“MOM! MOMMM! MOM? What are these outfits?” I yell till I hear her footsteps on the marble floor. “You know the guys nearly had me killed for last year. What is this? Have you lost your mind?”
“Sex sells son, and I need that calendar to sell.” She is standing in the doorway of the den where the piles of Christmas crap are almost to the ceiling; it’s time for her yearly Christmas charity event and my annual dose of being used and abused for my body.
“Don’t say that mom; you sound like a pervy old woman.” Old ladies can be wild, especially when found in packs and fed on champagne. They get all handsy and gross, and nothing is safe and in that ensemble, we will be eaten alive by the gray wolf pack.
“Mom this is a red thong, a thong, bum floss whatever you want to call it, there is no way the guys will put them on.” She hides her need to laugh at my plight and puts on her ‘I’m so serious’ face. “Ugh, we better get paid for this shit.”
“It’s for charity Noah, have a heart. And guilt them into it, have I taught you nothing about getting what you want boy?” My Mom's Southern drawl comes out, and that's when I know I've lost this battle. I’m convinced this whole charity business is just my mother's way to stroke her own ego. Her moment to out-do the fire chiefs' wife or the mayors' wife. The poor fire chief only has daughters, one my mother would love to marry me off to. If she's not busy pimping me at her charity functions, then she's pimping me out to the town's most eligible single women.
“Courtney will be there.” Oh God, she’s reading minds now.
“Does she have to wear a stupid outfit?” I get a little snarky. Courtney De Lacorte is the same age as I am and we've been...acquaintances...for a few years now. Considering her a friend would be calling an axe murderer a 'friend' so I keep it polite when we're in the company of our parents but avoid her like herpes when we're at school. Too bad she doesn't always get the memo. I think she's planned our wedding already.
“Well she offered, and I figured it would balance out the photos. She’s going to be the auctioneer for the Santa’s Helper auction.”
“Lovely, so she gets to sell me to an old lady with grabby hands and laugh at my expense. Thanks, mom, remind me why I do this stuff for you?”
“Because I gave you life and carried you for nine and a half months, so you're indebted to me. And you have to at least pretend to love me.” She gives me a playful slap on the cheek, one that says she loves me but expects me to do this for her. “Besides, I have to use these young bodies and good looks before you lot become lawyers, work at a desk all day and grow man boobs and beards.” Her cackle carries through the house in an echo as she leaves me with the box of costumes that I know is going to cause all out warfare at the frat house. At least we had actual pants last year, even if they were green spandex. This year our asses will be hanging out and our dicks barely covered in nothing bigger than a fucking banana hammock. Good thing most of the guys are into manscaping, or else we might have a 'Borat' crisis on our hands.
After dumping the box in my car, I head back to the house. My parents live close enough that I could stay at home, but as an only child, it’s more fun to stay with the guys. My dad would have a coronary if he saw some bird do the walk of shame down the carpeted passage of our house which is why I keep my not so politically correct antics at school, and anywhere dad can’t see. Being the son of the police commissioner means I always have to be on my best behavior but over the years I've learned to have fun without being caught and this year will be no different, even if I am the next President of my fraternity. My Mom's craziness aside, life is pretty damn sweet. Well, it will be once this stupid Charity event is done with.
"One night," I mutter to myself. "It's just one night." Now I just have to convince my frat brothers.
*****
"This is so not going to fly."
I look at my best friend Max while he holds the thong on his index finger and scowls like it's already squeezed the life out of his balls. Can't blame the guy, I'm not even sure the scrap of material will cover everything.
"We don't have a choice," I reply glumly. "And I wish these," I point to the banana hammock, "are not even the worst part. Courtney is the one who will be auctioning us off."
"Fuck. That chick is batshit crazy already." Max throws the thong on my bed and takes a seat in my desk chair. "Have you guys set the wedding date yet?"
I flip him the bird and fall onto the edge of my bed with a heavy breath.
"It's your own fault," adds Max. "You got drunk and boned her."
"Don't remind me." I glare at him for bringing that up. It was a one night stand that never should have happened, and I've regretted it every day since. In my defense, it was at a bonfire this past summer, and I was fifty sheets to the wind. I thought Courtney was too, and even I have to admit the girl is a fucking stunner. All small curves, brown hair and doe green eyes. She's hot until she opens her mouth though. Not only is her voice screechier than a squirrel with diarrhea, but she's also not the brightest crayon in the tool shed, she's more than a few screws short of a picnic. She's your typical small town 'princess', who happens to give great head I might add. Not that I would tell anyone that. It's bad enough Max knows I slept with her if her Dad - the fire chief - and her uncle - the mayor - found out I'd be married tomorrow, two kneecaps shorter. Not to mention what my Dad will do. And God, my Mom would be picking out colors for the fucking nursery because it's her dream for me and Courtney to have a house full of princess babies. Don't get me wrong; I'll probably settle down and have kids someday, when I'm thirty-five and done sowing my wild oats, but it sure as fuck will not be with someone like Courtney.
“So how do you plan on selling the not so secret Santa pants to the guys? Because I can tell you that aside from freezing our balls off those pants are going to cause chaos.” I hadn't given the cold a thought, to be honest.
“I have enough blackmail photos saved in my phone to convince them to do almost anything, every drunken night, all the girls that aren’t girlfriends … I’ll get them to do it.” His face sinks as he thinks about just what exactly I might have on him and I know the battle is won. Having photography as my minor is sometimes so worth it.
“Fuck you, and your camera. Man, that is one hundred percent against the bro code.” He spins around on the chair, swinging from side to side scowling at me.
“One day when you need an alibi for the cops you’ll be glad I took your picture,” I say closing the box of Christmas cheer so I can shove it off my bed.
“Your dad is police commissioner; we don't need alibi’s you dick, that’s why we are friends with you.” He jokes and we both laugh, he knows my dad would lock us both up if we did anything wrong.
“What are we doing tonight?” I ask flopping back on my bed stretching out.
“I’m going to get pissed, and you are going to convince the guys to go out in those things next weekend. Because, that’s going to take you all night.”
“Maybe I should just get them all pissed, and they’ll agree to anything," I pause, not having to think too long. "Good plan, impromptu party.” He’s out of the chair before I can say more, yelling “party’ down the hall. I take five minutes just to laze there while he unknowingly does all the work. I’m going to miss this when I have to leave here. My phone beeps in my pocket with a text message, getting it out the skinny jeans is harder than one would think. Fuck, it’s Courtney, and I opened it, so she knows I read it. To reply or not to reply? I shove my phone into the drawer next to my bed and pretend I never got the message and curse Max under my breath as I go join in the excitement downstairs.
By eleven-thirty I’m hiding from Courtney, offering money to my home brother to distract her and actively trying to get drunk enough to pretend she’s not stalking me. Sitting on the kitchen counter watching as the party gets rowdier, guys and girls are making out, dancing on the furniture and getting completely wasted.
“Come on Noah have a little fun.” the guys playing beer pong on the kitchen table badger me to join them, but with them, between me and the door, I feel protected from Courtney. Out there she could ambush me, but after the constant hounding I jump down and beat them all at their own game.
“COPS.” A scream comes from the front of the house where the pledges are on look out duty.
“Police!” Another screech and then I see the blue flashing lights through the window. Everyone scurries into action cleaning up and hiding evidence. Half dressed girls clamber to escape through the back door as I go to face the music. Police are by default my problem. Most officers know who my dad is and the complaint isn't worth getting on his wrong side, or mine for that matter. I watch the two of them walk up the path, a tall, bulky officer arguing with his much smaller female partner all the way to the door.
“Good evening Officers.” I greet them at the top step, a tactic I learned from my old man. It keeps them below eye level, giving the impression that I'm above them. Granted, it's not the most gentlemanly approach but when they know who I am - and most of them do - they tend to look the other way with less reluctance. Like my Dad always tells me, "it's not what you now, but who you know."
“We have to write you up for a noise complaint.” The little blonde pit bull snarls and gets her pen out her pocket, her partner stops her by grabbing it and rolls his eyes in irritation. Looks like he sucked on a lemon, the poor fella.
“No, we don’t. Just shut it down Noah, please.” He smiles and gives me the 'she’s new' head shake. Explains why I don't recognize her because with a tight little body like hers, there is no way I would forget.
“We don't want trouble.” If she could growl at him, I’m sure she would right now.
“Thanks, Officer, consider it done.” I smile my million dollar smile at the blonde who is foaming at the mouth with anger. “Have a good evening.” Turning to go inside I hear her muttering at him. It's more of a yap really, like one of those chihuahua's that bark at their own shadows.
“How can we just… but they’re… natter natter” I laugh a little at the newbie and go tell the guys to calm down a notch. One last glance over my shoulder and I notice she has a rather nice ass for a policewoman.
“Guys, can we keep it one notch below a riot, the police have better shit to do,” I roar as they all begin to restart whatever it was they were doing before the police interrupted our fun.
“Noah!” Yells and applause erupt from the drunken group in the kitchen as I return. But, as soon as I spot Courtney I make a swift U-turn and go upstairs to my room. Opening the bedside drawer I pull out my phone to find three missed calls from my dad. Shit. That was quicker than I expected. Apparently, the noise complaint filtered it’s way up the chain before officer bitch arrived and the last thing I want is to be bitched out by my dear ol' dad this close to my Mom's charity event. Rather than deal with it now, I switch my phone off and toss it somewhere on the bed. My Dad and his lecture about 'setting an example for the community' can wait one more night. It's nothing I haven't heard a thousand times before.
Loud cat calling and whistles from downstairs lure me back to the party. Hopefully, the cops visit has scared Courtney away, and it’s safe to return and try to have some fun. Following the howling laughter to the back porch, the need for eye bleach is instant. Max is standing on the pool table that got moved out for the party dancing in his Santa costume, the white beard shining around as he gyrates against some girl who’s as red as the thong jammed up his ass.
“There’s the guy.” he points at me, “He’s bringing you dirty rotten Santa this year. This magic…” Pointing at the not so fabulous outfit “is all courtesy of Noah.” I give the stop it right now eyeball, but he’s far too drunk to understand and keeps going.
“You can catch us and the elves in our pants at the police charity ball next weekend.” The ladies are all whoooohoooing, but the faces of my housemates have fallen to the floor. So much for getting them drunk helping with this.
After a few more hours of booze and boobs, there are about eight Santa’s walking around in their costumes. I’m rounding up our pledges to start cleaning up when I see one of them getting a little too fresh, dry humping up against the stairs.
“Hey! Don’t get any come stains on that; I’m not paying for dry cleaning.” I say, stepping over the two acting out a scene from a bad Billy-Bob Thornton movie so that I can get some sleep, the thumping in my head is just the precursor to tomorrow’s hangover. The only thing worse than the taste of beer in my mouth is the sight of Courtney passed out face down on my bed, I bet this will translate into our engagement announcement tomorrow. Slamming the door closed I find an empty bed elsewhere, anywhere will do.
