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THE REST OF THE DAY went off without a hitch—and thank God for that.
Cutter and Daniella went off for a walk in the early afternoon, and that walk was a constant source of speculation for Alexa, who was dumbfounded by the lot of it—not that anyone could blame her. Still, since none of us wanted any drama between those two, we refused to engage her.
It was Christmas Eve and with the caterers set to arrive at six to prepare the many hors d’oeuvres that would take the place of a formal dinner, there were things to get done, especially since we had a guest arriving at eight—Marcus Koch. So, despite Alexa’s repeated questions about Daniella and Cutter, we set about making the house look as festive as possible.
I tended to the music, because I loved Christmas music. It was hellish growing up with my abusive, alcoholic parents, whom I still had no contact with to this day. But it was Christmas music that I leaned on during the holidays of my early years to partly allow me to escape from reality. The music allowed me to lose myself in the spirit of the season in ways that my parents’ behavior denied me.
As a child, I would take to my bedroom and listen mostly to Barbara Streisand’s iconic first Christmas album, if only because it evoked the kind of sadness that I could relate to at that point in my life.
Christmas was never a happy time for me as a child, and because of that, her album spoke profoundly to me. I remember when my mother asked me why I kept “playing those songs over and over again.” I never answered her truthfully, because if I did and she learned just how miserable she and my father made me, I feared I’d receive a beating, so I just told her that I loved Streisand’s voice—which even my mother had to admit she enjoyed.
But it wasn’t all dour for me when I was a kid. Growing up, I also listened to Mariah Carey’s first Christmas CD, “Merry Christmas,” which I still considered among the best Christmas albums ever. And then there was Ella Fitzgerald’s “Ella Wishes You a Swinging Christmas,” Bing Crosby’s 1945 album “Merry Christmas,” and 1973’s “A Motown Christmas,” and a whole host of others that seemed to speak directly to me—as if they were reaching out to me, and understanding me in ways that so few did.
Even after all these years, I still loved those albums. They weren’t only classics, but amazing works of art that had brought me a great deal of happiness during my darker, younger years. And now? Now they lifted me up in this amazing new phase of my life, which was all about love—being loved by Alex and all of my friends, and the love that I had for them.
As I chose the playlist for later that night, I reached deep into my past in an effort that I hoped would touch all of us. I chose each song carefully, and after I’d set up a proper playlist on my SlimPhone, which I’d later connect to the house’s Bose sound system, I was pleased with my choices. A mix of upbeat, popular Christmas songs interlaced with songs that made you want to pull your family in close to you and tell them that you loved them.
Because that’s what this season is all about...
Meanwhile, everyone around me was busy. Madison and Brock were in the kitchen making certain that every wine glass, martini glass, and tumbler sparkled. They also were unloading boxes of champagne and different kinds of white wine into the refrigerator. Bottles of vodka and gin were already stacked in the freezer.
Blackwell and Alexa were tending to the flowers that had been delivered earlier via the only florist in the area, and they were placing them strategically around the house in a number of vases—tall and short. And because of the few inches of late-morning snow we’d received earlier, Alex was outside shoveling the walk to make certain that when Marcus arrived, he wouldn’t slip and fall.
After the year all of us had gone through, there was something in the air that galvanized how special tonight needed to be for all of us, if only because there was a clear sense that we wanted the year to end on a positive note.
This year had been rotten in so many ways, but it hadn’t defeated us—it hadn’t brought us down—and because it hadn’t, we needed to rejoice in that. We were here together, we were alive together, we were stronger because of what we’d endured, and we were thriving and happy because of it.
For me, it was tonight that meant the most to me—not Christmas morning, with its wealth of gifts. As appreciative as I was to receive any gift that someone had put time, thought, and effort into purchasing for me, what I loved most about the season was spending time with those whom I loved.
That’s what mattered to me.
Tonight, we would dress up, we would mix, we would laugh, and we would salute ourselves for getting through one of the toughest years of our lives. No present could ever be more meaningful than that, nor could it trump spending time with my family and my extended family—telling them that I loved them, joking with them and hell, just being with them. Especially with my husband. My darling Alex.
After this year—and especially after the loss of our child—I was beyond grateful that I was here, that Alex and I were closer than we’d ever been, and that all of us could come together to celebrate not only our lives together, but the fact that we’d won in a year that for so long seemed determined to destroy us.
* * *
IT WAS MID-AFTERNOON when my SlimPhone rang, and when I pulled it out of my pants pocket, my heart soared—Lisa!
“I’m so happy that you called!” I said.
“And I’m beyond grateful that you even dared to answer!”
“What does that mean?”
“You think that Maine is remote? Forget it. Maine might as well be Manhattan considering where I am right now. As you know, I’m in Tank’s hometown of Prairie Home, Nebraska. But what you don’t know is the massive size of its population—2: his parents.”
“Oh, dear,” I said.
“You don’t even know.”
“But where are you now?” I asked. “If you’re in a place that’s so rural, how can your cell reception be so good?”
“Tank and I might have needed a little time away. We might have taken a day trip to Lincoln, where there are actual signs of life.”
“Oh, burn!” I said. “So, you did it! You totally are at a no-tell motel!”
“And so what if we are? As if you weren’t in one yourself this time last year. I’ve merely learned from the best.”
“Well, one does have to do what one has to do...”
“And so we have—if only to have sex. Because my fears about his parents’ house sadly proved true! It’s so small that Tank and I both know they would be able to hear us if we even tried to make love. So, that’s not happening. That said, I’m now alone in my sordid little no-tell motel and can talk freely. Tank just left for one of the local supermarkets to get me a bottle of the Goose, a lemon, and vermouth, and himself a six-pack of Guinness. And do you want to know why? Because his parents don’t drink!”
“Who the hell doesn’t drink?”
“His parents! It’s been hell. You have no idea. God, I wish we were with you all.”
“I also wish that you were here—more than you know. But if you two are going to marry soon, you know that you needed to do this. You had to meet his parents. So, tell me—how do you like them?”
“Look, they are perfectly nice people. In fact, they are probably too fucking nice. I swear to God that when his mother learned that I wrote about zombies, she totally genuflected right in front of me and shot Tank’s father an utter look of horror and concern, likely for her son’s well being.”
“Tank hadn’t shared with them what you write about?”
“Apparently, he hadn’t. Maybe he knew better. But the zombies are out of the bag at this point, and let’s just say that they are happily eating their way through my holiday.”
“When do you leave?”
“Same day as you—the day after Christmas.”
“Well, here’s the good news—you just need to get through today and tomorrow, and then you’ll both be on a plane and back in Manhattan the next day.”
“Where I’ll need to see a shrink. How is everything going there?”
“Oh, honey, you wouldn’t even believe it if I told you.”
“What does that mean? Give me the deets. I’m hungry for deets! And drama! And a laugh! After spending time in Prairie Home, NObraska, where nothing at all happens, I’m dying for some drama to come into my life right now. So, spill it! What am I missing—because I need to live again!”
“Blackwell met a suitor.”
“Oh, no, she didn’t. Not without me there to see it, she didn’t.”
“I’m telling you that she did.”
“She met a man?”
“Yes!”
“Tell me everything.”
I told her everything.
“And he’s coming to spend Christmas Eve with you tonight?”
“He is!”
“Well, sweet baby Jesus,” Lisa said. “Blackwell never would have invited him if she didn’t feel that there was some sort of spark between them.”
“Oh, there was a spark. First on the slopes, and then later at the bar.”
“I’m missing everything!”
“You don’t even know. Because you want to know what else you don’t know?”
“And cry into my pillow because I’m missing it? Fine—torture me.”
“Girl, you need to sit down for this one.”
“I am sitting down.”
“Then you need to lie flat on your back and get ready to take this one in the gut.”
“Punch me!” she said.
“Something is happening between Daniella and Cutter.”
“Bullshit,” she said.
“It’s true.”
“What does that even mean? Daniella is a mess. Cutter knows that, and he’d never tolerate her even at her best—whatever that is. How can this even be?”
I told her everything I knew, and about what I thought had brought them together at this point.
“Well, when you put it like that, I have to say that it’s true,” she said. “More than any of us, Daniella was the one who was by his side the most when those motherfuckers returned him to us. And you’re right—he wasn’t completely out of it when we got him back. He must remember how Daniella was not only there for him, but also how she stepped up to help him. I remember several instances when she helped Tank clean his wound. It’s possible that Cutter remembers that, especially during those early days, before we thought that he was lost to us. So this is weirdly kind of making sense to me right now. Where do you think this is going to go?” she asked.
“No idea, but they left for a walk hours ago, and they’ve yet to return. So, where did they go? Back to the Widowmaker Lounge to have a drink or two? That’s my bet—because it’s too damned cold here to be out in the elements for that long.”
“Oh, my God—I totally remember that joint! We used to go to the Widowmaker whenever we had enough money to go to Sugarloaf to ski when we were in college. We used to work our asses off during the week at Pat’s Pizza just so we could go.”
“We’ve come a long way, baby.”
“And this baby has been put in a corner!” she said. “Jennifer, you have no idea. Harold and Ethel—especially Ethel—are making me feel inadequate on every level. I’ve got two more days to convince them that I’m the right woman for their son. But I’m telling you, it’s like the goddamned inquisition when it comes to those two. Where did I go to school? Oh, a state university, how disappointing because their son went to West Point. Why do I write about zombies? Oh, because I have nothing of substance to say that will better the world. Do I vote Republican? Not so much, which makes them all kinds of cagey. And by the way—as for Ethel? She wants to know whether I know how to bake a proper apple pie—and that’s where I’m going to hand that bitch her ass, because I do know how to make a fabulous apple pie, which she’s going to find out tomorrow. I’m going to crush her with my all-American apple pie. I might even put a fucking American flag right in the center of it! Hell, maybe I’ll find a Reagan doll while we’re here in Lincoln and stick it right beside the flag. And do you want to know what?”
“What?”
“To top it off, I’m going to make my own vanilla ice cream to go along with it. Homemade ice cream with fresh vanilla beans and all of that shit. I am so going to take her down, I can’t tell you.”
“Is there any way that you could slip each of them a roofie while you’re there?”
“Hilarious.”
“Just trying for some levity!”
“And I appreciate that. But moving on. How is the house that Alex rented?”
“Beyond beyond.”
“Tell me everything.”
I told her everything.
“I’m going to sound like a broken record, but God, I wish we were there with you.”
“Look, you need to suck it up, sister. You’ve only got two more days, and you need to use your magic to convince Tank’s parents that you’re the one for him. So, get with it. Alex and I will spend New Year’s Eve with both of you. And who knows—maybe even Blackwell and Marcus will join us. Time will tell—in fact, I have a feeling that tonight is going to be a critical moment between those two. So, we’ll see. But just know that civilization is coming your way in a matter of three short days.”
“Short?” she said. “Are you kidding me? Ethel knocks on our door at five in the morning singing ‘Rise and shine! Breakfast in thirty! Please leave the zombies at the door!’”
“You are so lying about that last part.”
“I wish I were, but I’m not. As successful as those books are, Harold and Ethel could give a damn about them because they can’t get over that I write about the undead.”
“Well, then they’re just going to have to accept you for you, because you, my dear friend, are nothing short of a goddamn goldmine.”
“Now you sound like Blackwell.”
“Maybe so, but she’d agree. I know you’re worthy of Tank. All of your friends know that you’re worthy of Tank. And Tank certainly knows it. So, either they’re on board or not. If they are by the time you leave—great. But if they’re not, don’t you dare let that rattle you. I expect you to keep your chin up—do you hear me?”
“I do. And I will. I’m not going to let those two ruin what I have with my man.”
“Perfect.”
“So, what else have you been doing today? I’m sure that you’re going to put on one mother of a Christmas Eve party—which I can’t attend! Sadness and woe!”
“Girl, you do need a martini.”
“You don’t even know, but Tank will soon be my savior when it comes to that. So, answer my question. Take me away from my life.”
“Well, when you called, I was putting together a playlist for tonight’s party, and I have to tell you—some of the Christmas music was downright depressing, but not necessarily in a bad way. If you know what I mean.”
“You were listening to Streisand again, weren’t you?”
“You know me too well.”
“Like the back of my hand. And that album is so beautiful and so powerful and so depressing, it’s enough to sucker punch anyone. I mean, my God—talk about going into a dark hole. Leave it to Babs to take us there. But I love that album as much as you do. After listening to it, you feel as if you want to cut your wrists, but you’re also happy that your life isn’t as grim as her vocals. I declare it the most fucked up and beautiful Christmas album ever to come from a Jew.”
“You did not just say that.”
“Well, it’s true. She is Jewish, after all—and there is a dichotomy there. And I’m not judging. Thank God she agreed to do that album. With that album alone, Streisand gave to all of us in ways that few ever have.”
“It’s my favorite Christmas album of all time, but you already know that.”
“When we were kids and had sleepovers over the holidays, I remember you sleeping with the album cover.”
“You know—I think that I might have.”
“You totally did. You hugged it close to your chest as if—well, as if you were holding Alex close to your chest right now.”
“I don’t think that anyone will ever know just how deeply I’m in love with that man,” I said. “Maybe not even you. It’s that profound. Is it that way between you and Tank?”
“It is. And I know what you mean. It’s so deep that I don’t think that anyone would come close to understanding it.”
“Thank God we both found a man!”
“Girl, truth!”
“I’m so glad that you called—you’ve totally lifted my day. I didn’t think that I’d hear from you while we were here, but I’m so happy that I did. You must win Harold and Ethel over.”
“Oh, girl, game on,” she said. “You’ll see. I’m in pure tactical mode now. You want an apple pie, Ethel? Your loins are going to get moist when I serve you my pie!”
“That sounds lewd.”
“It was meant to. And by the way, Ethel, do you really want someone worthy of your son? Then get ready for me to serve up the prayer at Christmas dinner, because I already have memorized that shit!”
“You’re planning on delivering the prayer at Christmas dinner?”
“You’re damned straight I am. And if that isn’t enough, I have even more in my arsenal. Like what I’m going to wear at Christmas dinner—totally conservative. Light on the makeup, a longer dress that reveals practically nothing. And then there’s how I’m going to be around their son—no touching. No kissing. None of that. I plan on being a total lady. I’m here to win, Jennifer—and I plan to win.”
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you, too.”
“I so wish that you were here with me, because I miss your face. Tell Tank that all of us love and miss him as well.”
“I will. And look, this Christmas shit with the potential rents is a one-time deal. Trust me—we will be spending Christmas together next year. You know—when the wedding is behind us. I might have to give Harold and Ethel a Thanksgiving or two, but it’s not going to be anything more than that—unless they warm up to me. And that’s on them, not me. Because they’ve hardly been welcoming to me. And this girl is having none of that shit.”
“As you shouldn’t,” I said. “Look, sweetie, I hate to say this, but I need to go. Time is running out. I want to talk more, but there’s still so much to do. I’m sorry, my precious one.”
“Why are you going all ‘Lord of the Rings’ on me?”
I giggled when she said that. “Oh, my God—you’re right. That wasn’t even intentional.”
“Well, it spoke to the zombie lover holed up in Prairie Home, NObraska, so you nevertheless scored with that one.”
“Yay!”
“Say hello to everyone from me and Tank,” Lisa said. And before she signed off, she added: “And ask everyone to pray for both of us. Really hard. I’m talking about getting on their damned knees tonight and praying for us right at their bedside. That’s the kind of support we need right now. Because we do need it, sugar. So, I’ll see you in three days. Have a fantastic evening—and don’t you dare overlook anything that happens between Daniella and Cutter, not to mention Blackwell and her man. Whatever his name is. Because I’m going to want to hear about all of it!”
“You will. Love you again,” I said.
“Love you more.”
And with that, my best friend was gone.
* * *
IT WAS ONLY THIRTY minutes later when my SlimPhone rang again. When I pulled it from my pocket, my heart swelled with affection. It was Epifania.
“Epifania!” I said. “How are you?”
“I’m in the Twerks and the Caicos, the cookie,” she said. “And Epifania—she the twerking it like she the working it!”
“I can’t imagine...”
“Hey, look—I might be alone for the holidays, but Epifania know that it won’t be for the long! These cabana boys are the super hot—and one has his eye on me right now for the sure! But enough about him—for the now. How are you and the Alex? I wanted to call and say Merry to the Christmas to both of you, even if it’s not officially the Christmas yet. But whatever. Just know that you’re on my mind. Where are you now? In Manhattan?”
“No, we’re in Maine at Sugarloaf Mountain,” I said.
“Well, that sound the super sweet.”
“In a way it is. You should see the house that Alex rented for us. It’s fabulous. I wish that you could be here with us.”
“Oh, the honey, Epifania don’t do the cold, OK? She perfectly happy to be soaking up the sun while everyone else is freezing their coochies off.”
“Don’t you have family you could spend the holiday with?”
“Please,” she said. “They just want to go for the Chuckie’s money, and Epifania is having none of that! Who are you with, the cookie?”
“Well, Alex is obviously here. And then there's Blackwell and her two daughters. And also Cutter, Brock, and Madison. I believe you’ve met Madison.”
“Yeah, she totally gonna work for me, that one. You’ll see. Epifania need to hire a personal assistant—STAT. And she the one who perfect for the yob.”
“I’m not sure that you know this, but Madison has received a significant promotion since you first met her.”
“Whatever. When I met her, she was Blackwell’s assistant. And if that girl was the good enough for her, then she the good enough for me. I’m prepared to triple her salary.”
Oh, God...
“How is the weather there?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.
“As hot as the men. You know, ever since I had my little meow-meow tightened, I more confident than the ever. I only been here two days, and already my banging body has attracted a shitload of men. Believe me, the cookie, Epifania plan on having Santa’s Christmas sack banging against my little kitty cat later tonight.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just said, “Well, good luck with that!”
“No luck needed. Epifania gonna get the laid. But the boy I choose? He needs to be hung. No small prick for this one. Epifania want the big cock.”
The loose cannon of Park Avenue truly has no filter...
“How are you even going to know whether he’s going to be, uh, you know, as large as you want?” I asked.
“Epifania have her ways,” she said. “Even if she needs to pay for a strip and a look, she’s totally onboard with that. Because it’s the Christmas to the Eve, for the God’s sake, and I’m not about to ruin it with something that looks like one of those little pickles I see in the grocery store.”
And...we’re moving right along!
“Where are you staying?” I asked.
“I bought a house here,” she said. “Didn’t I tell you that? No? See, that’s why I need an assistant! To get the word out! I bought it a month ago, because I love it here. It’s this big mother of a house that overlooks the beach. You should see it, Yennifer. So pretty. Views to die for. And plenty of room—you and Alex should come!”
“Well, maybe we will. I’ve never been to the, uh, Twerks and the Caicos.”
“Oh, Epifania would love if you both come. There’s plenty of privacy. Over eleven-thousand square feet of it. Some random stud could be banging me in my bedroom, and you’d never even know it. Same for the you and the Alex. You two could totally go at it, and Epifania would never know. Think of this as a safe house for sex. And listen to how smart I am. I made certain that the master bedroom was far and away from all of the other bedrooms. So, you know—no one will ever know when I come or when you come!”
“You’re a genius!” I said.
“Please, I’m just a girl from the barrio who got on a rubber boat, got to the States, became a stripper and a maid—and made myself five-hundred million in the process. I still the girl I always been. Street smart, for sure—but no yenius, Yennifer. So, look—this guy keeps checking me out and from where I’m sitting, he looks as if he’s hung like a mule. He’s wearing this leetle itty bitty white Spandex swimsuit, and holy mother to the God, he’s either got balls the size of basketballs, or he’s just what Epifania needs to spank her Christmas bells alive tonight!”
“Well, good luck with him—and, you know, all that. Just be careful, OK?”
“Epifania always the careful. It’s the men who often leave with the big bruises on their asses because Epifania likes to wallop herself a nice, firm bubble butt. Now, say ‘hi’ to the everybody for me, OK? Even to the darkness that is the Blackwell. Love you, the cookie. Give Alex a big kiss from me.”
“I will.”
“Miss you!”
“I miss you, too!” I said, and then I severed the connection. And in a weird way, I did miss her. As crazy as Epifania was, she was as wild as she was good. Sometimes the combination was hilarious. Other times it could leave your jaw on the floor. But her heart was pure, and I was lucky to consider her one of my closest friends.
