Page 59 of Holly Freakin' Hughes

“Oh,uh, yeah. Just … having an off day, I guess,” I muttered, taken aback. Hewidened his eyes, allowing the light to brighten the blue, and glared at meknowingly. “He just threw me off coming here. It’s fine.”

“Mm.”He pursed his lips, and he knew I was lying. “Seeing him tonight?”

Ishook my head and filled him in on my plans. “Breakfast at Tiffany’sisalready waiting in the Blu-ray player and my bottles are already on the backstoop, chilling to perfection.” My fists clenched with my enthusiasm. “It’sgoing to beamazing.”

Brandonlaughed, stretching his legs out. He clasped his hands behind his head beforeyawning. “Sounds good to me,” he said, mid-yawn.

“Tired?”

Heblinked his eyes slowly and gave me a sidelong glance. “Exhausted, actually.I’ve been doing a lot of work stuff that’s wiping me out, but …” He shrugged.“Anyway, doing nothing soundsamazing.”

“Really?”

“Oh,hell yeah. I’ve been to enough New Year’s parties to know that I’d rather notbe at one.” His nose wrinkled as he shook his head with disgust. “Besides,what’s the point if I don’t have someone to kiss at midnight? I always getstuck sitting on the couch with the pet cat, watching everybody around me makeout, and then someone’s grandma comes over to try and con me into kissingher…” He cringed while I laughed. “Yeah, no thanks.”

Andwith that, he pulled himself from the bean bag chair, extending a hand down tome while visions of kissing him danced through my head. I grabbed a hold,falling victim just a little to the way my body seemed to instantly warm at thetouch of his hand.

Witha kiss on my cheek, Brandon wished me a good night and a happy New Year. Thenhe turned, preparing himself to walk away when he stopped short. He faltered abit before turning around, his jaw working with determination before taking astep towards me.

“Hey,Holly? I know we both have crazy nights planned, but if you decide that beingalone isn’t all its cut out to be, why don’t you give me a call?” And as if hehad the whole thing planned, he pulled a pad of paper and a pen from his pocketand scribbled what I assumed to be a number. Extending the piece of paper tome, he shrugged and added, “You know, if you feel like watchingBreakfast atTiffany’swith someone.”

***

Amusical rendition of “Moon River” played dreamily through the speakers of theTV, as Holly Golightly walked through the streets of New York City as theopening credits rolled. Holly, donning her oversized sunglasses and littleblack dress, stops at the window of Tiffany’s, drinks a sip of her coffee andtakes a gander in the other windows to marvel at the displays of jewelry shewill never possess.

Ifeel your pain, sister.

Sprawledout on the couch, I held my bottle in the crook of my arm with my chin pressedagainst the gaping mouth of its opening. My one-woman party had begun before Ihad given the movie the okay to start rolling. In fact, it had started themoment Liz bundled Anna up and walked out the door. That was when I crackedopen a bottle of beer and treated myself to a nice, warm bubble bath beforetaking the other two beers from the fridge to drink while enjoying an episodeofFrasier; it was the one where Frasier’s brother Niles proposes toDaphne.

“Nobodywill ever marry me,” I had said to Camille, curled up on the couch beside me,and I hugged my knees to my chest with a sorrowful sigh and gave the Blu-rayplayer permission to getBreakfast at Tiffany’sgoing.

IfI was honest, the night hadn’t been picking me up the way I had hoped it would.I mean, it wasn’t that I hadn’t enjoyed my bath, or that the quiet house wasn’tgiving me the sense of independence that I had been missing from my apartmentin the city. But looking around the house with the bottle of red hugged into mybody, it occurred to me that what had made a quiet New Year’s Eve so appealingyears ago was that it had been outside of my norm to spend a cozy night with abottle of wine in front of the TV. However, at Liz’s house,everynightbefore bed was a time to snuggle up with my favorite sitcoms and cuddly cat.

Thebottle, instead of boxed wine, was the only difference and I was enjoying it maybea little too much, because by the time I was meeting Holly Golightly’s loveinterest, the bottle had found its way into my system.

“Don’tworry,” I mumbled to Camille. “I bought two.”

Iretrieved the second bottle from the back patio, and wrapped a throw blanketaround my shoulders. With the wine dangling from my hand, I tripped my slippersalong the front yard until I had reached my destination: Esther’s door.

“HappyNew Year!” I shouted, spreading my arms wide when she opened the door. “Thati-is a …lovelymu-mu, Esther. Youreallyhave to take me shopping one of these days.” I pushed past her into her livingroom and flopped down on the couch, taking a swig of my bottle. “Hello, Harry!”I saluted the picture hanging above the TV before drinking again.

“Holly,you’re drunk.” Esther planted her bony hands on her hips, her face scowlingwith disapproval.

“Yes.Yes, I a-am,” I stated and pursed my lips contemplatively, as I rolled my eyesto the peeling paint of the ceiling. “Esther, your sky is falling.”

Sighing,she craned her neck to check the time on her wall clock. “It’s nearly nine,honey. I’m going to bed in a few minutes. Tell me what you want, and get thehell out of my house.”

Isighed, still gazing at the shavings of paint, clinging desperately to theplaster. “I was all alone and I wanted to see my best friend.” I snuggled myback into the cushions of her lumpy couch.

“Don’tyou have a boyfriend you should be seeing?”

Myeyes rolled at the thought of spending a moment with Ben—poor, poor Ben. “Firstof a-all, that guy is not my boy … boyfriend, okay? He’s one of yourhandsomementhat I’m sup-supposed to fuck. And sec-second of all, Idefinitelydon’t want to see him tonight. Oh, no. He wants to drink champagne and sing‘Auld LangSyne’, and …” I waved my hand around,grasping for the word, coming up empty. “No. Just no.”

“Ithought you liked spending time with Ben?” she questioned, shuffling her feettowards the couch.

Isnorted loudly. “IlikeBen when we have sex, but you know, Esther, sexisn’t a magicthing, okay? Sex doesn’t … make you n-notlonely.Sex doesn’tfixthings. And besides, he does this thing with his toes,and …”

“Honey,I am way too tired for this shit.”

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