Something Just Like This Page 3

  “Sugar Plum!” The portly man with the white beard calls out. “I could use help over here.”

  Santa interrupts my daydream about Landon, and I race back to him, handing the bucket off to another elf. Besides, I can’t think about Landon. He was at the mall with his daughter. He probably has a wife and maybe a dog—a Labrador, I bet—and a white picket fence. All the good ones are taken. That’s half the reason I never bother to look.

  The other reason is why I despise the holiday season.

  “I don’t want to, Mom!” A boy around six or seven-years-old pushes against his mother as he tries to escape the photographic memory she’s trying to create.

  “Parker, please. Sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what you want.” The mom is famished, her hair pulled into a messy bun, dressed in yoga pants and a jacket that is much too big for her body. “This will only take a second.”

  “I don’t want to!”

  With his feet planted on the ground, his teeth gritted, he jams his hands into his armpits, determined to win this. It’s clear he has issues with either Santa, or strangers in general (which is not a bad thing), but this mom isn’t giving up until her kid is on Santa’s lap and she’s snapping a picture with her smartphone.

  Why is capturing this moment so important to parents? Not only are they forcing their children to sit on the lap of someone created out of old traditions, but they’re also encouraging them to talk to strangers. I don’t understand it. Every day this is an issue—multiple times—and the parents almost always win. I excuse myself, allowing another elf to take over, and sneak into Santa’s little house we have set up. I bring back my trusty basket of bribes.

  Parker is no longer yelling, but through his crossed arms and puffed out chest, I can tell he’s still not happy. His poor mother looks to be on the verge of a breakdown.

  “Parker. That’s your name, right?” The boy tilts his head toward me. I’ve never seen so many freckles in my life. “I think all your mom wants is a picture of you with the big guy. Can you sit on his lap for one minute? Not even a minute. Thirty seconds. Maybe even less than that.”

  He loses eye contact with me. This will be a tough one. Time to call in the bribe.

  “If you sit on Santa’s lap for your mom, I’ll let you pick something out of the prize basket. Would you like that?”

  His eyes sparkle as his arms fall to their sides. I’ve almost got him. He’s hooked, and now I need to reel him in.

  “Parker, could you do what the nice lady asks and sit on Santa’s lap?”

  He grimaces at his mother, and when his gaze returns to me he’s all smiles. The bribe wins out. His mom thinks she won, but my basket is the real winner. Santa’s face drops as he stomps toward him. I’ve never had a kid plop down so hard he’s hurt Santa, but Santa isn’t so sure. Santa’s eyes are closed as Parker takes a seat, and he opens them when he realizes he’s safe.

  “A skateboard,” Parker says loud enough the people at the back of the line can hear him. He jumps off his lap, walks over to me, and puts his hand out. Payment is expected now, and he will not ask for it. He demands it.

  I’ve learned in these situations not to get caught up in manners. Parker did this because his mom wanted him to, not because he wanted to. She should thank me, which she doesn’t as I hand over the few pieces of candy. They never do thank me. I’ve learned not to expect it.

  If you expect nothing, no one will ever disappoint you.

  * * *

  Ugh. What an evening! I’m glad I’m home, curled up on the couch, binge-watching Big Little Lies. I loved the book and comparing the book with the series is so much fun. Sure, the series came out the beginning of this year, and I’m only sitting down to watch it now, but now that I am, I’m hooked.

  With the popcorn popped, a beer on the table, and a blanket wrapped around me, I’m ready to veg out. My phone rings the second I hit play. Figures. I unwrap myself from the burrito-like state I’m in expecting Carly’s name to appear on my caller ID, but it’s my mom attempting to FaceTime me.

  My mom and FaceTime are a ridiculous combination. She prefers the facial interaction because she wants proof I’m rolling my eyes. I hate I can’t do that or stick my tongue out at something I don’t like. I mean, kudos to her for being sixty-three and well-versed on social media. My Aunt Lorraine is almost seventy and won’t touch a smartphone to save her soul—and trust me, it could use a little saving. But why can’t she FaceTime with some of her friends instead of me?

  I press the accept button with a groan, and her face takes over my screen. “Mom! Back up! I can see your nose hairs, for goodness sake.” She hasn’t quite gotten the hang of how far to hold her phone away from her face.

  “What?” Her nose wiggles, and I glimpse a few of her nose hairs. Gross. She pulls the phone back a tad, but not enough for me to see her entire face.

  “Remember, you can see what I’m seeing by looking in the right-hand corner.” I wave, and she waves back, her full face viewable along with some of her tan sweater. “Much better.”

  “Oh, dear, you look tired.” Her sympathetic frown is one she gives me much too often. “How was your first day in your new position?”

  “Fine. I spent most of the day setting up my office.” I couldn’t wait to take on more clients but I couldn’t do that until my office was presentable.

  “That’s wonderful!” She presses her lips together as the curl to the right. This isn’t why she called. She doesn’t care about my first day. When my mom smiles, she really smiles, like a Mr. Ed smile. I can’t see any of her teeth. “Any new, big clients?”

  By her emphasizing the word big, I already know what she’s trying to ask. “No. I promise to inform you right away if Aaron Rodgers comes to see me.”

  This is the dream she won’t let go. I’ve never known another person to love football as much as my mother. I find it odd, actually. She thinks if Aaron Rodgers needs a new financial consultant, he’ll come to me like my name is floating around the financial industry as the one to contact. It’s not. I’ve explained how unlikely a high-profile football star such as Rodgers coming to me is, but she keeps dreaming. I’ve learned to let dreams die a long time ago.

  “You better.” She blows her long, white locks out of her face. One thing I will say about my mother is she pulls off her sixties like nobody’s business. Her hair may be as white as Egyptian cotton sheets, but she’s aging so well it’s hard to believe she’s in her sixties. I hope in the future I look as good as she does.

  “The reason I’m calling…” The sentence fades, and I’m not surprised there’s a different reason for her call. There always is. I’m afraid to ask. What now? What could it possibly be? Something with Dad? Hunter? Aunt Lorraine? I’ve been waiting for my mom to tell me she’s taking a cruise with her sister because Aunt Lorraine won’t stop begging her to go. My uncle wants to spend his retirement sitting on the couch watching Judge Judy and other judicial shows while my aunt wants to travel. She often goes alone and has been nagging my mom for years to take a trip with her.

  “So, I told you Hunter is out soon.”

  “Yes, I’m well aware.” She mentions this every opportunity she can. She calls, texts, emails, updates her Facebook status. I can’t seem to get away from it.

  “I want all of us to spend the holidays together.”

  “What do you mean by all of us?” I know what she means but part of me hopes she’ll say me, her, Aunt Lorraine, and Uncle Don. No such luck. Luck doesn’t exist for me.

  She disappears for a moment, giving me a view of her jeans. I’m not sure what she’s doing. She’s probably prepping to give me the news. Her face appears again. “All of us. Me, you, and Hunter.”

  Mom has always had a soft spot for Hunter. Even with him spending the past two years in jail, she still can’t find anything wrong with him, even as the victim.

  “Sweetheart, don’t you think you’re too old to be rolling your eyes at me?”

  “Sorry.” This is why I hate
FaceTime with her. My eyes say too much, sometimes involuntarily, mostly on purpose.

  “I know how you feel about what he did—”

  “And I can’t believe you don’t feel the same. He didn’t steal thousands of dollars from me. He didn’t forge my name on my checks to live a lavish lifestyle he couldn’t afford. He did this to you. I can’t believe you forgave him so easily.”

  “I can’t believe you haven’t.” She presses her finger and thumb to the bridge of her nose. “Hunter understands he wronged me. He served his time. We should find it within ourselves to forgive him. I want both my children in my life.”

  “And you can have us both. Just not in the same room.” I last saw my brother almost two years ago right before he went to prison. I didn’t visit him once during his incarceration. Not once. Any letters he sent me made their way to the recycle bin. I didn’t open one of them. If I ever do see him again, I’m not doing it on Christmas. I love my mom, but she’s a fool to believe he’s changed.

  “This isn’t really fair.”

  “You’re the one who told me life isn’t fair.” Words to live by, she once said. Once Dad left, saying that made it easier for her to cope. “What does Dad say about this?” Hunter is his son, too, after all.

  The red in her face is a startling contrast to her white hair. “I have no idea.”

  My mom can claim ignorance all she wants, but she’s lying. She pretends she doesn’t talk to my dad. She tries to hide all attempts to text him. Part of her thinks with some time she may win him back, I think. I don’t know why she would even want that. I love my dad—he’s my dad!—but I don’t agree with the path he’s chosen in his life. And Mom could never live up to his new lifestyle.

  “He’s still shacking up with Autumn, isn’t he?”

  Autumn is his late-life crisis. She’s almost half my age and expects him to shower her with expensive gifts. My dad isn’t dumb about her being a gold digger. He doesn’t care. She’s young, pretty, and a nice accessory on his arm. Sometimes I can’t believe this is the man he’s become.

  “Yep. She’ll be there until the day he dies. I hope he doesn’t marry her. She’s waiting for it. I just know it. She wants to take all his money.”

  It’s not a secret my dad won’t leave anything to Hunter or me, and I don’t care. I’m successful by my own standards and can stand on my own two feet without daddy’s money.

  “Honey, I want to plan something. This is the first Christmas in a few years he’ll be with us. This is important to me. He’s staying with me, and—”

  “He’s staying with you?” I pinch my face together as I tense up, every inch of my body tight. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “How can you let him stay with you?”

  “He has nowhere to go, Juliette.”

  “How is that your problem? Mom, he stole from you. He’ll do it again.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  I throw my hands up in the air, my phone going with them. I cringe as it crashes to the floor. Last month I upgraded my phone and didn’t opt for the insurance. Once it’s back in my hands, I give it a once over to make sure everything is fine before apologizing to my mom. “Sorry. I dropped my phone.”

  “Juliette, Hunter is my son. He will always be my son. So that means I’m there for him when he needs me. He’s done his time, and he’s rehabilitated. He deserves a chance. I’m planning this, and I expect you to be there. My house, the fifteenth, at seven.”

  She disconnects without another word, leaving her stern demand with me.

  4

  Landon

  “Thank you for bringing her home right away.” Arthur pops open a beer, handing it to me before he takes one for himself. “Take a seat.”

  I step over to the living room and sink into the couch. How can anyone even sit here? Courtney really needs to buy a new couch, but she’s saving every penny she can. A couch doesn’t fit into her budget right now.

  I don’t plan on sticking around. I’ll drink half this beer before going back to my place. My plan was to drop Abby off, go home, and hit the sack. Shopping with a kid all day took up most of my energy. My sister is a goddess handling two kids every day. I think I appreciate her even more after today.

  One sip of my beer and I think maybe I’ll finish the entire bottle before I go. A little alcohol to calm the mind after a long day never hurt anyone. “What’s the word today, Arthur? Are you working any big cases?” When Arthur decided to pursue a career as a lawyer I wasn’t sure he’d succeed. He never came across as the type to win an argument. As it turns out, he only can’t win them against my sister.

  “Nothing too big right now.” He reaches over and slaps me on the back. “I’m sorry about your job.”

  I figured this was coming. Everyone takes pity on the loser who lost his job. I’m not looking forward to a holiday season with people’s cocked heads as they ask if I’m okay. I’m fine. I can bounce back from this. Sure, I’ve never lost a job before, but I’m not unmarketable. I’ll find something.

  “Thanks, man. I didn’t see it coming. Their loss.” The important thing is that I remain positive.

  “I can see if there’s anything available at my firm. I’m sure we can find something for you.”

  “Thanks for the offer but I’ll manage.” I appreciate Arthur wanting to help but I’m not sure what he could find for me to do at his office. Even though I work in security, I help install the systems. I’m not a security guard, and that’s about all I’d be able to do there.

  “Did you see the game last night?” He scoots back in his recliner which is about a hundred times more comfortable than this couch.

  “Sure did.“ I don’t elaborate because we both know Arthur doesn’t watch football. He’s a straight up baseball fan spending as much time in the spring and summer at the field as he can.

  I’m not a fan of trying to create chit-chat. It’s unnecessary and uncomfortable. Arthur is not only my brother-in-law, he’s a friend, but we don’t always have something to say to each other. He agrees with me in silence though I’m watching him, wondering what’s going through his mind. My conversation earlier with Courtney pops into my mind. I don’t know what would make him even consider a separation in a time like this. I can’t handle it anymore.

  “How in the hell can you even think about leaving my sister right now? You know she’s going through a tough time.” I blurt it out before I consider the structure of how I should say it. I’m not sensitive to the approach. I only want answers.

  Arthur brings the bottle to his mouth and takes his time drinking. “She told you.”

  “My sister tells me everything.” I’m sure there are things she leaves out, but we’ve always been close, even more so since our mother passed away. I don’t tell him I nagged her into telling me. “Anyway, what gives?”

  “What do you mean what gives? How is this any of your business?” He crosses his legs and leans back into the arm of the chair. If this is the look he gives the defendants I know why he’s so good at his job.

  “Courtney is my sister, and I’ve known you for what, twenty-five years now, maybe even longer? You and my sister have been together for such a long time. I can’t even imagine what would make you turn on her now.”

  “Is that what you think?” He shoves himself forward, resting his hands on his knees. “That I’m turning my back on her?”

  “What the hell am I supposed to think? She tells me you’ve been talking about leaving her—”

  He throws his hands up in the air as he stands. “She said what?”

  Courtney comes into the room, and Arthur and I are staring each other down. She doesn’t notice, exhausted from the day. “I think she’ll be okay. No fever. Just a bit too much to eat.” Her eyes pierce through me, an arrow hitting a bulls-eye. Yikes.

  “Hey, don’t blame me. We were supposed to split the Cinnabon.” I lift my hands up in surrender. “I turned around, and the entire thing was gone. The girl can eat.”

  “Just like her
mama.” Courtney has no shame in how much she can eat, taking pride in being the first to finish her Thanksgiving dinner and downing two pieces of pumpkin pie.

  “What have you been telling your brother?”

  “What do you mean?” She raises an eyebrow at me. I shouldn’t have said anything. I can’t keep my mouth shut, though, when it comes to my family. They are too important.

  “Your brother here tells me I’ve been talking about leaving you. This is news to me. If I don’t recall, you’re the one who’s suggesting this.”

  Those vicious eyes return, and I can’t blame her. I deserve the death stare down. “This is none of your business. I told you to butt out.”

  “Courtney, what did you tell him?” Arthur demands answers.

  Uh oh. Not only did I overstep my boundaries, but I’ve opened up a can of worms. I put my sister in the middle of another lie. “I’m sorry I mentioned anything.”

  Arthur holds a finger in the air. “No, you’re not. I know you, Landon, and you’re anything but sorry. You and your sister are in each other’s business too much. I want to know what you said.”

  My phone vibrates in my pocket. I take it out of my jeans, and the caller ID shows it’s my best bud, Calvin. “I’m sorry. I have to take this. Job prospect.” I tack a lie onto my sister’s. Maybe with that I can escape this mess. “I promised Abby I’d take her to see Santa tomorrow. No sweets, I promise.”

  I sneak out of my sister’s house leaving behind a mess for her to clean up.

  5

  Juliette

  If best friends are good for anything, it’s for bringing wine when needed most. As if she could read my mind and lived through the painful phone call with my mother, Carly shows up with a bottle of Merlot from her Wine of the Month club. We finish it in no time, and I nurse a headache most of the day at work. I’ve only myself to blame. Luck finally lands on my side, though, and the headache disappears in time for my gig as an elf.