A Very Bossy Christmas - Kayley Loring Page 0,26
more than a minute to prepare yourself for what I’d do to you.
DECLAN: That probably sounded salacious, but I meant it in the other way. A warning. I appreciate that you came here with me. It means a lot. But it’s best we stay away from each other until we have to go to my parents’ house tomorrow.
DECLAN: Is that okay?
MADDIE: Just when I think you couldn’t possibly find yet another way to be infuriating, you prove me wrong again.
DECLAN: I know it isn’t fun, but you know I’m right about this. Good night, Cooper.
Fifteen
Declan
AWAY IN MY ANGER
EDDIE: Dude. When are you getting here? I’m pretty sure Nonna just served us a platter of deep-fried dog dicks.
EDDIE: They were pretty good though.
ME:
EDDIE: Are you drunk? Where are you? You’re coming to dinner tomorrow, right?
ME:
EDDIE: When were you planning on telling me about your girlfriend?
ME:
EDDIE: You’re a dick.
ME: When weren’t you going for it you girls!
EDDIE: WHAT???
ME: Your girlfriend. You didn’t tell my. Me. When.
EDDIE: Are you drunk right now, or are you having a stroke? Because either way, you haven’t answered my question. When are you getting here?
ME:
EDDIE: You ducking better be here tomorrow. Dick.
Yeah. I’m the dick. Declan Cannavale is the dick, everyone! Welcome to Dickville—population Me.
Corporate lawyers are easy targets.
Even when they totally aren’t dicks.
Not really.
Would a dick order a Hot Toddy at a shitty hotel bar—three times?
“Another whiskey Hot Toddy, Rick,” I say to the bartender, who may or may not be named Rick. But hey—sometimes people get mistaken for a dick, and sometimes they get mistaken for a Rick. “Hot Toddies for everyone!” I call out. “On me!” The pathetic crowd of about ten lame people cheers in a half-assed loser-y kind of way.
They certainly seem more excited to hear about the free Hot Toddies than they do the shitty band that’s been playing shitty jazz versions of Christmas songs.
I’m having fun though. I’m having a great time. This is exactly how I pictured things going with Maddie once I’d gotten her away from the office, to a hotel in another city. I definitely did not plan to get her naked and fuck her fifty different ways into the New Year. Because that would have been wrong and bad. It would have been good and wrong, but it would have been bad in the very bad way. And she deserves better. “So damn slappable,” she said. “Infuriating,” she called me. I might be those things. Sometimes. To some people. But I’m also fun. I’m more fun than eating in a shitty hotel restaurant by yourself, that’s for sure.
I check my phone again to confirm that she has continued to heed my warning to leave me alone.
She has. Good. Now she does what I ask her to do. Because I’m the Grinch who tries to make out with her in an elevator, and who’d want to hang out with that guy?
Except I’m fun. I am the axis around which all festive gatherings revolve. I’ll show her.
I gulp down my Hot Toddy—fuck, I shouldn’t have done that because it’s hot—and then I hop off my seat at the bar. And I strut on over to the shitty little stage with all the swagger—swagger and fun—of a great entertainer. Because that’s what I am. A fucking entertaining delight who’s about to save Christmas for these pathetic losers in Whoville tonight.
The “singer” finishes the shitty song and says that they’re about to take a break, and that’s when I step up and take the mic from her.
“Thanks, Shirley—let’s hear it for Shirley and the band, everyone!” Her name might not be Shirley, but I usher Shirley off the stage and signal to the band to stay where they are. I tell them what to play next—because I’m the boss here—and say into the mic again, “Let’s get this party started, Youngtown!”
I’m gonna jingle the fuck out of this Christmas carol. I’m gonna sing it like the badass crooner that I am, because fuck you, Michael Bublé. Dean Martin is better than you, and so am I!
“Dashing through the snow—sing it with me!
In a one-horse open sleigh
O’er the fields we go
Laughing all the way—because we’re happy!
Bells on bobtails ring—what’s a bobtail?
Making spirits bright—am I right?
What fun it is to ride and sing
A sleighing song tonight—we having fun yet?!
Jingle bells,