Be Mine at Christmas(12)
Author: Brenda Novak

“What else should I get her?”

“What about one of those firemen calendars you and the other guys posed for?” It had been a local effort to raise money for burn victims.

“You’re joking, right? What would an eighty-year-old woman want with pictures of me and a bunch of other half-naked firemen?”

“She likes Lewis.”

“Lewis?”

“She says you’re never too old to pretend.”

He kneaded his forehead. “Mom, that’s not creating an appealing mental picture.”

“You’re not the only one who likes sex in this family,” she said. “Your father and I—”

“Mom! Stop!”

“Have always been crazy for each other,” she finished. “Oh, and bring some calendars for your aunt. She wants to give a few of them away.”

“I’ve got to go,” he said.

“When are you planning to do your shopping?”

He scowled. “How do you know I haven’t done it already?”

“Because you always wait till the last minute. You need a wife, Matthew.”

“You’ve been saying that for years.”

“And you’ve been ignoring me for just as long. You think I want to die without grandkids?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re barely fifty-five.”

“And I feel every year of it. Your brother and his wife say they don’t want children. Can you imagine that? You’re my one hope, and you haven’t had a steady girlfriend in years.” She hung up, sounding thoroughly disgusted but, after a few seconds, Matt called her back.

“Can I bring a couple of people to the party?”

“Lewis and his family?”

“No. A woman and her daughter.”

There was an intrigued silence. “You’ve never brought a woman to the gift exchange before. Do I know her?”

“She used to go to school with me. Now she lives in Denver.”

“Really… Would she ever consider moving here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Has she seen the calendar?”

He waved as one of the guys called out to him from his open door. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Bring an extra one just in case,” she said and disconnected.

PULLING HER MINISKIRT down as far as it could go—to mollify Angela’s nosy neighbors, two of whom were staring out their windows at her—Stephanie promised the cab driver that she’d pay him in a second and hurried up the walk. The house looked empty, and there was a For Sale sign in front, but Stephanie could see that the furniture was still in the living room. Angela might be planning to move, but she hadn’t done it yet.

Her barely there sweater was more effective at attracting customers than keeping her warm, but she wrapped it around herself as well as she could and knocked on the door. Meanwhile, she could feel the neighbors’ eyes boring holes in her back. A cab in this exclusive area drew too much attention. She should’ve had the driver drop her at the corner so she could walk, but he probably wouldn’t have done it anyway. He didn’t want to let her too far out of his sight; she hadn’t paid him yet.

No one came to the door. “She’s got my kid. But do you think she’d give me a number or tell me where the hell they’re at?” she grumbled. She knew she’d made Angela mad the last time they’d seen each other. After that, her friend’s numbers had all changed without warning. But Stephanie hadn’t wanted the help Angela had offered. She could live her own life, thank you very much.

Glancing at the waiting taxi, she waved to reassure him and hurried around to the gate. She felt jittery, shaky, ill—and she knew it wasn’t related to the bronchitis she’d had for over a week. She needed some junk before her symptoms got worse. But if she couldn’t get inside the damn house, how was she going to get any money?

The back door was locked as tight as the front. Stephanie could see a single light shining in the living room, the typical “sorry, we’re not home but don’t want you to know it” light, and considered breaking a window. She didn’t have any choice, did she? She had to get in, find a few bucks and get out. Before the neighbors could stop her.

Her mind was fixated on the quarters and dimes Angie threw in a big jar on a shelf in her closet. There had to be thirty, forty bucks in there.

Angie didn’t need it. She never used it. Stephanie knew that was all it would take to carry her through the night. It’d be different if she’d been able to work. But what man wanted to pay for a woman with a raging fever and a hacking cough?

Finding a rock in the planter area next to the French doors, she bent to pick it up. But her hand was shaking so badly she could hardly lift it, and by the time she’d managed, the man from next door was standing less than ten feet away.

“Can I help you, miss?”

She dropped the rock and ducked her head so he couldn’t see the black eye she’d sustained from a particularly rough customer four days earlier. “Angie, she—she’s my friend. She said I could borrow forty bucks, to—to come on over and get it. But I—I got a cab waiting out front. And she’s not here.”

“She told you to come over.”

It wasn’t a question. He was looking down his nose at her, like all the other rich bastards in this neighborhood.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” She knew her voice had grown belligerent, but she couldn’t seem to control it any more than she could control the shaking. She couldn’t think straight. The terrible need inside her was eating her up….

“But that couldn’t possibly be true,” he replied. “As you can see, the house is closed up. She’s gone for the holidays.”

Gone for the holidays? Angie never went anywhere for the holidays.

“She—she said she’d give me forty bucks,” Stephanie insisted.

“I think maybe you should seek a shelter and some professional help,” he said.

Finally, she faced him squarely. “Listen, buddy, I—I’ll give you a blow job right here for twenty bucks,” she whispered. “I’ll do anything else you want for forty.”

He didn’t take her up on her offer. He shook his head sadly, reached into his wallet and gave her the money.

ANGELA WAS PRETTY SURE that attending Matt’s family’s Christmas party was not a good idea. She would’ve said no—except that he’d asked Kayla first. And Kayla had, of course, immediately accepted. Kayla was playing cupid. She liked being around Matt. A lot.