It’s tough to have a bad time when you’re nestled amid the ice-covered peaks with nothing to do but frolic in the snow and bring your wildest romantic fantasies to life. Opportunity is everywhere. You have to really work to avoid it.
They’d managed.
A waste, Adam thought as he unpacked his duffel bag and came across the unused pack of condoms. A total, fucking waste. He threw them across the room toward the wastebasket. Missed.
A disaster, Harper thought, pressed up against her window, watching Adam’s bedroom window a few yards away. All those hopes and all those expectations-and they’d all come to nothing. He turned out the light and then, almost as an afterthought, pulled down the shade. Almost as if he knew she was watching.
A mess, Beth thought, as Kane dropped her off at home and, with barely a peck goodbye, sped away into the night. The trip had started out so well-and then it had just fallen apart. Why did she always make everything so complicated? Why couldn’t it just be simple, for once? Easy. Straightforward. Clean.
A miscalculation, Kane thought, speeding down the dark, empty highway. He’d pushed too hard, been too obvious. Not a problem. He could do slow. He could do subtle. He could do whatever was needed to get the job done.
A mistake, Kaia thought, lying in bed and wondering whether Powell was home yet, when he would call. That’s all it had been. All he had been. A terrible mistake. A moment of weakness. She’d indulged temptation, no harm done. But it was back to reality now. Reed Sawyer was nothing but a mistake-one that could never happen again.
Although one in ten men suffer from impotence at some point in their lives, the disorder remains largely misunderstood, due to the persistent shroud of embarrassment and shame that accompanies the condition.
You can say that again, Adam thought bitterly. It had taken him a full hour to even work up the nerve to type “impotence” into his computer’s search engine-and as he read through the numerous and mostly unhelpful Web sites, he couldn’t stop looking over his shoulder every ten seconds, even though he knew there was no one home to catch him.
Impotency can be attributed to psychological or physical causes. But fear not! Whatever the root of your condition, there are answers, if you’re willing to look for them. There’s no need to suffer in silence any longer!
Condition. It was such a harsh, clinical term. But then, most of the Web sites Adam had managed to find were exactly that: harsh. Clinical. And thoroughly depressing. Somehow, reading about surgical procedures and hydraulic penile implants was not improving his mood.
This wasn’t for him. He wasn’t some graying, middle-aged guy who needed a fistful of Viagra to get it up-he was a healthy, athletic, eighteen-year-old guy in his sexual prime. Tomorrow night was the first basketball game of the season, and everyone watching him sprint across the court would assume he was just as strong and virile as he looked-young, fit, with all his parts in working order. They’d never guess what was really going on-and, while he was on the subject, what the hell was going on?
Psychological causes can include stress, guilt, depression, and relationship problems.
Adam sighed, and pushed himself away from the computer. So he was messed up-like that was a surprise. A month ago, he’d been happy, relaxed, confident-then Beth and Kane had bashed the hell out of him, and now he didn’t know who he was or what he could rely on.
The worst part was, in the past, Adam might have been able to swallow his pride and gone to Kane for help on this one. But now, he had no one to ask-no older brother, no trusted friend, and he hadn’t talked to his father in years. And the Web was obviously useless.
No, he was on his own. There wasn’t much he could do about his stress level, but he could at least reassure himself that the cause wasn’t physical. He pulled an old Playboy out from beneath his mattress. It couldn’t hurt to remind his body of what it was supposed to do.
After all-practice makes perfect.
“Yo, Gracie, this slaw isn’t going to clean itself up!”
Harper winced. It was one thing when Adam called her “Gracie”-hearing the nickname in his lilting Southern accent reminded her of all those lazy summer afternoons they’d spent chasing each other around the backyard during childhood. Calling Harper “Gracie” had been the surest way for Adam to end the afternoon flat on his back with a wad of dirt stuffed in his mouth. (Though, even then, Harper had secretly loved it.) But when Mr. White, the diner manager, adopted his little pet name for her, it made her skin crawl-and it usually meant she had a particularly disgusting task awaiting her.
There was one week left of winter break, and Harper had planned to spend every spare minute at the diner, in hopes she could pay back her parents and quit by New Year’s. It had seemed like a good idea in theory-but, in practice, it sucked. Especially today. Merry Christmas to me, she thought bitterly. Ho, ho, ho.
The laughter was appropriate-her life was a joke.
“And when you’re done in there, Gracie, come back here and see me. I’ve got a little holiday treat for you.”
“Yes, Mr. White,” she called out as sweetly as she could, still determined to demonstrate that she could be a model employee even under the most heinous of circumstances.
White had promised to try her out on table service today, since she was the only waitress forced to be there. But surprise, surprise, there were no customers. And so Harper was stuck spending Christmas with her new best friends, Mr. Mop and Mr. Bucket.
All this so she could pay her parents back for the ski trip? WFS. Right. She and Adam were supposed to be closer than ever by now-instead? They’d barely seen each other since getting back. Harper had, of course, been stuck at the diner. And she suspected that Adam was hiding out.
“Any day now, Gracie!”
Harper sighed and slogged toward White’s “office,” expecting to find him, as usual, with his feet kicked up on the desk, watching TV and picking his nose.
“Yes, Mr. White?” she said, affecting a subservient tone-it didn’t come easy-and poking her head in. “What did you-ew!” Harper stopped short in the doorway. There was White. Way too much of him. As she’d expected, he was leaned back in his chair, his tree-trunk legs propped up on the desk, and the local public-access Christmas show blaring in the background. Just one problem. He was wearing a half-unbuttoned, cream-colored (or at least it looked like it used to be cream colored) shirt with sweat stains rimming his pits and a forest of chest hair poking through-and barely anything else. His thick, hairy legs were totally bare.
“What’s your problem?” Mr. White growled.
“I-I-” Harper wasn’t struck speechless very often, but then, how often was one trapped in a dingy back room with your hairy half-naked boss?
Still, she had an image to protect.
“What did you want, Mr. White?” she asked, maintaining a neutral tone. “I’m kind of busy out there.”
“Just thought I’d give you your Christmas treat,” White said, standing up.
A Christmas bonus? Dare she hope?
“You don’t mind the ensemble, do you?” he asked with a sly grin that said he knew exactly how much she minded and was loving every minute of it. “I figured, since it was just the two of us…”
He approached her, shirt flapping against his bare legs, and Harper forced herself to stand her ground. Is he really stupid enough to try something? she wondered, swiftly calculating her options. He was big, yes-but also fat, slow, and stupid. She’d kick him in the balls, she decided, and then sue him for everything he had. This whole sordid episode could turn out to be a blessing in disguise.
“You see, round this time of year, I like to do a little something extra for my special employees,” White explained, leering at her. “And you’re one of my special employees, Gracie, aren’t you?”
Steady, Harper prepared herself. Wait for your moment.
He lumbered toward her.
Closer, closer-
And then he was past her-bending down to get something in the corner. Harper watched in confusion. If she wasn’t getting a bonus, and she wasn’t getting sexually harassed, what the hell was she doing there?
“Here ya go!” White said triumphantly, standing up and tossing her a huge cloth sack. “Merry Christmas! Ho, ho, ho!”
“And this would be?” Harper wrinkled her nose and carefully set the bag on the ground. It smelled even worse than she did, and after a full day of mopping up the diner’s bathrooms, that was saying a lot.
“It’s laundry day, sweetie. As you can see-” He gestured toward his lower half. “I’m fresh outta pants. And-” here he leaned toward her and winked. “I’m almost out of unmentionables. If you know what I mean.”
Harper recoiled from his hot, musty breath-and left the bag on the ground.
“I’ll give you ten bucks to take care of this today. And if you do a good job, you can do it every week.” He turned away from her and sat down at his desk again. “You’re welcome.”
“You want me to… do your laundry?” Harper could feel her good employee routine slipping through her fingers. “Are you kidding me?”
“Don’t play coy with me, sweetie,” White said, gazing at the TV. “You may have a fancy name, but I know you need the cash.” He chuckled. His laugh sounded like a garbage disposal. “Otherwise, why the hell would you be working here?”
Harper looked down at her feet. She could see a dirty gray piece of cotton peeking out of the top of the bag, but didn’t want to think too hard about what it might be.
As she saw it, she had two options.
She could suck it up and take the laundry, prove to herself and the world that, contrary to popular opinion, Harper Grace didn’t mind a little hard work once in a while. More importantly, she could pay back her parents that much faster, hastening the blessed day when she could finally walk out of the Nifty Fifties and never come back.
Or she could throw the bag of dirty underwear in his face and remind this loser that class and money were two separate things. He may have her beat on the latter, but where the former was concerned, he wasn’t even worthy enough to shine her shoes.
“Oh, what, did I offend you?” he snarled. “Bethie never had a problem with it.”
Harper rolled her eyes. Of course not. Little Miss Perfect let White walk all over her. Watching Beth get bawled out by the manager on a daily basis had been the only glimmer of pleasure in Harper’s dark diner days.
What would Beth do?
Beth would probably accept the laundry gratefully, like a dog begging for scraps. Beth would smile sweetly and thank White for his Christmas “bonus.” Beth would hold her nose, wash the underwear, and come back eager for more torture.
But Harper wasn’t Beth-thank God. And it was about time people started to appreciate it.
She gave the bag of laundry a sharp kick, pretending her foot was connecting with something far more satisfying. It skidded across the room, strewing pants and underwear all over the office floor.
“Did you forget who you’re dealing with here?” White growled, standing up. His face had turned a deep, purplish red.
“No-I forgot who you were dealing with,” Harpercorrected him. “But now I remember. And just in time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I used to think your burgers were the nastiest thing in town-and then I met you. I quit.”
Kaia was having a bad day. And the e-mail didn’t help.
K-Merry X-Mas! New Year’s at Smash. Be there!-L P.S. J’s been asking about you…
Lauren was the only one of her New York “friends” who kept in touch with regular-if brief-e-mails, tantalizing missives about the life Kaia had left behind. She was also the only one who didn’t rub Kaia’s face in the fact that she was missing everything. And “J” was, of course, Joshua Selznick, an ex-boyfriend with a model’s build and a mogul’s wallet.
Kaia fantasized for a moment about making a grand reentry to New York for New Year’s Eve. A private party at Smash, one of the hottest clubs in the city (and, conveniently, owned by a friend’s father). A wild, all-night adventure filled with glitz and glamour, just like the old days…
New Year’s had always been Kaia’s favorite day of the year, but her father had all the power-and all the credit cards. Which meant she was stuck.
Unless…
Kaia was pretty sure her mother hated her, but there was one person she hated more: Kaia’s father. Motherly affection might not be enough to win her approval for a trip back east-but maybe divorcée disgust would.
Such a strategy would, of course, mean contacting her mother-but sometimes it was necessary to make a small sacrifice for the greater good. Five minutes later, she was dialing the number, half hoping there would be no answer.
“What is it?” came the harsh greeting.
“Mother?” Kaia asked tentatively.
“Oh, darling, it’s you. I thought it was your father. Caller ID, you know. What is it, darling? I’m running out.”
Kaia always marveled at the way her mother was able to take a word of apparent affection, like “darling,” and somehow drain it of all warmth.
“It s been a while since we’ve talked,” Kaia began.
“Oh, has it?” her mother asked distractedly.
“Four months, Mother,” she pointed out.
“Oh no, I’m sure it hasn’t been that long. Don’t be melodramatic, darling. Well, it was nice to hear from you, but-”
“It’s Christmas, Mother. Don’t you even want to know how I am?” Kaia asked through gritted teeth.
“You sound lovely, darling. I assume your father’s taking proper care of you.”
“That’s the thing-”
“I can only hope he’s managing to be a better father than he was a husband. That bottom-feeding, scum-sucking… well, it’s all in the past now. You’re an angel for putting up with him.”
“He’s not around very much,” Kaia admitted.
“Oh, then lucky you!” her mother exclaimed. “Now Kaia, I really must go, so-”
“I want to come home for a visit,” Kaia blurted out. “Dad won’t let me-he’s trying to keep me away from you. I-” Could she really get the words out with a straight face? “I miss you.”
“Oh. Well, that won’t do at all,” Kaia’s mother said calmly. “Who does your father think he is? Of course we’ll plan a visit. Sometime soon, darling. Don’t worry.”
“I was thinking next weekend,” Kaia said, hope rising.
Her mother laughed, a brittle, glassy trill that contained no real amusement or joy. “The weekend? Oh no, I’m far too busy. It’s New Year’s, you know.”
She knew.
“And, of course, the rest of winter is just a mess-so many benefits to attend, you know how it is. But don’t worry, we’ll find some time-maybe in the spring. Or definitely in the summer.”
“I’m moving back in the summer,” Kaia pointed out coolly.
“Of course, of course-well, that’s perfect, then. It’s been lovely hearing from you, darling.”
“But-”
“Let’s chat again soon, shall we?”
And the line went dead.
Once upon a time, there was a shy young girl who wanted nothing more than to get out of her small-town life and see the world. She thought she’d be trapped in her tiny, boring house forever-and then one magical day, she opened a book. And the whole world changed.
Beth crumpled up the paper in disgust. It was so melodramatic, so cheesy-so lame. Almost as bad as her first effort:
My name is Beth Manning and I would love to attend (Your School Here). I am bright and energetic, the editor of my school newspaper, and I think I could make an excellent addition to (Your School Here).
Yeah, that was great. She might as well just submit a blank page with the heading “I am so boring, I have literally nothing to say for myself. Please admit me, anyway.”
Out of desperation, she’d checked out How to Write a Winning College Essay from the Grace local library-hoping that even though it was written in 1987, it would still help her get over her writer’s block. But so far? Nothing.
Be creative, the book urged. Be yourself. Unless “yourself” is weird or just totally bland, Beth thought dispiritedly. Then maybe it was best to be someone else.
She wondered if Harper was even bothering to fill out her applications (the way things were going, maybe she’d just steal Beth’s). How might her essay read? “I’m Harper Grace, and I’ll be attending your school next year, because I want to-and, let’s be honest, I always get what I want.”
But Beth was too sickened by the thought of Harper to continue down that road-because that led to Harper-and-Adam, and that usually led to her leaning over the toilet, waiting for a wave of nausea to pass.
Be honest, the book kept saying. Talk about what you want, what you’re proud of Why you’re special.
But how was she supposed to do that in an essay when she couldn’t do it in real life? She didn’t seem to know how to be honest about what she wanted anymore-not with Kane, not with Adam, not with herself. And she had no idea who she was anymore. Before, it had been easy. Beth, the good girl. Everyone knew it. But now? She smiled, thinking of how much she’d enjoyed tormenting Harper at the diner, how she’d managed to convince Mr. White to saddle her with the dreaded Christmas shift. Was that the work of a good girl?
Maybe honesty was the answer after all.
I used to be the perfect student, the perfect daughter, the perfect girlfriend. Then my boyfriend dumped me, I tanked the SATs-and now I don’t know who I am or what I’m doing. I do know that I still want a future, and I want it away from here-and that if you take a chance on me, it just might pay off.
Well… it was a start.
Just not a good one.
Mercifully, the phone rang, and although Beth had promised herself no breaks until she’d finished a draft, she leaped to answer it.
“Hey, it’s me-what are you doing?”
Beth wondered-was it strange that she’d been dating Kane for over a month and a part of her still found it a little bizarre that he was a part of her life, that they spoke so often that she was expected to recognize his voice? She did, of course-but something about the casual intimacy still threw her off. She just wished she knew why. “Working.” She sighed. “Sort of.”
“It’s Christmas,” he pointed out.
“Don’t remind me. My brothers are on a massive sugar high from all the candy canes. From the sound of it, they’re having some kind of shouting contest.”
“I know, I can hear it.”
“What? Where-” Beth went over to her window and looked out. Sure enough, Kane was lounging against a tree. He smirked at the sight of her and gave her a languid wave. “What are you doing out there?” she asked, laughing. “Do you want to come in?”
“Actually…” And in that pause, Beth was reminded of how much Kane hated her house. He’d never said anything, of course, but whenever he stepped inside, she could tell it got to him-the noise, the clutter, the size (or lack thereof). It didn’t usually bother her, but when Kane was there, it felt like a zoo-she was just glad he didn’t think of her as one of the animals.
“I was hoping you could come out and play,” he said, affecting an innocent little-boy voice.
Beth giggled.
“I’ve got all this stuff to do, my essay-”
“Just for a little break? I’m booooored,” he whined.
“Well… I do have to give you your Christmas present,” she mused. “And maybe if it were just a quick break.”
“You can’t resist me,” Kane boasted and, giving her another wave, snapped his phone shut. Beth shook her head. For whatever reason, it was true.
Victory. He’d gotten her away from her work and out of the house-but was it normal that those be such major triumphs? Never having had a real girlfriend before, Kane didn’t really have any idea how often you were supposed to see her or what you were supposed to do when you did-and with Adam still pouting, he didn’t have anyone to ask.
While he hadn’t gotten everything-or really, anything-he’d wanted out of Beth up in the mountains, Kane was no quitter, not when it came to beautiful women. And then there was the disconcerting fact that he was actually enjoying her company-fully clothed, out of bed, inches of space between them, and he still wanted her around. It didn’t make any sense.
Not that there weren’t a few occasional perks.
“Mmm,” he breathed when they broke from a long kiss hello. “You smell amazing. What is that?”
“Um.” She blushed and tucked her hair behind her ears-a nervous habit that, Kane was ashamed to admit, he was beginning to find adorable. “Shampoo?”
“So what’s this I hear about a present?” he asked, taking her hand and leading her down the sidewalk.
She gave him a playful shove. “You’re such a little kid sometimes-can’t you wait?”
“I’m nothing if not patient,” he pointed out, only half joking. After all, she had no idea how long he’d waited around for her. Was still waiting.
“It’s just something little,” she said hesitantly, pulling a small wrapped box from her coat pocket. “I hope you like it.”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about, babe,” he said, slinging an arm around her. “I’ll love it.”
He unwrapped the gift. Inside the box lay a CD case, with a picture of the two of them together taped to the cover.
Total cheese.
“I… I put together some songs I thought you’d like,” she explained. “You know, music that made me think of you.”
“Oh, Beth.” He slipped the CD into his pocket and gave her a kiss. It was so hokey, so painfully sincere, so… Beth. “I love it.” And it wasn’t a total lie. “I can’t wait to get home and listen to it.” Except for that part. Kane shuddered to think what kind of lovey-dovey crap Beth might have burned for him.
“Your present isn’t quite ready yet,” Kane explained, though the truth was, he’d forgotten. It had been a long time since he’d needed to buy someone a Christmas present.
“Kane, you don’t need to get me anything else,” she complained, fondling the blue cashmere tucked around her neck. “This scarf is so beautiful, and so expensive-”
He cut her off with a kiss. “Your gift is coming,” he said firmly, “and you’ll love it.” Whatever it turned out to be. “So, what are you up to for the rest of the day?”
“Kane, it’s Christmas. I’ve got all this family stuff.”
“Of course you do,” he said heartily. “I knew that.” Though, actually, the idea hadn’t occurred to him. Family. Another stupid tradition he’d forgotten. Along with Christmas lights and presents.
“What about you? Are you and your father…? Or do you want to come home with me?”
“No,” he said hastily. “I’ve got family stuff of my own.” If “family stuff” meant beer and cold pizza alone, wondering if his father would remember it was Christmas and actually come home that night.
For a second, Kane was tempted. He hadn’t had a real Christmas, a family Christmas, since his mother died. After that, it had been just him and his brother, getting drunk, laughing at the loser carolers, and then, when Aaron went off to college, it was just him. Beth’s Christmas, on the other hand, was probably straight out of a Hallmark commercial: stockings hanging from the mantel, wrapping paper all over the floor, disgusting displays of Christmas spirit. And for a second, Kane was tempted. Why not let Beth play Tiny Tim to his Scrooge, teach him the true meaning of blah, blah, blah.
The fact that he was getting bored just imagining it? Probably not a great sign.
Maybe he was too old for Christmas. Maybe he was just over it.
“Are you sure?” Beth asked dubiously. “Because we’d love to have you. I’d love for you to be there.”
Kane sighed. Whenever he was around her, he felt like letting down his guard. It was dangerous-and yet strangely appealing. Like a drug he couldn’t stay away from.
“I’m sure,” he told her, cupping her chin in his hands and tipping her face up toward his for a farewell kiss. Kane believed in drugs-but he didn’t believe in losing control. Which meant it was time to go.
She had known the bar would be open on Christmas. It was just that kind of place. Dingy, graying, scattered with familiar faces, the faithful pilgrims who came in almost every night, looking for-something. They never found it. But they kept coming back.
It was a bar for people who had nowhere else to go-especially on Christmas.
And it was Powell’ favorite.
After the pleasant chat with her mother, Kaia had needed to get out of the house. Have some fun. And she’d known just where to go. She hadn’t heard from Powell since he’d returned from the ski trip, but she was sure it didn’t mean anything. So he’d had a little fun, and a little ski bunny, while he was away. It’s a free country. It’s not like she hadn’t had a little fun of her own. That night with Reed might have been an aberration, a freakish fluke that could never be repeated-but it had definitely been hot.
Playtime was over. And Kaia had no doubt that Powell was just waiting for the perfect moment to summon her. The bunny was-must be-history. After all, you don’t trade in caviar for tuna fish, and Kaia was caviar all the way.
Still, Kaia decided, it couldn’t hurt to show her face, remind him of what he should have been missing. Besides, it was Christmas, and he deserved a holiday treat. Whoever said “’tis better to give than to receive” had obviously never met Kaia Sellers.
She’d dressed herself in red and green from head to toe: red backless top, green peasant skirt, red kitten heels, and, to top it off, a red velvet ribbon tied around her waist. Aren’t you going to unwrap your present? She rehearsed the line in her head, loving the way the words sounded, and could already see the look on his face. He’d feign annoyance, of course-she was supposed to wait for him to beckon her, that’s what they’d agreed on. Those were the rules. No speaking in public, no dating other guys, no obligations, and, most of all, no surprises.
According to the rules, she should be sitting home, biding her time, waiting for him to call.
But Kaia had never been too good with rules.
She almost walked by the bar-from the outside, it was nothing but a narrow gray cement block, with a small, dark, unmarked door. She swung it open and stood in the doorway, waiting for her eyes to adjust.
He wasn’t at his normal stool at the end of the bar, nose buried in a book. Instead, he was tucked into one of the few booths lining the wall. He was sipping a glass of red wine. And he wasn’t alone.
The ski bunny, Kaia thought with disgust. It had to be. She was blond, lithe, limber, her face radiating a gentle, trusting imbecility-and she was perched on Powell’s lap, nuzzling his neck.
Other girls might have confronted him, or started to cry-or just slunk away into the night. But Kaia was better than that. So she just stood there and watched. Waited.
Until, finally, he noticed her. While the ski bunny gave his ear a tongue massage, Powell’s eyes met Kaia’s, his expression unreadable. Was that guilt in his eyes? Anger? Dismissal? Fear?
Kaia didn’t know-and didn’t really care. What Jack Powell felt, what he wanted, was beside the point. She’d let him think he was in charge of their little “relationship”-a nice power trip for him that didn’t cost her anything. But that was over now.
Powell liked rules so much? Maybe it was time to give him a new set-show him whose game they were really playing. Kaia gave Powell-who hadn’t taken his eyes off her, despite the squirming blonde in his lap-a slow, cruel smile. Then turned around and left the bar.
Calm down, she instructed herself, taking a few deep breaths and forcing the anger away. She couldn’t get emotionally involved, not if she was going to win this little battle of the wills.
And she was going to win.
She always did.