into a den of fraternity brothers and plead for their help. If we were trying to get the Vixens to be just as appealing as the sororities on campus, I couldn’t make myself look desperate in front of the Greeks.

  There was no rule that a woman couldn’t bid on another woman. I thought about popping into the Women’s Center to see if I could get a fellow feminist to save me from falling prey to my evil ex, but I was afraid I might be reprimanded for getting on board with this hairbrained scheme instead. To be on the safe side, I kept walking.

  Some of the offices were already closed for the afternoon. If the offices on the second floor were just as abandoned, my only hope would be going into the food court and propositioning random strangers. Things were getting bleak.

  If I had guy friends other than Reggie, I could have just called one of them. Unfortunately, Andrew had been too jealous for me to keep guy friends around for long. Halfway through my first semester on campus, all the guys in my mostly-male major stopped inviting me to do things so they could avoid Andrew slinking around and giving them haughty stares. I should have known he was bad news then, but I hadn’t read the signs. Reggie was the only guy he approved of. In retrospect, it was clearly because he’d grown up with us and understood I was off limits.

  Part of me knew I was being dramatic, that I could simply tell Andrew there was no way in hell I’d ever go on another date with him, but I didn’t want that. I wanted to avoid him altogether. More than that, I wanted to avoid a scene.

  The last office I stumbled across with signs of life was for the student newspaper. I walked in like I belonged there and looked around, taking in my options. There were five guys that hadn’t managed to escape yet. Two were in the middle of a discussion and the rest were typing away with their heads down, clearly desperate to make some kind of final deadline. The one at the table at the back had a cute indie rocker look but wouldn’t return my attempts to make eye contact. Given that I could hear the music coming out of his headphones from where I was standing across the room, even if I’d addressed him, he probably wouldn’t have heard me. It was obvious these weren’t people that wanted to be interrupted by my petty personal problems.

  When I turned to see myself out, one of the two guys that had been chatting stopped me.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  “Only if you promise not to laugh at me.”

  The guys exchanged a look. “We hear some weird things in here, so I probably shouldn’t make any promises on that one.”

  I took a deep breath and word vomited. “In about fifteen minutes, there’s a date auction for charity. A club I’m in talked me into signing up for it. When I got suckered into saying yes, I didn’t realize my ex was going to try to use this to weasel back into
my life. He’s already there and told someone he’s going to bid on me. I can’t leave this to chance, so I’m looking for someone to outbid him. I have two hundred dollars you can use to bid and I’ll give you a hundred dollars that you can keep if you’ll help me.”

  I took the cash out of my pocket and flashed it at them so they’d know I wasn’t lying about the money bit.

  “This is mortifying, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It’s December, so you could use the money to buy Christmas presents.”

  “Or beer,” the guy with the glasses and the notepad responded.

  His friend responded. “You’re Jody, right?”

  I nodded, not sure where he knew me from. I didn’t recognize him, which says a lot given that he had the kind of refined masculine beauty that would be hard to forget. He had a chiseled jaw, gorgeous eyes, and his hair was styled in such a way he looked like he’d come straight from getting it done at a barber shop that catered to hipsters. His teeth were perfectly straight and white behind his full lips. I hadn’t seen him smile yet— his demeanor was serious— but I could tell that when he broke into a grin it would be show stopping.

  “And that makes your ex Andrew Faircloth?”

  “Afraid so,” I said.

  “I can’t stand that guy. Have you heard the saying, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, count me in.”

  He stood up and extended his hand for me to shake. “I’m Jessup.”

  “Jody,” I said, trying not to stare. “Nice to meet you.”

  This was almost too good to be true. Finding a bidder had been easier than I thought. The fact that he was serious model material was just the cherry on top. It would be nice for Andrew to think that a man like Jessup would want me, even if it was just for show.

  Jessup’s friend jumped up. “Jessup, if you’re blowing off the end of our interview for this date auction, the least you can do is let me tag along so that I can cover it for the paper.”