Black Christmas (Plus Bonus Story "Black Supper") Read Free Page A

laughter and the bantering around me and at least one of them smelled distinctly of Peppermint Schnapps.
    A few times, Angel caught my gaze in the rearview mirror and chuckled, which told me that shoving me in the back with her garrulous cousins hadn’t been an accident either.
    It was hard to hide, surrounded in all of that warmth.
    When we got to Nick’s parents’ house, it only got harder.
    I ended up in the backyard with Nick and five of his nieces, four of his nephews, Angel’s three younger cousins and Angel herself, playing a game of soccer with the weirdest rules I think I’d ever encountered––rules that kept changing every three or four minutes.
    Most of the adults chose to sit the game out, although a few joined in here and there before retreating to the back deck where they sat and gossiped and drank beer while they waited for the chicken and ribs to finish cooking on the barbecue.
    I had a few pangs that I should be helping his mother in the kitchen, but Nick only rolled his eyes when I mentioned it.
    “Cooking isn’t your gift, doc,” he teased me.
    “I can cook a few things,” I said, indignant.
    “Really?” he tossed back. “When’s the last time you made Kaiseki Ryori? Or rolled sushi for that matter?”
    “That's what she’s making?”
    “She makes that every year.”
    Remembering he was right, I nodded.
    “She likes doing it anyway,” Nick added in a lower voice. “And she’d grill the crap out of you if you went in there. She’ll want to know all about Ian and why you two broke up and who I’m dating and whatever else.” Flushing a bit, maybe because he’d just tracked what he was saying back to the other night at my apartment, he shrugged. “She means well... but she has all the tact of a drunk rhino, you know that. And she’s been hoping you and me would hook up since I met you.”
    “Really?” I said, stunned. “Since when?”
    He rolled his eyes again, that time snorting in disbelief.
    “Since always,” he said. “She didn’t say anything when you were with Ian, of course. She’s not that out of touch.”
    I must have looked blown away still, because he snorted again.
    “Jeez, Miri... she’s not exactly subtle. And she likes you, so it’s kind of a no-brainer. She can’t stand most of the women I bring home.”
    Somehow, in the wake of our aborted make-out session the other night, the conversation landed with me differently than it would have, even a few weeks earlier. I also found myself somewhat wary of why he’d brought it up. For the first time, I found myself thinking Nick might actually be probing me, trying to get a reaction.
    As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I found myself looking at him differently. I watched him try to hide embarrassment once he noticed me watching him, too.
    As far as the cooking, I knew he was right, but I also felt strangely guilty getting let off the hook so easily. In previous years I’d been there to help decorate the tree at least, and to help Nick’s father hang the Christmas lights without killing himself. I’d also done a lot of table-setting and cleaning and washing up and so on, and usually I helped set up the spare rooms.
    This year, no one asked me to do anything, which made me wonder what Nick told them.
    Still, it was a lot easier to avoid probing conversations with adults while surrounded by kids who just wanted me to kick a ball at them or swing them around by the arms periodically.
    After we’d all stuffed ourselves on food and I’d had enough beers to get talked into playing poker––a game that got pretty rowdy and included Nick, Angel, Nick’s father, Nick’s sisters, Maya and Naomi, two of his uncles and Angel’s three cousins, all of whom claimed they were going to have us for breakfast, being card sharks from Louisiana––Nick’s mom announced we were all going for a walk to look at the lights and “burn off some of the fumes” as she put it.
    She wasn’t wrong really.
    It was while I