Annihilate Me 2: Holiday Page 6

“I saw how you cared for Alexa after she was bitten. I also saw how you cared for Cutter. And because of that, I know that you have it within you to be a decent person. But that person often goes missing when it comes to you, Daniella, and you need to face that fact and grow up because of it. You need to be kind. You need to be humble. You need to know that this house—this holiday—is not owed to you just because you’re associated with me. We’ve come here to celebrate the holidays, not to let your ridiculous tantrums ruin them. So, why don’t we just end this right here—do you want to celebrate the holiday with us, or not?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Well, that’s good, because all of us want you here.”

  “I don’t,” Alexa said.

  “That’s enough, Alexa,” Alex said.

  “Sorry.”

  He turned back to Daniella. “I need to know if you understand my position on this.”

  “I do.”

  “Do you agree to stay given the conditions I’ve set out for you?”

  “I can try. You know how I am, Uncle Alex. I can’t promise that I’ll be perfect—that would just be a lie. But I’ll try my best to dial it down a notch.”

  “Several notches.”

  “OK, several notches.”

  “Now give me a hug.”

  And when she did, I saw on Daniella’s face the sensitive girl behind the angry façade. For whatever reason, her self-esteem was so low that it revealed itself in ways that were cutting and sometimes awful. But beneath it all, I knew that deep within her was a good person. She just needed to believe that herself.

  “Now, give your sister a hug,” Alex said when they parted.

  “I have to hug the anti-Christ?”

  “She’s not the anti-Christ. Hug her.”

  “Oh, Christ.” She turned to Alexa, and when she did, I saw that her eyes were bright with tears. “All right—fine. Give me a hug.”

  “Are you carrying any sharp objects on you?” Alexa asked before they touched. “You know—like a knife? A sword? Because my back would like to know.”

  “Just my tongue, but that’s in check. You’re safe.”

  “Fine then—let’s hug it out.”

  And they did. And when they did, I reached down and took Blackwell’s hand in my own, which she squeezed at once. I knew that the exchange between Alex and Daniella hadn’t been easy for her to hear, but I also knew Blackwell well enough to know that she believed that what he had said to her was for the best.

  On some profound level, Daniella hated herself. But why? Was it because of her parents’ divorce? Did she feel somehow responsible for that? It was possible—often, the children of divorce blamed themselves for the divorce. Or was it for a reason that none of us knew? What would it take for Daniella to decide that she could love herself? And in the process, love others as well?

  Because when she realized that she could and that she should, I knew in my heart that that girl could turn her life around.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  After the tense exchange, which led to Daniella apologizing to her mother for ‘being such a bitch most of the time,’ the mood lifted. People seemed to let out a collective sigh of relief, and we toured the rest of the house together.

  Moving from room to room, we all first stopped short when we came upon the kitchen, which was so large and so beautiful, it seemed otherworldly, and then we went to the living room, the media room, the sauna, the sweeping room that housed the huge indoor pool and bubbling Jacuzzi, and finally to all of our bedrooms.

  When the tour was over, all of us retreated to our bedrooms so that we could unpack. We were hungry, after all. It was time to get dressed, get ourselves to a restaurant of some sort, and enjoy a good meal before we hit the slopes the next day.

  “You were amazing,” I said to Alex when we were alone. “I know what you said to Daniella couldn’t have been easy for you, but I think that what you said did a great deal of good for her. For some reason, that girl is hurting. There’s got to be a reason behind why she behaves so poorly. You couldn’t see the look on her face when you hugged her, but I did, and to me, it looked as if she was about to cry. It was as if you recognized some part of her that she hated about herself, and making it public seemed to me like it was some kind of a relief to her.”

  “It’s time for her to grow up, Jennifer. Enough of her bickering bullshit.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. But enough of that. Do you know where you’d like to eat tonight, or should I call ahead somewhere and make a reservation for us?”

  “We’re eating here,” he said.

  “We’re eating here? Who’s cooking? Me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He came over and wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’d never spring something like that on you,” he said after he kissed me.

  “Then how are we eating here? Take out?”

  “On our first night here, I thought that it would be nice if we ate in. You saw how the dining room overlooks the lake and looks into the living room, where the lighted Christmas tree stands. And my SlimPhone has told me that tonight there will be a full moon hovering over that lake. I asked Ann to assemble a team of local chefs to cook dinner for us, and though you can’t hear them now because this house is so damned big, they should already be in the kitchen preparing dinner as we speak.”

  “You gave them a key?”

  “Ann gave them the code to enter the house. We’ll have drinks and appetizers first in the living room, and then we’ll have dinner. Tomorrow, we’ll ski—and since we’ll all need a good night’s sleep for that, I thought that this would be a better solution than taking the time to get dressed up and going out. We’re tired at this point. So, I figured that it was best to make tonight easier on us.”

  “Do you know how much I love you?” I asked.

  “I’m pretty sure that I do, but I never tire of hearing it.”

  “How about if I just show you? I love you this much,” I said as I kissed him meaningfully on the lips. “And if we had time before dinner, I’d show you in other ways.”

  “Maybe after dinner?”

  “Bank on it,” I said. And the moment I said that, I tossed myself into his arms, we fell onto our ridiculously oversized bed, and I smothered him with a blizzard of kisses that would rival any blizzard we might find tomorrow on the slopes.

  * * *

  We joined the others for drinks and hors d’oeuvres in the living room next to the towering, fresh-smelling Christmas tree, beneath which the staff had already tucked the gifts. The colors of the packages, along with the ribbons attached to them, looked gorgeous to me.

  In the massive fireplace to the tree’s right, a fire flickered, crackled, and spat; classic Christmas music filled the space from the surround-sound speakers; and the servers Alex had hired delighted us with platters of scallops wrapped in bacon, oyster tartlets, buckwheat-cheddar blinis with smoked salmon, pancetta-wrapped mushrooms, cheddar gougères, and best of all, roasted shrimp with a garlic dipping sauce, which for me was the highlight.

  Despite Alex’s confrontation with Daniella, the mood was surprisingly festive and bright, likely because Alexa hadn’t arrived yet. God only knew what would occur when she decided to join the party. But for now, people were happily mixing and chatting.

  Brock and Madison were so close, they literally were hand-in-hand. Blackwell was rocking it in a bright red Chanel suit with black piping that accompanied her black pumps. Daniella herself was wearing a little black dress that I thought looked adorable on her, especially since she’d swept her hair away from her face in a low ponytail that revealed just how pretty she was. Her makeup was fresh and light, and she looked beautiful.

  And then Alexa joined the room—and when she did, it was as if all of the oxygen had been sucked out of it. All heads turned to her.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said as she walked toward us with a confidence I’d never seen in her before. “Can I have a martini? Dirty? Three olives?”

  “Of course you c
an,” I said as I went over to hug her. “Alexa, you look amazing!”

  “That was the intent.”

  Clearly, it was—and she’d stolen the show because of it. She was wearing something that daring—a shimmering pair of skinny black slacks, black slingbacks with a three-inch heel, and to cover her otherwise naked torso, nothing more than a sequined black vest, which revealed more of her body than I’d ever seen before. Alexa generally wore baggy, unremarkable clothing, so I certainly didn’t know that she sported that kind of a banging body—but she did, and she was owning it now.

  She was a knock-out. With her face fully made up, including a bold red lip and a smoky eye, and with her dark hair scraped away from her face with the assistance of some sort of gel that made it glisten in the warm light, she looked sexy and stunning in ways that I knew were intentional. She’d come here to put her sister to shame—and even though I didn’t want to take sides, it already was clear to me, and likely to everyone else in the room, that Alexa was the standout.

  In her own scathing way, Daniella had always referred to Alexa as some sort of stereotypical hippie or lesbian. But whatever her sexuality was—not that I gave a damn about it—tonight she looked to me like some sort of seductress from a James Bond movie.

  She was that hot.

  “What in the fresh hell has happened to you?” Blackwell said.

  “I’m sorry,” Alexa said as one of the servers brought her a martini. She lifted it to the group, took a sip after everyone had lifted their drink to hers, and then turned her glance to her mother. “What are you referring to?”

  “You know damned well what I’m referring to.”

  “It’s just a look, Mother.”

  “And since you’re my daughter, you know how powerful a ‘look’ can be. When did you come up with this? I love it! The shoes, the hair, the makeup—it’s so sophisticated, it’s beyond divoon. I always knew you had this in you. So, let’s just consider this your Christmas present to me delivered a few days early.”

  “She’s outdone all of us!” Daniella cried out in despair. “How can that even be?!”

  “It’s a reality, Daniella,” Alexa said. “In this case, because of the assistance of Tom Ford, whom I’m wearing tonight. And this is far from the end of it, because I’ve prepared for this holiday in ways that even you can’t fathom. If you think that this is all I’ve got, I’m here to tell you that this is the least of what I’ve got. So, you know, I hope you packed well, because I know for a fact that I did. And what I’m about to bring to the game this holiday weekend is going to shut you down for years to come. Just watch me. Whether we’re on the slopes or off for a night at the bars, I plan to bring it—in ways that are going to crush you.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Just watch me.” She took another sip of her martini and eyed Daniella’s dress. “By the way—cute look. I could see you showing up like that at a parent-teacher conference.”

  “Oh, it’s so game on!” Daniella said.

  “It is,” Alexa agreed calmly. “And do you want to know why? Obviously, you don’t—your heated glare already is telling me a solid ‘no.’ So, I’ll nevertheless give you an insider’s glimpse. Here’s what I know about you, Daniella. I helped you pack before we left. Do you remember how helpful I was? How attentive I was? What a good sister I was? And do you even know the reason why I bothered to help you? Probably not, because I’ll outsmart you every time. I was helpful because I wanted to see what you were bringing with you, and once I knew what that was? I went on a shopping spree in an effort to beat your ass—and I succeeded. Call it sabotage. Call it a knife in your back. Hell, call it what you will. But while I’m here in Maine? I’m the one who’s going to get the boys. Just watch me, sweet pea—because all of that is about to come my way in ways that you’ve never seen before. What I’m wearing alone should shut down your constant questions about my sexuality, which I’m tired of hearing at this point. I’m going to get properly shagged while we’re here. The question is whether you will…”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The next morning, after a tense evening that eventually evened itself out—if only because of the great food and booze—it was going to be off to the slopes for all of us, and it was the perfect day for it. Bright and sunny, and not unreasonably cold. When I checked the temperature on my SlimPhone, it said that it was nineteen degrees outside. I’d certainly seen far worse than that during my years growing up in Maine—and that temperature was perfectly tolerable when it came to skiing.

  Alex wasn’t in bed when I woke up, so I assumed that he was already in the shower, but when I checked the adjoining bathroom, he wasn’t there either.

  Where is he?

  Since it was only five o’clock, I didn’t call out for him because I didn’t want to wake anybody. Instead, I put on a silky red robe over my red negligee, and started to move through the house looking for him, only stopping when I heard sounds coming from the kitchen. As I passed the dining room, I saw that it was already set with new linens and tableware, and when I crossed into the kitchen, there was Alex, apparently preparing breakfast.

  “What are you doing?” I said in a low voice when I entered the room. He was wearing a tantalizing pair of black, slim-fit stretch jogging pants that hugged his ass in ways that made me want to spank it and a grey, long-sleeved jersey tee that stretched across his broad chest. His hair was tousled in ways that made me want to haul him back to the bedroom so that I could have my way with him. Who needed breakfast when I had the breakfast of champions right here in front of me?

  “Making breakfast for all of us,” he said.

  “For all of us? How long have you been up?”

  “Since four.”

  “Why didn’t you ask me to help you? How in the hell do you plan to feed all of us on your own? There are eight of us, for God’s sake. You should have woken me. We could have done this together.”

  “I wanted to do this on my own,” he said. “Spending money is easy for me, Jennifer. But putting on a great breakfast for everyone takes an effort, and that effort means something that money can’t buy. And don’t forget that I learned to cook from a master.”

  “Michelle,” I said. “Your parents’ cook. You loved her.”

  “She took me under her wing, taught me how to cook, and in the process, she helped me to escape from my parents.”

  “What are you making? It smells delicious.”

  “Exactly what Michelle used to make whenever my parents entertained a crowd—potato basil frittatas. Four of them. They’re already in the oven, along with the bacon. Did you know that it’s best to cook bacon in the oven?”

  “I’ve never heard of that.”

  “It’s the easiest way to cook it. No splattering. No grease. And when you put them on a rack, they come out straight—not wrinkled. I have coffee ready to go when it’s time to get that cranking, and I’ll admit that I have three cheats.”

  “Which are?”

  “Freshly squeezed orange juice, home-churned butter, and croissants. Ann made a few calls for me before we left Manhattan. She found a local caterer who does all of her own cooking, and she contacted her for me. Betty came this morning with three jugs of juice, the butter she makes herself from her own cows, and two dozen croissants that came out of the oven just about an hour ago. Can you smell them?”

  “I can smell everything—and it smells amazing.”

  He smiled when I said that—and the dimples I loved so much only deepened in his cheeks. “I set the table after I made the frittatas—and at this point, everything is ready to go. It wasn’t difficult. Breakfast will be served in one hour, and since we’re hitting the slopes today, it’s a total power breakfast. Plenty of protein. We’re going to rock that mountain. Even Blackwell. Because of this breakfast alone, she’s going to nail those bunny slopes.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears.”

  “That’s an interesting way to put it. How about if your lips were on mine right now?”


  I didn’t hesitate, and when our lips met, I felt a longing to be with Alex but I knew with a clear sense of disappointment that I couldn’t be.

  “How are we going to get through these next few days without being intimate with each other?” I said. “I don’t want to hold back. Last year, we went to a no-tell motel for just that reason. There must be a hotel nearby. Can we go to it?”

  “Unnecessary,” he said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Have you even seen the size of this house?” he asked. “And how I made certain when I rented it that the master bedroom was far away from the other bedrooms? Jennifer, I have this covered. Nobody will be able to hear us. Trust me on that.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  After breakfast, which was a roaring success due to Alex’s excellent skills in the kitchen and because everyone seemed rested and ready for the day, we retired to our bedrooms, suited up, and then met in the living room to depart for the slopes.

  And that’s where everything went wrong.

  “While I love Chanel,” Blackwell said when she stepped into the room in her new suit, “I’m certainly not sure about this look. Look at me, for God’s sake. I look like a goddamned tampon—and one that has been used! This red is nothing short of the color of blood.”

  “Oh, it is not,” I said. “You look fab. And it’s Chanel. I actually think that you look not only stylish, but hot. And please, all of us know that no one is going to be wearing anything even remotely close to that on the slopes.”

  “And for good reason. I haven’t had a period in four years—and look at me. Aunt Flow is back. I might as well be a walking advertisement for planned parenthood.”

  “Seriously?” Daniella said.

  “Seriously,” Blackwell countered.

  “Mom, you look fantastic.”

  “You’re just fishing for one of my credit cards.”

  “No, I’m not—you look great.”

  “You do,” Madison said.