Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“You too,” Andy insisted, looking at Venezio.
“Don’t let her bully you,” I insisted. “Sometimes it’s hard to accept that Sammy is the lawyer and Andy isn’t,” I added. “If you don’t want to—”
“I’ll go,” Venezio cut me off.
“Really?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well… okay then,” I agreed, trying to seem casual while my heart was doing a little flip-flop at the idea of getting to spend more time with Venezio outside of the charity. Even if maybe mixing him with alcohol was not the smartest of ideas.
Just this once, I was going to let myself be stupid.
“Craig, I’m locking up if you’re all done here,” I called, taking the cash with me through to the back room so I could lock it up.
By the time I came back out, Venezio had turned off the space heaters and Craig was gone.
“Is there a dress code?” I asked as we all moved outside.
“Nope. You’re all set.”
The girls took off ahead of us, leaving me to trail behind with Venezio.
“It’s okay if this isn’t your kind of thing. I know it’s hard to say no to Andy. But if you get there and aren’t having a good time, it’s okay if you want to head out.”
“Why wouldn’t I have a good time?”
“Well, I know Christmas isn’t your thing. And Drake and Adam always take the party’s theme to the extreme.”
“I can endure the cheer.”
Endure the cheer.
Only I would find that saying charming.
All of us made our way into the subway, where Venezio stood near us like a moody guard dog, staring down anyone who dared to look our way. Once, when some woman curled her lip at Andy and Sammy holding hands, called out, “The fuck you looking at?”
Behind his back, Andy beamed and mouthed I like him!
The thing was, I did too.
Whether that was good for me or not.
When we walked up to the building, we could hear the music and chatter from down on the street.
“Sounds like shit’s already in full swing,” Venezio said as we reached the door.
“Dammit,” Andy grumbled at the locked door.
Sammy tried all of the apartment buzzers to no avail.
“Want me to get it?” Venezio offered.
“Sure,” Andy said, moving back a step to stand by me. “Get it how?” she whispered.
I had no answers for her, though, until Venezio pulled something out of his pocket and got to work on the lock.
Fifteen seconds—that was all it took.
“I don’t know if I’m impressed or concerned,” Andy admitted before Sammy pulled her into the building.
“Picked a lot of locks, have you?” I asked as I walked past him.
“Something like that,” he agreed but, again, didn’t elaborate.
Speaking became difficult by the time we made it to the top floor that Drake and Adam had converted from three apartments into one giant one.
It featured an open floor plan, save for the three bedrooms. And every square inch seemed to be covered in holiday decor.
Wreaths here, stockings there, a collection of nutcrackers over the center of the dining room, and no fewer than four Christmas trees, each featuring its own color scheme.
I made a beeline for Drake and Adam, wanting to say hello and do a quick catch-up.
Venezio didn’t follow.
By the time I untangled myself, I’d worried that he’d taken me at my word and headed out.
Because I hadn’t exaggerated. There were servers moving around in full elf getups. And the Santa sitting on a captain’s chair? He was shirtless and greased up. His ear was getting tongued by a guy dressed in a moose sweater.
The music? Glitter pen holiday cheer.
The food spread? Impeccable as always.
I was just perusing the appetizers when a frosted glass appeared in front of me full of thick red liquid.
I glanced over to find Venezio standing there holding it.
The rush of relief I felt was almost embarrassing. As was the warm, gooey feeling I got from him getting a margarita for me.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice raised to be heard over the music. “What did you get?” I nodded toward his other hand as I took my drink.
“Think it was called a Stocking Stuffer.”
“What’s in it?”
“No fucking idea,” he admitted, shaking his head as he raised it to take a sip.
“Any good?”
“It’s strong,” he said as a half answer. “How’s yours?”
“Every bit as good as I was hoping,” I admitted, taking two big swigs.
I hadn’t been drinking much recently, and I knew the tequila was going to go right to my head. But just this once, I wasn’t going to care. I was at a party with my friends. A hot guy was at my side. I was just going to enjoy myself.
That was exactly what I did.
I ate.
I drank the margaritas Venezio kept supplying me.
The lowered inhibitions had me chatting up the charity each time I spoke to someone new, so I had a purse full of cash and checks, even if my vision was a little too bleary to make any of the numbers out.