Page 92 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
“Yup,” I say, popping my ‘p.’”
“Where did you go?”
“Aunts, uncles, family friends… whoever would have us.”
“Damn, that’s rough!” he says. “And this is coming from a guy whose dad died on Christmas!”
I snort.
“It’s okay. You can laugh.” He nudges me. “We gotta laugh at the sad things sometimes.”
When Matt Barbera walked into that audition room all those weeks ago in that silly spandex outfit and did that truly bizarre performance, I never dreamed he’d become someone who comforts me and teaches me.
Yet, here I am, more grateful every day that he’s in my life.
“I only bring all that up because this…” I gesture to the lights on the house, and the shadows of the party guests moving inside. “…was supposedly for Banks and me. They always held ‘Whitaker Wonderland’ two weeks before Christmas so we could celebrate together.” I pause. “Maybe it started that way, but it quickly became another way for them to show off to their neighbors and friends. It was our job to look pretty, talk about our accomplishments, and make them look good. Ever since I quit dance, I’m never quite impressive enough for their liking, and I always leave wishing I’d never shown up.”
“Yeah, I’m not putting you through that. Off we go.” He puts an arm around me again, and we walk down the driveway.
“Wait! Penny!” My sister’s voice carries from the now open doorway, stopping us in our tracks. We turn around to face her. “Ohhhh. It’s hot Thanksgiving guy!”
Matt leans closer to me and whispers, “Penny Whitaker, do you call me hot Thanksgiving guy?”
“No, but apparently my sister does.” I jog over to her and give her a big hug. “Banksy! I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too, but I’m pissed at you.” She looks over her shoulder into the house, then whisper-hisses, “Do you know how much it sucked to learn from our mother that you have a boyfriend?”
“I don’t technically have a boyfriend,” I say.
So why does it feel like I do?
“Am I imagining this person behind you?” Banks laughs.
“No, I-I mean, he?—”
“Hi.” Matt approaches Banks and shakes her hand. “I’m Matt. And I can explain. Penny faked it for me when I needed it, so I faked it for her when she needed it.”
“That really didn’t explain anything, did it?” I say.
My sister’s brow furrows. “Was that an orgasm joke?”
“Banks!” I scold.
“Ha, no ma’am,” he says. “If I’m ever lucky enough to be in an… intimate situation with Penny again, I can guarantee she won’t be faking a damn thing.”
Holy shit.
Banks’ mouth drops open, but she doesn’t say a thing.
“See you inside, darling,” he rumbles in my ear and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll let you ladies talk.”
He walks into the house, totally confident, entering a party where he knows exactly no one, leaving my body absolutely on fire, despite the winter temperatures.
Banks shuts the door behind him and steps closer to me on the porch. “Woman? You better spill.”
I fan my hand in front of my face.
It does nothing to cool me down.
