Mistletoe & Bastards (5 page)

Eww
.

My key was in
the front door before I discovered it was unlocked and strains of
Christmas music could be heard wafting from the living room.

Bloody Johnny.
If he’d gone home and left the door open and the music blaring for
hours I was going to wrap his body in tinsel and set him on fire.
There were precious things in my house that could never be replaced
if someone decided to burgle me and how would I explain an open
front door to the insurance? Pushing the door open enough to get my
hand in, I reached into the hall and picked up the vase from the
hall table. If it was a burglar, at least I had a weapon.

Vase poised, I
tiptoed along the hall runner and into the living room.

What the
hell?

Stunned, I
lowered the vase and looked about me. I’m positive my mouth had
dropped onto my chest because a sudden gush of cold air from the
air-conditioning was giving me brain freeze like I’d taken a huge
bite of ice cream. As Kirby would say this was, like,
un-be-liev-able.

Fake snow flew
from a snow machine in the corner and drifted on the air around the
room. Fairylights twinkled on the picture rails and snaked their
way around the windows and doorframes. A group of comic reindeers
frolicked on the windowsill and a nativity scene, complete with
baby Jesus, adorned the mantle. Next to the fireplace a Christmas
tree the height of the ceiling — and real no less — stood proudly,
festooned with tinsel, tiny crystal snowflakes and complete with a
star on top.

Who had taken
my flat and turned it into a bloody winter wonderland? And more
importantly, why? What the hell was going on? It was thirty-eight
degrees outside. I wanted to sit on my balcony with a cold glass of
wine and my feet in a bucket of ice. This was not normal.

“You’re
back.”

Walking in from
the kitchen, wearing a red and green apron with white frills around
the hem and a set of reindeer antlers, Johnny stopped beside me, a
broad grin on his face. He was wielding a wooden spoon I hadn’t
even known I owned. He pecked me on the cheek.

“
Erm
.
Nice apron,” I commented, mostly because for once I could think of
nothing else to say. At least he was wearing pants this time. On a
previous occasion the boys had decided that doing the washing up
whilst wearing only aprons would be a fun way to cap off a dinner
party. Millie had giggled at Sam’s naked butt. The rest of us had
been rather disturbed. We’d never known Womble had a tattoo on his
left bum cheek in the shape of a hornet. That was how deep his club
loyalty ran.

“It belongs to
my sister.”

“It’s fitting
but why are you wearing it? What’s… what’s going on? Why does my
lounge room look like Santa’s workshop?”

Johnny gave a
chuckle and slapped me cheekily on the bottom. “Kirby’s not the
only one who can toss a bit of fake snow around in the name of
decoration. Pretty good, eh?” He looked at me expectantly. He was
like a five year old, wanting my approval but I just stood there
like the statue of the Nutcracker, my mouth open waiting to crack a
few nuts.

“It’s very
pretty but why? And more to the point, who the hell’s going to be
cleaning it up? My cleaner has a nervous breakdown if I ask her to
do anything other than flick the dust from one shelf to
another.”

“Not to worry,
it’s all under control. The cleaning team from the office will be
here at eleven in the morning to tidy everything to your
satisfaction. My treat.”

Which was all
well and good but we were still no further advanced in the
answering of my original question.

“Right. I’m
glad we have that sorted. Now can you please tell me what’s going
on.” There was only a certain amount of fake snow a girl could have
swirling around her nose before she began to lose her patience and
I was fast approaching that point.

“Millie was
having some sort of pregnancy stress attack over the dinner thing.
Apparently, Sam’s mother booked them a table at some Christmas
charity function on Friday and Sam forgot to tell Millie. So, not
only is she pissed of with Sam, she’s hysterical about having to
spend an entire evening with Sam’s mother and sister without
warning.”

Understandable.
Sam’s mother had done everything she could to stop their wedding.
She was a nightmare.

“And this
affects me how?” I was beginning to get a little cross. If Millie
was having some sort of difficulty with the dinner she could have
rung me. We could have cancelled. I certainly wouldn’t have cared.
There was always New Year for us to get together.

“Well, two
reasons. One, she knew you’d try to blow the whole thing off—”

Clearly, I was
more transparent than I realised.

“— And two, she
did try to ring. About thirty times from what Sam said. He took the
phone away from her at that point and told her to go lie down.”

It was about
then I remembered I’d been in such a foul mood earlier I’d left the
house without my phone. Probably how Johnny had come to take the
call for help.

“Is she
okay?”

“Fine, fine.
But you know how she gets when Sam’s mother’s in town. She can’t do
with having her blood pressure raised and she can’t be sedated
seeing as she’s pregnant. I had no choice but to come to the rescue
and offer to take over organising the dinner. She was threatening
to leave Sam and go to Lombok for Christmas. She was wailing into
the phone about turkey and roast potatoes.”

It was a nice
gesture and one I would never have thought Johnny would have
dreamed up off his own bat. His grand gestures usually relied upon
whether or not he was certain he’d get laid as a result. I shook my
head. I knew this would be too much for Mille. I’d tried to tell
the others at coffee but they’d been so gung ho about the idea, it
had been pointless.

“I still don’t
get why this stuff’s here.” I indicated the huge blow-up Santa
standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“We’re going to
have the dinner here tonight, so Millie and Sam can do their thing
with the olds on Friday.”

“Tonight!”

That was only
four hours away. I couldn’t organise a function where people had
fun in four hours. And if Johnny thought I could whip a feast up in
that time, he was seriously delusional. The only feast I ever
whipped up came from Fresh Provisions in little plastic containers
that cost more to produce than the food itself.

“You’re
kidding, right?”

Johnny must
have sensed the beginnings of a meltdown. He moved towards me,
wrapping his big strong arm around my shoulder. He gave me that
melt-your-bones smile I’d seen him use so often on other girls only
this time there was a hint of something in his eyes. Was it
genuineness? Affection?

“Don’t stress,”
he said, calmly, “Everything’s under control. You didn’t think I’d
let you do it all by yourself, did you?”

“But I haven’t
even wrapped my Secret Santa gift.” I indicated the shopping bags
I’d put on the floor. Having trawled the city for hours, I’d
finally settled on the perfect gift for Johnny, a framed Western
Force jersey, signed by all the players. It had cost well over the
budget to buy but what the hell, I wasn’t buying any other gifts.
And for some reason, I wanted to see his face light up when he
opened it.

“Relax, sweet
pea. Hop in the shower, whack on a frock and some lippy. That’s all
you have to do.”

“And who will
be doing the rest?”

“Me and Kirby.
She’s been over already but she’ll be back in a couple of hours to
do the finishing touches. She didn’t want to take the decorations
from Millie’s in case Millie started crying again, so we did a
quick trip to David Jones earlier on. God, that chick can spend
when it’s someone else’s money. I’d hate to be married to her.”

I suspected
that wouldn’t be the only thing that would drive a man mad being
married to Kirby.

“You paid for
all this?”

Johnny shrugged
like it was nothing. “Isn’t that what friends do?”

I looked up at
him. Who was this responsible, sensible, helpful man and what had
he done with the real Johnny? Even though I knew I should flip my
lid at the fact that he’d taken over my house without asking, I had
to admit I was slightly turned on by this sensitive side of the
man.

“What are we
doing about food?”

“Millie is
coming in an hour to check on the turkey. It’s been in the oven
since you left. And Sash did the other food at her place. Luckily,
she had the afternoon off. Sam’s sending some nibbles and things
from the kitchen at the pub, too. They were having a private
function so he got the staff to make a few extras for us.”

I guess that
explained why the house smelled so good and why Johnny was still
here. I’d been beginning to think he was engaging in some weird
stalker-ish behaviour because we’d had sex.

I picked up my
gym bag and shopping and headed for the bedroom to shower. “So how
did my house get to be the designated venue?” I called, as I dumped
my stuff on the bed and headed to the bathroom pulling my top over
my head as I went.

Johnny put his
head around the door. “Your place is the only one big enough.”

“Your house is
way bigger than mine,” I countered, moving to hide behind the door.
Though why I felt the need to be self-conscious was beyond me. He’d
already seen me naked.

“And I would
have offered it, but the carpenter put his foot through the ceiling
last week. There’s a gaping hole in the living room the size of the
hole in the ozone layer. I’m not totally convinced about his
assurance there’s no asbestos, either. Best to steer clear for the
moment.”

I turned on the
taps, finished undressing and was about to get in the shower when I
heard the door creak open.

“Get. Out.
Johnny.”

Johnny appeared
suddenly hard of hearing. “I don’t s’pose you’d want shower sex
before the guests arrive. This event planning’s damn stressful.
Might take the edge off.”

I glared at
him. “In your dreams.”

“It
has
been, babe. For quite a while now.” And he chuckled and left me
alone in the bathroom.

God, I hated
him. He was such an arse.

By seven that
night the gang had assembled in my lounge room, and the only thing
that crossed my mind as I looked at the gathering was to thank God
I’d paid the extra money and chosen the bigger top floor apartment.
Cosy was stretching the friendship in the description stakes.

Womble had made
himself at home next to the tree and dressed in a Santa suit as he
was, he looked entirely at home. He was stuffing his face with
nibbles from the plate Sasha was passing around and eyeing off the
gifts everyone had put under the tree. There was a huge green box
sitting next to him that had been wheeled in on a removalist’s
trolley earlier and we were all dying to see what was inside. None
more than Womble though, as the tag had his name on it.

Sam and Millie
were standing together, as usual. He’d become even more protective
of her now that she was pregnant and I’d seen him touching her
belly twice and whispering things in her ear that made her giggle.
If it hadn’t been so utterly nauseating it would have been sweet. I
didn’t mind that much but it was my duty to keep them in check. It
was nice to see such a happy couple in our little crowd. They were
something of an example when the rest of us were so screwed up we
made dysfunctional families appear normal.

Simmo was in
the corner with a friend from work called Tony who’d recently moved
to the city. None of us knew this Tony but we’d breathed a sigh of
collective relief when Simmo’s plus one hadn’t turned out to be
that slut Courtney. Things went so much smoother when she wasn’t
around. And Tony looked nice. Big, muscular and quite gentlemanly,
he’d made my heart flutter a little as he’d shaken my hand and
gazed into my eyes. I’d already made up my mind to engage him in
some sort of conversation later in the evening. He seemed like the
type of man I just might like.

With the
Christmas music — supplied by Johnny — filling the room, the party
began to get rowdy. Rambo and Simmo, wearing matching red t-shirts
with green Christmas bowties printed on the front and buttons in
the shape of gingerbread men, were waiting expectantly under the
mistletoe. Sasha was sporting an elf hat complete with ears and
Millie had a Christmas tree brooch pinned to her boobs that lit up
and played Jingle Bells when she pressed a button — which Sam
seemed to want to do incessantly.

Kirby was
dressed in her Christmas outfit, the bells on the hem jingling as
she flitted around making sure everyone had Christmas coloured
champers. I think she was feeling guilty that this party had landed
itself on my doorstep at the last minute and was doing all she
could so I wouldn’t have to. After spending the remainder of the
day helping Kirby and Johnny with the preparations I was almost in
the mood. Christmas didn’t seem quite so bad after all. And we were
together. Despite the fact that these people made me question my
own sanity a lot of the time, I loved them; they were the only
family I had.

Kirby put her
drink on the mantle and clapped her hands to gain our attention.
Her newly manicured nails —post-box red and glitter — sparkled in
the fairy lights as she waved her hands in the air. “Okay everyone.
You need to, like, find a spot where you can sit. ‘Santa’ is
totally going to give us our presents and I don’t want to hear any
whining or moaning from any of you if it’s, like, not what you
want. Remember it’s, like, the thought that counts.” She looked
pointedly in Rambo’s direction. He was still smarting over his lot
in their separation. Kirby had divided his wine collection by
half-drinking every bottle before shipping the remains to him.