Frosting Her Christmas Cookies - Alina Jacobs Page 0,8

girl simpered at me. What was her name? Hannah? Haley?

Anu took a knife and cut open one of the jellyfish meringues. Bright-red ice cream oozed out like blood.

Only the fact that I knew my older sister would literally kill me if I couldn’t even keep it together for one show kept me from cursing.

“I wanted to make it festive!” the girl said in excitement. “You know, like my underwear.” She winked at me.

Keep it the fuck together.

“A baked Alaska is deceptively difficult,” Anu said more diplomatically than I would have been able to. “You have to form the merengue around the ice cream quickly then put it in the oven to crisp the outside before the ice cream melts. It looks like you didn’t time anything right.”

Underwear Girl batted her long eyelashes.

“When Jonathan and I are married, it won’t matter, because I’m going to hire people to cook for us.”

“That’s news for Jonathan, I’m sure,” Nick said dryly, pushing the dessert to the side.

“You didn’t even try it!” Underwear Girl whined to me.

“Oh, uh.” I took the smallest forkful of the red-and-white goop I could and gingerly tasted it.

“It’s raw still, isn’t it?” Nick asked me grimly as I sort of mashed it around in my mouth.

“Water…”

The rest of the contestants were marginally better. At least their food was edible.

Keeley had made a Bananas Foster crêpe that was pretty good. “It’s great for a corporate event,” she said brightly. “You know, like the kind the wives of powerful businessmen host to help them seal a deal.”

“At least she had a good attitude,” I said after she had left.

“Keeley made a pancake, not a crêpe,” Nick said, picking apart the dessert. “It’s too thick. And it’s a bit lumpy.”

“Sounds like it needs a doctor’s visit!” I joked then blanched when Belle shot a death glare across the room.

Morticia was the final contestant. She was still wearing the reindeer suit, though it looked as if she had had it off earlier and hadn’t been able to zip it back up. A black, satiny stripe of bra strap was exposed as the reindeer suit slid partially off one shoulder.

“I made a chocolate gingerbread amaretto tart. Eat it or don’t.”

“Look at that presentation,” Anu said, admiring it. Morticia hadn’t just made a chocolate tart. She had decorated it with the green sprigs of sugar pine needles, glittering candied cranberries, and ornate gingerbread shapes frosted with white icing.

“That is so photogenic,” I remarked. “We have pictures of that with the bottle of alcohol, right?” I asked one of the producers, who nodded.

Morticia cut out neat, even, perfect slices of the tart.

“Damn,” I joked, “I think you’re the only woman in the world who could make being dressed as a shapeless mascot sexy.”

“Hm,” Morticia said as she carefully slid a piece of the tart onto the plate. “Yes, or maybe you’re some sort of goddamn perverted furry.”

5

Morticia

The bar across the street was empty. It was at the bottom of the Hillrock West Distillery offices. The only reason I was there was because I was still wearing the stupid reindeer suit. Otherwise there was no way I would have patronized any establishment run by that arrogant billionaire.

Jonathan had not appreciated my furry comment.

I chuckled as I remembered how Belle had chastised him, descending on him like a winter storm when he started raging at me.

I refreshed my text message app, hoping that a text from my twin, Lilith, would magically appear. She had all my clothes and our cat. And my Taser.

I sipped my drink at the bar, my reindeer skin unzipped as much as possible while still maintaining some modesty. The bar was empty. The bored bartender polished glasses. If this bar was any indication of Jonathan’s big, expensive alcohol brand’s popularity, I had low hopes for its survival. The decor was extremely pretentious, with a polished concrete bar top, thousand-dollar barstools, and lights that were imported from Japan.

I swiped through my phone.

Belle, Dana, and their team would be editing the footage to put out tonight for the premier. They were already posting photos from the filming. I grimaced at the video of me lobbing the rubber candy cane at Jonathan. It had not been one of my finer moments. I preferred to set a sneaky trap, not go for out-and-out violence. But the shock on his face had been worth it. The post already had millions of likes; the video was going viral. Even Johnathan’s alcohol company had jumped on the bandwagon. I idly flipped