It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Chick Lit: A Holiday Anthology

by S. E. Babin

  She drove for a full minute, door swinging wide in the rain, without saying anything.

  “Andre?” she finally said.

  “Yeah?”

  “I'm going to pull over. I think I want you to drive now.”

  * * *

  Three hours later, the sun poked through the grumpy Houston clouds, but Andre was still in the driver's seat. Vivecka had been pretty quiet as they sat in the car at the airport, waiting to hear that Miss Diaz got her flight no problem.

  Vivecka looked at her phone when it buzzed. “She's on the plane,” she reported. “They take off in ten minutes.”

  Andre put up his hand and they slapped a high-five. “Woo-hoo! Go, Miss Diaz! And damn, girl, you were such a hero today. Way. To. Go.”

  Vivecka looked away, then looked back. “A hero? Really?”

  “Bumper cars? With a bull? You sure Dominique's friends'll fix the car?”

  Vivecka raised her brows and quirked her lips. “They will unless Dom wants me to introduce his girlfriends to one another.”

  Andre shook his head and grinned. “Brass cojones. You got brass cojones.”

  “Thanks,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “Now, let's get out of this parking lot. It's something like twenty bucks a minute.”

  “Chill. It's three dollars for the first hour. And we've got it left over from the breakfast money.”

  Andre turned the key.

  “Wait.” Vivecka looked down at her phone. “Miss Diaz just said to look in the backseat. I think she forgot something!”

  Both of them turned to look at once and knocked their heads together.

  “Owwww!” Vivecka flopped back, rubbing her hairline. Andre, though, barely seemed to register the bop to his head. He reached back and grabbed Miss Diaz's Starbucks bag. She'd written a note on it in black pen. “Christmas Dinner on me.”

  Andre peeked inside the bag and saw a few twenty dollar bills. Maybe more than a few. His face split into a wide smile. “Text her that we say 'thank you.'”

  Vivecka stopped rubbing her head and looked at him. “Thanks for what? What's that there?”

  “She left us some money with a note.” He handed her the bag.

  Vivecka read it. She really took her time, looking at the words, until she pulled the bag to her chest as if it were a teddy bear. “Wow. That was really nice of her.”

  “I saw a diner a few miles back,” Andre said. “The sign said Christmas dinner, ham or turkey. What do you say?”

  But Vivecka hardly seemed to be listening, as she still clutched the bag like a talisman. “Okay.”

  As they drove into the gray day, Andre stole glances at the pensive Vivecka.

  “She wants us to have a good Christmas,” she finally said quietly.

  “Sure she does,” Andre agreed. “And it's not because we did her a solid. It's because she loves us.”

  Vivecka looked at him. “You think?”

  He shook his head as he pulled into the parking lot of the diner. “I know.”

  They both got out of the car and stretched from their toes to the tips of their fingers. “Man,” Andre said, coming around the hood to meet Vivecka in front of the car. “What an adventure!”

  “Yeah.”

  But Vivecka looked sad.

  Andre turned to face her. “What's wrong? We just did a good thing and made Miss Diaz real happy.”

  “I know … it's just … I'm celebrating Christmas at a crappy diner, miles from home. Not that anyone even knows.”

  “Look in there.” Andre pointed to the plate glass window of the diner.

  Vivecka looked into the front window decorated with stenciled-on snow and holly.

  “There's a Christmas tree in there and I bet they're playing Christmas carols,” Andre said. “And I bet it's warm and cozy, too. And look how cheerful that waitress is. And she has to work on Christmas. But she's making it cheery for everyone.”

  “Maybe we can get hot cocoa,” Vivecka murmured, considering.

  “Vivecka.” Andre's voice was quiet and level enough that she looked at him. “We did a good thing today. And we're about to go have a nice dinner. Spending Christmas with someone who thinks you're the bomb seems like a pretty happy holiday to me.”

  Vivecka looked at him, arching her brows. “Oh? And is that what you're doing? Spending Christmas with someone who thinks you're the bomb?”

  Andre's gaze didn't waver. “I don't know. But you are.”

  Vivecka swallowed. “Because I played bumper cars with a bull?”

  “I've always thought you were the bomb, Vivecka. You never had to prove a damn thing. Not to me.”

  Andre put out his hand, as if he wanted to shake. Vivecka took his hand in an arm wrestling grip, wrapping her thumb around his.

  “Let's do this,” she said.

  He smiled at her, a smile that went deep into his dark eyes. She smiled back. A real smile.

  Together, they walked into the warm and cozy diner. And they were still holding hands.

  * * *

  Tanya pulled the rental car out of the lot and felt a shiver of anticipation. Now that she was awake, thanks to all the coffee on the plane—and had there been a bull?—she had to concentrate to keep from bouncing out of her skin with sheer excitement. She was in Dan's city. He was less than an hour away.

  Still, she checked the signs and steered her rental toward the 405 south, headed for the closest Los Angeles branch of the gym she belonged to in New Orleans. She'd have to go about twenty minutes out of her way down to Hermosa Beach, in the opposite direction of Dan's club downtown, but the detour was worth it. Tanya would have less than two days with the man, so she had to take him from zero to sex-crazed in under five seconds. There was no time to waste on flirtation or preamble. She'd missed almost all of Christmas day with him already. They needed to get naked and preferably into a bed as fast as humanly possible. So Tanya needed to look like a million bucks and spare change from the couch cushions. Just to be sure.

  She glanced to the duffle in the front seat. She'd packed some comfy clothes for cuddling, some sexy undies and nighties. A silky pair of lounging pajamas. But it was the painted-on red cocktail dress that was going to do it.

  When Tanya got to the gym, she flashed her membership card at the front desk and surged toward the showers. Forty minutes later, she headed back out to her car, striding with purpose in her four-inch heels. Her above-the-knee sleeveless red dress was faintly dusted with sparkles as it clung to every toned and curvy inch of her. Her rich chestnut curls were twined back from her face and hanging loose behind her shoulders. She wore the faintest hint of perfume.

  Tanya Diaz was ready to go get her man.

  She got in the car and looked at the clock on the dash. She'd arrive at Worship not too long after they opened at seven. The band would be settled into its first set and things should be calm enough for Dan to notice her.

  Perfect.

  Forty minutes later, Tanya drove up to the club, immediately impressed by all the security in the parking lot. But what had she expected? Dan had made a success of a jazz club on Skid Row. The risky location had cachet that drew in customers, but the patrons didn't really want to endanger themselves or their cars. They just wanted to feel bold.

  Dan Allport obviously knew what he was doing.

  And hadn't they texted, more than once, about security issues? Tanya felt a chill snake up her spine as she began to realize, to really fully feel, that she was about to see the man she'd been getting to know for the past three months. They'd talked about so many things. His sister Rachel. Her years in sports news. His decision not to play the sax professionally. Her grandma's jambalaya.

  And she was about to see the man she'd been sharing so much with.

  This was it. This was real.

  She stepped into the hazy club and the languorous strains of a—was that a flugelhorn?—washed across her skin.

  Mmmmm.

  She didn't know much about jazz—very few song titles or artists�
��but she knew what she liked. And she liked what she heard.

  After listening for a few seconds, she sidled up to the bar, just as cool as a peppermint, and took a seat. After all, she couldn't stand there and gape, looking for Dan high and low, could she? She was going for sexy-as-all-get-out, not clueless-and-looking-for-the-ladies'-room.

  “Merry Christmas.” The bartender came up to her and spoke with a decidedly Lando Calrissian lilt to his voice.

  “Merry Christmas, yourself,” she tossed back, suddenly feeling all Mae West. “Scotch and soda. Glendronach, if you have it.”

  “Lady's got taste,” he crooned as he made her drink.

  Tanya swiveled on her stool and took in the club. A few couples sat at tables and there were some lone patrons, too. Tanya was the only one at the bar. She was just about to turn back to pick up her drink when two young men bumbled into the club, laughing too loudly and slapping at each other as they approached the bar. They looked home from college and overstocked with Christmas cheer.

  “Hey,” one of them said, stopping in front of Tanya to look her over.

  She tossed an unconcerned glance their way. “Keep moving.”

  “Hey!”

  “Let's go.” The other guy pulled Romeo down the bar.

  Tanya picked up her drink and turned back to face the club. Maybe Dan would come from back of house at any second.

  As she sipped from her glass, she heard the guys down the bar. “Flaming rum punch!” Then they burst into more gales of snorty laughter.

  Flaming rum punch? Like in It's a Wonderful Life? Tanya rolled her eyes. Wow, those two jackasses did not seem like the cozy Christmas classic type.

  By the time the bartender had gotten them to give serious orders and he brought them their martinis—no flames and no punch—Tanya was facing the bar again.

  She looked to the bartender, who didn't seem to mind gravitating toward her.

  “So where's Dan Allport?” she asked, with a saucy rift to her voice. “Guy who owns the place. Me and him, we go way back.” God, now she was channeling Veronica Lake. And finding every second thrilling! No wonder Dan loved this club so much.

  “You know Dan?” The bar tender smiled. “You should have said. Next one's on the house.”

  “He around?”

  “Nah. At the hospital.”

  “The hospital!” And just like that, all of Tanya's sass fell away.

  “Whoa, whoa,” the bartender said. “He's all right. Took Proud Mary in. She's one of the regulars out back. Went into convulsions earlier today. Maybe a fit. Maybe bad drugs. So Dan took her to the ER at The Good Samaritan.”

  Tanya took a few deep breaths, pressing her breastbone to calm herself. “No time for an ambulance?”

  “Ambulances don't come to Skid Row for suspected drug overdoses.”

  Tanya nodded, familiar enough with that kind of thing.

  The boys down the bar burst into laughter again, and Tanya flicked them a glance without meaning to. And in that second, she saw what they were about to do just as they actually did it.

  “No!” she cried.

  Tanya bolted up as the boys lit their napkins on fire and tossed them into their glasses … and set their drinks ablaze.

  Flames whooshed up to the ceiling, catching a string of holly on fire. Flames licked across the ceiling, making everyone jump back. Sprinklers sprang to life, dousing the bar. The bartender grabbed a fire extinguisher and ran to squelch the flames. In the moment of white foam spraying everywhere and customers standing up and yelling, the two boys got up and ran toward the door.

  “Hey!” Tanya yelled, chasing them. “Stop! Security! Security! They started the fire!”

  The boy who'd looked her up and down turned to her. “Shut up!” He grabbed her roughly by the hair to push her away from him.

  But as much as his grip hurt her, Tanya grabbed onto his arm and wouldn't let go. As the other guy scrambled out the door, she kept screaming for security as the one who'd tried to shove her now tried to shake her off, to no avail. He picked up a flooded tray of drinks, ice cream, and apple pie from the waiters' station at the bar and slammed it into her.

  But Tanya still didn't let go.

  He started kicking at her and Tanya kicked back.

  Finally, someone came in from outside.

  “It's okay! I've got him!” The new guy grabbed the miscreant from behind and pulled him off her. The sudden loss of resistance sent Tanya reeling backwards and falling like Bambi into a puddle on the floor.

  “Oh!”

  The sprinklers shut off and Tanya wiped her sopping, sticky hair out of her eyes. She looked up. “Dan ...” she said on a sigh, her whole face lighting up. “Merry Christmas. How's Proud Mary?”

  * * *

  As Dan Allport held the fleeing arsonist in an armlock, he looked down to the floor of the club and couldn't believe what he was seeing. Who he was seeing. That hellcat who'd just been fighting tooth and nail was ... Tanya?

  Tanya Diaz? And she was asking about Proud Mary?

  “M-merry Christmas. She's good. Stable ... Tanya?”

  Just then, one of the off-duty cops from the parking lot came in and cuffed the guy Dan was holding. “A car's on the way from the station and Rob's got the other one outside. Corralling him took some doing.”

  But Dan could barely process anything. He looked around at his stunned club, his soaked bar. “They set my place on fire?”

  The bartender stepped up. “They were goofing off, set their drinks on fire. Caught the string of holly. But yeah.” He looked down to where Tanya still sat on the floor, drenched, her hair pulled all askew, and her dress and body covered with drinks and ice cream and bits of apple pie. “This one here's the real hero. I was putting out the fire and she wouldn't let them get away.”

  “Ma'am,” the cop said. “Don't leave. We'll need to get your details.” He spared the hooligan he held by the arm a withering glance. “Let's go.” And he dragged out the young thug.

  Tanya stood up, flicking apple bits out of her cleavage.

  Patrons were laughing, some were screaming, and the band members had run off stage. Two cops came in from outside and every worker from back of house flooded into the main room of the club. All at once, everyone was talking to Dan, pulling at Dan, yelling at Dan.

  But in the wreck of his club and in the middle of the raucous melee, Dan could see only Tanya. Mighty, beautiful, amazing Tanya.

  “Oh, Dan,” she breathed. “I'm so sorry.”

  But Dan just stepped forward and swept the soaked and splattered Tanya into a kiss that shut everybody up.

  * * *

  An hour later, Tanya stood clutching a blanket around her damp, trashed dress. Before the cops had separated them for questioning and statements, Dan had wrapped her up and had one of the waiters bring her a cheeseburger and a Dr. Pepper shake.

  A Dr. Pepper shake. Butterflies in Tanya's stomach were going wild.

  “All right,” the cop named Rob said to her. “The statement seems in order and we know where to reach you if we need to.” He sat back down at Dan's desk in Dan's office. “Merry Christmas.” And Tanya knew she was dismissed.

  She walked back into the club and spotted Dan across the room. He'd taken off his suit jacket and he had one sleeve rolled up, while the other was coming unrolled. His hair was messed. He had apple goo and ice cream smeared across the front of his white shirt. Tanya smiled at that, wanting to press up that close to him again. And not let go for a good, long time.

  From the looks of things, Dan had just about everything under control. The bartender had acted fast, so there wasn't much fire damage. The few patrons were gone, the band was packed up, and the wait staff was straightening everything up while laughing, chatting, and singing.

  Dan looked up from across the club and saw her. Without pausing, he made a beeline toward her.

  “Dan!” Pam came running in and then she stopped, the three of them standing in a jumpy triangle. “Tanya!” A smile broke acros
s her face. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Hi, Pam.” Tanya smiled back. “Merry Christmas.”

  Pam turned to Dan. “You pressing charges against the jerks who did this?”

  “Damn straight. And the only reason we know who to charge is that Tanya wouldn't let them get away.”

  “I know!” Pam held up her phone. “I already saw it on YouTube. One of your customers posted it an hour ago.”

  “YouTube?!” Tanya squawked.

  “But how?” Dan asked. “The police took her phone for evidence.”

  “She must have uploaded it first.” Pam laughed. “We're going to get a lot of business out of this. But I saw the fire marshall outside. Since we're closed for an inspection, why don't you two heroes take off.”

  Dan shook his head. “Tanya's the hero. You saw the video.”

  “You saved Proud Mary's life today. You're a hero, too. Now, go home.”

  “Mom ….”

  “What?” And her very tone seemed impermeable to any backtalk.

  Dan smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Pam turned to Tanya and held out her hand.

  Tanya let the blanket fall to a nearby chair and took Pam's hand in both of hers. “Thank you.”

  “You're welcome.” Pam smacked her hands together with glee. “Merry Christmas, you two.”

  Dan and Tanya watched Pam walk over to the bar, where she started shouting orders. “Wow,” Tanya said. “She's a force to be reckoned with.”

  Dan turned to her. “So are you. God, I still can't believe that you're here.” He looked down at her then, and for the first time that night, he saw her dress and not just the woman in it. “Oh, God, Tanya. Your dress! You came here to surprise me and look what my club did to you.”

  She shrugged. “I wasn't about to let those two get away with lighting up your place. I told you once, I fight when it matters.”

  Dan took a step closer to her. “And my club matters?”

  “You matter.” She ran her fingers along Dan's hand. “And as for the dress, no big deal.” Tanya lowered her voice. “I only wore it so you would want to take it off me.”