31 Kisses

by Sonya Jesus

  “I wouldn’t care,” he says flatly, and I believe him. “They aren’t coming.” He smirks and rubs his hands together. “See what I did there? Got a break the ice before you fill the bank.”

  I snort, somewhat disgusted with the idea of having a hundred girls sitting on my lap when all I want is to see Kelsie.

  “Sometimes I wonder about you, bro. You got the looks, the shape, the status, but you don’t use any of it…” He trails off and stops talking for a moment, before he latently responds to my prior comment. “I don’t worry about things that aren’t worth it.” He flits his gaze around the room. Until he takes a deep breath and clears his throat, his eyes never settle on one particular thing.

  Then, they are on me—assessing me, harshly. His hand flies up to massage the stiffness in his neck. “The only thing I worry about is how deep you’re getting with Kelsie.” There’s a threat in his voice that’s never been directed at me before.

  “Because she’s your family?”

  “No. Because she’s in with the wrong kind of people.”

  “The bruises?” I ask, abstaining from mentioning the bite marks.

  “That’s not the half of it.”

  “Then tell me the rest, Stone.” Kelsie isn’t going to.

  He bobbles his head, back and forth, up and down, making his reaction indecipherable. His blinking slows as he glares at me. “Is it too late for you to back off?”

  It was too late two years ago. He’s never going to accept it. “What if it was?”

  “Then, I think you and I need to sit down and have a serious discussion about some things I’ve been keeping from you before you make a decision.”

  The decision’s already been made. “You make it sound like dating Kelsie is lethal or something.”

  “She’s dangerous.”

  I laugh at his seriousness. I know, or at least I assume, Kelsie’s involved with someone who isn’t a fan of being gentle, but I get the feeling he’s referring to much more than that. “Like, she can break my heart dangerous?”

  “Like, break your bones kind of dangerous.”

  What the fuck does that mean?

  “Hey, boys,” the bar owner interrupts us and calls us over to the bar area to discuss logistics. The DJ’s running sound checks and testing out his equipment, so it’s harder to hear anything unless it’s shouted. The petite bartender, with long dark hair and intense eyes, looks us both over as she places two drinks in front of her. Her eyes linger on my upper body but quickly dismiss me from her attention. Stone has that dominating effect.

  “Why aren’t you one of the sexy Santas?” she asks, gliding her fingers over the hand he has stretched out on the bar.

  “Fractured ribs,” he responds, taking a sip of the red drink with cranberries floating on top of it.

  Her eyes widen hungrily as a small smile creeps on her face. She balances on the balls of her feet, leans forward, and whispers something in Stone’s ear that I don’t catch because the owner captures my attention. “So, we’re expecting a big night tonight. I talked to your associate yesterday about how we don’t share profits.”

  A lot probably goes undocumented.

  “We came up with specific drinks for your night.” His head turns toward the bartender, who is flirting with Stone. I don’t need to hear what she’s saying to read the body language. “Since the crowd is mostly women, Selena came up with these cocktails.”

  I nod my head as I assess the drinks.

  “Your friend is drinking the Clause-me-politan. Basically, it’s just vodka and cranberry juice with some citrus.” He slides the blue drink in an elongated cup over to me.

  I lift it and take a sip, immediately tasting the Blue Curacao.

  He points to the other drink. “This is the Jack Frost. It’s a mixture of a few things with sanding sugar around the edges.”

  “And we have two shots,” Selena chimes in excitedly. She makes eye contact with the three men around her and pours out the first shot so quickly I don’t take note of what she used. The end product is two layers: one yellow and one green. Then she carelessly pours a clear liquid into the concoction, turning it blue. “The Blue Ball,” she squeals proudly and slides the drink to Stone, who shouldn’t be mixing alcohol with opioids.

  He chugs it back. “Tastes girly.”

  “I get the feeling you can make anything sound dirty,” she flirts with a lower-pitched voice.

  “And the other one?” I ask, slightly kicking Stone on the side of his leg. If I don’t call him out, we’ll be a bartender and photographer short for the night.

  “I’ll go get it. Those are premade.” Selena disappears to the back room.

  “What the fuck?” Stone growls at my scowl.

  Both of us forgot the owner was there, but he seemed more preoccupied with other things.

  “How does the fund-raising cut work?” I ask.

  “Anything sold on the board is ours.” He points to their drink menu written in chalk, on the blackboard walls. “The Christmas themed stuff—all profits are yours.” The DJ calls him over and he excuses himself.

  “Notice how all the drinks on the menu are cheaper than the ones made for us?”

  Stone shrugs, not seeing the problem because all he sees is the hot bartender with the corset leather top.

  “How much are the shots?” I ask her as she puts a Jello shot in front of me.

  “Two for five. These are the Jingle Jigglers.”

  “And the signature drinks?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “That’s a lot of drinks to sell.” How the fuck are we going to do that? “What’s the bar capacity?”

  “Three hundred.”

  I round my eyes. “No way in hell are the chicks going to be drinking that much for that much.”

  “That’s why we’re going to up the price to twenty bucks per sitting,” Stone offers. “And you better make them work for that fucking ball.”

  That can work.

  “The drunker they get, the looser their lips—all of them—get. We just need to keep them supplied.” He turns to Selena. “Can some of our guys help distribute the Jello shots around the crowd in trays, like they do at clubs?”

  “Sure, sometimes we do that. As long as we do the mixing back here. You purchase the shots by the tray.”

  “Do you have the trays?” I chime in.

  “We have some in the back.”

  “Can you get me four trays ready? Two with the Jello shots, and two with the blue ones to start.” He addresses me, “Grab some pledges, tell them to take their shirts off… but not Cameron. I need him to get his computer and keep track of money.”

  Within twenty minutes and about a minute from opening the doors, Santas A through E are sitting on our chairs, shirtless. A couple of us are pantless and rocking boxers that can pass off as shorts. We look so different. The only things we have in common are our Santa hats, with our letters glued in blue to the fuzzy, white part. The bags of ornaments are at our side and the photographers are standing in front of us. Selena, the bartender, found them some elf ears, which is a nice touch.

  The pledges with the muscular upper bodies flank the front door. Some have red lipstick marks all over their abdomens with the phrase, “Ask him how” written on them. The others had “Two for Five” on their chests. Cameron is to the right of the stage, manning the bank. He recruited a few guys to help him.

  For the first time tonight, I actually get the feeling that this might work. I just have to get through it.

  I’ve given away thirty-three balls, and we’ve only been at this two hours. To be fair, some I’ve given away because I have to get through these one hundred balls, but some have been rightfully earned. The other Santas are down to their last twenty-five, which means the ladies have taken arousing me as a challenge.

  The next lady is dressed in a pair of jeans and an ugly Christmas shirt that’s been cut off at the bellybutton. She’s a cute brunette in her thirties, with a big fat ring and wedding band on her
ring finger. She gives Stone her phone with her camera set up and steps on stage.

  I spread my legs a bit and slouch down. She sits on my upper thigh, throws her arm around my neck and brings her head close. I smile for the camera for the hundredth time tonight. Stone snaps the picture and then comes closer to snap another.

  “Is this when I tell you the dirty wish?”

  I smile. “Yeah, Stone will take a few of you telling me.”

  “Okay,” she says. “Stone?”

  Why is she calling him over here?

  “I have three thousand dollars in my purse. If I win, I get the rest of the present bag.”

  Stone’s mouth drops open. “Are you sure, lady? He’s a pretty tough one, and that’s a lot of money.”

  She smiles and nonchalantly shrugs her shoulders. “Not my money.”

  Sounds like a woman who wants to get back at her guy. “I’ll take the wager.” Either way I win. If she wins, we get three thousand, and I can get out of this seat. If I win, we get the money and keep collecting until I give them all away. Moneywise the night is going really well. Last check-in with Cameron, just with the Santas, we were close to seven thousand.

  “Okay, but you have to be honest, Hayden.” Stone brings her phone up to snap a picture.

  I nod as the woman presses her hand to my bare chest, leans in and so only I can hear, whispers, “Outside. In a white car parked at the end of the parking lot…”

  I smirk seductively for the picture I know Stone is taking. “Go on.”

  “Someone’s naked.”

  Speaking about herself in the third person is a different approach. “I kind of like the story mode,” I encourage her.

  “She has on a leather jacket.”

  I close my eyes.

  She sighs seductively, like she’s imagining this as she speaks. “Nothing else.”

  “I’m going to be honest here… I’m not there just yet.”

  She smirks. “She has on stilettos.”

  Immediately, I connect the she with Kelsie. I twitch. I know the woman on my lap feels it because she brushes her leg against my dick. The sensation sparks Santa’s helper, and he’s in need of some instruction.

  “Yeah?”

  “Mmhmmm.” The word comes out as barely a murmur. Her fingers stroke the base of my neck and graze my hairline.

  “Pink ones?” I ask absentmindedly.

  Her lips brush against my earlobe. “Hot pink ones.”

  Yep. She’s won. All I can think about is Kelsie’s body on mine.

  “I think I won the bet,” she says, straightening up and withdrawing her leg. She gets up and aims for Stone to check out the pictures on her phone.

  Stone, who’s no longer taking pictures, and instead’s looking down the bartender’s pushed-up breasts, realizes she’s there and says, “Let’s get a picture of the lucky blue ball winner with her Santa and bag of balls.”

  I reach over and grab the bag to rest it on my lap, until I can soften.

  The crowd laughs. She bends down and plucks one of the balls from inside the bag. She looks straight at me, and says, “It’s true. There’s a girl waiting for you in the parking lot. She gave me the money and told me what to say.”

  I grin wide. “Kelsie.”

  “That’s her name.” She lifts the bag off my lap. “She also told me to sell these and give Stone the money.”

  Stone comes toward us when I motion for him. He gives the married lady her phone, and she gives him the first ball she picked out. “The condition is,” she’s speaking to me, “that this number wins.”

  Stone announces, “Ladies, Santa A has been claimed, but…” he plucks my hat off and puts it on himself. “We’ve got a replacement.” He lifts his shirt up, summoning the collective sigh of the girls around us. “Be gentle. I’m a little broken.”

  “In the head,” I mumble.

  “Get off my throne,” he jokes before asking the married woman, “Can I have my balls back, please?”

  “Since you asked nicely.” She hands him the bag and I vacate my chair.

  He takes a seat, quickly pops the ornament out, and gives it to me. “Tell Kelsie thanks. I owe her one.”

  “You knew?” I ask when he glances at me disapprovingly. I don’t really care if he disapproves. Kelsie’s waiting for me.

  “She sent me a message. White SUV. It’ll be on.”

  I slide my hoodie on and jog outside toward the only SUV that’s on at the end of the parking lot. She’s sitting behind the wheel with the light on. All I see is the leather jacket. That’s enough to get me running the rest of the way. I open the door and get into the passenger seat.

  “Jeans?” She tricked me.

  “You thought I would be naked?”

  I glance down at the shoes. Chucks. “Yeah,” I say, adjusting my Santa pants as I try to relax. “Maybe I did.” I rest my hand on the armrest and turn toward her, sliding my foot underneath my thigh. “Why didn’t you come in and tell me yourself?”

  “I had to think of a way to get you alone for a little bit.”

  I reach into my hoodie and give her the ornament ball. “Here you go. The married lady said you paid three thousand dollars for this.”

  “Well, I paid three thousand dollars so I didn’t have to see anyone else claim you as their Santa.”

  “Would that bother you?”

  She takes a minute before she pulls the emergency brake and puts the car in drive.

  “Where are we going?” I say, putting my seatbelt on.

  “Forrest Hill.”

  8

  Put a Label on It

  Kelsie

  Hayden makes my heart explode with just a single touch, and I fucking hate to love it. He draws his hand away from me as I turn onto the road that leads to Fraternity Hill. I park my car right in front on an incline and turn the wheels to the curb. “Nobody’s home?” I ask, as I pull the key from the ignition.

  “All Santas on deck tonight,” he jokes badly.

  It’s enough to make me smile and look out the window. My hand slides to the door handle. “Want to go inside?” To my surprise, he contemplates it. Earlier, he was ready to make his blue balls nonexistent. I drop my hand and rest it on my leg as I impatiently wait for him to decide. This is the perfect opportunity to carry out my orders— officially cross the boundary.

  I hate Breaker. “What do you usually do for the holidays?”

  His head flinches back and he licks his lips. He looks up, not looking me in the eyes, and says, “I usually go to the strip club with Stone on Christmas.”

  I rub my lips. “The one on 25th and Lincoln?”

  “Yeah, then we grab some Chinese. How did you know?”

  “Just a guess.” He goes there because it’s owned by the family. Breaker always stops by to drop off the gifts, which are really just drug parcels for the girls.

  “What about you?” he asks.

  “Nothing special. I haven’t been much of a Christmas fan since my dad passed.”

  He glances at me sweetly. “Yeah, I get that.”

  “Why don’t you go visit your adoptive parents?”

  “It’s expensive, and if I stay on campus during the break, I can still work the library and the computer labs around the holidays. They’re usually open.”

  “So, you don’t spend it with family?”

  “Stone is family,” he corrects. “So yeah, I do. For New Year’s we usually head to Times Square and spend the night...” He stops his sentence before he confesses to what they really do, or who they do it with.

  I smirk and shake my head when he gazes at me apologetically. I shrug away the concern and ask, “Are you going this year?”

  “Probably.” He’s reluctant to ask, but he does. “Unless there’s a reason I shouldn’t?”

  I chuckle. It feels good to laugh. In my line of work, there’s not much reason to be happy. “Are you trying to ask me something, Hayden?”

  He tries to stifle the smile growing on his mouth. “Are y
ou expecting me to?”

  “Want to spend New Year's with me?” I shake my head as if what I just said was nonsense.

  He opens the car door and steps out, leaving me without an answer. My mouth drops open. All that back-and-forth, and he just fucking leaves?

  The driver’s side door swings open, filling the car with cold air. “One question?”

  I convert my furrowed brows into arches. “Better be a good one.”

  “Do I get to kiss you at midnight?” He holds out his hand; the gesture meaning more than any words we can say. Kissing him at midnight in front of my family means something. Shit, bringing him to the party means just as much.

  I slide my hand into his. “I might punch you in the throat if you don’t.”

  “Stone warned me that you were dangerous.” He helps me out of the car.

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “A little bit, yes.” He exchanges his serious expression for a lighter one. “I’m just kidding. I’d love to go to the party with you… as your boyfriend.”

  I clear my throat awkwardly and end up coughing through my nostrils. I hide my nose in case snot comes spewing out. “That wasn’t subtle at all.”

  “I think the time for subtleties is over. I’ve liked you for a really long time, Kelsie.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder and kisses me on the side of my head. The intimate gesture causes a swarm of heat to rise in my stomach. “It’s about damn time I told you.”

  “Yeah, I guess you make things not as shitty.”

  “Well, dang,” he scoffs jokingly and presses a palm to his heart. “You sure know how to make a guy feel wanted.”

  I’m not sure I deserve you—but fuck—I want you. I exhale softly and turn to face him. “I wanted you from the first night we met, Hayden.”

  “West.”

  “What?”

  “My name,” he says quickly. “Hayden W. Masters.”

  “Oh.” I laugh. “I guess I should know your name if we’re dating, huh?”

  “I think there’s a lot of things we can tell each other as the time goes on.”

  Yeah… I’m not looking forward to that.