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Mandy
“I met a man.” My favorite Dreamgirl, Jennifer “I Liked Her Better Thick” Hudson, carries the note beyond my musical range, but I join the refrain as the horns kick in. Dancing around the coffee table, I grab my iPad, hitting send on an overnight delivery of Jolly Ranchers. “I love him, I do.”
Dang, I sound good. It amazes me how a steady supply of jingle-a-ling, dingle-a-ling has improved my vocal abilities. Well, that’s the magic of Christmas. Moonwalking on bare feet to the first of three decorated artificial trees, I glide the plug into the wall outlet. “Alexa, turn up the volume,” I call, snapping my fingers on my right hand together.
White string lights flicker, their festive twinkle rendering a final salute across my brown skin before stopping. The room dims, but it can’t squelch my holiday cheer. It’s Christmas Eve. I’m putting the finishing touches on the house before I serve a sensual dinner for two, courtesy of Uber Eats.
Catching a glimpse of myself in the hanging wall mirror, I blow a kiss at the masterpiece reflection. My hair is stripper booty bouncy. My brows are sculpted like Michelangelo did my shit with an X-Acto blade. And, my lips, outshine brand-new chrome wheels. “Damn,” I shake my head, “the cowboy doesn’t stand a chance.”
Call me Mistletoe Mandy. Once I unwrap these hips in nothing but a leopard print thong, Diesel will beg to kiss my ass.
Outside, the thud of a heavy weight striking wood jars me. I ignore it, continuing my safety check with the holiday lights strung across the windows, the black tuxedo tree separating the kitchen from the dining area, and the last tree in front of the patio beside the bedroom fireplace. Anticipation zings down my spine. I’m going to tell Diesel that I love him.
Diesel walks through the front door, covered in mud and snowy slush.
“Damn roof is slippery.”
“Aw.” I dance over to him. “Poor Grinchy. I’ll kiss your boo boo.”
I raise up on my toes prepared to kiss him.”
“Amanda, stop.”
Frowning at the change in his voice, I freeze. “Grinchy?”
“I remember,” is all he says.
“What?” I swallow, a team of reindeer suddenly prancing inside my stomach.
“Us, before the fall.”
Okay, I sigh. How appropriate.
“Alright.” I hug myself tight when he doesn’t. His face is a blank mask. I can’t guess what he’s thinking, and he wants it that way.
“I’ll feed Hollander. When I get back, I’ll talk.”
Not, we’ll talk. It’s back to him and me. It’s like he’s erected a wall. He doesn’t want me on the other side.
“Stay in here. It’s warm,” he says and closes the door. Diesel’s been the one to keep me warm, and now... it’s the coldest Christmas ever.