A Manhattanite's Christmas

  “Why would Lex agree to help?” I pause, drawing my own conclusions.

  “Everyone in town knows how hard you’ve worked to stay sober, right?”

  Shoulders back, I nod somewhat proudly, while also still filled with so much shame over my past wrongdoings, demons, and addictions. Yes, I’m an alcoholic. The ugly kind, the one who will drink anything—gin, beer, or even mouthwash. If it has a proof in it, I’ll drink it. But not anymore. A few days before Liam’s arrival I got sober and quick, and haven’t looked back.

  Funny how having a kid come into your life can do that. Therapists say you’re supposed to change for yourself, not for someone else. I didn’t. I quit drinking because this little boy’s mother went to prison and he had no one to count on, except me.

  Me.

  A man who could barely take care of himself a few years ago…

  Now with a kid, who’s on the spectrum.

  We’ve done pretty well together, Liam and me. Well, except for the money part. Ruby has an offshore bank account in the Caribbean somewhere. She offered me a ton of money to help care for Liam, but I didn’t take it. It’s stolen blood money, funds from her victims. The very money she’d gone to jail over. I can’t have that in my son’s life, or really in mine for that matter.

  “It’s all over the news that York Airways has gone belly-up,” Taddy declares as if she always has the inside scoop on everything, largely in part because she does.

  “True. Soon they’ll merge with one of the bigger companies like Delta or United. I can reapply to work there after New Year’s, but for now I’m out of a paycheck.”

  “You won’t take any handouts from your brother or me—”

  “This sounds like a handout.” Suddenly my judgment feels a bit clouded.

  Amusement flickers in Taddy’s eyes. “Trust me when I say that spending two full weeks married to Neve Adele is going to be the hardest work you’ll ever do.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “It’s true, darling. You may be the king of fixing airplanes, raising an autistic child, and being a sexy playboy, but Neve is high maintenance.”

  Having endured my fair share of female drama over the years, I express my confidence that I’ll be able to handle her.

  “Neve’s insecure, fame-obsessed, sassy, cunning, and will do whatever it takes to get to the top. You’ll need to watch your back.” Taddy kneels on the seagrass rug, stacking a green Lego on top of a yellow one with Liam.

  “She’d throw her own husband under the bus on TV?” I ask, summing Neve up as best I know how.

  “You bet, my darling. Totally.” With her left hand she brushes a strand of curly blond hair out of Liam’s eye, causing him to smile. Not at Taddy, just at the world in general. I love when my son smiles.

  This will be our second Christmas together. I think back on all the things I bought for him last year: learning books, toys made especially for children with autism, and a new bedroom design so he’d enjoy it and feel safe.

  Not only are my priorities this holiday different than last year’s, but they are tens of thousands of dollars more expensive. I’m going to fight Ruby for full custody of Liam. Right now the family court has me scheduled to return Liam to his mother after she’s released from jail.

  I won’t let that happen.

  Mind you, I’m not going to prevent Ruby from seeing Liam. Regardless of what people say about me, I’m not a complete asshole. She may have him on weekends if she so desires. But I don’t think she will. In fact, I know she won’t.

  See, when Ruby had Liam, she retained care providers, who took care of him around the clock. There was a weekday nanny, a nurse who stayed overnight, and a babysitter for the weekends.

  After Ruby went to jail, I met with each of them to learn more about Liam—his routines, likes and dislikes, and so on. Ruby couldn’t answer those basic questions for me because she spent virtually no time getting to know our son. My son.

  There’s a bond an autistic child has with their parent. It’s not instant gratification, but they know deep down inside that their mom and dad are there for them. It’s intuitive. My son may be on the spectrum, but he’s not just special. He’s gifted. Something Ruby never noticed.

  “What happens after the show is over?” I ask, leaning my thoughts more toward a ‘yes’ than a ‘no’ on the reality TV show fake marriage matter.

  “Hmmm. I imagine you two could get the whole thing annulled, although that would have to be on the down-low. The producers are airing this show a week after it tapes. For example, they’ll shoot a day or two of footage, it goes into editing, and then it’s broadcasted.”

  “Why so quickly?” Just the mere thought of being seen on TV makes my stomach twist into unfamiliar knots.

  “They want to air reality shows as if they’re happening right here and now. It’s hard to shoot a show, which takes place in the winter, have it produced, and then aired over the summer. The networks only do that on shows they aren’t sure will perform well.”

  “How do they know this show is going to be popular?” I ask in a harsh raw voice, still unsure if I want to move forward with Taddy’s idea.

  “The celebrities they’ve booked guarantee it.”

  My forehead wrinkles in confusion, but I try to give off an air of confidence.

  “Didn’t Kiki e-mail you the cast?”

  I bite the inside of my lower lip before admitting, “I don’t know any of them. None of the names appear familiar.”

  “For reals?”

  “You know I don’t own a television, let alone watch one.”

  Having a child like Liam makes me want to try and raise him in a ‘low media’ home. That means no TV, and he doesn’t get to play on a tablet. No Minecraft, that’s for sure. Instead we use passive toys, such as building blocks, to make him more active mentally. Experts say having active toys like video games make the child mentally passive. I can’t risk it. Not with Liam. There’s too much at stake.

  “Celebrity Newlywed Boot Camp is going to be LUX TV’s highest-rated show.”

  “For the season?”

  “No. As in the history of nighttime programming.”

  “Huh?” Feeling light-headed from all of this information, I sit down on the sofa and admire Taddy playing with Liam. She’s gorgeous on the inside as well as out. My brother sure is lucky to have found a woman like Taddy Brill.

  “The Super Bowl’s highest-rated show was just over one hundred million viewers, sometimes up to two hundred million. In the 80s, CBS had a show called Dallas. Back then, over seventy-five percent of all televisions in the United States tuned in to watch who shot their main hero-slash-villain, J.R. Ewing.”

  “So?” I shrug.

  “Do you know how many eyes that is on one single show?”

  “No. Can’t say that I do.” I try to swallow the dry pocket of nerves welling up in the back of my throat.

  “Celebrity Newlywed Boot Camp will have so much marketing behind it that the network is saying they’ll have a higher viewership than Survivor, American Idol, and The Bachelor ever did when they first aired.”

  “None of that means anything to me.” I’m not a star-fucker or a fame whore.

  “Well, it means everything to Neve. She’s banking on this show to relaunch her career and brand.” Taddy glances at her Rolex. “You better get going.”

  I stand, realizing my palms are sweaty. I rub them over the tops of my jeans, which Taddy notices.

  “Nervous?”

  “I haven’t said yes yet. So no,” I lie.

  “Not about the show, silly. I mean about going on a date with Neve tonight.”

  “Ha! It’s not a real date. And have you ever seen me nervous of a woman?” I ask, spacing the words out evenly.

  “Neve isn’t just some woman. For starter, she’s stunning. People say that they can’t stop staring at her. She’s angelic and yet every man’s sexual fantasy. Hell, she’s even some women’s fantasies too.”

  “I don’t want
to know.” Sarcastically I cover my ears to shut down the very thought of Taddy with another woman. After all, this is my brother’s soon-to-be wife.

  With Liam in her arms, Taddy walks me to the door.

  “I love you, monkey.” I kiss my son on the forehead. “Be good for Aunt Taddy.”

  “I brought an overnight bag, so I can stay here tonight if you and Neve get carried away and find yourself… you know, enjoying the moment.”

  I roll my eyes. “Not gonna happen.”

  “Wanna bet?” Shifting Liam from one hip to the other, Taddy sticks out her hand. “A thousand dollars you sleep with her tonight.”

  I shake Taddy’s hand knowing full well I don’t have a thousand dollars, but am up for the challenge. “This is strictly a business meeting to see if we can do the TV show together. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  Her sparkling green eyes, which are heavily shadowed in makeup, narrow into two fine slits. “Uh-huh.”

  “Thanks again for babysitting Liam tonight.”

  “My pleasure.” Lifting her chin and giving me a probing gaze, she adds with sincere delight, “We’re going to watch A Christmas Carol and get in the holiday spirit. Just remember to watch your back. Neve is ruthless for fame. But who knows? Maybe you can thaw out her heart.”

  “Noted.” Unsure as to why, I feel my pulse starting to race with a pinch of excitement.

  The Big Monster

  Greenwich Village

  Neve

  Me: Text me when UR on my block.

  Him: OK!

  Me: I’ll come down & meet U @ sidewalk.

  Him: I’m here. Parked out front.

  Me: U drove?

  Him: I’m in the big monster.

  Me: WTF is that???

  Him: Wait and C :-)

  Hmmm. Guess he doesn’t like to cab it like I do.

  I take one final glance at myself in the mirror. My hair is how I like it, beach-like wavy. Someone would probably look at my locks and think I did my hair in two seconds, but this carefree style takes up to an hour. Wearing a sleeveless colorblock leather dress from Lex’s line, Easton Essentials, I throw a Gucci denim jacket over my outfit to add a dash of casualness to my appearance. Then I spritz the back of my neck and wrists with my signature perfume.

  I never let a man I don’t know pick me up at my townhouse, but since he’s a friend of Taddy’s, I figure there’s no harm in letting him meet me on the block. Right?

  Right!

  Inhaling the crisp air, I take the final step off my stoop and face the eyesore before me.

  A tall hunky man steps out of the vehicle making his way toward me.

  Normally if a hot man saunters in front of me, like Sheldon Truman, I can’t stop staring at him. Yes, it’s to the point where they get uncomfortable. I get all embarrassed, and totally clam up.

  Tonight?

  Not so much.

  Instead, I cock my head and take a shallow breath. I can’t stop staring at whatever the fudge it is Sheldon came out from. Suddenly my gaze unfocuses and I start to pray.

  Dear Universe!

  We haven’t talked in a while. Probably not since that time I ran away from a foster home up in Patterson. Anyways, I realize taking advantage of the whole sacrament of marriage and all just so I can become more visible on TV, and sell my brand, is w-r-o-n-g. However, you sure do have a flippin’ hilarious sense of humor by having my date pick me up in some hunk of metal that appears to be from the fictional planet of Cybertron where Transformers come from. WTF!

  Please give me the strength to look past his wheels and the energy to get through tonight.

  Love ‘ya,

  Neve

  PS, my last single didn’t score too well. Could you please get the DJs in Ibiza to spin it more often? Thanks.

  Quickly, I scan the area for paparazzi. Thank God there aren’t any photographers around to get a load of this eyesore of metal.

  “You must be Neve.”

  I nod, sticking out my hand to shake his in return.

  Resembling actor Michael Fassbender’s height and frame, he wears a leather biker jacket with his thick wavy hair parted at the side.

  He sweeps me into his arms and hugs me.

  Whoa!

  My hands wrap around his shoulders. Daaang. My body presses against his hard and hot-as-fuck muscular body. Yes, please, Sheldon Truman, take me right here, right now in front of my Greenwich Village nosey neighbors. Suddenly, it’s as if I don’t have a care in the world. All that nervous anxiety about his hideous wheels goes right out the window. And there I am, in the middle of the street, hugging this huge beefcake of bad-boy love.

  Nipples taught. Scalp tingly. My toes nearly curl as he exhales down the back of my neck, causing a scent of wicked spearmint to wake my delusional ass up.

  Keep it together, Neve.

  “Nice to meet you,” I mutter over his shoulder breathlessly before pulling back to get a better look at him. “You are one handsome man.”

  Jesus, he’s hot.

  Now, unlike Mr. Fassbender, Sheldon has a beard, thicker than I remember from seeing him at the Brill, Inc. office. And he smells like musk mixed with a pinch of… motor oil?

  We turn and start to walk toward his vehicle. To be honest I can’t feel my feet right now going one in front of the other. I just hope I make it to the truck without fainting. I’ve done it before; I get all light-headed and then bam! I’m out like a freak in heat.

  Black with neon blue lettering down the side, which reads ‘Stone Cold,’ even the tires are supersized. The frame has to be at least twelve feet from the ground up.

  “What kind of SUV is this?” I ask, tilting my head from side to side, weighing my choices. “Oh wait! Don’t tell me. This is one of those new Volvo XC90s that everyone’s been talking about. You know, I hear that no one has ever been killed while riding in one. Is that true?”

  “This is no Volvo.”

  I give an impatient huff before taking a second guess. “A Chevy Yukon? Now, Shel, I’ve heard they get terrible gas mileage, but you could climb Mt. Logan in one. Hence where the name comes from, the Yukon Territory.”

  “Nope.” He turns his face up with the sexiest grin I’ve ever seen and takes my hand.

  An erotic chill shivers up my spine, causing my legs to feel weaker than before. And my mind? Well, it’s jumping to dirty thoughts of him on top of me, kissing me, ripping my clothes off, growling in my ear. With that beard and all, Lord knows Sheldon sure does look like a growler.

  Oh. My. I shake my head to center myself.

  “This here is my monster truck.” He opens the door for me as he thrusts his pecs out. Or at least they suddenly seem much more in my face than before.

  “As in those things that go in the mud and smash other cars?” Unsure how to get up to my seat, I stare at the tires for a minute. Then his big hands come wide, lifting me up in the air as if I were a feather and tossing me onto the seat.

  Like a schoolgirl, I giggle and then bite my lower lip to get myself under control. Last thing I need to be doing is getting weird on him and revealing my inner geek goddess. I can do that later. Much later.

  He closes my door, comes around to the driver’s side, and climbs in.

  Grabbing the seat belt behind my shoulder, I ask, “I didn’t think these types of trucks were permitted on the road?”

  As the engine starts it’s just as I imagined—loud, almost thunderous. The entire truck hums against my legs, causing a vibration to radiate all the way to my pussy. I cross my arms over my breasts because, yes, those are also starting to bounce. This is crazy.

  “Sure they’re allowed on the road. You just don’t see them very often in Manhattan.” His cool voice causes me to focus. I put my hands on my knees and push down.

  “You know what they say about men who drive jacked-up trucks like this, don’t you?”

  “No. What?”

  “That they have little dicks.” Unable to control myself, I burst out laughing.

>   Waiting for me to collect myself, he leans back in his seat ever so slightly, revealing his third leg of a crotch. His package is full, that’s for sure.

  “Let me know when you’re ready to dispel that urban myth.” His voice is low and smooth and nearly causes me to orgasm right there in the truck.

  I swallow hard remembering something Taddy had told me once about Sheldon’s much older brother, Warner. That she’d nicknamed him ‘Big Daddy’ in bed because he’d had the largest cock she’d ever seen.

  Taddy had once confessed, “I swear, when Big Daddy dropped his pants for the very first time I laughed so hard. Not because it was funny, but because I was nervous as hell. His penis was unscrupulous, like something out of National Geographic or at least The Guinness Book of World Records. I thought for sure he was going to destroy every female body part I owned.”

  At the time, we were having brunch with her magazine editor friend Vive Farnsworth, who owns Debauchery. Vive had added, “Well, honey, that’s what they have vaginal rejuvenation for, now isn’t it.”

  I nearly died. Who talks like that? Vive Farnworth, that’s who.

  Certain this must run in the Truman family, I realize everything about Sheldon is big. His hands. His truck. His dick. And I’m hoping his heart.

  He shifts into first as we pull out of Greenwich Village.

  Let’s get real here. I haven’t been this high up, able to look down at the tops of everyone’s heads, since the day I took one of those NYC double-decker bus tours. Which was before I became famous. Now I could never go out in public like that without being mauled.

  “Where do you park?” Fascinated, I can’t help myself. I obsess over his dick. Wait! I mean his truck, honest!

  “I own a garage up in Harlem. My son and I live in the apartment above it.”

  “Taddy says you’re a mechanic. Do you have a shop?”

  “No.” He shifts into second as we pull out onto Hudson Street and head north, eventually taking Eighth Avenue uptown. “I’ve thought about it. I prefer to fix airplanes, not automobiles.”