Page 38 of The Sleight Before Christmas

“So, what’s that prove? Make it make sense,” Whitney defends.

“Because I set Mr. Potato Earsup,” I state. “Thatch said, ‘Amazon shipped it late,’ but I knew better because I didn’t want the exact teapot I saw on McGee and Co. website untilthat night—”

“I love McGee and—” Erin starts.

“Me too, but stay on point, sister. We have a snitch in our midst, and we all know in this family, snitches getstitches,” I tell her. “Payback is in order, and we need to hurry up with a game plan before your husband cracks that window. I raise my hand and we all silently listen. “Erin, do one more check before battle.”

“Battle?” Whitney gulps.

“All clear, and it does seem a little harsh,” Erin states. “I mean, nothing but good has come out of it, right?”

“Horse shit, girl’s night issacred. It’s not like we’re crashing their ball sack pack party right now.”

“Ball sack pack?” Whitney giggles.

“I just came up with it. What do you think?” I look between them, and they nod. “Anyhoo, we can’t let them fuck with girl’s night. And don’t forget, we’ve shared plenty of girls-onlyshit out here too, probably stuff they’ve usedagainstus.”

“That fucker,” Whitney giggles, lifting her sparkling finger. “I love him so much.”

“Yes,newlywed, we know. Give it a few more years, and you’ll have a healthy distaste for him like a real wife,” I jest.

“No way,” she says in denial as Erin and I give one another knowing grins.

“Hear that, Erin? Whit thinks they’ll be different,” I roll my eyes, my straw getting further away from my mouth with every sip as I perk my ears, and they tilt their heads, listening too.

“Still clear,” Erin reports, now on a mission.

“Remember what else we talked about that night?” Whitney asks as we all still, racking our alcohol-soaked brains.

“Vaguely, but,” Erin palms Whitney’s arm as if she’s just been doused by ice water. “The backward hat trick! Oh. Em. Gee, Brenden does it all the damned time now! It’s why I gotpregnantwith Jameson,” she fumes. “Your husband got me pregnant!” Erin booms at Whitney, who immediately bursts into laughter. “You know what I mean,” Erin corrects before shaking her head, “that summamma bitch.”

“Erin!” Whitney and I sound before gaping at her in shock. Reason is, that our sweet sister-in-law, who married into this family, is a borderline saint—especially after marrying our idiot brother.

“Twenty-sixhours of labor and the epidural wore off,” Erin justifies in one sentence.

“Oh yeah,” I bob my head, “payback is in high order.”

“Off with his head,” Erin says mercilessly.

“I do love him, but I’m kinda living for this,” Whitney laughs maniacally, rubbing her mitten-covered hands together. “So, what do you have in mind?”

“A tactic that always works called divide and conquer,” I waggle my brows. “Something tells me we don’t have much time, so follow my lead.”

Too afraid to spook them by having Erin look, and knowing the clock is ticking, we all remain quiet for a few long minutes, racing one another on finishing our sippy cups. Just as Whitney releases her straw to call bullshit, we hear a tell-tale squeak, followed by a slide. The three of us lift our lips in matching Grinch smiles before we burst into Oscar-worthy chatter. It’s Whitney, though, who goes straight for the gold when her comment cuts through the air, landing hardest.

“I think Eli is afraid to ask for a finger in the ass.”

“Ithink Eli is afraid to ask for a finger in the ass,” Whitney booms so loud in announcement that I duck for cover as Brenden immediately dry heaves. Eli’s eyes bulge out of his head before he shakes it like he just took a punch to the throat and is scrambling for recovery.

“Why do you think that?” Erin asks, concern in her voice as if it’s everyday conversation, just as Eli furiously swats at us while Brenden and me chuckle like hyenas.

“Shut the fuck up,” Eli whisper-yells. “I didn’t tell you guys this year to get myself busted inminute one. And she’s full of shit, I’ve never talked about anal—”

“I have a vibrating butt plug,” Whitney interjects, cutting off his objection. “He drank tequila tonight. It makes him crazy. So, I’m going to lube him up and use it on him.”

“The. Fuck. She. Is,” Eli shakes his head adamantly, even as the tequila buzz crazes his icy eyes in a pretty damned distinguishable way.

“Do guys ... really like that?” Erin asks. “I mean ... really?”

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