Twisted Christmas

by Sara Cate

  I’d like to think it’s a Christmas miracle.

  “If you want to be seen as a mature actress, you’ll need more things like that dress. Think Ralph Lauren and less Lauren Conrad.”

  My lips weigh down at the corners knowing half my wardrobe consists of things I bought from cheaper boutiques around the city. Things that are cute without being ridiculously overpriced. Sometimes I forget that’s not a good thing in this industry.

  “My clothes are—”

  “Not what you need to be seen in,” she cuts me off, finality in her tone. “The character you’re playing is 24, and most of the other roles you’ll audition for in the future will be for the same age range if this goes as planned. You can’t be seen as a nineteen-year-old.”

  “But I am nineteen.”

  I’m greeted with another sigh. “Addy, I hate to be the one to remind you, but you walked into this industry knowing the expectations. They don’t want another kid actor playing the big money makers unless you’re five and have a toothy smile that the world will “ooh” and “aww” over. You started late, which means you have a lot more to prove. If buying sexy clothes that show off your killer body is what you have to do, I’d hardly call that a hardship.”

  She’s right, as much as I hate to admit it.

  It isn’t like I hate shopping or don’t have the money for it. It just feels unnecessary. Grandma Rose always drilled it in my head to save instead of buying things I didn’t need. She’d go on and on about our family’s struggles during the Great Depression and how important it is to be frugal and invest in the right things.

  I’ve never looked my age, even when I was younger. It just took losing some baby fat and getting a little taller for people to see that.

  And it isn’t like I dress terribly. I just prefer jeans and tees over dresses and heels. I don’t like going crazy with makeup, and the only time I wear jewelry is when I’m being dolled up for award shows.

  No matter what Jill says, I’ve never sported a baby face or a body that lacked some form of womanly curves. But I definitely grew into my assets within the last few years, which people like my agent like to use to their advantage when it comes to finding me auditions.

  And let’s face it. Daire never would have touched me if I looked my age. Not when we kissed two years ago, and certainly not now.

  Jill breaks my train of thought. “You are going to be the talk of the country in a matter of months. So, suck it up, get your hair done, get your nails done, and for the love of God, ditch those hideous shoes you always wear.”

  I stare down at my feet, covered in a pair of cheetah print Vans. They’re my favorite and definitely show the wear they’ve seen over the years. The off-white laces are frayed, and the soles have no grip on them anymore.

  Grandma Rose gave them to me.

  “I have a meeting for another client. I’ll check on you later,” she tells me before hanging up.

  I stare at the blank screen and slowly lower it back down to the counter. I’m studying my face ready to be contoured with makeup wondering what kind of image I’d be giving off to the world if I started dressing to show my long legs and pert butt like I was emphasizing last night.

  Would Daire notice? Would he care? Would more people like him look at me with the same intensity he did when he rescued me from Marigold at the party?

  I work hard to keep in shape, so it wouldn’t be awful to show my effort off in more than workout leggings and a sports bra like I’m sometimes photographed in when I’m leaving the gym. Or the simple yet cute outfits—loose tees and skinny jeans, that I’m pictured in when I’m out with Noah. I can only imagine what Jill would say if she saw the pajama sets I wear around my apartment that feature dancing avocados and eggs.

  Sighing, I put down my makeup and stare at my reflection a little harder.

  When I leave, it’s only with lipstick and a smile on my face.

  * * *

  The dread spreading through my body as I stare at the high rise decorated in Christmas lights and festive decorations makes me feel uneasy. Noah, his parents, and all of their friends and family are in the penthouse where I know a carefully decorated eight-foot tree is standing in the corner with presents surrounding it. Cheesy holiday music is probably coming from the high-end speaker system and there’s more than likely spiked eggnog being passed around the room.

  My red heels are plastered to the sidewalk as the breeze kicks up my wavy hair and caresses the areas of skin that are bare from the dress I’m wearing. As much as I wanted to wear something casual, Noah’s family goes above and beyond for their Christmas celebration which means dressing to the nines to fit in.

  Jill would be proud.

  The black dress is fitted below my bust to show off the small of my waist and flares around my hips, landing just above mid-thigh. I painted my fingernails to match the shoes that I know Daire will hate when he sees them. The only reason he’s in the city is for the holidays. Once the night is over, he’ll go back to his hotel, sleep for a few hours, and hop into his Jeep to head back upstate where he’s made a life for himself.

  But for the night I’d have to deal with the repercussions of our actions whether I want to or not. And I really, really don’t want to.

  “You going in or do you plan on bailing?” a voice asks.

  When I turn, my lips part a fraction.

  Daire stands there looking…

  Like the exact opposite of last night. A long sleeve black Henley replaces the button down he wore and in place of the black slacks are a pair of worn dark denim. I know his mother will chide him for not dressing up, but I can’t help but to appreciate the way his clothes fit. They’re not painted on like mine, but they definitely don’t hide the work that he’s put into his body either.

  His eyes go to my shoes before tsking. “I see you never learn.”

  My eyes go down to my feet, a small smile on my face. “They’re the only ones I have that match the occasion.”

  When I glance back up, he’s rolling his eyes at the bullshit he knows I’m spewing and turns back to the tall building in front of us. “They wouldn’t care what you showed up in. They love you too much to make a scene.”

  He acts as if they don’t love him the same way, not that he seems to care. If he did, he would have put more effort into his attire tonight instead of making some sort of point.

  We have a stare off as the wind picks up, making my skin pimple with chill. I rub my arms and shake my head, not knowing what to say and not willing to stay out here to freeze half to death.

  So, I walk around him to the front entrance.

  The regular doorman smiles at me. “Hello again, Addy. Excited for Christmas?”

  I smile at the gray-haired man who has always been nothing but polite to me. “I always am, Remi. You know it’s my favorite. Did your daughter fly in for it or is she spending time with her husband’s family in California?”

  His eyes brighten, something they always do when his daughter is brought up. “My sweet Delaney surprised me this morning. If I’d known, I would have asked for the day off. She and the kids are baking cookies back at my place.”

  “I’m sure it’ll smell delicious when you get back. Maybe you can leave early. I can ask someone for you if you’d like.”

  The early-sixties man waves me off. “No, that’s all right. We get paid time and a half for the holidays anyway. Plus, Delaney says she needs the time to finish wrapping my presents. She’d have a fit if I saw what she got me before tonight.”

  I giggle. “I’m sure. She’s a firecracker.” I met his daughter a handful of times along with her two boys. They have more energy than anyone I know, but they’re the cutest kids I’ve ever seen and look a lot like their mom and grandfather. “I should get going. Merry Christmas. I hope you and your family have a lot of fun together.”

  He tips his head and turns to smile at Dairen, who I don’t realize is right behind me. His eyes aren’t on Remi, though, but me. Piercing my mostly makeup-free
face in inquisition.

  I ignore him and walk inside, waving at the front desk clerk before heading toward the elevators. Daire is right on my heels, pressing the button to go up before I can.

  “You’re on a first name basis with the staff?” he asks skeptically.

  I watch the numbers on the screen. “Not all of them, but a few. Remi is really sweet. So is his daughter.” I give him a quick once-over before turning forward when the elevator doors slide open. “Don’t look at me like that. I like talking to people. Everyone has a story.”

  “Huh.”

  That’s all I get. Huh.

  Whatever.

  Pushing the correct floor number, I bite down on my inner cheek and tap my fingers against my thigh as we start moving.

  Floor one.

  Floor three.

  Floor ten.

  Floor eleven.

  Floor twelve.

  Daire asks, “Why haven’t you slept with the other guys who wanted what I got?”

  I choke on air, gaping at his blunt question. “Who asks something that personal?”

  “Somebody who unintentionally took another person’s virginity and made them bleed all over their cock,” he responds casually. The lift of his shoulders makes me blink dubiously at his calm demeanor.

  Slowly, I shake my head.

  Floor eighteen.

  Floor nineteen.

  Floor twenty.

  “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “It’s a simple question.”

  Is it though? “I…it’s just something I didn’t want to do with them. Waiting felt right. I’m not religious or anything but I wanted to meet the person who would take care of me and…” My cheeks heat as I listen to myself. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

  I expect him to agree, but he grunts. “It isn’t stupid.”

  Floor twenty-three.

  Floor twenty-four.

  “Do you miss it? Hockey?”

  Floor twenty-seven.

  Floor twenty-eight.

  Floor twenty-nine.

  His gaze roams over me, scanning my face before the elevator stops with a ding when we hit the thirtieth floor. “Do you know you’re the first person to ever ask me that?”

  My lips part in surprise.

  “Yes,” he murmurs. “I miss it every day.”

  I blink, swallowing my words as he sighs and turns to the doors sliding open.

  When he speaks again, I’m even more shocked at the genuine nature of his words. “For the record, I’m sorry for hitting Noah. Shit, I should probably be sorry for everything that happened. I did it out of bad intentions.” His lips quirk up for a microsecond as he glances at me, not looking sorry one bit. “I can’t really say I’m sorry for being your first, though. It seems fitting for us, doesn’t it? We seem to be forming a pattern.”

  Having no idea what to say, he shoots me a wink before stepping out of the elevator leaving me to my thoughts.

  All I can do is stare at his fleeting back.

  Chapter 8

  Daire

  * * *

  My brother is shit faced as he stumbles about the room, which would be a lot funnier if it didn’t remind me of the night from hell.

  He’s obviously had more than our mother’s famous eggnog because he looks three sheets to the wind. Noah becomes more unsteady with every pat on the back he gets from the guests who fawn over his presence. It’s only a matter of time before Mom finds a way to blame me for his foolishness like I slipped him the liquor bottle that led him to his idiocy.

  It’s been a few years since the incident that left me getting dropped by the Blackhawks. Years of living my backup life that I never would have expected if someone had asked the younger version of me.

  All because my teenage brother had a bad day and decided to go out with friends and get his hands on some hard liquor. Apparently, nothing ever changes. If something happens in his life that he can’t cope with sober, he drinks it away.

  Whose life is he going to ruin tonight?

  My eyes go to Adelaide, eyebrow twitching in my silent answer.

  She looks nervous as she tries to steady him from stumbling over, but he brushes off her hand and says something that makes her cringe. I may be a dickhead sober, but at least I’m not an asshole drunk. Hell, I rarely even drink these days. Not since that day.

  The redhead’s question still echoes in my head. Do I miss playing? Every goddamn day. With every breath. The sport is a part of me—it runs in my blood. The adrenaline. The violence. It was everything I needed to work out my frustrations while building a future for myself that wasn’t under my family’s rule.

  I wouldn’t be Noah Scott’s brother.

  I’d be Dairen “Daire” Scott—famous center for the NHL and the reason my team won a fucking Stanley Cup.

  I’d planned on being famous in my own right, but I wasn’t going to let it get to my head like Noah lets his status get to his. The second he had the world’s attention he absorbed every single praise and high remark people gave him until he couldn’t hold anymore.

  I step forward when I see his narrowed eyes snap to Adelaide. My brother is a lot of things, and the shitty thing is, I don’t know if abusive is one of them. He’s pissed off. Drunk. Unpredictable if the past is any indication in these circumstances.

  The last thing I need is for history to repeat itself and claim another victim. Least of all the one who’s captured my attention for years now.

  A hand hooks around my arm stopping me from walking over to the unhappy pair. When I turn to see my father there, I stand taller.

  “Let them hash it out,” he tells me under his breath. “You won’t help any by intervening.”

  My jaw ticks. “I might if it’s because of what I—”

  “Son,” Dad sighs, letting go of my arm and giving me a knowing look. “I don’t know what happened or why. Frankly, kid? I’m not too sure I want to, especially knowing the vendetta you have against Noah. Or the way you look at Adelaide.”

  My shoulders draw back.

  I’m about to talk when he shuts me up with a look. “I’m not saying you’re not justified in being upset with him. As for the other thing…well, it’s none of my business. All I’m saying is that Noah and Addy need to figure out their rift on their own. If not, your brother is going to make a scene and we both know how your mother will handle that.”

  The look I give him must be amusing because he chuckles and nods toward the table covered in drinks. We both avoid the alcohol and go for the water.

  He gives me a subtle look before sipping his drink and turning back to the group of people loitering in their living room. “I know you think I don’t notice you or care about what’s going on in your life, but you’re wrong. I know I should show it better because your mother certainly isn’t the best at expressing herself—”

  I snort.

  He gives me a disapproving look. “Look, she’s always been caught up in your brother’s career. It’s frustrating as hell, I get it. But have you ever thought that the reason she’s consumed by his life is because she has to be?”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He gestures toward Noah, who’s back to ignoring Adelaide again. “Do you think that’s the first time he’s been publicly intoxicated? He’s been getting worse. Won’t say why. Sure as hell doesn’t seem like he should have many problems to drink away. And your mom is rightfully worried, same as me. Just tonight when he opened up a bottle of my best whiskey she told him if he caused a scene she’d put his ass in rehab until he sobered up and realized what a…what did she say? A twit he was being.”

  Wish I was there to witness that. “I’m having trouble picturing that considering she’s always so far up his ass she can’t see past his shit.”

  “Watch it,” he warns. “I know you’re upset with us, but she’s still your mother. Just like, despite his issues, Noah is your brother. There’s a lot we could have handled better over the years, but sometimes that’s how l
ife goes. You’ve had your shit together for a lot longer than him. He needs more help than you do. It’s as simple as that.”

  Simple? No. “I didn’t have a choice but to have my life together. If you guys had your way, I’d be shadowing Noah instead of doing my own thing.”

  “Because we thought it’d help him if you were around.” I roll my eyes at his explanation but still listen. “He’s always looked up to you, Dairen. He used to follow you around and try getting your attention whenever he could. Hell, we were surprised he didn’t go for hockey instead of acting because he wanted to be like you. Your mother thought if you signed on to be part of his team he’d behave better.”

  Pressing my lips together, I contemplate my answer. My beef has never been with Dad, so I don’t know whether to believe him or not. If he’s telling the truth, it definitely changes things.

  “Regardless,” I answer carefully, “Noah is a grown ass man now. He’s only going to keep getting worse if you and Mom continue to enable him. Look what he did to me. He’s not sorry about ruining my career. The only time he acts it is if his hand is forced to. What else does he have to do before you two open your goddamn eyes and realize he needs to pull his head out of his ass and make his own mistakes without you fixing them for him?”

  For once, Dad is quiet.

  Blowing out a breath, I steal a glance at Addy. “It can’t be easy seeing him derail. But he won’t learn until he hits rock bottom. He has everything, Dad. It won’t kill him to lose something if it means he learns from it in the long run. Maybe he should go to rehab. Get his mind cleared. It isn’t like he can’t afford it.”

  Dad puts his hand on my shoulder after he sees what I’m looking at. Who. Would I feel bad if he lost Addy? No. Not if it’s to me. “I’m glad you came, Daire. Real glad. Your mom wasn’t sure…”