Yeah. I’m the dick. Declan Cannavale is the dick, everyone! Welcome to Dickville—population Me.
Corporate lawyers are easy targets.
Even when they totally aren’t dicks.
Not really.
Would a dick order a Hot Toddy at a shitty hotel bar—three times?
“Another whiskey Hot Toddy, Rick,” I say to the bartender, who may or may not be named Rick. But hey—sometimes people get mistaken for a dick, and sometimes they get mistaken for a Rick. “Hot Toddies for everyone!” I call out. “On me!” The pathetic crowd of about ten lame people cheers in a half-assed loser-y kind of way.
They certainly seem more excited to hear about the free Hot Toddies than they do the shitty band that’s been playing shitty jazz versions of Christmas songs.
I’m having fun though. I’m having a great time. This is exactly how I pictured things going with Maddie once I’d gotten her away from the office, to a hotel in another city. I definitely did not plan to get her naked and fuck her fifty different ways into the New Year. Because that would have been wrong and bad. It would have been good and wrong, but it would have been bad in the very bad way. And she deserves better. “So damn slappable,” she said. “Infuriating,” she called me. I might be those things. Sometimes. To some people. But I’m also fun. I’m more fun than eating in a shitty hotel restaurant by yourself, that’s for sure.
I check my phone again to confirm that she has continued to heed my warning to leave me alone.
She has. Good. Now she does what I ask her to do. Because I’m the Grinch who tries to make out with her in an elevator, and who’d want to hang out with that guy?
Except I’m fun. I am the axis around which all festive gatherings revolve. I’ll show her.
I gulp down my Hot Toddy—fuck, I shouldn’t have done that because it’s hot—and then I hop off my seat at the bar. And I strut on over to the shitty little stage with all the swagger—swagger and fun—of a great entertainer. Because that’s what I am. A fucking entertaining delight who’s about to save Christmas for these pathetic losers in Whoville tonight.
The “singer” finishes the shitty song and says that they’re about to take a break, and that’s when I step up and take the mic from her.
“Thanks, Shirley—let’s hear it for Shirley and the band, everyone!” Her name might not be Shirley, but I usher Shirley off the stage and signal to the band to stay where they are. I tell them what to play next—because I’m the boss here—and say into the mic again, “Let’s get this party started, Youngtown!”
I’m gonna jingle the fuck out of this Christmas carol. I’m gonna sing it like the badass crooner that I am, because fuck you, Michael Bublé. Dean Martin is better than you, and so am I!
“Dashing through the snow—sing it with me!
In a one-horse open sleigh
O’er the fields we go
Laughing all the way—because we’re happy!
Bells on bobtails ring—what’s a bobtail?
Making spirits bright—am I right?
What fun it is to ride and sing
A sleighing song tonight—we having fun yet?!
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way—can’t hear you!
Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh, hey
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way
Oh, what fun it is to ride
In a one-horse open sleigh.”
I signal to the band to stop playing. “You know what—this is wrong. Stop! Nope. Fuck the happy songs. Not everyone is jingling all the way through the holidays, and they deserve to feel like they’re a part of this too. Y’know? Because they aren’t a part of anything else right now. If they were, they wouldn’t be here in this shitty hotel bar. Who’s feeling sad this Christmas? Show of hands.” My hand, the one that’s not holding the microphone, stays exactly where it is. Because I am not sad. Sad is for other people. Sad is for people who aren’t fun or cool enough to be angry.
I see a couple of guys and one messy-haired drunk lady with their hands up. “Okay, good. Sad is good. Sad is real. Sad…is beautiful. Good for you—sad, lonely losers! Good for you! I’m gonna ask who else is angry next, okay, but sad people—this one’s for you.” I turn to the band and tell them what to play. “This is a song about a reliable little fir tree I like to call…Tannenbaum. We don’t have enough songs about trees, you know that? Why is that? All songs should be about trees. All year long. Trees never break your heart. Trees don’t wear sweater dresses and then slap you in the face when you’re kissing them. Trees aren’t a constant reminder of how little you have to offer them, even when you really, really want to give them…something…anything…any broken piece of you that they’re willing to take… Fuck yeah, trees. This one’s for all the sad people and all the awesome Tannenbaums out there who never make people sad.”
Sixteen
Maddie
LUST CHRISTMAS
PIPER: Wait what?!?! OMG LOL SERIOUSLY?! You are in Ohio with Declan RN? I knew it! I knew you guys would HEA!!!
ME: Calm down. It’s a work thing. Sort of. We are not a couple, and we are definitely not HEAing. Is that a verb now?
BEX: Wow. You called it, Piper! #MACLAN
PIPER: Wait. How did you know about Maclan, Mother? I never told you.
BEX: Um. You must have. How else would I know about it?
PIPER: Aunt Maddie please get me a safe for Christmas. Or let me move in with you kthx.
BEX: I totally do not read your fanfic Piper!!! When would I even have the time?!
PIPER: How would you even know that I write fanfic if you weren’t snooping in my room?! OH MY GAWD GET A LIFE, MOTHER! AND FYI I’M TOTALLY GETTING A SPECIAL LOCK FOR MY ROOM!!!!!
ME: Happy holidays, everyone! See you in a couple of days!
BEX:
