Page 19 of Ho Ho Oh No

Kri and I have noticed Val has certain triggers involving her parents. And when they occur, she starts clinging to any glimpseof safety she can find. Especially around days that she would normally have spent with her family.

Her mother’s birthday was the first time she asked if we’d teach her how to shoot. The morning after her sixteenth birthday, she sat us down and asked to review every single security procedure we have in place. She wanted to know about our training, weapons, tech, tracking, and requested time with Klein and Tomer to review IT security. Then she peppered us with questions about protocol we’ve had for other clients. Kri got the feeling Val was inquiring because she wanted to green-light us to kick things up a notch if we could. As if to say she’d no longer stand in the way.

Sure, she played it off like she was curious and eager to learn. But Kri and I saw through it.

Val’s terrified. Even if she doesn’t know it.

And she’s damn tired of feeling powerless.

Each holiday or event seems to drag up those feelings, floating them right to the surface.

Perhaps I’ve spent the last hour worried about all the wrong things.

First smart thought you’ve had all day, you wanker.

When you’re right, you’re right, conscience.

Chapter 5

New phone. Who dis?

VAL

Fuck Trevor “Junior” Donoghue.

Not very holiday spirit of me, is it? Probably not the vibe you’d expect on Christmas Eve.

Well, tough shit. I don’t care about the day, the time of year, or the reason for the season.

Junior canFa La La Lathe fuck rightout of my life.

He’s more jerk-off than jingle bells. More snake than Santa.

I have no time for fake friends. My life is going places.

The great Taylor Swift, arguably the secular Mother Teresa of my generation, said it best when she said, “If a man talks shit, then I owe him nothing.”

And I owe Junior absolutely nothing.

Chapter 6

A very boujie Christmas

SAWYER

Like most things in life, the secret to a stellar costume is quality. Spare no expense.

For example, if you want your elf ears to pass as believable, you need to spring for the showbiz-grade prosthetics. The little plastic ones you get with those cheap bagged Halloween costumes aren’t going to cut it. Bah humbug on those. They aren’t approved by me.

Unless you’ve forgotten, you already know I’m bougie as fuck. So what else would you expect from me other than a costume so fancy that I could pass as an extra on the set of the best holiday film of all time,Elf. And if you disagree with my holiday movie taste, how does it feel to be wrong? I wouldn’t know.

Anyhow, I pulled out all the stops when designing and purchasing costumes for Sammy and myself. As you’d expect, we’re coordinated like any self-respecting couple attending a party.

During one of the many long days at Redleg, Lettie and Sammy formed a party-planning committee. After the success of Tomer’s proposal to Lettie a few weeks ago, which Sammy and I helped facilitate, my wife got a wild hair up her ass anddecided everything would be better if she could help coordinate it. I suspect it’s boredom. She’s taking an interest in festivity planning to prevent going stir-crazy.

As to the theme of the Redleg Holiday Bash, did I influence their decision by dropping hints about costumes? Perhaps.

A magazine opened to a specific page here. A joke about how funny Leo would look dressed up like Scrooge there. Or the occasional funny video featuring themed parties might have found a way to Sammy’s phone.

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