The old bird just laughs as I hurry to my condo.
“I promise, Leo, everything is going to work out!” she shouts after me,
A part of me hopes that’s true. The other part kind of feels like I failed her somewhere along the line. I’m the fun dad. She has her mom for all the important rules and vegetable lectures. When did being the life of the party stop being a good thing?
* * *
The day paces slowly,and as I’m settling into a night of chocolate milk and cookies from Fitzy, about to watch National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, pounding sounds at my front door.
“Let’s go, bro.”
“Hey, Liam, what’s goin’ on?”
He looks anxious, which means it must be serious, if it has this hulking gym owner sweating.
“We’re being called by the Fitz. It’s important.”
He doesn’t have to say anything more. I’m slipping into my house shoes and following him down to Fitzy’s condo. We grab the elevator, and I notice the other guys from the building, but they’re all dressed up in Santa gear.
“Where the fuck you guys goin?”
Bryce smirks. “You’ll see.”
Something about this seems suspicious, but my curiosity gets the better of me, and I follow the Santas downstairs. Going with the flow may as well be my motto. A self-declared perma-bachelor, that’s me, and I give zero fucks what anyone’s opinion is on it. Except my kid, and she doesn’t meet any of my dates. No need to bring any drama into her life.
Loud music fills the elevator as soon as it opens. The pool area is usually always busy, thanks to the protective glass overhead keeping in the heat. Even in Texas, you can’t swim in December…unless you live at Fitzpatrick Place. I’m sure there are indoor pools around, but nothin’ like here. The eccentric owner and operator of the place sits on her red velvet throne, a pink martini in hand…on a big makeshift stage surrounded by a sea of women.
“Oh no. This can’t end well for us,” I mutter, but the guys fan out into the crowd, leaving me standing alone in my Christmas pajamas. Definitely not dressed for this occasion.
I scan the crowd, seeing folks in ball gowns and tuxedos. Lots of Santa costumes on both men and women.
Wait.
All but one.
The black silhouette painted over a delicious curvy body catches my attention and holds it. The blonde bombshell has her back to me, but there’s no denying she’s as out of place in this crowd as I am.
As a waiter walks by, carrying a tray of cocktails, I quickly grab two and decide maybe tonight, I’ll break this long dry spell. I see her talking to Fitzy’s friend, Blair, who’s over here a lot with her son, Oliver. Just as I come up behind her, someone grabs my arm.
I turn around and am faced with a pouty landlady batting her long false eyelashes at me.
“I need a favor, Leo.”
I groan, knowing I’ll do anything for her but being well aware this probably involves me dressing up like Santa Claus. I love Fitz. She’s been like a mother to me since I moved in. My fridge only has food because of her. So, I know before she asks, I’m going to do it. Might hate it, but I’ll still do it.
“Yes, ma’am,” I confirm reluctantly.
“Good boy,” she tells me with a pat to my cheek, but I roll my eyes like a teen.
Then, I hear the woman in black behind me mention her kid. Damn, maybe she’s married and my night is shot anyway. I tip my chin to Fitzy without looking back, gesturing for her to lead the way.
Just like I thought, she pushes a red velvet coat and matching pants into my arms.
“And there. You're perfect,” she says, placing the Santa hat on top of my head.
“Is this at least for charity?”
“Of course, it is, dear. All the money earned today is going to be donated to the local women’s shelter. You’re doing a charitable act. Now, go shake your tush.”