Midnight Mischief
Poppy
Jaxson Stade isa Roman statue come to life, carved by the ancient masters with a body of a god and a heart of impenetrable steel—most likely fashioned by those rolls of alloy that have made his family billionaires ten times over. It’s hard to believe after all these years we’re in the same room, feet on the floor within fighting distance in the very same bar. A live band croons in the corner, an entire crowd of bodies hustles for space between us as the scent of stale fries and beer fills my senses, but it’s Jaxson and his obnoxious presence that has my full attention.
A tiny blonde scoots in beside me. “Poppy Montgomery! Now is that a look of yearning orburningon your pretty little face?”
I glance over at my best friend, whom I haven’t seen in the flesh in far too long, and dive into a quick embrace. “It’s a look of churning—as inrevulsion. And by the way, I’m pretty sure yearning and burning are one in the same, Sadie Richards.” I pull her into a hug with an explosion of laughter as we bounce up and down like six-year-olds.
“I’m so happy to have you back!” Her blonde curls dust my face as she does her best to crush my ribcage. “You can never leave again. I’m not letting you go.” Sadie is a pixy incarnate. Tiny features, sparkling pink lips, big blue doe eyes—Sadie is gorgeous enough to make anyone with an X-chromosome look twice. She’s petite and beautiful and an all-around vixen—and she just so happens to be coming off of what she refers to as her very first divorce. It’s safe to say, Sadie is planning on amassing her fair share of exes. “Are you scoping out the midnight offerings?” She bumps my hip with her own.
Midnight. I shudder at the prospect of being void a set of lips to press against mine at that annual bewitching hour.
New Year’s Eve is just the kind of holiday that requires copious amounts of alcohol, lots of carnal cavorting with friends and potential lovers alike, and, perhaps best of all, a sexual situation brewing around midnight. But this New Year’s Eve is different. It’s my first in Oak Grove since I left five years ago. I’ve been back for the odd obligatory holiday, this last Christmas withstanding. My family alternates hosting the holy holiday with the Stade family every other year—as in Jaxson Stade’s family—and every other year I’m magically and mysteriously unable to make it. While I was still in college, my tried-and-true excuse was citing post-final exhaust, and after graduation a faux internship cropped up, but this past Christmas, I was wrapping up my last two weeks at work as a design consultant to an impressive L.A. firm. Yes, five years at a private college on a beach in Santa Barbara has done me well. I managed to land myself a cushy position at a top firm touted highly by everyone who is anyone in La La Land. But I digress as my eyes fall back on the sight they’ve been craving for oh so long, Jaxson Stade… don’t even get me started on that hot body. I bite down over my lower lip as an aching sigh expels from me.
“He is a sight to behold.” A dark-haired beauty, smelling of that sweet familiar tea-scented perfume I’ve come to associate with my sister, pops up on my left.
“Mackenzie!” I pull her into a tight embrace as my second hug-fest of the evening ensues. Back in L.A., I’ve yet to hug a single soul. Come to find out, such a show of affection is practically illegal in the City of Angels. In its place are well-delineated physical boundaries and sexual assault infringements. “Is Conner here?” Conner is Mack’s twin, and thankfully our one and only overprotective brother. Back in high school, I couldn’t go two steps with a date without Conner giving them a shakedown worthy of an FBI investigation.
Mack squawks at the prospect. “Conner took off with some hot blonde over an hour ago—but never mind our whorish big bro. You really took a crap on Christmas this year, Pops. We missed you.”
It makes my stomach churn to hear her say that. Sure, I feel guilty missing other holidays, too, but missing Christmas feels like something just this side of a felony. Christmas ishugein my family, and I hate that I missed out on all the caroling and cavorting because I’m essentially a coward. I shoot Jax a knife-sharp look because we both know it’s all his fault.
“I’m here now.” I pat Mack over the shoulders, drinking down this slightly older version of myself, same dark wavy hair, same lucent green eyes. My mother called us her Irish twins mostly because we were born a year apart—she didn’t let the sheets cool as she so indelicately puts it. But to this day, I think the reference has more to do with these emerald lenses we get to see the world through. “And I’m ready to take a crap all over the New Year, too, so you’d better watch out. Where’s your better half?” Mack married her longtime boyfriend, Dave Holiday, right out of high school. They’ve been hitched for a blissful six years and have a boy and a girl underfoot already, Ellie and Benny. Well— blissful might be a tad exaggerating. An acid tongue is a longtime family trait that has been passed down on our mother’s side, and is something both my sister and I have in common. Apparently, it doesn’t bode well for spouses, thus the constant strife the two young lovebirds face, and sadly thus the constant strife in their marriage.
“My other half is probably literally crapping. He tapped out and sent me into the wild. I knew you’d be here, and I wouldn’t miss it. Did you see Mom?”
“Only for a second. My flight came in late, and by the time I dragged my luggage into the house, she and Dad were already headed up to bed. She pointed me to the party and hit the sack.” It’s true. Everybody, including my mother, knows that the Starry Nights Bar and Grill is the place to be on this the lustiest night of the year—and every night outside of that, considering that it’s the beating heart of Oak Grove. This is basically it as far as the party scene goes, and judging by how packed it is, the locals and the Denver overflow alike don’t seem to mind it.
“So, what do you think?” Sadie hooks her arm through mine as she nods over toward Jax and the horny little harem amassing around him.
Mack leans in and sinks her gaze in the god of Oak Grove’s direction. “I know you’re wondering—and yes—he’s single as a slice of cheese.”
Both Sadie and I groan. Mack is the queen of thecheesyone-liners.
“Of course, he’s single,” I grunt as the girls crowding him block him from view. “He’s a manwhore. Everyone knows you can’t hold a good manwhore down—especially not one with his bank account lined in solid gold Krugerrands.”
“But we can try!” Larissa Debeers, a dark-haired vixen, face of a cold-hearted bitch, who looks as if she belongs on a Victoria’s Secret runway rather than holed up in Oak Grove, pops up swilling a cherry red cocktail in her well-manicured hand. Yes, Jax is panty-dropping gorgeous, but he’s also loaded, which means he brings the gold diggers to the yard, case in point Larissa. “Nice to see you slumming, Pop Top,” says the Krugerrands’ huntress herself.
Wow. You flash the boys’ track team just once in your entire scholastic career and you garner a nickname that endures time immemorial.
“I see L.A. is doing well by you,” Larissa muses as she takes me in from head to toe. Larissa had her own stint in L.A., and thankfully our paths never crossed. She was out trying to progress her modeling slash acting career, but after one mediocre commercial touting the ills of a yeast infection, she packed up her yeast-infected behind and hightailed it back to Oak Grove. I’m guessing that vaginal itch for Jax and his billions never quite went away. There’s no cure for greedy.
“Louboutin heels in a snowstorm?” She snorts. “Snug leather jacket—that fits as if Cinderella’s mice themselves adhered it to your body? And those jeans?” Her brows rise in amusement. “I’d ask if you painted them on, but my guess is you’ve gone pantless and your flesh has turned a healthy shade of blue.”
I’d laugh, but I promised myself long ago I wouldn’t waste the energy on Larissa. We have a brief yet tumultuous history not worthy of repeating.
I’d ask why she’s kept her feet planted in Oak Grove, but according to her body language, her own painted on clothing, it’s apparent why she’s hanging around. “Still working on your MRS degree at the U of Oak Grove, I see.” I nod toward Jax without meaning to, not that it’s a secret she’s heavily into the town’s honorary playboy.
“Mmm,” she moans, taking him in with the rest of us. “It’s true. I’ve always had a hankering for tall, filthy rich, and gorgeous. But Jaxy Boy is untouchable. I think that’s why the girls swoon twice as hard.” She looks to me with those dark amber eyes. “A girl always wants what she can’t have. Isn’t that right, Pop Top?” She gives a sly wink before slinking away.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” My foot twists in my Louboutin as if doling out a threat.
“Don’t listen to her.” Sadie shoves her cosmopolitan in my hand, and I take a quick sip. “She’s just bitter because the closer you are to her favorite boy toy, she knows that her chances of landing him horizontal for the night decrease dramatically.”
“That might be true,” Mack muses. “But nonetheless, she is one of his regulars. That boy has every available girl in town on a crop rotation—they’re well-trained to his nefarious ways, too. The only catfights that take place are at his request. Rumor has it, all of those wrestling matches take place in bed at his command. Dave says he’s taking them three at a time now.”
“Disgusting,” I hiss as Jax slowly becomes enveloped by the harlots vying for a chance to become one in three. “God, when did he morph into such a pervert? And it’s shocking his mother puts up with that.” His mother just so happens to be my own mother’s lifelong best friend, and if they’re about anything, they’re about getting into every sloppy detail of their children’s lives. To them, it’s not only a haunting pastime— it’s research. Charlene—my mother, and Debbie—the one who sponsored Jaxson’s birther movement, have in recent years embarked on the precarious world of blogging.
