Page 11 of The Jinglebell War
Charles tilts his head back and looks at the ceiling. “I think it’s best if you sit this one out, Mayor. Send me what you got and I’ll speak to them in a way they’ll understand.”
I don’t like being shut out of the council meetings, but whenever I go, nothing gets decided. I’ve had to rely on Charles and, as nice as he is, I’m not at all sure I trust him. If life has taught me anything, it’s to trust no one. “I’m going to be at the meeting after the holiday.”
He nods, gives me one last sad smile, and leaves.
I get to work, feeling a bit like I’m digging a hole in the surf. No matter how fast I dig, the next wave is going to fill it all in like I was never here.
***
“Come on, Lilith.” I stare up at the cat, who is still on the top of my fridge. She needed a name and one that belonged to a mythological being seems to fit her, but I hope I’m not cursing us both. She came down long enough while I was gone today to pee and poo on my floor, but she hasn’t eaten anything. “You have to be hungry.”
Lilith glares down at me and hisses.
“I get it. I’ve had a shit day too. Most of the humans seem to feel the same way about me as you do. I’ve had to deal with complaints all day and I barely got done half of what I neededto get done.” At least I got Charles Rutherford the information he needed to get the council moving on that ordinance and Garrick’s permit requests.
I pick up the bowl of dry cat food and reach up to put it on top of the refrigerator with Lilith. She lashes out with her sharp claws.
I pull my hand back, just managing not to drop the bowl of food. “Ouch. That was rude.”
Setting the bowl on the counter, I cradle my hand. A bead of blood wells up, but the scratch is small and shallow. There’s no good reason for tears to burn my eyes and my throat to get tight.
I don’t need anyone to like me. I’m just fine on my own. And if I sit here blubbering like a baby, I truly am beyond pathetic.
“According to my Internet research, you need some time to get used to this place without me messing with you.” I set the food back on the mat and look up at Cat, who’s still glaring at me. “So, I’m going out for the night. You have the full run of the place. You’re free to destroy it for all I care.” I look around at my apartment, the one I’ve never even decorated. Deep down, I think I always knew I wouldn’t find my place here.
Not that I’m giving up. I just need to have some fun tonight so I can keep fighting tomorrow.
I don’t waste time looking for the perfect outfit. Grabbing the first form-fitting top I find, I pair it with my favorite leather pants and sky-high heels. I spend a few minutes touching up my make-up and putting my hair up, then I’m out the door, a warm coat over my thin top.
“Don’t wait up,” I call to Lilith as I head out the door.
I don’t plan to be sober enough to drive home, so I walk the three blocks downtown to Jack Frost Brewery, a bar that’s popular with the tourists and the maker of Yuletide’s signature spiced ale.
Most locals avoid Jack Frost, because they don’t want to deal with tourists on their time off. Since I want to avoid locals, it’s the perfect place for me. All I need to put the final nail in my coffin around here is to sleep with a local.
I can hear the gossip now about how I’m trying to steal one of the only good men in town or how I broke the heart of a good guy. Please.
Like I’m the big, bad wolf and not someone who’s actually trying to improve Yuletide.
I hear the music, the thumping bass of some pop song, before I step out of the cold and inside.
The club is packed. People are grinding on the dance floor, stacked up to the bar four deep, and making out in dark corners. Laughter and lust fill the place like a concoction headier than the beer on tap.
I close my eyes and just breathe it in. I let it all wash over me until my skin feels like it’s pulsing along to the music.
This is what I need. Just to be anonymous for a little while. To lose myself in a club and chase my own hedonistic desires until I can find a man to lose myself in.
I’m not picky. I’m not looking for the smartest or the hottest guy. I want the guy who’s looking to get lost the same way I am. I’m looking for the guy who can fuck me so good I forget my own name.
And let me tell you, that guy is never the most obvious one. I’ve learned what I like and what to look for. It’s not a perfect science. I might have to kiss a few frogs to find the right guy, but I’ll find him.
The only damper on the experience is safety. So boring. But necessary.
I shoot Cherry a quick text to let her know where I am and that I’m on the prowl. She sends me back a thumbs up emojiin moments. She’ll expect me to check in with her every thirty minutes or she’ll send the Hounds of Hell after me.
Not the literal hounds of hell, the local motorcycle gang of town elders called the Hounds of Hell. Cherry has friends everywhere.
I weave through the crowd right up to the bar as the song changes from a pop tune to a remixed Christmas carol. The crowd cheers as the Christmas lights strung over every inch of the place flash on and off in an eerie holiday dance. The bartender is dressed as a sexy Mrs. Claus. Her skin is as pale as the snow outside, her hair is red, and her eyes light when she sees me.
