Page 30 of Oh Holy Knight

Chapter Nine

Wolf

I crankthe music all the way up, Darlene Love’s rendition of White Christmas filling the bar. After all, it isn’t really Christmas if Phil Spector’s Christmas album isn’t playing. Turning back around, my eyes do a sweep of the bar.

I did it.

Despite the renovation woes, getting arrested, and every other damn thing that tried to stand in my way this year.

I fucking did it.

The annual toy run went off without a hitch, Toys For Tots picked up our donation this morning and my kids are currently handing out presents at Frankie’s House. There’s a fifteen-foot spruce in the back of the bar all lit up in green, white, and red lights, and tons of presents sit underneath it. The stockings—all fifty-two of them—have been hung with care and Commandhooks. All the tables have been pushed together to create one giant one and there are fifty-five chairs gathered around it, one for every person attending and three extra.

One for Jack Junior.

Another for Bones.

And one for my Frankie.

Christmas in Heaven, what do they do?

They come down to Earth to spend it with you.

So leave an empty chair.

You may not see them, but they will be there.

I lift my glass of eggnog and salute the empty room.

“This one is for you, son. Merry Christmas in Heaven,” I whisper.

I wish you were here.

The kitchen doors swing open as I knock back the creamy drink and Lady struts out all dolled up, her heels clicking away. I lower the glass and smile at her.

“I’m really digging the Mrs. Claus apron, Lady,” I say, winding my arm around her waist. She angles her head and I press a kiss to her lips. It’s a miracle she hasn’t divorced me after all the shit I put her through. Inching back, she touches a hand to my cheek.

“I wore it for Santa,” she says, with a wink. Then, she turns and glances around the bar. “Everything looks great, Al,” she murmurs. “You did good.”

“We did good,” I correct.

If it weren’t for Maria… well, I don’t know where I’d be. My best guess is I’d probably be sitting in the cemetery, starring down the barrel of a gun. I put on a brave face for my sons and for Sophie, but the nights were dark after I lost Frankie. Maria guided me through the darkness, she held me when I cried and when I questioned my faith, she sat beside me in church and prayed with me.

“We should start frying the calamari that way it’s nice and fresh when everyone arrives,” she says, smoothing a hand over my Santa suit. It fits like a glove now that she took the hem out.

“Lead the way,” I reply, giving her ass a pat. Santa is most definitely going to have fun tonight.

The door opens and my first wife strolls in carrying a large aluminum tray.

“I’m here and I have the crabs!”

“Well, that ain’t something I ever thought I’d hear you say,” I quip, unwinding my arm from Maria’s waist. I round the bar and take the tray from her hands, leaning in to give her a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for bailing me out, Merry Christmas.”

When I called Patty and told her I only had five out of the seven fishes, she offered to make her infamous crab sauce. That brought us to six and gave me the idea to call in the reinforcements—who would’ve thought having a slew of ex-wives would come in handy. Carmella, my second wife, should be here any minute with the baked clams, and there you have it ladies and gents, the makings of an Italian Christmas.

“There’s another tray in my car,” she says. I leave her and Maria chatting in the bar and take the tray into the kitchen. When I come out, I grab her keys off the bar and head outside for the second tray. As soon as my boots touch the wooden porch I hear something rustle around on the side of the bar. Figuring it’s probably a deer or maybe a raccoon, I brush it off and start for the steps. Then, I hear it again and this time it’s accompanied by a shrill screech. I freeze, my eyes sliding from my right to left. I spot a baseball bat at the other end of the porch and quickly grab it before descending the stairs. Quiet like a mouse, I hitch the bat over my shoulder and round the side of the bar.

The screeching stops, but it’s replaced with the soft cries of a child. I round the corner and that’s when I see a tall lanky man standing next to the dumpster, beside him stands two little boys who shiver and tug on his leg.

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