“Your father, the Ghost of Christmas Present, showed me.” I turn to face her. “There’s no fuckin’ way I’m letting that bastard Graham take what’s mine just so I can end up shoving blow up my nose with hookers.”
“You’re not making any sense.” Her brow furrows. “Are you sure you don’t have a fever?” She reaches for me, but I evade her.
“Never better, babe, never better. And I’m gonna make sure no one takes my family away.” I storm into the house and wave my arms around the rooms. “The place looks great.”
Portia comes down the steps with the same look of confusion, so I meet her halfway and gather her into my arms. “From now on, I’m not missing any more things at school. I promise.”
“It’s okay, I know you’re busy and?—”
I set her down on the bottom step and bend to her level. “No, it’s not okay, and I know it makes you sad.”
Portia looks to Cheryl.
“Your mother didn’t tell me anything. It’s just something I know, ‘cause I’m your dad, and I’m gonna start acting like your dad.”
I spin away from her, open the front door, and step out into the cool morning air, feeling alive and free for the first time in a long time. I wave to my neighbor on his driveway,then bolt across the street. “Hi.” I hold out my hand, and we shake. “Nick Sinclair, we live across the street.”
“Nice to meet you. I always thought Cheryl and Portia lived there alone.”
“Nope, and from now on, I’m gonna be here more often. Much more often.” I grip the guy’s shoulder, and he throws me a skeptical look. “As a matter of fact, we’re having a holiday party next week for all the neighbors, and we’d love you and your family to come.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely, everyone’s invited.”
“Okay, sure, fine.” He nods slowly. “We’ll be there.”
“Merry Christmas,” I shout over my shoulder.
I don’t know what the fuck his name is, but he gives me a confused smile then heads for his car in the driveway.
On my way back up the lawn, I see my next-door neighbor fixing his inflatable reindeer. I don’t know his fuckin’ name either, but who cares? It’s the holidays.
“Hey,” I stick out my hand, “Nick Sinclair. I live next door, and we’re having a holiday party next week. Don’t miss it. We’re inviting all the neighbors.”
“Okay.” He nods and gives me the same skeptical look as the guy across the street, then goes back to wrestling with Rudolph.
Cheryl’s waiting for me at the door. “Did I just hear you ask Jason from across the street and Mike next door to a holiday party here next week?”
“Yeah, and you better call Marcel Caterers today. And make sure we get plenty of waitstaff, ‘cause I want you to enjoy the party. Oh, and ice sculptures too.”
“Okaaaay.”
“Why are you giving me a funny look? This is what you wanted, right?”
“Yes, but?—”
“The neighbors seemed a little confused too, but you can iron out all the details with them later.”
“The neighbors probably seemed confused ‘cause normally you go out of your way to ignore them. Your exact words last week were, ‘I don’t have time for these pussy-whipped guys.’”
“That’s all changed. You wanna have a party, have a party. You wanna invite seventy-five people? Shit, invite a hundred. You wanna buy another tree? Go ahead. Fill the house with trees; I don’t give a shit, as long as you and Portia are with me.”
“Yes, but you said next week will be your busiest week at the club and that?—”
“Forget what I said.” I wave my arms around the foyer. “Fuck the club.”
“Nick, did you hit your head?”
