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CHAPTER 1Tess
“Resting Grinch Face.”Present Day, one week before Christmas
Summersweet Island
“He was killed by The Polar Express.”
“Sadly, he was trampled by reindeer.”
“He fell off the roof while hanging Christmas lights.”
“Freak hunting accident. Shot himself right in the dick and bled out.”
“He was bashed in the head with a stocking holder when he was playing tag and it fell off the mantle.”
“He was kissing Santa under the mistletoe and died from mouth herpes. Very tragic.”
“I spiked his drink with rat poison when he wouldn’t stop asking me when we’re going to get married and have babies, Jan. Would you like another peppermint martini with extra crushed-up candy cane? At least I think the white powder I’ve been using all night is crushed-up candy cane.”
Jan Rowe, the librarian at Summersweet Island Library, quickly backs away from the bar after cheerfully asking me the same ridiculous questions as half the island tonight, and not being amused at all by one of my many responses. She turns and disappears into the crowd, while I take her abandoned empty martini glass and run it through the triple-sink cleaning station before setting it on the rubber mat behind the bar to dry. Why I decided to work this extra shift for the Summersweet business owners’ yearly Christmas party they throw for all their workers is beyond me, and I should have just let one of my other bartenders handle it. Aside from the fact that Christmas gets on my last damn nerve every year because it’s always so hectic, and over the top, and entirely too cheerful, with way too many organized events, I’ve gotten nothing but non-stop questions about my relationship since I walked in the door of SIG tonight.
“When are you and Bodhi going to tie the knot?”
“Has he proposed yet?”
“Do I smell babies in your future?”
What you’re smelling is my brain melting every time you ask me a stupid question like that, Margaret.
Or it’s quite possibly the paper snowflake I just ripped from the fishing line hanging down from the ceiling right above my head and am now holding over a red jar candle surrounded by holly leaves, letting the candle’s flickering flame eat away at the stupid decoration. I feel a tad calmer once the paper snowflake is incinerated into ash inside the jar, just like I always do when I light something on fire that annoys me and it instantly disappears. And since I can’t exactly light everyone in this room on fire, the shit hanging above my head that I have to keep smacking out of the way as I make drinks for people all night will have to do.
“Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” is playing from the sound system, people are enjoying the Christmas cocktails I’ve been churning out all night, and they’re all happily dressed in their best and gaudiest Christmas sweaters. This is a time of great joy and happiness, and I look around the room and just want to burn it all to the ground. It’s not that I hate Christmas, exactly; I’m just more annoyed than normal this year, and it’s all my boyfriend’s fault, so he has to die. Repeatedly and tragically.
“Heads up!”
Even though I’m distracted and in a shit mood, my reflexes are still spot on. My hand flies out to catch the small foam Santa stress ball that just came flying at me from across the room. I carefully toss it back high over the heads of guests to my nephew-through-friendship, Owen, before popping the top off a bottle of beer and sliding it over to Gina from Starboard Sweets.
The only good thing about bartending this Christmas party, aside from the extra money, is that all of my friends are in attendance and I get to see them while I work. Palmer and Birdie have been wrapped around each other in a corner, sucking face all night in between talking everyone’s ears off about their wedding plans. Shepherd has been taking last-minute Christmas orders for his stupid shirts covered in glitter. Wren and Owen have been playing catch with the stress balls they gave out as party favors. Laura, Birdie and Wren’s mom, has been juggling two dates all night, who still aren’t aware they’re both on a date with the same woman. Murphy keeps getting yelled at for turning the Christmas music off because it gives him a headache, and now he’s over by the hors d’oeuvres table handing a kid an entire plate of cookies after making him cry. And Emily has been teaching everyone the “Jingle Bell Rock” dance from Mean Girls. So, pretty much just your typical Friday night on Summersweet Island.
“Jeanine Char just told me the news about Bodhi meeting his unfortunate demise when a squirrel jumped out of the Christmas tree he cut down and chewed off his carotid artery.”
