I spent the night at Logan’s loft. He didn’t have a Christmas tree, so we stopped and grabbed one at a Christmas tree lot. By that time, it was almost ten at night. He didn’t have Christmas lights or ornaments, so we rushed into a store and bought both.
When we were at his home, his fireplace roaring, lights down, the Christmas tree decorated, he said, “I never wanted to celebrate Christmas, Bellini, after we broke up.”
“Me either. I wanted it to be zapped away.” I snapped my fingers.
“My mom made it fun, and so did you. After she died, you always made the day special for me with the cards you made, the ornaments we gave each other, and the Christmas cookies you baked. Plus, I hung out with you and your family. But since then, Christmas has been a tough day.”
“It was never the same. I was always sad because I wasn’t with you. The holidays put that in a white-hot glare.”
He hugged me close, then flipped me onto his lap. “Let’s not have bad Christmases again.”
“Agreed.” I dropped a kiss on his lips. “No Grinch-like Christmases.”
“Mr. Claus is wondering if you want to go to bed and enjoy the Christmas spirit.”
“Oh yes, Mrs. Claus would love to enjoy your Christmas spirit. She wants to envision sugar plums dancing through her head.”
“I heard that Mrs. Claus is on the naughty list this year.”
“She certainly is and she’s proud of it.”
My goodness. Logan knows a lot about naughtiness and the “Christmas spirit” in the bedroom.
37
Bellini
“Hello, everyone,” I called over the din in Logan’s office. The stage and catwalk were built, all the desks and tables were moved out of the way, and we had a huge open space to work with. “Thanks for coming to the first rehearsal of Lady Whiskey’s T and A Christmas Burlesque Show!”
Logan looked up from where he was talking to a bunch of people we went to school with—some in our grade, others above or below. Everyone clapped and cheered. These were people who liked to celebrate.
“First, thanks to Logan Hamilton and all of his employees for working so hard on the stage.”
“Whoop, whoop!” More clapping.
“Stand up if you helped to build the stage and the catwalk.”
Logan’s team and other volunteers stood up. My favorite stage builder was Logan, and I might have smiled at him a touch too long because my cousin Jaxi coughed to get my attention back in line.
“Also, thanks to the decorating team—please stand up…The setup team—please stand up…The tech people…lighting people…music magicians—you’ve all done a super job of compiling all the songs. Please stand up.” I had a lot of thank-yous to deliver. “So, tonight is our first rehearsal. Second rehearsal is tomorrow night, and then the big show on Saturday. I sent out an email.”
“Bellini’s famous emails!” Helena declared, and everyone laughed.
I spread my arms. “I’m a details gal. Can’t help it.”
“It was two pages long!” Jaxi joked.
“I have a lot to say. I know you all read every single word.” I pretended to glare at everyone as they laughed. “Okay, let’s take it from the top, folks. You should all have a list of the order of the acts and who is performing when. Remember, you have four minutes—that’s it. Not a second over. Are we ready, everyone?”
Oh yes! Everyone was ready.
Sort of.
Maybe.
They tried.
We rehearsed the acts, one after another.
