Page 7 of Bourbon & Bonfires
Owen nods and elbows his way in to the bar next to me. His movement annoys the girls sitting there, that is until they look up at him, and then it’s full-on flirtations. Taylor’s right, we haven’t seen much of Owen around here since he’s been with Minnie. It’ll be interesting to see how he handles the flirting ladies.
“Ladies, I’m sorry to be rude, but I haven’t seen my buddy in weeks, and we have shit to discuss. Would you mind if I bought you each another beer and took this seat?”
He can’t possibly think that will work. Yet, it does. He orders another round of beers for the ladies and successfully moves into the seat one of them was using. Taking a long draw from his beer, Owen doesn’t say anything. I’m waiting for him to start, since he just told those girls we have shit to discuss, but still nothing. When he signals for Taylor to bring us another round I look at him confused.
“What?”
“What? You just told those girls we had shit to discuss. So, what’s up?”
“Oh, that? Nothing, man. I didn’t want to stand. My fucking back is killing me. Working on my house after working all day is no joke.”
“Dude, you’re a dick.”
“Never said I wasn’t.”
I shake my head at Owen and his antics. I love the guy like a brother, but sometimes I wonder how I even like him. But, he’s my best friend, and I’d walk through fire for him or any of the guys and know they’d do the same for me.
Christmas has always been a major event in my family. My mom loves nothing more than a house full of chaos. I call it chaos, she calls it love. Regardless, the idea of both my siblings, their significant others, and kids in the house makes my mom euphoric. And then she turns to me with a look of sadness, and I know she’s wondering where my little family is. Where is the grandchild I’m supposed to give her? He or she is still a little swimmer and not ready to make an appearance. At least that’s what I told her last year about ten seconds before she smacked me on the back of the head.
Today I’m ready for anything she throws my way. I have a prepared response to the “When are you going to settle down, Landon?” question, I’ve wrapped the gifts for everyone, and I went to the extra effort of ironing my shirt. I hope she realizes how big of a deal that is. I had to go buy a damn iron to do that job.
As I pull up to the house, I see Sarah’s minivan, which means my niece and nephew, aka the tiny terrors, are inside. At five years old, the twins are little demon children. I don’t know how my sister does it, nor do I understand how my mom feels they are in any way enticing me to settle down and have kids of my own. Don’t get me wrong, I love my niece and nephew, but at the end of the day, they are exhausting. And possibly possessed.
I park my truck on the side of the house behind my dad’s work truck and open the back door to pull out gifts when I’m hit in the back of the head with what I assume is a foam bullet. And so it begins.
“Demon child, I swear if you hit me again, I’m taking this present back home,” I shout without turning to face the twins.
“Told you so,” my niece, Stella, shouts at her brother. I glance to my side and find Stella and Steven in a standoff. Her hands are on her little hips, and she is channeling her mother in this moment; it’s a little frightening. Steven seems to be absorbing my warning while side-eyeing his sister. I continue pulling the gifts from the truck when I hear Steven finally relent and agree his sister was right. Like that concession was her Christmas gift, Stella turns on her pink cowgirl-booted heel and walks toward the house.
“Dude, you can’t shoot people in the head. What are the rules?” I ask as I approach Steven.
“No peoples. But I was tryin’ to hit your truck, but your big ole head got in the way.”
“My big head, huh?” I ask, walking toward the front door as my little shadow follows. “How about this? After dinner, you and I will do some target practice, and I bet you’ll be hitting your targets in no time.”
“Yes,” Steven shouts as he fists pumps the air and takes off running around the side of the house to the backyard.
As I enter the front door, the amazing and familiar smells of Christmas dinner greet me. Mixed with the smell of roasted turkey is the lingering scent of cinnamon. Pie. That’s all I ever ask for from my mom for any holiday, or special occasion really. Pie. Specifically, apple pie. Or cherry. Pecan is always good too. Fine, I like all pie.
Setting the presents on the floor under the tree, I spot a few with my name and roll my eyes. I’ve told my brother and sister no adult gifts for years, and they still insist on us exchanging gifts. Being the youngest of three gets me little respect, even if I make complete sense.
Of course, half the time my brother, Wyatt, puts a bow on a six pack of beer and calls it a day. Today, I see actual gifts and must assume his fiancée, Raquel, is responsible for holiday shopping this year.
Thankfully, I’m prepared with a handcrafted wine bottle stand, bottle of wine, and a gift card to the local steakhouse. Plus a card that offers one night of free babysitting from Uncle Landon. Each offer to babysit comes with a caveat that they may not redeem said babysitting the same day as the other family. I’m not crazy.
As I walk toward the kitchen, where I know everyone is congregating, my sister comes out of the hall bathroom and runs smack into me. When she realizes it’s me, she offers me a huge smile and wraps her arms around me. I place my hand to her back and pat her before clearing my throat.
“Is something wrong? You’re a little clingy there,” I remark.
“No, I’m just glad you’re here. The kids have been driving me nuts to see you, and I was afraid you’d run off to a deserted island or something to avoid any more setups by Mom.”
Laughing, I grab my sister into a bear hug and lift her off her feet. Sarah begins squealing before I set her down. “No plans to run off to Tahiti. At least not yet. I’ve reached an agreement with Mom on the setups. Besides, since Dad told us last week he’s planning to semi-retire at the first of the year, I think she’s been too distracted for a setup. It’s been weeks.”
“Good. It’ll happen when it happens. You never know, maybe you’ll meet someone on New Year’s and share your first kiss at midnight.”
“Yeah, well this isn’t one of your romance movies. Shit like that doesn’t happen. But, if it does you’ll be the first I tell. Now, can we go get a drink? Your kids have already ambushed me outside, and I’ve promised Steven shooting lessons later.”
Sarah laughs as we walk into the kitchen, and the family greets me as only they can—loudly and all at once.