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She finds me in the pantry and kisses me quickly. “I’m so happy you’re who I thought you were.” I take her in my arms and kiss her forehead, then grab a handful of her perfect, tight ass. And she scurries off.

JILLIEN: I’m not good at waiting. I’m so tingly. I feel like I swallowed a bunch of Pop Rocks.

LIAM: Give me your tights.

JILLIEN: The ones I’m wearing?

LIAM: Yes. I want them for when you leave.

JILLIEN: Let’s not talk about me leaving.

I can’t believe she said that. I don’t want her to leave, either. I want her to stay tucked away on the corner of Pine and South Fourth Street for a while. I’m in so much trouble. I shift my weight back and forth, turning the phone over in my hand.

LIAM: I promise no more talk of leaving.

8

LIAM

She floats through the room, stopping to scratch her scarlet nails across my grandmother’s navy velvet chair in the corner of the room. I wonder if she remembers the tatty old gold.

I spent two weeks debating whether I should use navy or gold velvet on it. It was the first thing I decided entirely on my own. Other than what to wear or eat. I didn’t consult my mother, my sister, or any other woman. My father’s not around, so I stepped up. I wrestled with this one stupid decision as if it were the floodgate to the rest of my life. And here and now, this deity of a woman picked it out in the room full of furniture to admire.

I refresh drinks and spread holiday cheer while James chats at me. I nod, hearing nothing he’s saying. I don’t want him to know about Jill. I want her to remain all mine for a little longer.

Jillien walks over and hands me a gift bag complete with tissue paper. “Mr. Fletcher, I meant to give you your host gift earlier.” That’s a respectful kinky little jolt. Mr. Fletcher. She gives me a chaste double air-kiss while her nails dig into my bicep. It’s like a Red Bull to my circulatory system.

James steps up and guides Jilly away as I’m pulled to my mother.

Let me know your thoughts.

I’m struck with a crushing smell of ginger when I stick my snoot in the bag for a moment. Of course, she smells spicy, like a holiday cookie. I’m going to feast on her. I drift over to her.

I whisper in her ear as she’s talking to James. “Ginger. And I’ll bet you taste like that, too.” Jillien chokes on her wine a little but focuses on her conversation. A rousing rendition of “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” sparks up at the piano.

JILLIEN: How long did this party go last year?

LIAM: Til like 2ish.

JILLIEN: GET THEM OUT, or I will.

She glares at me and purses her lips. Maybe if I set a flare gun off, they’ll all scatter and leave.

LIAM: Yes, milady.

It’s almost ten fifteen. I grab my high school buddy Mark to the side. “Dude, I need you to leave and take the party with you.”

“Sick or fucking?”

“Fucking, like lifelong desire fucking. See the blondish girl with her hair skimming her shoulders over there on the couch?”

“You could have said the smoking-hot one in the low-cut dress. James can barely contain himself. Surprised he hasn’t drooled on her.”

“That’s Jillien.”

“Jillien?”

“Jill-i-en,” I say slowly.