“I will not be opening my legs today for free, Ernesto.” I rose from the couch, my annoyance blatantly clear in my voice. “I need to get a fucking tree, start planning the menu, and I still haven’t finished decorating for this goddamn Yule party I never really wanted to have in the first place.” My chest rose and fell with force as my frustrations build inside. “My parents will be here in forty-eight hours, and I don’t have time to flash my pussy for a spread that isn’t paying me nearly a quarter as much as my videos do. So I highly suggest you get out of my way.” I grabbed my phone from thecoffee table and stormed out. “I’m done,” I said over my shoulder. “Pack up and get out.”
I headed up the stairs and dialed Katie.
She answered before the first ring even finished. “Change your mind?” she asked.
“Ugh, yes!” I threw my head back in exasperation. “Be here in ten minutes. We’re getting a tree.”
“Girl, I’m already at your door.”
“Seriously?” I bounded back down the steps and looked out the window in the foyer.
And just like she said, there she was, dressed in a gothic yuletide ensemble. A pink leopard-print jacket with black fur cuffs and collar, over her usual chaos of black leather, lace, and chains. In what could only be considered normal for Katie at Yule, she had a Krampus-shaped backpack and little earrings shaped like zombie gingerbread men with bites taken out and leg bones sticking out where cookie should be.
Seeing her gave me warm tinglies all over. Lately, Katie and Derek were the only ones to bring me back from my pit of self-hatred that I couldn’t seem to pull myself out of.
She held her phone in one hand and waved through the window with the other.
“What are you doing here? Hunter said—” I asked, opening the door and stuffing the phone in my bra.
“Fuck Hunter. We’re not the kind of friends that get mad and stop talking to each other. I figured I’d just wait on the porch until one of us gave in and called the other.” She paused and eyed me up and down. “What on earth are you wearing?” She spun me around.
“What’s the matter, baby, don’t you like my babydoll?” I playfully shook my tits at her and pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry I shoved you aside,” I said, holding her tight.
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you into something and out that door before your master’s minions sound the alarm.” She thumbed over her shoulder at Padme and Ernesto, then booted meup the stairs.
The whole town had been decked out for the season. The Colonial district in particular looked like a scene from A Christmas Carol, with little white candles flickering in each window, garlands strung up the lamp posts and across the streets to neighboring businesses. Brightly lit evergreens marked every corner, and wreaths hung at every door, all either lit with twinkling lights or decorated with bulbous ornaments and sashes. It was the definition of holiday cheer in a seaside town. And as we made our way to the ocean? It only intensified. It was like an Edwardian Christmas market lined up all along the coast, with Linda’s restaurant as the last stop before heading over the brightly lit bridge to The Cove.
A festive Christmas tree pop-up shop was set up in the parking lot of Pier 84. Fairy lights twinkled, wrapped around poles and pallets, creating a makeshift fence. It was cute and probably looked even more magical at night. Scout Troop 74 was running the stand, and two of Linda’s grandsons were standing front and center, greeting merry customers as they searched for the main attraction for their holiday parties.
Apparently, only Troop 74 was able to get trees from a local farm this year, and everyone else had to ship them in. If I wanted to support the community, I’d get one from Jake and Nathan—at least that was the vibe I got from Linda when Hunter and I stopped in a month ago to let her know I was heading to Ohio for Friendsgiving with Annie.
She said the Christmas market was a community-hosted event all along this part of town. Neighboring businesses would compete to provide their own version of holly and jolly to make the spirits bright. The winner would take the coveted position of town sponsor and have their business plastered on every newspaper and every flyer the town dispersed throughout the year.
As much as I didn’t want to admit it… Katie was right. Getting out of the house—even if it meant consuming so much Christmas spirit I could puke—was a breath of fresh air. It gave me a chance to forget everything—tone down the paranoia surrounding the murders, the curse, Hunter, even Graham. It was a moment to breathe, to be human and enjoy what all that meant.
“Maggie! Katie! Hi!” a familiar voice shouted from the next lot over.
It was Sol, decked out like one of Santa’s elves with jingling bells and tinsel in her coily hair, waving like a lunatic to get our attention. “Onceyou get your tree, come get some hot cider, and Mrs. Withcomb has some handmade pot holders over here with your name on them!”
“Okay, girl… be there in a bit!” Katie hollered back.
We headed into the labyrinth of trees waiting to be wrapped in red twine and secured onto the tops of the vehicles. I stopped at a nearby display of Scandinavian Tomten. If there was one thing I did like about this time of year, it was the folk tales. The one I liked just happened to have a little extra stuffing in his flannel-covered forearms and looked extra broody and buff. I snickered at the resemblance of a certain someone.
“Well, it’s about time you showed up.” Linda popped out from behind a tree and wrapped her arms around me. “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you in a few days… almost a week. You scared me senseless the other day when I found that girl on my pier.” She nodded toward the far side of the restaurant. “It wasn’t good for business, that’s for sure.”
Feeling someone care about me from outside my closest circle felt good. I didn’t have that back home. I only had Annie, which Linda actually reminded me of quite a bit.
“I really don’t want to focus on that right now. This is my first time out without a bodyguard… unless you count that one.” I cocked my head toward Katie, who was over with Linda’s grandsons showing them how to finger knit spiderwebs out of the bailing twine.
“She’s got your back.” Linda patted me on the shoulder.
“Oh, I know. I just wish I could somehow repay her.”
“Maggie, being a friend isn’t about repayment. It’s about showing up when the other needs you.”
“Well, by that logic, I’m not a very good friend.” I plucked a wreath from the display and tucked it under my arm.
“Sure, you are. It just hasn’t been your turn to show up yet. You’ll know when she needs you.”
