My sister folded her arms across her chest. “Someone is getting huffy. You know, I know, that when you get huffy, something is under your skin. You don’t want these women sitting on your Santa’s lap?” Niya teased.
“He is not mine,” I said emphasizing the words.
“I don’t think you’d have trouble landing that, though. He could be yours.”
I looked over my shoulder at him as another female slid onto his lap, vacated by the woman who’d planted her red lipstick on his face moments before. He glanced over at me at that exact moment and offered a slow smile—a look that said we shared a secret moment no one else knew about. My cheeks heated, and I ducked his glance.
“Ooo I saw that, Milya.” Niya playfully swatted my arm.
“Oh my God, if you don’t stop. You didn’t see anything,” I said walking away from her.
“Mmm-hmm,” came her reply.
Chapter Eleven
Bryson
I had been down in the store for a good portion of the day. Word of mouth spread about #SexySanta, and I had more women in my lap than I’d had in high school and college combined. Not to toot my own horn; I didn’t do too bad in the lady department, but this was a whole new level.
“What color do you think, Santa?” a rather leggy blonde asked, holding up two straps of lace, I could only assume would cover an inch of her skin. I acted like I was giving the decision thorough consideration, looking from one piece to the other. “The red, definitely the red. It’s sexy—would look hot on you.”
“It matches what you have on,” she said, looking down over the red satin pants I wore, winking.
“It does. These pants are part of the new men’s line. Maybe you should buy your man a pair. They are right over there,” I said pointing in the opposite direction of the store. I knew this woman was married. I went to school with them both, yet she was openly flirting with me.
She pouted a bit before she got the hint. “Maybe I will do that. Thanks for your help, Santa.”
“Merry Christmas, Tracy.” I grinned.
“Well, I wouldn’t have believed it, if I didn’t see it with my own two eyes.”
I groaned before turning in the direction of Julian. “Are you here to donate to the kids or make fun of me, Bower?” I asked, reaching out to shake his hand.
“A little of both,” he said, pulling out his wallet and retrieving a few bills to throw in my collection bucket. “What on earth are you doing, man?” he asked.
“What does it look like?”
“Like you are dressed to film kinky porn in a lingerie shop,” he quipped.
“Shut the hell up. You just came in here to bust my balls. I’m trying to help out this store and do something for the kids for the holidays. Is that a crime?”
“Well, we see what happened with the last Santa. So now, I have to watch this place. Can’t have any more shady Santas.”
“Spare me, Bower. This Santa does not have a fetish for panties.”
“Tell that to the notches on your bedpost,” he scoffed.
“I take them off, females, not steal them from a panty shop for my own guilty pleasure. Is that why you are here?”
“No, jack ass, the owner wants to press charges against the Santa thief. I came to get the report from her. Tanya doesn’t want to bring the reproach against the mall. She didn’t think I should come down here to get the report.”
“Why is that any of Tanya’s business?”
“She doesn’t have say-so over a crime regardless. I have to get a report and it gave me a reason to come down here and see you dressed up as #SexySanta with my own eyes—so very naughty, Tillerman,” he teased.
I growled at Jules, and he snickered, looking around the shop. “Not too bad of a gig, though,” he said, eyeing one of the lacy thongs on the shelf beside me. “Have any hotties sat on your lap, yet?”
I glanced across the store at Jamilya. Julian followed my line of sight over to where the Hawkins sisters were standing.
“And, who do we have here?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
The store owner and her sister, Jamilya and Janiya Hawkins.
“Jamilya Hawkins?” Jules raised a brow. “We went to school with her.”
I looked up at him. “Yea, it took me a while to remember that. She was cute back in high school. But look at her now…God damn.”
High school seemed like a lifetime ago, and it was sad to say, I was completely into myself back then, but I remembered Mily boo...
Thoughts of a shy girl who wore glasses and afro puffs atop her head came to mind. She was quiet and kept to herself most of the time, but she was smart as a whip and answered most of the questions in class, making the rest of us look like a bunch of dumb asses. I never said more than ‘Hi’ to her in the hallway in class. She always looked at me like a deer in headlights. I don’t know what I ever did to her, but I never gave it a second thought. Until, I had to ask for her help to get my math grade up, and we sat in the library at school while she quietly walked me through each lesson. I could feel the warmth from her body as she leaned in to point out figures and answers to the problems. She always smelled like roses and lemons… Just like she had when I pulled her close for the Santa pics earlier. I wanted to smell that again.
She glanced over at me as if she knew we were talking about her, and she quickly looked away. That familiar move was just like highschool.
“I totally didn’t recognize her at first, man. After talking to her and…” Smelling her.
I didn’t finish that thought I didn’t need Bower riding my ass about it.
“Well, we are all older now—some of us aging better than others.” He glanced at me.
“I’m still fucking hot; you must be referring to yourself, ol’ uggo face.”
Julian hooted with laughter and punched me in the shoulder. “Don’t get hurt, Santa. Tis the season to get your ass kicked.”
Niya turned around and threw a glance our way.
“Well, damn is that, her little sis?” Jules asked.
“Yea and she is a firecracker. Don’t get her started.”
“I wouldn’t mind getting her started,” he muttered
“It’s your funeral. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Niya walked up to us, eyeing Julian, and then turned her attention to me.
“Who is your friend, Santa?” she asked.
“Let’s not use the word friend so loosely,” I joked.
Jules sliced a glare at me, extending a hand toward Niya. “Officer Julian Bower, Ma’am. I’m here to take your account of the incident with your Santa before this…” he pointed at me as if I wasn’t there, “came along.”
A smile broke out across Niya’s pretty features. “So, you two are friends.”
“We go back a-ways. We actually know your sister.”
“Oh?” Niya threw a look over her shoulder at Jamilya, who was busying herself with inventory or something.
“Jules went to school with us, Niya,” I said, dropping my voice.
“Back then, we knew her as ‘Mily,’” Julian piped in.
I hoped he didn’t finish that thought, because it wasn’t just Mily people called her. Kids in school used to call her names that were not so nice.
‘Puppy Mily, Boring Mily, Mily the nerd…’ I felt horrible about it then because she was always nice to me, but people, headed up by Tanya, had other ideas in mind about how to treat her. But, other than adopting the nickname ‘Mily Boo’ for her, after we started working on my math issues, I never really stopped others from mistreating her.
“Oh. You knew her as ‘Mily,’ huh?” Niya asked giving me the stank-eye, obviously familiar with the names her sister endured.
“Look, we are older now, and that is behind us—not saying any of it was right but…” Julian looked from me to Niya and back again. “I’m sure none of us want to relive high school again, least of all me.” My friend chuckled and the ease of his tone noticeably calmed Niya’s temper. “Hi, Julia
n. What can I do for you?” Jamilya asked, stepping into the group. She spared me half of a glance before she gave him her full attention. If she remembered him, she had to remember me. I felt like a tool for lying and not remembering her at first. I had to make this up to her.
“Jamilya. Nice seeing you again. It’s been a hell of a long time. Since—that night in the mall parking lot after you called me to pick up this lug,” he laughed, and I snapped my gaze at him as he pointed a thumb in my direction.
What the fuck was he talking about?
“Mm-hmm,” is all she responded as she arched a brow at him. Julian was a nice enough person now, but in high school, he was a bit of a jerk. He may have been one of the ones that teased Mily...I mean Jamilya—I can’t remember, but by the way, she narrowed her eyes, and he threw out that mysterious status of their last conversation, I’m thinking the answer was ‘yes.’
“Hi-ya, Mily,” Jules responded.
No, dude, why would you...
But, both Hawkins girls cut off my warning glare and barked their displeasure at Julian quick, fast and in a hurry.
“Her name is Jamilya!” Niya exclaimed as Jamilya said, “You know I go by Jamilya, Julian Bower, don’t with the bull shit.”
I let out a long whistle and shook my head. My guy stepped right into that one.
Jules held up a hand. “I’m just trying to—”
I stood from the Santa throne, in between Julian and the ladies. I glared at him, shoved his arm, mouthing, ‘stop talking’, before turning back to the lovely women. “Julian here is just gonna take your statement about the robbery. He doesn’t mean any harm. Right, Jules?”
“Of course not; I’m just trying to help.” His tone softened, and I noticed Jamilya’s demeanor calm as well.
“I can sit with you while he asks the questions, Sissy?” Niya laid a hand on her sister’s arm.
The tough girl persona, that built quickly, melted as she looked at her younger sister. “Okay.” Jamilya nodded, looking at me briefly, before letting Niya lead her and Julian to the back room.
I looked over to see her cousin Tionne, staring at me. There was a group of women waiting to be photographed.
“Hmm. you want to finish what my cousin hired you to do, Santa?” she asked sarcastically.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Absolutely, hey ladies, what do you want for Christmas?” I asked, retaking my seat.
Chapter Twelve
Jamilya-18 years ago
“This place looks great!”
My friends and I stood in the middle of the large banquet hall called Royal Gatherings in the Parkway Central Mall. The place was decked out in decor for the ‘Snow Ball’ the weekend before Christmas. Everything was draped in whites, silvers and light blues. Lights twinkled, as soft Christmas music streamed through the speakers. Some people were already on the dance floor, dressed in formal, party attire. There was a table set up with snacks, and I could smell dinner for the evening somewhere in the back being prepared. I looked down at the red gown Mama insisted I buy. It hugged every curve eighteen-year-old me had to display. I could stand to lose a few...well maybe a hundred pounds. I didn’t feel comfortable in my skin. But something about this dress made me feel somewhat beautiful. Mama spent extra time curling my hair on top of my head in pin curls. It took a lot longer than it should have because when she started doing my hair, somehow she’d caught the weave hair on fire. Thank God she’d bought extra, or that would have made for a disaster of a night. I gingerly touched my freshly done do, making sure it was just so, as I stepped farther into the space with my besties. They too were equally as dolled up in green and purple gowns. We were all excited about being here at this dance; though, there wasn’t a date amongst us. No one had asked us to go, and we didn’t have the courage enough to ask anyone to go with us. So, we were each other’s dates. We’d laugh, dance and eat together—screw these immature, high school guys. Obviously, I wouldn’t have a high school sweetheart, since I was graduating in just a few months. I was a bit crushed, but I’d be okay. Mr. Right was out there for me somewhere.
I looked across the dance floor, and my eyes landed on Bryson Tillerman. He was untouchable—quarterback of the football team, the most popular guy in school… There is no way in the world he’d give me even a passing glance.
“Who are you looking at?” my best friend asked. She followed my line of sight. “Oh him, Mr. Wonderful,” she said, her tone full of sarcasm.
There was more than one reason my best friends didn’t agree with me having ‘a thing’ for Bryson.
“I don’t know why you even bother, girl? He is not into black chicks. Look at who is hanging out with.”
I looked at the crowd. Skinny, beautiful...none of them looked like me, but only his type. Like any other day at school, he had a crowd of girls hanging all over him, tonight. Hanging onto his every word and flipping their over-processed hair over their fake-tanned shoulders.
“You think he is going to be looking over here?” She mimicked a game show buzzer. “Wrong answer. Tell her what she doesn’t win tonight, Vanna.”
My other friend chuckled and joined in. “She does not win a date with the star quarterback. What you need to do is wait and find you a brother in college, that actually would be into you.”
I rolled my eyes. I was headed to Howard University next fall after graduation, but I didn’t want to base who I was attracted to on color. I liked what I liked, regardless of the color of skin. Bryson happened to be on that list. I glanced back over at him, laughing with his friends. They seemed to be having a little too much fun.
“They look like they are drunk. Ooo I wonder if they spiked the punch?” Angela asked conspiratorially.
“They have separate cans of pop. No one has spiked the punch since your mom was in high school, Angie you sound old fashioned as hell,” Tramaine laughed. Just then, we watched as one of Bryson’s friends pulled out a flask and handed it to him.
“Bingo! They are drinking. I’m telling,” Tramaine announced.
“Oh my God, would you stop it. We are about to graduate. You want him to get kicked out just months before graduation? Plus, it’s Christmas—show some damn cheer.” I all but stomped my foot in frustration at my friends.
“Whoa, rawr.” Angela laughed. “She told you, Tramaine.”
“Whatever. I’m going to get me something to drink and something to eat. I’m not going to stand around here all night gawking after some guy that isn’t paying attention to you.” She stomped off in the direction of the refreshment table which happened to be closer to Bryson and his friends. I walked gingerly over that way, not wanting to call attention to myself, but the heels I'd opted for were not the best choice since I wasn't used to walking in anything besides my tennis shoes at school.
“God, look at her.” I heard one of the girls in Bryson’s group say.
“Watch her fall flat on her face,” another said.
“How in the hell is she even staying up in those shoes?” Came another jeer.
“How is she even fitting into that dress? It looks like it’s hanging on for dear life.” The girls snickered while some of the guys turned to see what they were talking about. I glanced over at them and locked eyes with Bryson. He wasn’t laughing. His dark brown eyes reminded me of a chocolate bar. They were a little glazed over from whatever was in that flask, but he didn't show any signs of amusement over what the girls were saying around him—one of which was Tanya, his girlfriend du jour.
“Bryson, really, why are you looking at her? Do you feel sorry for that cow?” she asked, pulling at his arm.
The words caused me to flinch, and Bryson shot a look back at her.
“That’s enough, Tanya. It’s not cool you talking about people like that,” he snapped at her.
My eyes were burning, brimming with tears, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
I wobbled over to my friends.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” they asked, looking up at me, but not hea
ring what Tanya and the other girls had said when I walked passed.
“I need to get out of here,” I choked out.
“Why, what happened, Mily?” Tramaine insisted.
“Hey. Um, Mily, right?”
I turned and looked into the same chocolate eyes I’d admired every day in Trigonometry. The sudden turn caused me to wobble on the damn heels again. He brought a hand to my elbow and steadied me with little effort.
“Yea, I’m Mily.” My voice was low, and I looked up at him.
“We have…math together, right?” His words were slurred, and I could tell he’d had a few to drink. Maybe I should be the one steadying him.
“Yea we are in Mr. Hutchens’ Trig class.”
“Oh, yea that drag of a class.” He rolled his eyes.
He smelled better than most of the guys in our class, who wore cheap body spray like Axe or some such drug store brand their parents bought them.
Bryson not only came from money, he freaking smelled like it. The bottle of whatever he was wearing probably cost over a hundred dollars a bottle, easy. His dad made that in a minute. Hell, a second probably.
The scent of his cologne mixed with the whiskey, I could smell on his breath, gave me a heady rush. But, I wasn’t going to swoon at this guy’s feet.
Hell no.
“What can I do for you, Bryson?” I said with way more authority in my tone than I was actually feeling.
His eyes focused on mine. “You know my name?”
“Everyone in the school knows your name. Can’t be the captain of the football and basketball team without recognition,” I joked.
“Oh, yea. Um…” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it tousled, and my fingers itched to be in his hair as well.
“So, I just want to apologize...cause, um.” He looked like he was searching for his words, but they were hazy behind the liquor. “You know…”
“What are you apologizing for, Bryson? What did you do to our girl?” I heard Tramaine say behind me.
I turned to give them a heated stare and noticed Bryson’s hand was still on my arm. I looked down at where his hand was on me; it was warm, contrasting the goosebumps his touch caused.
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