Page 104 of Christmas Criminal

I take another egg out, throwing it gently into the air again, and lob it at one of the second floor windows.

Good luck cleaning that, jackass.

"Hey, what the fuck?" he says, storming out further.

When he's only a few feet away from me, beer bottle dangling from between his fingers, he pauses. "Wait, are you the guy who's dating my daughter? I fuckingknewyou were bad news."

I scoff, taking another egg out and throwing it at the front door. "Yeah,I'mbad news. I'm a fucking math teacher, dude."

He points at me, his beer bottle sloshing as he does. "Get the fuck off my property."

"Not until I've thrown all dozen eggs."

He shakes his head as he rushes toward me, but I hold them out of reach before he can grab them.

As I take another and attempt to throw it at the front door, he moves in just the right way that, instead, it hits him right on the forehead.

His eyes are wild when he fixes them on me.

And for the first time, I wonder if I made the wrong decision.

He charges at me, and in my state of surprise, I don't manage to move out of the way before his fist connects with my eye.

I see stars as I stumble backward, holding the eggs to my chest.

And then I realize it's not stars I'm seeing, but the red and blue lights of a police cruiser. It lets out awhoop whoopas it pulls gently out from behind an oversized van parked along the curb.

"Fuuuuuuck," Noelle's dad shouts, chugging the rest of his beer as the cruiser slowly moves toward us, turning at the last second so we have a clear view of Hank pushing the door open and stepping out, Santa suit and all.

"Back of the fucking car, Tom," Hank barks, opening it for him.

He throws the empty bottle onto the ground with a dramatic shatter and trudges over, tucking himself into the backseat while cursing both of us out.

Hank stalks toward me, hands on his hips. "Are you gonna go ahead and finish off those eggs? Or are you going to take that punch for nothing?"

I don't hesitate. One by one, I hit each of his windows and the door a couple more times, too.

Hank sighs when I'm done and claps a hand on my shoulder. "Come on, let's get you back to the girls. Noelle is worried about you. And it's probably best to get you back there before that eye of yours gets any worse."

My hand flies up to my face, and as my fingers brush over the skin below my eye, I flinch.

"Yeah, you're gonna be looking real pretty for a couple weeks."

I swallow. "So I'm not in trouble?"

He sighs. "Look, I'll deal with you later. For now, let's get you back to Christmas."

Back to Christmas. Back to Noelle.

I can feel my eye swelling as I turn toward my car, and when I try to open it and pinch it closed again, my contact pops right out of my eye and falls to the ground.

Probably for the best, if it's only going to get worse.

But driving with one eye when it's starting to get dark out feels like a recipe for disaster.

"Uh, Hank? Could I possibly get a ride? I don't think I can see well enough to drive."

He lets out a long sigh. "Yeah. Hop in."

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