Page 102 of Devil’s Disciples

“Oh wow,” I gasped.

“Looks like Santa Claus was bored.” He turned toward the kitchen, “Let’s make a pot of coffee.”

I wanted to rush to the tree and see what, if anything, was mine. Heck, for all I knew, the gifts were for – or from – his five brothers.

A few minutes later, coffee in hand, we sat beside each other, cross-legged on the floor. He handed out the gifts, and I ended up with four and him three.

I never viewed the amount of the gifts as important. One gift, if selected with love, was plenty. I pointed to a two-foot square box that sat at his side. “That one first, please.”

He agreed, and opened it. Inside, the gift itself was wrapped in another paper. He picked up the thin package and smiled. “I wonder what this is.”

After unwrapping it, he clutched it to his chest and laughed. “Don’t have this one.”

“Well, you do now.”

It was Amos Lee’s Supply and Demand, on vinyl. It wasn’t an easy record to locate, but eventually I found it. I looked at The Wind as our song, and I suspected I always would.

He pointed to a small box. “That one.”

I picked it up the eighteen-inch-long box and shook it.

“Be careful,” he said.

Carefully, I took the tape from the paper, peeled the paper away, and looked at the top of the box.

My heart raced at the familiar sight of the manufacturer’s label, written in cursive on the top of the box.

“Is it?”

He shrugged. “Open it.”

I lifted the edge of the top and peered inside. Upon seeing the shoes, I flipped the top to the side and pulled them out.

“A pair of Louboutin’s,” I said. “I’m in love.”

I stood up and slipped the shoes on my feet.

He looked at them and smiled. “Fit?”

“Perfect,” I said.

The black heels with the signature red bottoms were a staple in the closets of the rich and famous. They weren’t anything I could ever afford, but I’d surely wear them on special occasions.

Giddy, I sat down and admired them.

He cleared his throat. “Ahem.”

I looked up. “Oh. The big red one.”

He pulled off the bow, peeled off the paper, and opened the box. Immediately, he laughed out loud. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I love it when you wear hats.”

Carefully, he removed the felt porkpie, and lifted it to his head. The black hat looked sexy on his head, and gave him a distinguished look.

“I like it.”

He tipped it toward me. “As do I.”