“I like my liquor like my men. Strong.” Margo slides into Crow’s lap hanging an arm around his shoulder.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” I overhear Freya mumble under her breath as she goes toward the kitchen, I suspect for the orange juice or possibly to vomit. I watch her ass unable to look away until she disappears behind the door.
“Turn up the music. I want to dance.” Margo jumps up and fiddles with the radio.
Santa Babybelts through the speakers like nails on a chalkboard to my ears. I snuff out my cigarette.
“Can I get one of those?” She moves for my smokes on the bar.
“Help yourself.”
Freya returns and mixes the ignorant cunt her drink.
The bitch twirls around us not picking up on the vibe she’s grating on all our nerves. Or maybe I’m just too old for this bullshit. Nameless and faceless bitches that will be gone come tomorrow. I don’t know how Crow keeps doing it. I go home to a loveless marriage of convenience except my boy is there and happy to see me. Crow’s kids are grown and all he has is this.
Brother should want better. He had it with Cate till he fucked it all up.
“You got a big package for me, Santa?” She grabs Crow between the legs and Freya visibly shudders.
“I’m going to find a bed. Merry Christmas, old man,” she enunciates old laced with snark.
“There’s an idea. I’m ready to have my stocking stuffed.”
“Okay. That’s enough. What was it again, Marho? That’s my dad and I don’t want to think about him stuffing anything into your stocking as you call it. It’s gross.”
I turn my head to hide but it does nothing to disguise the laughter erupting from my gut.
“C’mon. That’s our cue.” Crow grips the woman by her upper arm and escorts her down the hallway to one of the spare rooms.
“I need some bleach for my eyeballs.” Freya sticks her tongue out, doing a jerk of her shoulders, making repulsive gagging sounds.
All I can think is I’ll give her something to gag on. Make her choke on my dick till she cries.
“I’m having a serious talk with him tomorrow about the kind of women he’s dragging home with him. Just ew.”
“Where are you sleeping tonight?”
“Oh yes,” Margo cries out from down the hall.
“I’m seriously going to vomit.”
“C’mon. I’ll walk you to an empty cabin.”
Freya makes no reply other than putting her jacket on and grabbing the bag she brought in with her earlier. With her arm looped through mine we go out through the back but fuck me the snow is deep. We always tend to get more of it due to our elevation.
My boots sink into the mushy, cold, wet shit. The wind has died down, but the snow hasn’t let up, relentless in its pursuit to give us a true white Christmas.
“Ugh my socks are getting wet.”
“Get on my back. Give you a piggyback ride.”
She smirks. “You know you used to give me piggyback rides when I was like ten.”
“Don’t make it weird, babe.”
Any ideas I had of fucking Freya just went sailing over the ridge with the snow drifts. If ever I needed a reminder I’m too damn old for her there it is.
“I’ll walk.”