Snow dances from the sky, dusting the windshield with miniature paper-like flakes as Cruise drives us up an elongated driveway in an opulent gated community. The Alexander estate looks gothic in appeal with its cathedral windows, its upright stone lions just feet from the entry.
Cruise comes around and escorts me toward the tall mahogany doors. A pair of oversized tinfoil wreathes adorn the entry and manage to look slightly out of place among all the grandeur. But honestly, the only thing on my mind this past hour has been those heated kisses. My face still burns from their fire. I can still feel his tongue in my mouth, bumping against mine, and I replay it over and over like some muscular memory.
Cruise gives a good strong knock, and we wait in awkward silence. He washes a quick glance over my body in a covert manner, and his chest expands in response to my curves.
I wonder if he's thought of those kisses - if he still feels me in his mouth and how I measure up to the long line of girls who had been there before.
Cruise leans toward me and fills the interim between us with his spiced cologne. "So, Pennington" - he pauses - "asshole or douchebag?"
A voice emits from inside the house and the door rattles.
"Douchebag," I whisper.
Cruise locks eyes with mine while giving a brief nod. It's as if we're bonding right here on the porch over, of all things, Pennington's douchebag status.
I hope Aunt Jackie won't mind that I've brought someone along. Oddly enough, I know Cruise better than I do "Aunt Jackie."
The door swings open, revealing a woman dressed in gold lame from head to toe.
"Well look what the cat dragged in!" She sings the opera-like greeting. Her long black hair is frayed at the edges, and she sports an over-processed tan that looks less St. Tropez and more Oompa Loompa. Her lips glow a pale pink as if she smeared them with toothpaste, and her eyes are powdered a vulgar shade of indigo frost. "And who the hell is this hot little cutie?" She leans back on her heels - it takes a moment for me to realize she directed the question to Cruise.
"This would be your darling niece." Cruise fans a hand over me as if I were a carnival prize. "I'm just giving her a ride."
"Oh my gawd! Andrew, come here! It's Kendall! She's drop dead gorg!" She pulls me into a rocking hug and does her best to smother me in her cushiony breasts. Her perfume lays over me thick and cloying like strong tea without any sweetness. "Look at you! All grown up."
I smile awkwardly at Cruise because mostly she's propagating a lie. She's never seen more than a dozen pictures of me.
An oversized chandelier drips from the entry, and the room opens up to a sitting area. A supersized white Christmas tree, decorated with clear lights and strategically dispersed red bows, sits in front of the bay window. It's beautiful in a sterile sort of way. I suppose once you amass a certain amount of wealth, you have sophisticated standards to abide by. Gone are the popcorn-strung Christmases and children's art from yesteryear adorning the mantle. It's as if the capital in your bank account bleaches the fun out of everything. Strangely, it's just this sort of opulence I had been craving my whole life, and now that I see it with my own eyes, I'd trade it for that tiny brick house of Cruise's and the bushy Douglas fir in a heartbeat. I might have already.
"Andrew? We're in the sitting room." She ushers us in haste toward a palatial room that houses a giant oil painting of Jackie and her husband as they hover over a younger version of Pennington - and speak of the devil. He strides in the room looking perfectly preppy - a wolf donning designer sheep clothing.
My anger toward him actually managed to decrease significantly in the past twenty-four hours - especially since Cruise had the good sense not to dismember me. I'm thinking this whole thing with the housing department was the best botch-up ever and I should be thanking Pen, so I've temporarily taken his name off the list of choice expletives. And even though I'm feeling charitable, I'll be quick to revert the action should Cruise turn into an ass by midnight.
"Dude." Pen high fives Cruise before smacking me in the shoulder in a show of platonic affection just this side of battery. His eyes are glossed over, and he smells rank in an illegal sort of way, but I'll be the last to point out that tidbit of incriminating information now that I've once again relegated him to my good side.
"Hon, your son is here." Jackie screeches at the top of her lungs until a middle-aged man with a spare tire appears in the arched entry.
Did she just say son? Is she talking about Pen or me? God - maybe they're all wasted. Maybe hitting the reefer is a long-standing Christmas tradition at the Alexander household.
"Dad." Cruise heads over and gives a hug to the man he just referred to as his father.
"My half-brother," Pennington whispers, and holy shit his breath stinks like the exact illegal foliage I had mentally accused him of smoking.
And what's this "half-brother" business?
"And here's my future daughter-in-law." Aunt Jackie's voice hits its soprano register. "This one's all Pen's." She squeezes my shoulders tight. "I bet your mother we'd hear wedding bells long before graduation." She rattles me aggressively as if shaking the idea into my head. "And I never lose a bet." Her eyes get all wide and swirly like they do in cartoons and she manages to scare the shit out of me in the process. For a minute, I'm tempted to assure her she won't lose, even though I'm positive she will.
Andrew clears his throat. "She never loses." The friendly-faced genetic donation station comes over and offers me a hug. He's far less caustic than his questionably better half, although, apparently, he's friendly as hell when it comes to women and generous with his sperm to boot. "How's your mother? I haven't seen her in years." His face lights up as if he wouldn't mind launching a few genetic missiles in her direction, as well.
"She's good - just coming off a divorce." I say it a little too loud like it's an academic achievement or a laudatory honor that we might be moved to toast later. Nothing like making my own mother look like a loser in front of old friends on Christmas to start the night off right.
"Sit! Sit!" Jackie squawks. "Tell me everything. How's the dorm? And don't tell me the boys are cute because you've only got eyes for my Penny boy." She belts out a laugh while falling over the sofa.
Cruise lands on the ottoman across from me and indulges in an all-encompassing grin because he so conveniently forgot to tell me he was giving me a ride to his father's house. That seems like it would have been a relevant nugget to share - yet he held onto it presumably for the shock factor. And judging by those soulful kisses he doled out, he rather enjoys getting a rise out of me.
"Um," I start, briefly losing myself in her shiny gold ball gown, "the dorm actually - "
Pennington crashes next to me and wraps an arm around my shoulder. "She's just getting settled at Russell Hall."
"Oh, hon." Aunt Jackie touches her Cheeto stained hand to her chest. Everything about her has an out-of-this-world appeal to it, from the foil-colored suit from the future, right down to the I flew too close to the sun radiation burn she's sporting. "You gotta get yourself in Delta, Delta, Delta. Your mom and I were both chapter leaders. We threw the best parties." Her eyelids elongate like frosted Easter eggs as she relives the memories.
"I will. I plan to." At least I did. I totally had my sights on Tri Delta until my housing options dwindled down to survival mode. "I'll have to wait until rush."
"Rush, smush." She fans her fingers in the air. "I'll make a few calls. Russell Hall is for losers. I'll have you home with family in less than a week." She punctuates it with a slap to her thigh. "Presents!" She jumps up and claps her way around the room, slipping now again to annunciate the fact she's dipped into the brandy-laced eggnog or broke into the special brownies a wee bit early, both perhaps.
Pen leans in. "Someone hit the rum balls a little too hard." His breath rakes over me, putrid and illegal. "Speaking of hard." He glances down at the rather nonexistent bulge in his khakis. "Dude, you are fucking hot tonight."
I straighten and shoot a look across the room to Cruise. Andrew sits on a chair next to him, talking about purchasing gold bars and moving to the Caymans. I hope to God he plans on taking Pen with him.
Cruise steals a glance my way, and our eyes lock. My stomach melts as he secures his gaze over mine.
"Okay!" Jackie gives an impromptu tap-dance that ups the discomfort in the room several notches. For her sake, I hope Santa leaves an industrial-sized bottle of Ritalin in her stocking or at least a trial pack of Xanax. "I usually don't do gifts before dinner, but since we're all here..." She fans the room with her wine glass and a trail of merlot splatters over the floor. "What the hell, right?" She breaks out into a cackle while mopping up the errant vino with the bottom of her skirt.
"Cruisy." She tosses a small bag at him that looks rather plain compared to the glitzy-packaged boxes adorning the potbellied tree.
Cruise dips in and pulls out a brown leather wallet. He cracks it opens and plucks out a bill.
"Ten." He flashes a smile and is quick to thank Jackie and his father for his early inheritance. I get the feeling, if Aunt Jackie gets her way, Cruise might be staring at the sum total of his payout.
"We really weren't expecting you." Jackie places us all in that awkward situation where she makes Cruise feel like an unwanted guest. "Pen, why don't you see what Santa brought?"
Pennington unwraps a rather ornate box embossed with silver snowmen. I'm kind of hoping Santa decided to be honest and deliver Pen what he most likely asked for, a roach clip. Instead, he pulls out a large leather bag with a strap and... is that a purse?
"You could put all your stuff in there." Aunt Jackie is quick to defend her androgynous purchase. "You know, your wallet, your phone... your shit. It holds a ton."
God, Pen is so wasted he might actually take his mother's advice and defecate in the butter-soft pouch. And I'm pretty sure "it holds a ton" is code for "gram." It's going to house his stash. Basically it's a stashelle.
"Thanks Mom." He rises and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek.
I guess "Cruisy" got off easy with a rather masculine-looking billfold and some spending cash at the ready.
Jackie lands a bright pink box on my lap with a fuzzy green bow. It's so pretty and festive I sort of want to save it for the tree Cruise and I put up today and place it beneath it.
"Let's go!" She claps up a storm prompting me to wrestle with foil that refuses to tear. Jackie is more than anxious to show off her ode to Christmas commerce. I wrangle the box open only to reveal a duplicate of the purse Pennington just unwrapped.
"I...love it." Truthfully, I find it odd. Maybe Jackie was simply being frugal and this was a buy-one-get-one offer she couldn't pass up.
"Couple gifts, so soon?" Cruise glides into a half-smile. He looks sexy as hell seated over there all by his lonesome, and suddenly, I want to head straight back to our soon-to-be love shack and round out the bases in record time.
"You can never start too soon." Jackie ticks the air with her finger. "Time to break some bread." She motions for the lot of us to follow her.
Cruise waits for me and slings an arm low around my waist.
"You didn't tell me this was your family," I whisper. And after witnessing the fragile state of their sanity I can see why the aforementioned bit of biology was omitted.
"You didn't ask." His dimples depress. "And they're sort of not."
"I thought you said your last name was Elton?"
"It is, per my mother's brilliant discretion. I think she made a good move. Don't you?"
Aunt Jackie slips back in the room and spies Cruise's strategic limb placement.
She narrows her beady little eyes over me and clears her throat. "Your future husband awaits." It comes out cold, steely.
I wink over at Cruise. "I believe he does."
Dinner at the Alexander estate is an asylum-worthy event. First off, a dining room painted a caustic shade of red and filled with bulky black furniture looks nothing short of satanic. Whoever thought pairing gargoyles in the four corners of the ceiling with angry-looking walls was a good idea might have been a little more than batshit. I'm betting the loon in charge of this sanitarium is my very own faux Aunt Jackie.
"Please tell your mother she's welcome anytime." Andrew, the saner and slightly more promiscuous of the two parental units, gives an assertive nod. "There's always a room waiting for her at our home."
Aunt Jackie clears her throat and cuts him with a death stare, like maybe there's no room at the exorbitantly large inn after all. Something tells me if Mom were to visit, she'd be lucky to find a manger with her name on it.
"Cruise, who's the latest squeeze?" She changes the subject on a dime and reverts our attention to Cruise's most recent penile endeavors.
"Just running through the rolodex." He leans his elbows on the table and gives a sly glance in my direction. "Currently on J."
J is for Jordan. I give a private smile.
"You oughta get yourself deloused every now and again." Jackie dispenses her medicinal counsel without propagation. "Crabs aren't just for cookin', you know." She passes the sentiment through her teeth like a ventriloquist. "And watch out for that killer clap that's going around," she whispers. "I hear they've got a mutated strain that can make your balls fall off in the middle of the night. I got this spray upstairs in the bathroom - "
"And on that note..." Andrew rattles a little golden bell before Jackie has a chance to espouse the finer points of household disinfectants and their myriad of curative properties.
An entire army of scantily clad girls, march into the room at the flick of his wrist in what appear to be provocative French maid costumes. They break out in an odd variation of pornographic dinner theater that brings a whole new meaning to Ho, Ho, Ho. Who knew a burlesque show was in the works this evening?
Two of the younger girls openly drool over Cruise, and one slightly less-informed girl with her hair in a never-ending braid flirts with Penn by way of inserting her blossoming cleavage into his face every chance she gets. Lovely.
Once the wine has a chance to flow freely from our gilded goblets that, swear-to-God look as though they've been swiped straight from the Vatican, Jackie springs to her feet with a toast.
"To love!" She christens the room with her enthusiastic boom to the fickle emotion. "May we all find that special someone. And, dear God, I hope it's soon because I've got some lions that need to be girded." She titters into her more than slightly misguided analogy.
Odd toast, but since she herself is toasted, I'm willing to overlook the verbal foray into adultery.
Cruise lifts his chalice in my direction. "To finding someone to love."
God - what I wouldn't do for that to be him.
In a perfect world, he wouldn't be a player, and I wouldn't pretend to be a hussy-in-training - because I sort of just want Cruise.
I blink into my admission.
In a perfect world we'd both believe in love and fall into that beautiful pool of warm water together, headfirst.
"To finding someone to love," I say without losing his gaze. "At least for one night," I whisper just to play it safe.
Too bad one night couldn't turn into forever.
Cruise
The next morning, the sky breaks through just enough to add a blue luster to the blanket of snow that fell overnight. I wake up early right along with Santa and the elves to try and gut the heater to figure out what the hell is wrong with it. But mostly, it's to ransack the house for possible gifts for Kenny. It's been a good long while since I've been moved to gift someone with something other than my body. I'd give her the expensive-as-hell perfume I bought Molly, but I had Mom wrap it and put it under the tree at the house. Molly most likely ripped into it anyway.
I glance out the window at the Beamer nestled next to my truck. Jackie made a point to gift Kenny with a car she could borrow until she got on her feet. Typical Jackie, buying people off with my father's money - with the exception of me, of course.
"Morning." Kenny comes up unexpected and gravels it out in my ear with a moan. She's wearing the same T-shirt as the night before. Her legs spear out, long and lean, as if they were carved from butter. An image of her sitting on top of me filters through my mind - I can see her eyes partially closed, her neck arched with pleasure.
"Merry Christmas." I follow her out to the living room and hand her a bag of ornaments from Mom's bucket-o-holiday crap.
"Merry Christmas." She gives a shy smile.
I watch as she lands the bulbs on the tree and try to forget about the passing pornography that just swept through my mind. Can't help it though. She's a fantasy come to life, and she just so happens to be walking in my living room with her hair dripping wet, her face scrubbed clean, without a stitch of makeup and still manages to look like a supermodel.
My phone vibrates in my jeans, and I pluck it out to find Blair's face smirking back at me.
Shit.
I'm quick to silence it and bury it in my pocket.
My blood runs cold from the visual. I haven't heard from her in so long - not that I care. I could go forever without seeing or hearing from her ever again.
"You going to get that?" She tilts into me. "I can leave the room if you want."
"Nope. Not important." Not important? There's a first.
"So tell me all about your family." Her pale eyes light up as she dips into the bin and picks up the star. "I feel like we're related now. Is that weird?"
"We're definitely not related." The last thing I want to be is her brother. I'm gunning for something a little more... what the hell am I gunning for? I pause to take her in and wonder what I might be getting myself into. I haven't had a real feeling in months. Not quite sure how to categorize Kenny, yet. "You and Penn though" - I give a slight nod - "that's practically bordering on incest."
"Can you believe Jackie had the balls to get us matching purses?" She gives a soft laugh, and her boobs bounce in rhythm.
"Yup. That's Jackie in a nutshell. The woman's got balls, that's for sure."
"So what happened? She break things up between your mom and dad?"
"Nah, they were over before Jackie ever came into the picture. He did say he had one great love, and he let her get away - he said he always regretted that one. But Jackie, she's like crap on the bottom of your shoe. Once she shows up it's pretty hard to get rid of her. Pen is all right though. For the most part, I hardly see them."
"Was that awkward for you last night?" She pulls her lips down and looks adorable as hell in the process.
She smells good, clean like watermelon and cucumbers. Her lips are full and slightly glossed. They're calling me over to them, but I resist.
"Nope, not awkward. I had planned on stopping by anyway. Jackie's nice enough, so long as I stay out of their way the rest of the year."
"Oh." She fondles the star in her hand and her features dim, so I plug it in and it glows through her fingers like magic. "Pretty." She holds it up a moment. "Was he around for you much? You know - was he still a good dad?"
For some reason my childhood has clouded her mood, and I'm sorry Andrew's crappy parenting has the power to dampen her Christmas spirit.
"He came to a few football games when I played. Saw him at graduation. He's been hitting all the right highlights. Pen's the one that reeled him in though. He got the tossing-the-ball-in-the-backyard version. The one who took the family to Hawaii every year for summer vacation." I don't mention the fact I could count on one hand the amount of times we've spent together, or the fact "Jackie the Jack Ass" made sure to make me feel excluded the few times I was around. "How about you? What's your story?" She hands me a bag of giant red bulbs. I remember these. I used to think we were leaving fake apples for Santa and that's why he outright avoided us some years.
"Well," she begins, "my mom is vying for 'serial bride' of the century. My brother and I moved a lot - seven different schools. It was hard to always be the new girl. My dad is a lawyer in Oregon where he lives with his new and improved family. I haven't seen him since I was four - he split from my mom long before that. Rumor has it I have six siblings. They live on a farm, and his new wife makes candles. My brother is at school up there, and I guess they're speaking again. So it's just me out in the cold." She purses her lips while untangling the wire from the frosted star in her hands. "I don't care though."
I catch her gaze and hold it. Here we are, two wounded birds bearing our souls, pretending we don't give a shit. Kenny is the princess who grew up without a father telling her she was special, that she was beautiful, that she deserved so much more than a series of one-night stands.
"You care," I whisper, wrapping my arms around her waist without waiting for an invitation.
"Maybe a little." Her lips curve as she touches the back of my neck. "But that's over. I can protect my heart now that I know better - now that I know love never works out in the end. Right?"
My heart thumps unnaturally. I believed in it once and it didn't work out in the end, but trying to satisfy my body with a revolving door of girls isn't all it's cracked up to be either.
"Let's get that star on top of the tree." I hoist her up in the air and elicit a squeal from her in the process. She starts to slip and I place my hand over her bare thigh for support. My entire body enlivens touching her this way.
"I'm afraid of heights."
"Then you'd better make it quick." I tighten my grip and sit her on my shoulder. It feels good holding Kenny, touching her like this without decimating her body in a fit of smoldering passion - although, that's pretty damn high on my wish list this Christmas.
She lands the star on top of the tree and slinks down my body as if I were a pole. Her face lands next to mine, panting from the effort.
Kenny sighs into me. Her lips bloom into a perfect smile, and for the first time in a long while I feel like I've done something right. Suddenly, I want to be the one to tell her she's special, that she's beautiful, that she deserves so much more than a series of one-night stands.
"Yesterday, at the tree lot, you gave me a beautiful gift." I meant for it to come out playful, but it burns from my lips as if I were stepping too close to the flames. "If you don't mind, I'd like to give my gift now."
"I've been waiting for it all morning," she says in less than a whisper.
I crash my lips over hers and dive in for one luscious exchange. The warm pool of her mouth draws me in, and I fight a groan working its way out of my throat - my jeans already cinching with a surge of desire.
I can feel the dark cave of my heart beginning to glow like that star on top of the tree.
If anything, Kenny has made me believe in magic again.
The next day, Kenny and I hit the gym. My longtime friend, Cal, owns the place, so I talk him into giving her an indefinite day pass. Kenny heads off to Zumba while I hit the weight room.
"So fill me in, dude." Cal tosses a towel over his shoulder and awaits the dirty details. I've made the mistake of filling him in with tales from the mattress, far too many times.
He's got his head shaved and his body ten shades darker than his face.
"When you going to dye that bowling ball that sits on your neck to match?" I lie down on the bench and start in on a series of lifts. "Spot me, would you?"
"Bowling ball? What are you talking about?" He ducks and jives until he catches a glimpse of his ugly mug in the mirror. "I'm a fucking work of art. Three different women offered to give me a blowjob just this past week."
"Yeah? How's that working out for you? Is Lauren going to stand by and oversee the situation? Make sure they're doing it right?"
"Lauren." He balks at the mere mention of his girlfriend. "She's got a stick up her ass these days. Christmas Eve was a train wreck. She full-on expected me to pull a diamond out of my dick. And when I didn't, she raised all unholy hell. Now I'm paying for it, and I've got the blue balls to prove it. Speaking of train wrecks, you hear from Blair?"
"She called. I ignored." Strange. Haven't heard from her since June and out of the blue she's called twice, both times I've managed to have the stones not to pick up, And now, Cal's calling her name out like he's trying to conjure her ghost.
"Saw her at a party up at Herald hall. She must have asked a million questions about you. I guess things didn't work out with that douche from Dartmouth."
"Too bad." A searing pain jolts through my chest at the thought of Blair asking about me. Kenny and those hot kisses blink through my mind. Somehow Kenny instantly made things better. She applied the salve over my soul with her own lips - began healing what a thousand girls before her could never hope to do "What Blair and I had is over. If you see her again, you can be the bearer of bad news. She's the one who made that decision. I'm just backing her for once."
He holds his hands in the air as if it were a stickup, and the weights come crashing to my chest.
"Dude." He hoists the heavy metal off me and secures it to the post. "You take on way more than you can chew. That's been your problem since about the third grade. So tell me about this new one - the day pass. She Zumba for you in private? When you're through, go ahead and send her my way. I have a feeling Lauren is about to hand me my walking papers."
Something about Lauren giving Cal his walking papers doesn't sit right with me. Sure, he's always had a touch of asshole in him, but that's just Cal. I thought he and Lauren were a forever kind of deal. I guess Kenny is right - love never works out in the end.
"You can't have Kenny."
His face ticks back a notch. "Dude, you keeping her?"
"I'm test driving." For every dick on the planet, if she gets her way. "She's got this crazy idea she's going to be the female version of me."
He bobs his head. "Manwhore," he says without missing a beat.
"Thanks." I sit up and catch a brunette across the room openly molesting me with her eyes so I turn to face Cal. "She wants me to teach her the ropes."
"Teach her the ropes?" He starts in on a low-lying laugh.
"She's staying at the house, so I thought we'd take it slow. She's never done anything before, and I don't plan on taking advantage of her."
"What?" He jumps back at the insanity as if I've just yanked off my balls in a show of dedication to my newfound celibacy. "You're Cruise Fucking Elton. Fucking is your middle name - remember? You've slammed more hot chicks in one season than most men fantasize about in a lifetime. Just because you've landed yourself a nice little fuck buddy doesn't mean she's gotta ruin your mojo. You're spermanating for the both of us remember?"
"Relax, would you?" I hiss in an effort to get him to shut the hell up. God forbid Kenny walk in and hear the words "fuck buddy" being tossed around. "She's nice. I'm not instructing her in that arena. The only thing I'm teaching her is the fact I'm the last person on earth who should be anybody's role model. There are plenty of girls like me out there, and believe me, she's not one of them. I'll figure out a way to get that idea as far away from her head as possible. She needs a boyfriend, not a line of frat boys leading out of her bedroom."
"That's right. Tell her to stay off your territory. Get her the hell out of the house before she interrupts the line of sorority ass you've grown accustomed to."
I shoot him a look.
"About that - I'm taking a break."
"What?" His hands collapse over his head as if I've just dropped some oncology-based bomb that involves his testicles. "Are you shitting me? You're taking a break because of this girl? This Kenny - the virgin, who's pleading for your instructional services? My God, it's like you're whipped!" He freezes. "You're whipped, aren't you?"
"I'm not whipped." I tick my head back a notch. "I hardly know her." Oddly, I know Kenny better than I've known any of the girls I've bedded like some fornicating marathon these past several months.
"We need to find a boyfriend for little Miss Day Pass." Cal leans in, solemn, as if Kenny's relationship status had the power to unravel the universe. "I'm telling you, buddy, she's a fly in the ointment, corrupting the system. Ackerman House is throwing a New Year's Eve party. It's open invite to twelve different schools. That's twelve different kinds of collegiate ass to sift through, my friend. Do not forget your mission statement - bed, don't wed."
I glance up at him and shake my head. "You really need to stop living vicariously through my dick."
"You'd better grow a pair and kick the virgin to the curb before she digs her cute little claws in your back. The next thing you know, you'll be buying her flowers." He slaps me over the shoulder and takes off. "Believe me, she's nothing but trouble."
For a second, I envision her nails digging into my back, her legs wrapped around me like a vine. I can't wait for that moment with Kenny, but the truth is, she deserves a hell of a lot better than me.
Maybe she is nothing but trouble.
Maybe she's the exact kind of trouble I've been looking for all along.