I'm Scheming of a White Christmas Page 3

  “Hi, Brady. Nice—” my eyes drifted down to his flashing bowtie. “—tie.”

  He fingered it self-consciously. “Got to get into the swing of things, right?” His eyes swept over me. “You look . . . wow.”

  I glanced down at my short, red, sequined dress with the plunging neckline. It showcased my usually meagre cleavage, which was hoisted up so high by Lana’s industrial strength padded bra that my chin could almost rest on it. I shifted in my red stilettos as I adjusted my Santa hat atop my lacquered hair.

  There was an outside chance I may have been a little over dressed right now.

  Brady reached across and, to my utter surprise, pulled me in for a hug. “Thanks so much for coming. Have you done something different tonight?”

  I battered my false eyelashes at him, the way Lana taught me. No matter how good she said they made me look it felt like I had a couple of fat, dead caterpillars stuck to my upper eyelids. I didn’t know how those Kardashians did it: it was not a good feeling.

  “Why, thank you for noticing, Brady,” I responded, my voice low and husky as I channeled my inner sex goddess—who, incidentally, I’d never met before.

  He gave me a sideways look. “Are you coming down with something? Maybe you should put your coat on. It’s cold out tonight.”

  I cleared my throat, did my best to suppress a fresh shiver. “No, I’m just . . . no. Thanks.” I shot him an I’m-so-sexy-I-can-barely-function look, tossing my immobile big hair once more. Losing my balance, I teetered on my heels, forced to steady myself with airplane arms.

  Not quite the look I was going for.

  Brady watched all this with a hesitant look on his face. “That’s . . . that’s just great.” He smiled at Lana beside me, who had been observing our exchange closely.

  “Hi. I’m Brady.” He extended his hand.

  She took it, shaking it with vigor. “Lana Schwartz. Nice place you’ve got here.”

  “Oh, it’s not mine. It belongs to Tobey Thomas’s parents.” He turned to me, releasing Lana’s hand. “You remember Tobes, don’t you, Tilly?”

  “Sure do!” I smiled as I imagined seeing Tobey Thomas thrown from this very roof terrace to his certain death below. “It’ll be so great to see him again,” I lied through a fake smile. I was perkier than Polly Pert at a pep rally.

  Brady sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling. “Do you smell that?”

  I moved Chester’s output behind my back, hoping my body would somehow muffle the stench. “No. Nothing. What?”

  “It smells a bit like something died.”

  “Really? Something died, you say?” I squeaked like a mouse. “Do you smell anything, Lana?”

  “Just the scent of Christmas,” she responded smoothly.

  “Okay.” Brady looked uncertain. “Why don’t you both come with me? I’ll get you a drink.”

  “Here’s a present.” Lana thrust the bag of chocolate Santas at Brady.

  He took the packet in his hands. “Thank you.”

  Lana’s eyes were trained on him. “It’s chocolate. Homemade. Have one now.”

  He let out a laugh. “I’m not sure chocolate will mix with beer, but I’ll keep them for later. Thanks.”

  Lana nudged me. “Tell him why he has to eat one now, Tilly.”

  I took the cue, searching my brain for a plausible reason. “Well, Brady . . . in New Zealand, we eat chocolate with our beer all the time.”

  Yes. That’s good. Plausible. Reasonable. A total lie, of course.

  He shot me a dubious look. “You do? Doesn’t that make the beer taste bad?”

  “Not at all. In fact, we believe the sweetness of the chocolate enhances the hops in the beer.”

  Where did that come from?

  A smile spread across his face. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, yes, it is, Brady. And not only that, we New Zealanders take it as a personal affront if you don’t eat our chocolate offerings at Christmas time.”

  Wow, I was on a roll!

  “Huh. I didn’t know that. I’ve never been to New—” Brady stopped speaking abruptly as Lana snatched the bag of chocolates from his hand and unwrapped them with haste, dropping the mistletoe and ribbon carelessly to the floor.

  “Here.” She thrust the open packet at him. “Eat one, or you’ll offend Tilly.” She leant in closer to him. “And I know you don’t want to do that.”

  He glanced at me. I smiled feebly back. Lana sure was a single-minded woman on a mission tonight.

  “Sure.”

  Lana and I watched intently as he reached into the bag and pulled a chocolate Santa out. Without putting it in his mouth, he said, “Now, let’s get that drink.”

  “But—” Lana began.

  I elbowed her in the ribs. “Leave it,” I muttered through teeth clasped into a smile. “We don’t want to be too obvious.”

  We followed Brady through the throngs of people to the drinks table. As I walked, I noticed there was a range of people at the party, from teenagers through much older people. It was an interesting mix—not the rowdy high school reunion party I had expected.

  Once Brady was out of earshot, Lana grabbed my frozen cold arm. Seriously, I was so cold I was almost blue. “We almost had him there. We can keep working on him but now you need to find a place to put the present so you can be ready to light it when he’s standing near it. That way you can make sure no one else tries to stomp the fire out. Plus, it’s really beginning to stink.”

  I glanced around the roof terrace. The place was fairly full. Setting a pile of poop masquerading as a present alight would be no easy feat. “Where am I going to put it?”

  “You’re resourceful, you’ll work it out. Now, give me the laxative. I’ll slip some into his drink.”

  Surreptitiously, I pulled the bottle out of my purse and handed it to her. I spied a Christmas tree that had been obscured by a group of people on our arrival. I did my best silent ops signaling to Lana, waving my hands around, pointing from the present to the tree. She nodded at me and I slipped through the crowd and placed the present next to the tree, relieved I no longer had to carry a stinky pile of dog poop around with me.

  A moment later I reached the drinks table.

  Brady smiled at me. “Oh, there you are, Tilly. What would you like to drink, ladies? We’ve got beer, red wine, white wine, soda, and orange juice.”

  “Juice for me,” I responded immediately. I needed to keep a clear head tonight.

  “I’ll have a glass of white wine, please,” Lana replied.

  I shot her a look.

  “What? It’s free. Us elves don’t earn much, you know,” she protested under her breath.

  Brady handed us our drinks and we both thanked him. He picked up his beer and we all clinked glasses.

  “Merry Christmas.” He smiled at me, looking into my eyes.

  For a moment, I forgot my revenge mission and smiled back, genuinely happy to be here at the perfect Christmas party with the one and only Brady McKinnon, the very center of my teenage fantasies. My tummy did a flip-flop. I would have done anything to have had this in high school.

  “It’s so great to see you again, Tilly,” he said, not taking his eyes from mine.

  “Hey, Brady. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your very attractive friends here?”

  With reluctance, I dragged my eyes away from Brady to look at the intruder. It was Tobey Thomas: football captain, ringleader, and all-round piece of work. Despite the fact he’d packed on the beef and started to thin on top, I’d recognize that smarmy, arrogant face anywhere.

  “Sure. This is Lana, and you remember Tilly Grayson from high school?”

  The Tobester turned to me, looking me up and down. It made me want to shrink inside my dress. Subtlety thy name is not Tobey Thomas.

  “You’re Tilly Grayson?” His eyes almost popped out of his head. “But you’re hot!”

  “Err, thanks. I think.” He’d managed to insult my teenage self and made me feel totally ick-ed out all with one bre
ath. It must be a rare gift.

  “Have you had a few too many of these, cousin?” Brady asked, brandishing his beer bottle in one hand and slapping Tobey on the back with the other.

  Tobey and Brady were related? How did I never know this?

  “Hey, it’s Christmas!” Tobey protested. “And we’re here with our families.” He rolled his eyes.

  Their families? I looked from Tobey to Brady and back again. Brady had invited me to his family’s Christmas party?

  Brady rolled his eyes at Tobey in good humor. “Sure. Any excuse, huh, Tobes?”

  ‘The Tobester’ turned his attention back to me. “It’s great to see you all grown up and all, Tilly Greyhound.” He leered at me, talking directly to my pushed-up breasts. Classy guy.

  Tobey Thomas wouldn’t even look at me in high school. Now, he was hitting on me? I cleared my throat. “It’s Tilly Grayson,” I corrected him, more than a little creep-ed out. “Greyhound is a bus.”

  “Tobey, why don’t you have one of these chocolate Santas?” Lana asked sweetly, waving the packet of laxative-laced treats in front of his face. “Tilly made them and I know she’d love it if you had one. Right, Tilly?”

  “Oh, absolutely,” I confirmed.

  “Sure!” Tobey took one and immediately stuffed it into his mouth.

  I suppressed a smile.

  “They’re good, huh? Here, have another.” Lana winked at me, smiling at Tobey as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth on a hot summer’s day.

  “Yeah! Hey, you’re hot too. What’s your name again?”

  “It’s Lana. I’m Tilly’s friend.” She smiled seductively, sidling up next to him—although how she could do so without vomiting is beyond me.

  I watched, open-mouthed, as Tobey took another Santa and then another, his lips covered in chocolate as he stuffed them into his gob. I shook my head. He was going to pay for this in a big, big way and I couldn’t find it my heart to feel even the tiniest bit bad for him.

  “Atta boy. Chocolate’s good for you. Who knows, it might put hair on your—” Lana glanced at his head, “—chest.”

  I did my best to stifle a laugh. I noticed Brady watching me with a quizzical expression on his face. A pang of guilt hit me firmly in the chest.

  “So, Tilly …” Tobey leered at my cleavage again.

  I took a quick step backwards before he drooled chocolate on my cleavage. “Ah, can I please use the little girls’ room?” I asked Brady, a note of desperation in my voice.

  Brady shot me a sympathetic look. “Sure. I’ll take you.” He looked at Tobey. “You, stay here. Drink some water or something.”

  I grabbed Lana’s hand. “She needs to come too.”

  “I do? I mean, yes, I do.” She handed the rest of the chocolates to Tobey who took another one and stuffed it in his mouth. At this rate, the guy would have exploded by the time we got to the bathroom.

  We followed Brady inside and he directed us down the hall. I couldn’t help but be impressed by the apartment. By New York standards it was huge. It was ornately decorated with chandeliers and elegant furniture, tasteful art adorning the walls. The place reeked of money and class—unlike Tobey Thomas.

  “Second on the right,” Brady said, pointing down the hall.

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  “No problem. I can wait here for you, if you like?”

  As I looked into his eyes my belly did another flip-flop. “I, err …”

  Lana tugged on my hand. “Let’s go. See you back out at the party, Brady.”

  We reached the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind us. Lana and I looked at one another for a moment before we both burst into laughter.

  Lana high-fived me. “We’re doing this! That guy Tobey is going to feel so bad.”

  “So bad.” I put my hand over my mouth, shaking my head.

  “Now we just need to work on the real target tonight,” Lana said, peering in the mirror.

  I swallowed. There was that guilt again, creeping across my chest. “Look, Lana. I was thinking. It’s ancient history. Brady seems nice now. Really nice. And this? It all feels a bit ‘high school’, you know? Let’s just forget the drink and lighting the poop present, okay? Have a nice time.”

  Lana turned to face me and took me by the shoulders. Speaking in a slow, deliberate voice she said, “You’re getting speed wobbles, Tilly. It’s only natural. I need you to close your eyes.”

  I did as she instructed.

  “Now focus in on how these guys made you feel back in high school. What they did to you, how humiliated you were.”

  In an instant, the gut-wrenching mortification washed over me like it was yesterday.

  “Better?” Lana questioned when I opened my eyes.

  “Let’s go light that sucker.”

  Chapter 6

  Back outside, I scanned the terrace for Brady. I spotted him deep in conversation with a beautiful woman who looked like she could be on the cover of Vogue magazine. Typical: he always had a way with the females of our species.

  I braced myself: it was now or never.

  I wandered nonchalantly over to the Christmas tree as Lana circled behind Brady in a ‘party ops’ move we’d practiced in our apartment. I pulled the lighter fluid out of my purse, ready to give the present a good dousing. As I bent over, a clammy hand slid around my waist.

  “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  I jerked up to see an intoxicated Tobey Thomas next to me. “Hi, Tobey” I said with less enthusiasm than a kid at the dentist. I guessed the mega dose of laxative hadn’t kicked in just yet. More’s the pity.

  His eyes slid over my body, settling once more on my chest. Well, I’d give him points for consistency, that’s for sure.

  “I can’t believe you’re Tilly from high school. You’ve changed so much.”

  “You too,” I replied. Back then Tobey was athletic, cute in an arrogant kind of way, and popular. Today? Not so much.

  “You think? Thanks. Hey, how about you and I get a little more . . . comfortable? We’ve got a lot to catch up on, don’t you think?”

  The last thing I would ever want to do would be to get ‘comfortable’ with this man. Whatever that meant. “Oh, I’m just . . . putting this present under the tree.” I pointed at the gift.

  Tobey eyed it. “Is that for Brady?”

  “Yes. It’s . . . ah . . . cufflinks!” I glanced down at it. It was far too big to be cufflinks. “And chocolates. Cufflinks and chocolates. You know, that classic combination?”

  Really?

  “Nice. Can I have a look at it?” He picked it up off the floor.

  I snatched it from him. “No! It’s . . . delicate.”

  He raised his eyebrows at me. “Delicate cufflinks?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” I said a silent prayer he would let it go.

  He glanced over my shoulder. At least he was no longer talking to my breasts. This was progress. “Look, can I borrow that?”

  “Borrow it? Why?”

  “Look. I’ll be honest with you. My boss is here tonight and I totally forgot to get him a Christmas present. If you let me have this one, I’ll owe you. Big.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively. “If you know what I mean.”

  A slow grin spread across my face. “Sure. Of course.”

  “Atta girl.”

  As I handed him the gift, I caught a fresh whiff of eau de turd. This couldn’t have worked out better if it’d been a part of the Three Point Revenge Plan.

  “Awesome.” He pulled me into him. I could smell the beer on his breath. Intermingled with the stinky gift it was quite the aromatic experience. I suppressed an urge to vomit.

  “Don’t go anywhere. We’ve got some things to talk about,” he breathed on me. Not a moment too soon he released me and meandered off, presumably in search of his unsuspecting boss.

  I took a deep breath as I watched him leave. His boss was going to get a rather sizeable surprise when he opened Tobey’s present. I guessed he wou
ld be one grumpy man. I grinned.

  “What are you smiling about?” Brady asked, now Vogue model free.

  “Nothing. Just having a nice time.” I shivered, tried to cover it up.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to put your coat on? Seriously, Tills, you could be a Smurf, you look so blue.”

  He called me Tills? In a flash, I was back in history class, buddied up with Brady on an American Revolution project. I was trying not to blush as we sat close together, discussing dates and events. ‘Tills’ became his name for me. We worked on that project together for a week. The best week of my entire school life.

  Until he ruined it.

  I swallowed. “I’m fine, really.”

  “So how come you’re in New York? I thought you were only ever here for senior year.”

  I shrugged. “I was. I came back a few weeks ago. It’s so cool to see all the amazing buildings, the shops, Central Park, the Rockefeller Center.”

  “The Rockefeller Center is awesome this time of year, I’ll give you that.”

  “I know,” I replied whimsically. “It’s—”

  “Magical.” Brady finished my sentence for me.

  I grinned at him, those hamsters cranking up their dance party in my tummy. I cleared my throat. “I went to the Rockefeller Center with my friends the Christmas I lived here. I’ve never forgotten it.” I thought about how I’d felt when I first laid eyes on it: the giant tree, the gold statue, the ice skaters. It had felt like Christmas the way it ought to be. After a moment, I shook my head, bringing myself back to the present. “Anyway, I loved it here in the city so much I knew I needed to come back.”

  He seemed surprised, relieved even. “You did?” His face broke into a smile. “That’s good to hear.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why do you say that?”

  He shrugged, looked down at his feet. “I don’t know. I guess, back then—” He paused, looking back up at me. “Tilly, I owe you an apology.”

  The atmosphere suddenly changed.

  I swallowed. Hard. “You do?”

  He nodded. “I do. That thing in high school? I’m not sure if you remember—”

  “Oh, I remember.”

  “I figured as much. Look.” He put his hand on my arm. It sent shivers down my spine. “I know I shouldn’t have done it. All of us guys pulled a name out of a hat and had to ask that girl to the Winter Dance. When I pulled your name out, I felt horrible.”