Huck’s mother, Dana, didn’t seem to have much interest in me. I think the tattoos and my lack of classy polish were a little too foreign for her. She was, however, enthralled with Jay. She was excited to learn that he owned his own interior design company and had already stolen him from dinner early to parade him through the house, asking for his opinions on redecorating. She was happily making plans for him to come back out next month to give her some estimates and ideas.
After dinner, Huck bundled me and Jay up in some ski jackets he found in a closet, and shuffled us out to the garage where his parents were waiting in their huge Escalade.
“Where are we going, Dana?” Jay asked, capturing her attention.
“Hampden,” she said, delighted. “It’s one of the treasures of Baltimore during the holiday season.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“I can’t tell you, dear. That would ruin the surprise.” She gave me a bright smile and then turned forward, reaching across the console to hold hands with her husband.
“I feel like a teenager again,” Huck muttered.
“What do you mean?”
“Because we’re three grown ass adults stuffed in the backseat together like a bunch of kids. My parents used to drag me and my siblings to Hampden every year when we were growing up. You are literally living a Stone family tradition right now.”
“What is Hampden?” I repeated.
“It’s just one of those things you have to see for yourself,” he answered.
***
Hampden turned out to be a small street of row homes on 34th street in Baltimore. From several blocks away, we could see the bright glow calling to us as we walked through the bitter cold night along with what felt like the rest of the entire city. I was shivering in the dark cold like the little sun worshipper I was until we rounded the final corner and got to our destination.
“Wow,” Jay said, appreciatively. “This is pretty fucking cool.”
Huck elbowed him. “Watch your mouth, my mother’s here.”
Jay huffed. “She loves me. I can do no wrong.”
Every house on both sides of the small street was covered in Christmas lights like the Griswold house in Christmas Vacation. Millions of bulbs were strung across the houses, lighting up the street like it was day time. Giant snowflakes, huge Santas, and enormous candy canes decorated the homes. There was a Christmas tree made out of hubcaps and snowmen made of bicycle wheels. There were wreaths, nativities, menorahs, and every other conceivable holiday image you could think of, plastered across the homes and lit up. I could almost see the electrical meters spinning dizzily from all of the power being used. Long strands of lights hung across the street between the houses like glowing garland. We walked along the sidewalks, our necks tilted back as we took in everything.
Huck led us up the steps of one of the homes so we could see the Christmas village and train set up in the rafters of the roof of one of the porches. Jay and I signed our names on a guest book, leaving our place in the history of this unbelievable show of community. Venice Beach was quirky, but it had nothing on this strange little street. I loved it.
We wandered through the crowd and bought some hot cocoa from a street vendor to warm up our hands a bit.
“What are those?” Jay asked Huck, pointing to a pair of vintage looking logos that were strung with lights and hung on the front of one of the row homes. One was a rosy cheeked girl with a red hair bow and the second was a mustached man with one eye and slicked back hair.
Huck laughed. “Baltimore’s best. Utz chips,” he said, pointing to the logo of the girl, “and Natty Boh beer,” he continued, indicating the one-eyed man.
“Natty Boh beer? Is it any good?” Jay asked.
“Doesn’t matter, it’s Bawlmore, Hon,” Huck said in a strange accent.
“Bawlmore Hon?” Jay repeated. “Why the hell are you talking like that?”
“It’s the Baltimore Hon accent,” Huck explained as if we should already know. When we continued to stare stupidly at him, he continued, “You guys have to come back for the Honfest in the summer. Happens two blocks over. Lots of beehive hair and sunglasses.”
Jay and I were speechless.
“It’s not any weirder than Venice Beach,” he said, defensively.
Jay got out his phone. “Honfest? I’m Googling it. I think you’re making it up.”
Huck’s parents had returned to the car since they’d gotten cold, but Huck, Jay, and I were still walking the street. I was taking pictures of displays while Jay messed around with his phone.
“How long have they been doing this?” I took yet another picture, being sure to get one of the crab this time. Marylanders and their love of crabs, it was so weird. There was even a metal Christmas tree decorated with Natty Boh beer cans, crabs, and tins of Old Bay seasoning. Huck informed us that Old Bay was like powdered gold to Marylanders. They not only steamed their crabs with it, but used it to season just about everything they ate.
“Since 1947, I think. They call it Miracle on 34th street.”
“This is really cool,” I said, smiling at him. “Thanks for bringing us.”
“Holy shit,” Jay said, holding his phone up to me so I could see an image of a woman with a massive beehive hairdo, skintight cheetah bodysuit, bright red lipstick, and large sunglasses. “He wasn’t kidding. There’s something called the Honfest. It’s a total culture here.”
I grabbed the phone to get a closer look, flipping through the pictures. “And I thought Venice Beach was weird.”
“You east coasters are crazy,” Jay said, shaking his head.
“Come on,” Huck said. “You haven’t experienced Baltimore to its fullest yet. I’ve got a six pack of Natty Boh with your name on it.”
***
The sound of my phone ringing tore me from the short sleep I’d finally fallen into. Without fully opening my eyes, I reached for my nightstand to stop the ringing only to meet air with my hand. Confused, I opened my eyes and suddenly remembered I wasn’t in my room at home, I was in the guest room at Huck’s parents’ house.
I stumbled out of bed, finally locating my phone on the dresser.
“Hello?” I said, a yawn stretching the end of the word out longer than it needed to be.
“Hey, Honey. Merry Christmas,” my mother said. She sounded tired, but happy.
“Merry Christmas, Mom.” I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes even as I collapsed back on the bed, allowing the enormous comforter to swallow me in its fluffy embrace. A warmth bubbled up in my chest as I realized how much I missed her.
“Did you just wake up?”
“Yeah,” I croaked.
“But you’re in Maryland, aren’t you? It’s almost two in the afternoon there,” she admonished.
“I’m still on west coast time,” I explained, even though I felt guilty to realize I’d slept most of the day away. It wasn’t entirely my fault, since the three of us had stayed up late watching A Christmas Story. And after we sent Jay to bed, Huck snuck into my room and we ended up greeting the dawn doing what we did best together—wearing each other out. He must have snuck out of my room after I fell asleep. “Are you having a good time? You sound tired,” I asked her.
My mom sighed. “Yes, I’m really enjoying my time with Alicia.” Alicia was my mother’s only cousin and they were so close, they were more like sisters. I understood why she wanted to spend time with her, I just didn’t understand why I wasn’t wanted there as well.
“You guys aren’t gambling too much, are you?” I joked. Alicia never gambled. She was a real estate agent in Vegas, but I knew she avoided the casinos whenever possible. My mother may have married an alcoholic loser, but Alicia married a gambling loser. Both women had eventually become single and stayed that way, but I always marveled at how two smart, successful women had been attracted to men who were so drastically different from them. I guess love was blind. Or maybe just stupid.
“We went to a couple of shows, but that’s as much as I can g
amble right now,” my mother admitted. I could hear the sadness in her voice, the disappointment that things were changing, that even the smallest activity was requiring major effort and energy on her part.
“Are you okay, Mom?”
“I’m fine. It’s just . . . it’s hard to say goodbye,” she managed.
“I know,” I whispered.
She was silent for a long time. “I miss you.”
Dammit. Why did she do this to me? She was the one that insisted I not come along with her. Now I felt guilty for listening to her. “Send me Alicia’s address,” I said, getting up from the room and dragging my suitcase out of the closet.
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m going to the airport and I’m coming to see you, to spend Christmas with you.”
“No, no,” she argued. “I didn’t mean it like that. I need to be here by myself, just for a little while. I want to spend this time with Alicia. I’m sorry. It’s just I miss you all the time because I know . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence.
“Mom, let me come spend the holiday with you. Please.”
“No,” she said firmly. “Alicia and I need this time together, and you’re exactly where you need to be. We both have unfinished business to address. Mine is an ending and yours is a beginning.”
“What are you talking about, Mom?”
“Are you enjoying your time with Huck?”
I groaned. “Please tell me your trip to Vegas isn’t some sort of manipulative, matchmaking scheme.”
My mother laughed quietly.
“Mom? It’s not, is it?”
“Tell me what Maryland is like,” she said, attempting to change the subject.
I sighed and allowed her to have her way. I was doing a lot of that lately, it was a lot easier than spending our precious time arguing. There was no sense in fighting over stuff I knew wouldn’t matter a year from now when all I would want was to have my mother back, no matter how demanding she was. We fell into an easy conversation as I told her all about Pateley’s horses and the Hampden light show. I prattled on until I could hear her responses start to slow and I realized she was on the verge of napping.
“I have to go, Mom,” I told her. “You should get some rest.”
“I could use a nap,” she admitted. “Have a good time, Honey. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
When I hung up the phone, I finally noticed a piece of paper that had been shoved under my door.
Sleep as long as you want. Party starts at 6:00 tonight. I’m out in the stables with my nephews if you want to join us.
– Huck
I dressed quickly in the warmest clothes I could find and then hurried out to the stables in the hopes that I’d get a chance to ride one of Pateley’s horses.
***
I had expected a family gathering with aunts and uncles and maybe some grandparents, but the Christmas party at the Stone household was an enormous event. Employees, clients, family members—it seemed like everyone the Stones had ever met, and who lived within driving distance, had been invited. I was going to have a talk with Huck later about not giving me the scoop on exactly what he’d set me up for. And although I wasn’t exactly regretting going out to the stables since I’d actually gotten a chance to ride one of the horses, I was wishing I’d not only brought a nicer dress, but left myself a little more time for primping.
All of the women were dripping with jewels and glittering fabric, their hair done in elaborate up-dos, and their nails and makeup salon-perfect. I, on the other hand, was like an angry thundercloud—straight dark red hair, understated black heels, and dark tattoos peeking out of a simple black cocktail dress. I wasn’t really worried what other people thought of me, I’d always been confident enough to be myself no matter what. But, at the same time, I didn’t want to embarrass Huck or his parents. It was clear I didn’t fit in. I’d noticed the strange, lingering look Dana’s eyes took when they came across my tattoos. In Venice Beach or at a Legend Records party, the tattoos and my look fit in. Here, I was completely out of place. That was the reason I hadn’t fallen in with my mother’s classy lifestyle, it made me uncomfortable.
I reminded myself it was only one night. And at the end of the night, I’d get time with Huck. If I had stayed in California, I would have been alone and bored. All I had to do was suffer through the stares and whispers and it’d all be worth it.
Huck led me and Jay through the party, introducing us to people as we passed into the room. He leaned over to whisper to me. “I’m going to kill you for wearing that dress. How the hell am I supposed to keep this friends charade going when you look like dessert?”
His words dispelled some of my discomfort—at least someone liked the dress. “Behave and maybe you’ll earn yourself a slice later on. Consider it a Christmas present.”
“I still haven’t given you your Christmas present,” he said.
My Christmas present? Shit. Were we supposed to exchange presents? Couples did presents, and we weren’t a couple. Not officially anyway. Were we?
“You haven’t given me mine either,” Jay pointed out, stealing Huck’s attention before I could respond.
“I gave you a six pack of Natty Boh last night.”
“But you drank four of them.”
Huck shrugged. “It’s not my fault you’re a lightweight.”
“It’s not my fault you gave me shitty beer—” Jay stopped complaining as his attention was suddenly drawn elsewhere. “Hey, who is that delicious piece of arm candy?” Jay pointed across the room.
“That’s my neighbor’s son, Denton.”
“Do we know what team he plays for?”
Huck tilted his head in thought. “You know, I’ve never actually seen him with a date, I’m not sure. Do you want me to introduce you?”
“As badly as you want to tear off Cat’s dress.”
“Hey.” I punched Jay on the arm. “Quiet down, anyone could hear you say that.”
“Please.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyone could hear what you two were doing in the wee hours this morning. It’s not exactly a secret.”
“You did not hear us,” I accused him.
Jay laughed. “True, but I did try listening at the door.”
“What?” I punched him again.
“Hurry,” he said to Huck, rubbing his arm where I hit him. “Rescue me before she damages the goods. I’ve got a good feeling about Denton over there.”
After a quick introduction between Jay and Denton, it appeared as if Jay’s intuition was correct. They were soon deep in conversation about which was a better shoe—Bruno Magli or Prada—and Huck and I happily excused ourselves. If I’d had to stay and listen to that conversation for any length of time, I would’ve wanted to gouge my eyes out. Even if Jay was wrong about Denton, he’d at least met someone who appreciated fashion as much as he did.
Huck and I grazed at the food table for a while, and then we began another round of introductions, Huck insisting that I meet some of the people in the east coast office of William Stone Media. I had talked with many of them before, but never met them in person. With each introduction, I saw an immediate look of barely masked horror as Huck gave my name, and I realized my reputation as the Wicked Bitch of the West Coast was well known throughout the company. Can’t say I wasn’t sort of proud of that. By the end of each conversation, however, I think I managed to do a fairly good job of charming most of them, and I gave myself a little pat on the back. When work wasn’t involved, I could almost be normal. Almost.
“Want to get something to drink?” Huck asked after extracting me from a conversation with an overly talkative older woman named Marjorie who used to be Huck’s secretary.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “I could barely hold the Wicked Bitch back any longer,” I said, realizing I was embracing my alter ego. “If I had to listen to one more story about her horrible kids—”
“I could tell you were about to lose it.”
“I don’t kn
ow how you worked with her every day and didn’t kill her.”
“I’m a master of self-control.”
I laughed because we both knew he may have had self-control in the business world, but behind closed doors, he had none. With his hand at the small of my back, Huck steered me toward the bar. With the low cut back of my dress, his fingers softly brushed my bare skin, but every touch felt like a brand. As light as his touch was, it felt territorial and possessive, and I couldn’t decide how I felt about that. Part of me was excited by the way his fingers greedily searched out reasons to touch me, but the independent part of my personality cringed a little at the claim his touch staked on me.
My internal battle raged as we finally reached the bar and Huck tried to catch the attention of the bartender to refill his wine glass.
“Hey Bro, long time, no see,” said a voice behind us. Huck’s posture stiffened, but he didn’t look to see who had spoken. He stared forward, strangling his wine glass in a tight grip that threatened to snap the stem.
I turned around to see an attractive guy with his hands stuffed in the pockets of worn jeans. He was a younger version of Huck—more carefree and wilder looking. An impish smile snuck across the guy’s face and he held out his hand to me.
“Tracey Lawrence Stone,” he said by way of introduction. “But everyone calls me Trace. And you are?”
Before I could answer, Huck spun around and punched Trace in the face, knocking him to the floor.
“None of your business, asshole,” Huck spat.
“What the fuck is your problem, Bro?” Trace asked, looking up at Huck from his position on the floor. He was rubbing his jaw and smearing the blood that had gathered from a cut on his lip.
“You are. Stay the fuck away from me,” Huck growled. “And don’t even think about talking to her again.” He grabbed my hand and nearly dragged me through the crowd as several stunned people got out of our way before going to check on Trace.
“What the hell was that all about?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he muttered.
I yanked my hand, forcing him to stop.
“Who was that?”
He bit his bottom lip, unwilling to look me in the eye. “My brother.”
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