Cozy Christmas Shorts

by Halliday, Gemma

"She's not around anymore."

  Oh my God, that sucks. Now I feel a tad guilty about whining about missing my family. But just a tad. I still really miss them. "I'm sorry."

  "You must be happy about spending the holiday with your boyfriend, at the wedding?" he ever-so-not-slyly asks.

  I chuckle. "I don't have a boyfriend. How about you?"

  He shakes his head, staring out the windshield. "Nope, no boyfriend."

  I laugh louder.

  He smirks. "No girlfriend either. Work takes a lot of time away from relationships. Women say they understand, but then when I've missed a dinner or a movie night one too many times, they no longer do."

  "Some women are needy."

  He quirks a brow. "And you're not?"

  I shrug and stare at the house, waiting to see if Claudia starts scaling the siding. "I have my moments. But I understand working hard. My folks own a deli back home. Luckily or unluckily, they work together. As their kid, it meant missing some dinners and game nights. We knew they loved us though. There's more than one way to show someone you care about them."

  When I glance at Julian, he's smiling. It looks good on him.

  "Do the two of you stalk guys a lot?" he asks.

  I burst into laughter. "No. This is the first time. Although nights with my cousin are frequently eventful. She likes drama."

  "And what do you like?"

  Is it my imagination or did he just say that in a come hither tone?

  "Um, long walks on the beach. Cuddling by a toasty fire. Diamonds."

  It's his turn to laugh. "There's no beach around here."

  "Well, a girl can't get everything she wants, right?"

  The smile has become permanent on his face. I'll admit I'm getting a cheap thrill out of knowing I put it there.

  "And what do you like, Mr. Reed?"

  A light ignites in his eyes and then in my nether regions. His gaze travels south for a moment before returning to my face, my eyes, my mouth. Oh my.

  I swallow hard and want to open a window to let the frigid air cool me down again.

  Is it inappropriate to kiss a complete stranger? How about to jump on him? What's the chance I'll ever see him again? It's not like I haven't had casual sex. It can be quite intense and fulfilling, but there's something about Julian that tells me I'd like to see him more than once.

  It's weird. I've never believed in love at first sight. I'm not saying I love him. I don't know anything about him, not even his favorite ice cream flavor, and you can tell a lot about a person who prefers cookies and cream versus Neapolitan. This is definitely lust. But even that doesn't feel right. It's as if I recognized him on some cosmic level back at Aunt Angela's. Like our souls are connected.

  Julian juts his chin toward the windshield, and I turn to see Claudia walk back to the side window.

  "I'll be right back," I say and jump out. I scamper over to her, grab her arm, and yank her down.

  "Ow!" She practically screams it.

  "Dude, if he comes into that room, you won't have enough time to hide. Have you ever seen a spy movie?"

  Frowning and pouting, she rubs her arm. Oh please. I didn't grab her that hard. "Fine. I'm sorry I haven't studied James Bond."

  "I was thinking more in line with Charlie's Angels. The originals. It was a good show. Bad fashion, but I really liked Jaclyn Smith's character, Kelly Garret."

  A light goes on, and I give her a raised-brow, I-told-you-so look. We stand a bit and take a peek, but before we can see anything, the light goes off again.

  "Do you know where he is?" I ask.

  "I think in the basement. Come on."

  She walks like a duck to the back of the house, and I'm feeling much better. There's a fenced in yard without lights. The only way a neighbor will see us is if he or she is using binoculars. Then really neither of us can call the kettle black.

  The window looks into a kitchen with dark wood cabinets, an ivory, porcelain sink, and white appliances. A small light above the stove illuminates it. But the room is empty. There's a light under a door.

  "Is that the basement?" I ask.

  Claudia bites her lower lip and nods.

  Maybe he's doing laundry.

  The whirring of a motor sounds really close. The driveway.

  I peek around the house. A dark blue sedan is parked and the doors open. An older couple gets out and goes inside the house. I rush back to Claudia's side, making sure her head's not poking up too much.

  "Those are his parents," she whispers. "They're really cool, and they loved me. His mother cried when I broke up with him. Like her whole body actually shook. And his dad got tears in his eyes." Claudia's voice cracks.

  Wow, she either really made an impression, or Dave's parents are really sentimental.

  The basement door opens, and Dave walks up. We can't hear what he's saying, but he talks to his folks and gives his mom a hug. He's changed. It's hard to make out with the table and chairs and a hanging fern in the way, but he's definitely not in the red sweater he had on at the soup kitchen.

  He steps over to the fridge and opens it. His dad turns on the overhead before reaching into a cabinet. That's when I get a good look at Dave's clothes.

  I cover my mouth with my hand, muffling my snort. "Claud, he's in snowflake pajamas."

  "Oh my God, he still lives at home?" The look of disgust on her face must match her mother's this morning.

  "Well, twenty-four isn't old. Maybe he's saving money to buy a house."

  Her expression doesn't change.

  "Or…" I stop short when I look down. They're footie pajamas. I clamp my lips shut. There's nothing left to say.

  * * *

  Julian pulls up to Henry's house, and just as Claudia predicted, he's sitting on the couch, watching TV, with the shades fully open. He bought the place a month before he met Claudia, and luckily, she adores it. She chose to stay living with me in our apartment because Uncle Franco would throw a fit if his unmarried daughter lived with a man—even a fiancé. I think he believes she's still a virgin too.

  Julian clears his throat. "I could make an excuse to borrow his phone and get him talking if you want. He doesn't know me."

  I stare at the man who's given up his night to chauffeur two women and a ghost around. I know he was hired, and he's getting paid, but why? What kind of person not only doesn't mind but also volunteers to play bait?

  He glances at me. "What?"

  I shrug and look away. "Nothing."

  Claudia isn't paying attention to us. "There's no need to talk to him. I know everything about him." She says it with disappointment in her voice.

  She points out the window. "See that glass on the tray table?"

  I turn and stare out my window and into his. "Yeah."

  "When he gets his TV dinner out of the microwave, it will sit at precisely twelve o'clock on the tray. He's very particular. Maybe a little OCD."

  Interesting. "You never mentioned that before."

  "I guess it bothers me and…well, you know. It's weird."

  "Not that weird," Julian says.

  Aunt Stella cackles. Does the woman make any other sound? "Yes it is. He's a freak."

  She'd come back after we left Dave's. She must've gone into the house because she returned to the car laughing about his footie pajamas.

  Henry stands up and leaves the room. He has to be the one who wrote the note. It doesn't make sense that Dave did it. He doesn't think he has a chance with Claudia, and Malachi… Well, I don't know yet, but is he that much of a romantic to send an anonymous note to someone he barely knows? I guess it's possible, but my money is still on Henry.

  "Either a turkey pot pie or Salisbury Steak," Claudia whispers under her breath.

  "What is?" I ask.

  "His microwaved dinner."

  How appetizing. "On Christmas Eve?"

  Claudia sighs. "Not everyone thinks this is the most magical night of the year, Gi."

  What's with the attitude? Shouldn't she be grateful I'm giving
up the most magical night of the year to hold her hand and help her out? Not to mention, tomorrow morning. But rather than get into it, I let it go. I don't want to argue or get into a fight.

  Henry reenters the room, but instead of holding a flat, cardboard container of undesirable food, it's a white, Chinese carton with a pair of chopsticks sticking out.

  "Well look at that. He's doing something unpredictable," I say with a large dose of glee. Not only am I glad she gets to see her life with Henry wouldn't be fifty years of monotony, but after her comment about Christmas Eve, I'm also tickled that she's just plain wrong.

  After several minutes of watching Henry chow down on lo mien, with his glass clearly at twelve-ten, I ask, "Now what? Do you want to continue?"

  I cross my fingers, hoping she's come to her senses and runs to Henry's and soon-to-be her house.

  But I don't hear her door open. In fact, she takes a deep breath. "Yes."

  Darn.

  * * *

  The bar is busier than I imagined it would be. Then I stare at the wall of alcohol bottles behind the bar and think of all the people who hate this holiday, who don't have family or friends, and it's not so surprising anymore. I step forward, out of the way of a man dressed in jeans, a red flannel shirt, a white beard, and a Santa hat.

  I'm about to take a seat at the bar when I spot Malachi at the other end. I've never seen him in person, but I recognize him from the Facebook and Instagram pages Claudia made me look at after she first met him. There were a lot of photos of him playing guitar as well as several full-length mirror selfies. Besides, a man with black hair and shocking blue-dyed, full bangs that hang into his eyes isn't too hard to miss.

  I walk over to him, fully intending on flirting. I pull back my shoulders so I don't resemble the Hunchback of Notre Dame and do my best to swing my hips. Either I suck at it, or he's preoccupied because he glances my way, but I don't hold his attention.

  I sit in the seat beside him and smile. "Don't I know you?"

  He looks at me, and I realize how vibrant his blue eyes are. So bright they can't possibly be real. They have to be contacts. "You might. I play all over town."

  I widen my eyes and my smile. "That's right. You're Malachi."

  He leans back in his seat and lets his gaze travel over my body, making pit stops at the lumpy regions. "You're a fan." He's way too pleased with himself.

  "Absolutely." Just please don't ask me where I've seen you or the name of any of your songs because I don't remember.

  "Why thanks, love. What are you drinking?" He snaps his fingers at the bartender, who nods and strolls our way.

  "I'll have a Sex on the Beach," I say for Julian's benefit. I hope he's at least smiling.

  Of course I'm probably giving Malachi the wrong impression because he gives me another body check. He orders a Budweiser—bottle, no glass.

  "Are you playing tonight?" I ask, trying to sound and look giddy, but I fear that if I raise my brows any higher, they'll shoot off my forehead.

  "I was supposed to, but plans changed." He must not be upset because he doesn't look disappointed.

  "Oh that's a shame. I would've loved to hear you."

  He smirks and leans so close I get a gagging whiff of his aftershave. His breath is warm against my neck as he whispers in my ear, "Then grab your drink, love, and I'll give you a private show."

  I wonder if Julian and Claudia can hear my gulp through the mic as I swallow away my hesitation. "Okay."

  When we're standing, drinks in hand, I notice the guitar propped up against the bar. He grabs it, and I follow him toward the back of the building. I expect him to find a private corner, if that's possible in a noisy bar, but he leads me toward the restrooms.

  How gross.

  Instead of turning to our left though, he pushes through a door on the right. One marked "Roof."

  Fear slides over me. I'm not sure why. He seems cocky and sleezy but innocent. I doubt he uses his gigs as ways to pick up women to torture and murder, but just the same I say, "So, we're going up to the roof?" This way, if I need rescuing, Julian and Claudia know where I am.

  He glances over his shoulder while hitting that first step. "It's quieter up there."

  Wouldn't it be just as quiet in the parking lot? But I follow him despite my reservations. It can't be that bad. I just won't get close to the edge.

  Two flights later and we're outside. Some time in the minutes he and I shared downstairs, it started to snow. The rooftop is covered in a half inch of the stuff, and it's beautiful. The flakes are soft and fat, and since it's the first fall of the year, it won't stick much. But watching it plummet from the sky is mesmerizing.

  Malachi doesn't seem to notice or care. He walks to a corner and peers down at the street. "I love it up here."

  This is obviously a habit. "Should I be insulted I'm not the first girl you've taken up here?"

  He chuckles. "You're the first one that matters."

  Oh boy, that's so unoriginal.

  I half-grin. "So are you going to play?"

  "In a bit. There's no rush. We have all night."

  Speak for yourself.

  He holds out his arms, raises his face to the sky, and sticks out his tongue, like I used to do with Izzie and Enzo as kids. Then he lets his arms down and jumps up onto the mini brick ledge surrounding the roof edge, swinging his legs over the side. He pats the spot next to him. "Come on. Join me, love."

  Is he crazy? "I'm fine here."

  He twists his body so he's half facing me. "It's no fun if we're so far apart." He pats it again.

  "I'll come over, but I'm not sitting on the ledge."

  He chuckles. "Leave it to me to hook up with the one girl who's afraid of heights."

  I'm not afraid of them. It's just when I die, I'd like to not have a hand in how it happens. It's not like I can haunt myself.

  I walk over to him and peek over. We're on the side of the building, so I don't see Julian's SUV, which is just as well. I think seeing them down there may make me more nervous. The asphalt starts to sway, and I take a deep breath and a step back. Okay, so maybe I'm slightly afraid of heights.

  "So when are you going to play?" At this point, I don't even care anymore. I'm not sure why I'm here. I mean, yeah, I know it's to help Claudia. But how exactly am I doing that standing on a bar roof in the snow with a creepy musician?

  "What's the rush?" he asks and swings his legs back over to my side. But instead of standing on the rooftop, he climbs onto the snowy ledge and outstretches his arms again.

  He's more than creepy. He's certifiable. "We have all night, love. And morning. I like to take things slow."

  And he thinks that because he bought me a drink and I'm a fan that I'll sleep with him? What does Claudia see in him?

  I take another step back. "You should get down from there."

  "You need to come up here. This feels insane."

  Or you are.

  A blast of cold air brushes across my cheek, and I realize it's Aunt Stella. She's frowning at Malachi. "What's he doing? Waiting for a bird to give him a ride?"

  I keep quiet as usual when I'm around her. Our entire relationship is her saying quips and me giving looks. It's not like she ever visits me when I'm by myself. But I'm suddenly glad she's here. I may not be her favorite, but I know she doesn't hate me, and having support, even if it's more in theory, is calming.

  "He's not good enough for Claudia," she says.

  I can't help but wonder if she thinks I deserve him. I dismiss the thought immediately though. My nose, ears, and fingers are starting to lose feeling again.

  "Look, it's cold, so I'm going inside." I turn, no longer caring what he has to say, and take a step.

  But before I can go further, he's by my side, holding my arm. "Not yet. We're just getting started."

  "No, we're not." I try to pull free, but his grip is too tight. "Let go of me!" I stomp my foot as if that's going to show him how mad I am, and he'll just cower to my anger.

  Aun
t Stella disappears. Yes, so helpful.

  Suddenly the roof door swings open, and Julian steps forward. "Hey," he shouts.

  Despite the cold and the Herculean grip on my arm, I smile at him, like a lust-crazed schoolgirl.

  Malachi makes a surprised sound but doesn't have time to do much else.

  Julian yanks his hand off me and shoves the guy. "If a woman says 'no,' guess what? It means 'no.'"

  He regains that point he lost earlier and several more.

  Malachi takes in the four or so inches Julian has over him, as well as the snarl on his face and crazed look in his eye, and sighs. "I don't need this. You can have her."

  Then he rushes downstairs with his guitar.

  Julian quirks an eyebrow at me. "He gave me permission to have you. How very noble of him. I don't think he learned a thing."

  Me neither. I shake my head and add a devilish grin. Now that I'm no longer panicked, I can get back to our flirting. "The real question is—do you want me?"

  * * *

  Julian pulls up beside Claudia's car. She thanks him and gets out.

  "I'll be right there," I say through my window.

  She nods and gets behind her wheel.

  "Well I'm outta here. This suddenly got really boring," says Aunt Stella. She vanishes. On the way back here, she told me that when she disappeared on the roof, it was to get Julian. She wasn't sure how she'd do it, but Malachi had pissed her off too. I guess she doesn't think I deserve him either. Nice to know. Before she got the chance to figure out a way to play hero, Julian was already on his way to the roof. Thank goodness for his microphone.

  I smile at Julian. "Thanks for your help."

  "Do you think she'll get married tomorrow?"

  I shrug. "I've no idea. I have a feeling we'll be up all night rehashing it all."

  As I predicted the snow isn't sticking much, but it's still falling steadily.

  "I should go," I say, but I don't want to leave.

  "I never answered you earlier," he says.

  I stare into his eyes. They're an elephant gray at the moment.

  "I know you weren't serious when you asked if I wanted you…" he begins.