Making Merry (A Firsts and Forever/Castaways Series Holiday Collection) Page 5

  When I called the trucking company, it went straight to voicemail. After I left a message, Skye shot a quick video, which included the truck, the sculptures, and the yard full of go-go boys. Then he sent it to his client with the message: I’m so sorry, Warren. The sculpture is stuck in my friend Nana Dombruso’s driveway. The driver of that truck just bailed on us, so it looks like I’m going to miss our deadline. I feel terrible, especially because this was supposed to be a surprise for your husband. I’m going to give you a full refund, and I’ll message you as soon as we get the truck out of here, but at this point I don’t know if that’ll be tonight or tomorrow.

  I drew my husband into my arms and said, “You did everything you could, Skye.”

  “I know, but I wish it had gone differently.”

  Christian and Shea joined us, and Shea said, “We had to park eleven blocks away. This place is a zoo! On the bright side, I’m glad to see my brother’s here defending Nana’s right to turn her front yard into a big, gay, holiday spectacle.”

  We told them what had happened with the truck driver, and Christian said, “Please don’t beat yourself up over this, Skye. Getting stuck here wasn’t your fault.”

  “I’m trying not to. It’s all out of my control at this point.”

  Shea asked, “So, what’s the plan now?”

  Skye sat down on the front steps, and I sat beside him. “I guess I’m just going to babysit my boys until the trucking company calls us back,” he said, indicating the sculptures. “It’s sad to see them like this, all curled up on their sides and stuck. I spent the last three months of my life trying to make them the best they could be, and now…well, whatever. You guys should go enjoy your Saturday night.”

  “Oh, we intend to.” Christian’s light brown hair was tied back in a man bun, and he removed the elastic band and shook out his curls before saying, “We’re also going to stay here until you get this resolved. No reason we can’t do both of those things simultaneously.” He grabbed Shea’s hand, and they joined the go-go boys in the yard and started to dance.

  I tilted my head in our friends’ direction and said, “Those two have the right idea. Want to dance?”

  Skye tried to smile at me, but it didn’t reach his blue eyes. “Maybe later.” He put his head on my shoulder, and I took his hand.

  After a while, Nana’s neighbor stormed up to us and yelled, “You need to get that truck out of here! I’m expecting some very important dinner guests, and it was bad enough before this heap showed up and blocked the whole damn street!” He was the color of a tomato, and a vein bulged in his forehead.

  “We can’t,” Skye told him. “The truck driver left, and we need to wait for a replacement.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” the man huffed. “Any idiot can drive a truck. Just climb in that cab and back it out of here!”

  My husband and I both got to our feet, and Skye told him, “It’s not that simple.”

  “Of course it is, and I’ll prove it!”

  We stared in disbelief as Huntington turned on his heel and marched into the driveway, then climbed into the cab of the truck and started the engine. I stammered, “He’s not. Is he? He can’t possibly believe he can drive that thing!”

  We started to follow him, but then I pulled Skye out of the way as the truck lunged forward. Fortunately, the neighbor managed to stop about a foot from Nana’s garage door. The DJ cut the music when he saw what was happening, and all the go-go boys stopped dancing and watched as the eighteen-wheeler lunged backwards. The rear tires hopped the curb across the street, and we could hear Huntington cussing a blue streak from inside the cab. He ground the gears, and then several sets of lights flashed as he flipped some switches.

  All of a sudden, the hydraulic lifts beneath the front of the flatbed engaged with a loud hiss, and Skye and I ran toward the truck, yelling and waving our hands. Huntington was totally flustered. The truck lunged forward, then backwards again as the bed continued to rise at a steep angle. Then Huntington slammed on the brakes, and the sculptures pushed against their restraints.

  The ropes began to snap one-by-one from the weight of the nearly vertical load, and we watched what unfolded as if it was happening in slow motion. The lower of the two giant metal men was the first to go. He tumbled from the truck bed and bounced off the hood of the police car before landing in Huntington’s yard, squashing mannequin Santa and the hideous reindeer on the way down. He ended up landing on his back with his bent legs in the air. From a few feet away, I heard Christian’s bark of laughter.

  For a moment, it seemed that the ropes were going to hold the other figure. But then they all gave way at once, and Iron Man II tumbled end over end before landing with his face in his companion’s crotch and his bent legs on the other figure’s shoulders. Skye and I stared in disbelief, and then we both burst out laughing. Right after that, all the go-go boys started cheering and applauding.

  “All this time, I thought I didn’t like art,” one of the dancers exclaimed, as he pulled a phone out of his boot and snapped a picture. “But I’ll take a sculpture of two giants sixty-nining any day of the week!”

  Huntington managed to cut the engine, and then he staggered out of the truck and pointed at his yard as he yelled, “Someone’s going to pay for this! Look at my landscaping, it’s ruined!” Duke walked up to him and snapped a pair of cuffs onto the man’s wrists, and Huntington sputtered, “What are you doing?”

  “Arresting you for reckless endangerment and destruction of police property.” Duke gestured at the smashed hood of the police cruiser. The dent looked like it had been made by a pair of giant ass cheeks, though I was pretty sure that part of the sculpture hadn’t actually bounced off the car.

  Huntington’s dinner guests arrived just in time to watch him get loaded into the back of the second police cruiser that had arrived on the scene. So did the judges for the neighborhood decorating contest. Nana rushed into the yard and yelled, “That giant suckfest across the street is going to be hard to beat, but the show must go on! Back to your stations, boys! Ash, fire up the tunes!”

  The DJ hurried to the porch and cranked up the music while the go-go boys gave it all they had. The team of judges seemed stunned as they looked first at Nana’s yard, then at the pair of amorous metal men across the street. I would have loved to see what they scribbled on their clipboards.

  Soon after, two well-dressed African-American men in their mid-thirties appeared at our side, and Skye exclaimed, “Warren! What are you doing here?”

  “This looked like the happening place to be in that video you sent,” his client told him. Then he indicated his handsome companion and added, “I’d like you to meet my husband, Edgar.”

  Skye introduced me, then gestured at the neighbor’s house and said, “Your sculpture met with a bit of an accident. I’ll be able to fix it though, if you still want it.”

  The couple turned and looked across the street, and both of them burst out laughing. It took a full minute before they got themselves under control, and Warren wiped his eyes as he told his husband, “I commissioned a sculpture for our lobby as part of your Christmas present. They’re going to be in a loving embrace when Skye gets them turned right-side-round again.”

  “Oh! I just realized this is the artist I fell in love with at that exhibition last spring!” Edgar turned to me and added with a grin, “His work, I mean. Your husband has a rare gift.”

  I beamed with pride and told him, “I agree.”

  Skye grinned embarrassedly, and then he asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be at your company Christmas party?”

  “We brought everyone along.” Edgar pointed to a group of about thirty people, who were dancing in the street.

  “Must be a fun place to work,” I said.

  “We try to make sure that’s always the case,” Warren told me before turning to Skye. “It looks like you could use a hand with the sculpture. Should I call the movers I hired?”

  Skye said, “I’d really appreciate that. A
nd if you happen to know a truck driver, we could use one of those, too.”

  “Consider it done.” Warren sent a pair of texts, then returned his phone to his pocket and said, “We brought champagne. Would you two like a drink?”

  “We’d love one.” As we followed the couple into the street, Skye asked, “Hey, how’d you know where to find us? I didn’t give you an address.”

  “You said you were at Nana Dombruso’s house,” Warren explained. “Everyone in San Francisco knows where that is.”

  “You guys are both so nice,” Skye said, “and I’m incredibly sorry for messing up your surprise. Like I said in my text, I’m going to give your money back and—”

  Warren interrupted by holding up his hand. “It was an even better surprise this way. I haven’t heard Eddie laugh that hard in ages.” He slipped his arm around his husband’s waist, and Edgar gave him a look of pure adoration. “I’m not taking back a penny of what I paid you, and if the sculpture gets installed tomorrow, next week, or next month, it’s all good.”

  It was as if a dark cloud had been lifted from my husband. He beamed at the couple and thanked them, and then Skye put his arm around me and whispered, “What was I so worried about?”

  *****

  Sometime around three a.m., Christian, Shea, my husband and I all stepped back and admired the gorgeous sculpture of two men in a loving embrace, which looked right at home in the stylish lobby of Newsfeed Magazine. The pair fit together perfectly, and the graceful loops of cable that bound them together were a great finishing touch.

  Skye said, “I’m not sure how it happened. Maybe it was when the figure on the right rolled off the truck, but somewhere along the line, he got bent into perfect alignment. Look at the way his head is nestled into his partner’s shoulder. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

  “You knocked another one out of the park, my friend,” Christian told him.

  “Only because all of you helped me.” Skye took one last look at the couple and snapped a picture on his phone, and then we gathered his tools and rolled the empty wooden cable spools toward the door, which the security guard held open for us.

  When we reached the parking lot, we loaded everything into the back of Skye’s truck. Then we hugged our friends as Skye asked, “What are you guys doing on Christmas? You should come over if you don’t have plans.”

  Christian told him, “We’re going to my dad’s house on Catalina Island, and you two should come along.”

  I said, “We’re actually planning to go to Catalina in January.”

  “So, come early and celebrate the holiday with us,” Christian said. “You can even bring your menagerie. You know my dad and his boyfriend would be thrilled to see you, and Shea and I would love to spend the holiday with both of you.” His husband nodded in agreement.

  Skye glanced at me, and I told him, “I’m totally fine with going early and spending longer on Catalina. We definitely need a vacation after all of this, and I know you’d love spending Christmas with your best friend.”

  Skye exclaimed, “Great, let’s do it!”

  “We’re driving down Monday, so call me tomorrow and we’ll make plans. Not early, because you look like you need to sleep for about fifteen hours.” Christian climbed into the passenger seat of their SUV while his husband got behind the wheel, and he blew us a kiss as they drove away.

  Skye turned to me and asked, “Does that mean I look haggard? It does, doesn’t it?”

  I shook my head. “You’re always beautiful.”

  “You lie. I have to look tired, since this was such a long day.”

  It really had been. We’d partied with Nana, our friends, the go-go boys, and the entire staff of the online magazine until shortly before midnight, when a truck driver and a team of movers arrived and loaded the metal men back onto the truck. With a little help, it had taken Skye just under three hours to install the sculpture, including adding the cables and smoothing out some minor damage that had happened in the fall. It was a good thing he built his artwork to last, because that all could have been so much worse.

  *****

  When we finally got back to Oakland, Benny greeted us enthusiastically. Our landlady had left a note on our kitchen table, which said: Just wanted you to know I let the dog out and fed all the animals, like you asked me to. Draco parked himself on my couch, and it doesn’t look like he’s budging tonight, so I’ll bring him back in the morning. He’s actually pretty good company, for a cat.

  “She’s so nice,” Skye said, as he headed to the bathroom. “You sent her a cookie tray, right?”

  “Yup. A big one.”

  “We should also bring her something back from Catalina.”

  He left the door open, and as I stripped down to my briefs, I called, “Speaking of Catalina, we should invite your brother and his husband to come along, so they’re not by themselves on Christmas.”

  “Their catering business is booked solid for the holidays, but I’ll see if they can join us after New Year’s.” I joined my husband in the bathroom so I could brush my teeth, and Skye turned to me and asked, “What’s this? I just found it on the floor.”

  I glanced at the business card in his hand and said, “Oh, I guess it fell out of my pocket when I stuck my hoodie in the laundry basket. After the holiday showcase, that guy met me backstage and told me he wanted to offer me a position with his dance company. I have to remember to call and tell him thanks but no thanks.”

  His eyes went wide, and he blurted, “Dare, this card says Credence Walker Dance Company. They’re world-famous, and I happen to know you idolize them!”

  “Yeah. I was flattered when he said they’d been watching me. I take that to mean my little troupe is finally getting its name out there in the dance community.”

  “Why would you turn this down? It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

  I took the card from him and set it aside. “Like I said, I’m flattered. But I have absolutely no interest in their offer.”

  “I don’t understand. Isn’t that job everything you ever dreamed of?”

  I wrapped my hands around his waist and told him, “I might have thought that was my dream and ultimate goal when I was younger, but I was wrong. I understand what’s important now, and it isn’t fame and fortune. It’s what we have right here, Skye.”

  “You know I’d come with you to New York.”

  “I do, but I don’t want us to move. We’re exactly where we belong, and we’re so lucky to be surrounded by friends and family who truly care about us, including the wonderful guys in my troupe. No job is worth giving up this perfect life you and I have built together, right here in California.”

  He looked surprised. “I’ve been a hot mess these past few days. But you think your life with me is perfect?”

  “I know it is.”

  The sweetest smile spread across his face and lit up his eyes. Skye kissed me tenderly, and then he put his arms around me and whispered, “And here I thought I couldn’t possibly love you any more than I already do.”

  Book Two: Christian

  Featuring Christian and Shea

  from Against the Wall

  (The Firsts and Forever Series, Book Seven)

  Christian: Chapter One

  Once upon a time, my husband Shea had been a police officer. Even though he’d traded his job for art school, he was still a law-abiding type of guy. That was probably why his involvement in my crime spree was making him twitchy.

  “We’ve been here too long,” he called in a loud stage-whisper, from ground level in the dark alley. “Let’s go, Christian. I know you don’t want to spend Christmas in jail, any more than I do.”

  “Christmas isn’t for two more days. We’d be out on bail by then.”

  “That’s not reassuring.”

  “I’m so close. Two more minutes!”

  “That’s what you said five minutes ago.”

  Since I was three stories up and hanging from the side of an abandoned building by a mountain
climbing harness, I saw the police car the moment it turned into the alley, and I told my husband, “Turns out you had a point, and we’re about to have company. Get out of here, Shea.”

  “What about you?”

  “Don’t worry about me, I have our escape routes all planned out. Yours is through a passageway immediately to the left of this building. Get to our SUV and start driving. I’ll meet you back home.”

  “Why aren’t you meeting me at the car?”

  “Because it’ll slow you down to wait for me. Please go, before it’s too late!”

  He picked up the duffle bag full of spray paint and hesitated for a moment, then called, “Be careful,” before sprinting to the edge of the building and disappearing around the side of it.

  The police car was moving slowly, so I knew they were out on a routine patrol, as opposed to having been called to arrest me. If I was very lucky, they might not look up and see me there.

  My heart was racing and I knew I was pushing my luck, but I was close to finishing my task, so I kept going. As quietly as I could, I drove a large staple into the building’s plaster façade, anchoring a string of lights in place over the mural I’d finished half an hour earlier. Then I swung a few feet to my left and repeated the process.

  By that point, the police car was directly beneath me. They were panning the spotlight mounted on the side of their vehicle back and forth across the alleyway, but they kept it focused at ground level. I started to feel optimistic about remaining undetected, and I drove in two more staples.

  But my luck gave out a moment later. I climbed up three or four feet and tried to find a toe hold, and in the process I dislodged a chunk of plaster from the decrepit building. I watched helplessly as it tumbled toward the ground and landed on the police car with a thud.

  Since I had only seconds remaining, I swung the industrial stapler quickly and finished my task. Then I dropped the tool into my open backpack, stuck an extension cord between my teeth, and started to climb. The spotlight hit me in the next instant, and adrenaline coursed through me as I squinted against the sudden brightness. Down below, the cops were yelling at me to stop. No way in hell was I going to comply.