A Summit City Christmas (3 page)

Jackie was currently on her way back to pick up her corn-kids. Not a moment too soon I thought, hearing a loud crash coming from somewhere in the back of the house.

I started laughing listening to Lonny cussing up a storm followed by the pitter-patter of little feet. The herd was retreating away from the scene of whatever crime they’d just committed. I turned my head, catching movement out of the corner of my eye.

A branch on the gi-normous Christmas tree shook slightly and I noticed one of the ugly-ass ornaments had fallen. I was using the word ornament loosely, rolling my eyes as I inspected the thirteen foot monstrosity, thinking it was like something out of that
Christmas Vacation
movie with Chevy Chase. The thing was so large it nearly completely covered the built-ins on the left side of the fireplace.

I saw the collection of needles dusting the wood floor around the base and made a mental note to add some water to the stand.

“We’ll need a fucking crane to get the damn thing outta here,” I muttered.

I thought back to that fateful day, two weeks earlier, when I’d come back home after a trip into town for a gourmet cup of coffee—one I didn’t have to make for myself. It had been my reward for having completed my very first book, an erotic sci-fi saga titled,
The Ninth Colony
. I was on cloud nine and didn’t even care if the story was any good or not, simply proud of myself for having finally finished something.

I was still over the moon about it, in fact, making me smile as I relived that feeling all over again.
I actually finished
writing a book.
I felt the happiness subsiding as my focus came back to the tree, which I’d since dubbed Gigantasaurus-Maximus in hopes that by the time next year rolled around it would become one of those extinct traditions.

Two Weeks Earlier…

I was so busy patting myself on the back as I came through the front door, that I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary for a moment. I slipped off my coat and scarf, barely paying attention as I fumbled around trying to hang them on one of the hooks by the door. All but floating, it took nearly tripping over an old box to rip me out of my own head and back into reality.

I almost fell backward as I turned, looking upward, following the line of sight higher and higher toward the ceiling. It was the largest fucking tree I’d ever seen anywhere indoors before. The branches at the base were easily as wide as a compact car, and I wondered suddenly how I could’ve been so lost in my own thoughts that I’d missed the strong odor of pine needles.

“Fuck. Me.
Running
,” I mumbled, nearly jumping out of my skin when the entire tree began to shake.

I felt my muscles tensing as my body readied itself to flight—not fight—from whatever critter was about to spring free from beneath the branches and attack. I’d long since realized I was the type who’d always run. I’d grown up having a mother who’d continuously informed me there was no shame in living to flee another day.

I’d begun slowly moving toward the front door when Wade stepped out from behind the green beast, suddenly smiling like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Hi!” Wade said, holding out his arm, extended ala Vanna White, as if to say,
Looky what I did!

“You do know I have a tree in the garage,” I finally said, once my shock subsided. “All nicely tied up in a box just waiting to be put together?”

“A fake tree,” Wade scoffed, letting out a puff of air like I was the nutter in the room.

“It’s already got lights on it,” I added, just as Wade bent over plugging a cord into the outlet behind him which set the multi-colored bulbs ablaze throughout the Titanic of trees.

“Nice, pretty, clear lights.” I squinted, slightly melodramatic I know, as did Wade, who rolled his eyes at me. Granted, the gold, purple and green Mardi Gras themed beads and ornaments I used for tree decoration had always evoked fond memories of drunken debauchery in the French Quarter more than they had family memories, but that was not the point.

Wade in turn dramatically took in a deep breath of air through his nose, then let out an appreciative sigh. “Fake trees can’t give you that, Boone. You told me you loved the scent from all the trees.”

“I do!” I nodded my agreement to further prove I was no liar. “But you didn’t need to go out and commit murder in order to give it to me. I can walk right outside the door to experience it anytime I want.”

“Tree murder?” Wade said using a tone suggesting I’d really lost my marbles. “So silly. Exactly how many years will it take for that plastic tree of yours to decompose in a landfill somewhere?”

I placed a hand on my hip, but kept my mouth shut since I had no idea how long it would take.

Wade pointed at his tree, nodding. “Bio-degradable.”

“Yeah…well,” I said, my mind racing for any kind of a comeback.

Wade folded his arms and a cocky smile began to form signaling he believed he had me effectively backed into a corner.

I snapped my fingers. “My tree doesn’t require deforestation, not to mention the heinous displacement of the plucky and totally innocent family of squirrels that once called
that
bad boy home.”

Wade started to laugh. “You’re slipping, honey. There was actually a moment of silence between thoughts.”

He winked at me playfully, effectively turning me on. I started to cross the room stopping when I ran into yet another old, water stained box which sat opened on the floor. I glanced down into the box and cringed, seeing the homeliest collection of what I assumed were Christmas tree ornaments.

I knelt down, daring a closer look only to realize the closer I got, the more frightening they became. I shielded my eyes. “It’s too sad.”

“What?” Wade asked, peering down at me cautiously.

“I now know where tacky holiday decorations come to die.”

“That’s not funny,” he said, a disappointed expression taking over his face.

I carefully picked one up, holding it front of my face trying to figure out what the white and black plastic shape was meant to be. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s a snowflake.” Wade used a tone that insinuated I was insane for not being able to see it.

Now that he’d said it I could sort of make it out. “A half melted snowflake that’s been tainted by an evil spirit?”

“Hey, I made that!” Wade exclaimed.

“Recently?” I asked, now frightened.

“When I was six, thank you very much.” Wade snatched it away from me.

“Had you been suffering from a head injury at the age of six?”

“It has…character,” Wade declared with a shrug. “And it got slightly melted one year—got a little too close to one of the bulbs.”

As adorable as my boyfriend looked, clutching the sad little thing to his chest, I couldn’t keep myself from peering back down into the box of horribly mangled, claymation looking rejects which I now realized consisted of my boyfriend’s child-made ornaments. They had an aged quality which usually added character—however in this case merely made them appear dirty. I wasn’t positive, but somehow I knew that somewhere in the world, Martha Stewart was weeping.

“I think it’s adorable that you’ve kept all this stuff, but—”

“They’re family heirlooms,” Wade said, cutting me off.

His face scrunched up seeing I wasn’t taking the bait.

His eyes widened. “Some of these I’ve had since before my
mom
died.”

I sighed, realizing he was at least being halfway earnest, despite knowing what a low blow he’d just delivered. I glanced back down into the box wondering if staring at these year after year had been what killed the poor woman.

“Not to completely burst your bubble, sweetie,” I said, resigning myself to the fact there was no getting around them at this point. “I promise you, had your very dear mother not passed away, she’d have most certainly at some point,” I paused using fingered air quotes, “
broken
these a few at a time each year until they’d found their way into that land fill you were speaking of moments before.”

Wade was looking at me like I was the Grinch attempting to steal his Christmas. He’d never seemed more like a little boy to me than he did in that moment. This sudden display of misguided nostalgia, no matter how pack-ratty, tugged at the heart-strings. I stepped over the box and walked over to him, leaning in and giving him a soft kiss on the lips.

“That might have come off like a lame-assed excuse,” Wade began, “but some of these things do honestly carry with them memories of her for me.” Wade glanced around at all the boxes. “She held them in her hands, you know?”

I nodded that I understood while realizing I couldn’t possibly truly understand as I’d not lost what he had. My uncle and his lover being killed in car wreck had been rough on me when it happened, possibly more so because it nearly broke my mother in two. Still, I hadn’t lost my parents. That was something I either couldn’t imagine, or simply refused to.

I knew it was still a tough time of year for my mother, even all these years later. It was one of the reasons she usually drove herself slightly unhinged with all the holiday distractions she took on—plotting and planning the parties, dinners, and decorating. I looked into Wade’s eyes and wondered if he was perhaps exhibiting the same sort of behavior. Was that the real reason he’d decided to start decorating without me, or was he simply attempting to micromanage things like he always had, ensuring he would get his own way?

The desperation had left Wade’s face, as he understood I wasn’t going to try forcing him to get rid of all his ugly ornaments. He smiled at me and shrugged, his arms sliding around my waist.

I fell in love with him a little more in that moment, standing in the middle of the living room surrounded by boxes filled with things that looked as if they’d been taken from the set of the new holiday blockbuster,
never
in the making called,
A Very Hobo Christmas
.

One thing I did recognize was my exceedingly strong desire to keep him distracted from any painful old memories which might rear their ugly heads. I of course accomplished that in the only way I knew by offering up my boy bits.

“Want me to suck you off?” I asked, keeping things as light and slutty as possible.

Wade smiled, his eyebrows arching up slightly. He glanced back at the tree and I knew his type-A need to finish what I’ve started personality was torn.

“You finish up whatever you need to here,” I finally said. “I’ll keep my schedule free for the remainder of the day to be your sex-toy-boy.”

“Really?” he asked, sounding a bit surprised.

“And I’m feeling particularly depraved today, studly,” I said, turning away from him.

“Fuck, I’m a lucky son of a bitch,” I heard him whisper from behind me.

“A fact that certainly won’t be changing this day,” I added, smiling when I listened to his groan of approval.

~ * ~ * ~

Christmas Eve day…

I jumped, startled by the front door slamming as Jackie came rushing in. I cleared my throat and placed my hands over my crotch to hide the hard-on that had decided to join us for that ride-along down memory lane. I quickly found an appropriate distraction noticing that her once long black hair was now cut into a smart looking bob.

“When the hell did you have time to get your hair cut?” I asked, looking at the clock on the mantle trying to ascertain exactly how long I’d stood there daydreaming. I turned to see Dixie still had the sugar cookie express running smoothly, each person helping tasked with one color of icing which got piped on, one at a time, on the cookie conveyer belt.

“Judy came to the house and did it for me while Shep and I finished wrapping presents, something we’d never have been able to accomplish if you hadn’t taken the kids and for that, I both love and thank you.” Jackie nudged her head toward the commotion in the kitchen. “How’d you get out of helping?”

I grinned, further rubbing in my freedom as Lonny stared daggers back my direction. Despite his best attempts at hiding, whatever disturbance the corn kids had made earlier alerted Dixie to his location. He had since been drafted into the icing army.

“He kept eating the cookies!” Dixie chimed in before I had the opportunity.

“And sucking the icing out of the tubes,” Wade added.

I shrugged. “It is the best part.”

“What is it with you and the incessant sucking?” Jackie asked, grinning innocently.

“Butt out sis,” Wade called back from the kitchen. “Some things don’t need fixing.”

Jackie sneered at Wade as her red-headed spawn came running into the room all simultaneously screaming ‘
Mommy’
while hopping around her like salmon leaping up out of a stream, each vying for her attention. I laughed watching her mindlessly patting them on the top of their heads.

“Mommy loves inside voices,” she said, using that saccharine Walt Disney princess voice that cracked me up to no end.

I constantly annoyed her, begging her to use the voice at inappropriate moments whenever we drove to Denver to go shopping. No one knew us there so watching people’s faces when she spoke to them using
the voice
was priceless, good, clean family fun. I always gave it two thumbs up.