Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Max
Narrator: Looks like there could be some brotherly love finally in Max’s life.
At least it’s a decent start. Now the question is, will he be able to make things better with Betty?
It’s a large undertaking, given what he put her through, but if I know Max like I think I know him, there is no way he’s going to go down without a fight.
And this fight . . . makes me think he’s going to go full-on Max.
If you thought dancing in lederhosen was questionable, I think you need to be prepared for what is about to happen.
“Does everyone understand their roles?” I ask as I look around Storee’s living room, taking in the people who showed up for me. After talking with Ansel, I knew I had to bring the team together to figure out how to make this better.
And that included everyone in town, because she isn’t just hurting because of me; she’s embarrassed about the town being a part of my master plan. So . . . I gathered everyone I could to help.
There’s Storee and Cole, Taran and Guy—not Gus—Dwight, Bob Krampus and BKJ, Mr. Dankworth, Martha and Mae, and of course Tanya and Sherry. If I’m going to pull this off, I’m going to need all of them.
They all nod as they stare at the plan we’ve all worked together to create, the ultimate booby-trapped meet-cute. If executed properly, it will give me just enough time to try to talk to her and convince her that I’m still the man she thought I was. At least that’s what I’m hoping.
“I can’t thank you guys enough. I know I fucked this up royally, but if we’re able to pull this off and she gives me a second chance, I’ll be indebted to you all.”
“Can I get that in writing?” Dwight says, standing off to the side, arms crossed.
“Yes,” I say sincerely just as there’s a knock at the door.
Knowing exactly who that is, I open it and find Ansel on the other side. I told him to show up a little bit later because I didn’t want Dwight to become defensive the moment he stepped foot in the house. I wanted his approval of this plan, so I had Ansel wait.
“Is he here?” he asks.
“He is.” I nod for him to come in and point to the dining room, away from everyone else. “Dwight.”
He turns to face me, and when he sees Ansel, his brow scrunches.
“Can we have a chat?”
He thinks about it for a second, but then he pushes off the wall and walks toward the dining room as well.
When we’re all together, I motion to Ansel. “Go ahead.”
Ansel lets out a deep breath, and then reaches into his pocket and pulls out the ornament. Dwight’s expression morphs from angry to sad in seconds as he takes the ornament from Ansel and stares down at it.
“I’m really fucking sorry,” Ansel says. “I didn’t know it was your ornament.
And I know what I’m about to say is not an excuse because what I did was shitty, but I was trying to pull a joke on Felix.
He said he was putting up an ornament like yours on the tree and wishing for a man in leather pants for Christmas.
When I saw the ornament up there, I thought it would be funny to take it down.
So I went with some friends, grabbed the ornament, and left.
It was stupid and ridiculous, and when I asked Felix about his wish coming true and he said he was excited because his ornament was still on the tree, I was .
. . well, I was fucking devastated, because I knew I’d stolen someone else’s wish, and it’s been a tough pill to swallow.
I’ve held on to the ornament all these years, unsure of what to do with it.
” He sticks his hands in his pockets. “I’m really sorry, dude.
I wish I could take it all back, but unfortunately, I can’t.
All I can do is apologize and return the ornament. ”
Dwight runs his finger over the wood ornament, studying it for a good amount of time. When he looks up at Ansel, his eyes are full of tears. “I hate you for taking this.”
“I know,” Ansel says. “You have the right to hate me.”
“But,” Dwight continues, “Jessica made this ornament, and it’s . . . it’s one of few things I have left of her, so . . . thank you for returning it.”
“She did?” Ansel asks.
“Yeah, she sold them with her mom over at the vendor booths before BKJ took over. This is . . . this is special. Thank you.”
Ansel clears his throat. “You’re, uh, you’re welcome.”
Dwight wipes at his eyes. “Okay. Well, I still hate you.”
“Yup, I understand that.”
“And if you ever buy another property, I’m charging you extra commission.”
“Ehh, is that necessary?” Ansel asks while Dwight gives him a murderous look. “You know what? Yeah, I think you’re right. Extra commission it is.”
I grip Dwight by the shoulder. “I’m really sorry about Jessica and about all this, man. You deserved better, and I’m sorry you were inserted in a situation you never should have been in.”
“Thank you.” Dwight nods and then lets out a heavy breath. “Shit, I wasn’t expecting this, and now I feel all . . . off.” He clears his throat. “We, uh, we better get moving, because you have someone to win back.”
“But first, are we good here? Because even though it pains me to ask, I still want your approval. In order for everything to be good with Betty, I need things to be good with us.”
He slowly nods. “We’re not best friends or even friends at that, but yeah, we’re good.”
“Okay.” I blow out a breath. “Then wish me luck. I’m going to need it.”
“Good luck. Don’t hurt her again, you motherfucker.”
“I won’t. Promise.” I glance toward Cole. “Hey, is the power cut?”
“Yup. Power is out.”
I then look at Dwight. “Okay, you’re up. Thanks for doing this.”
“Don’t forget it.”
“I won’t.”
Betty
“Noooo,” I nearly cry as I attempt to play around with the breaker, hoping the power turns back on. But after the fourth try, I know that I’m out of luck.
Tears fill my eyes as I make my way back into my cottage and flop onto the couch.
Why?
Why is this happening now?
A tear falls down my cheek as I glance over at the battery pack and heater that Atlas left here for me. It might last a little bit, but it’s not going to last me all night, I know that for certain. And it’s not like I can get in my car and leave.
Nope.
I’m going to have to make a call, despite wanting to be left alone.
I pick up my phone and dial Uncle Dwight’s number.
He answers on the second ring. “Hey, heard the power was out over there.”
“Wait . . . what? You did?”
“Yeah, was going to show a house, but the power was out, so we had to reschedule. I’m headed your way. Figured you might need someplace to stay.”
“I don’t think I can stay here, that’s for sure. It gets really cold.”
“Pack a bag. I’m almost there.”
Well, that’s easy, given all my things are still packed.
“Okay.”
I hang up the phone and then move around the cottage almost like a zombie, waiting for my uncle to rescue me. Again. I really don’t want this right now. I just want to be left alone.
When I hear Uncle Dwight pull up, I step outside the cottage with my bag and Buzz, lock up, and then head toward his car, waving at him to stay in it.
I stick my bag in the back seat and buckle up Buzz; then I take a seat on the passenger side, keeping my eyes trained forward.
“You okay?”
“Don’t really want to talk about anything.”
“Sure, I understand,” he says and then pulls out of the driveway. “But you know, I’m here if you want to talk.”
“I know,” I say, crossing my arms at my chest and staring out the window.
“It might help to talk about it.” He drives toward town.
“I know you’re trying to help, but honestly, I’m really not in the mood.”
“I understand, but . . . you know . . . maybe what he did wasn’t so bad.”
“What?” I ask, turning toward Uncle Dwight now. Has he lost his mind?
He shrugs. “Just thinking about it. It’s one thing, right? But wasn’t there . . . more good than bad?”
“What are you talking about? You yourself said he was a liar, a deceiver.”
“I know, but what if I was wrong?”
“What if you were wrong? What is happening? Moments ago, you were saying how he’s a horrible person and how I should stay away from him.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes we make mistakes.”
I pause, absolutely floored, because what sort of seventh circle of hell did I enter? Uncle Dwight doesn’t say nice things about Atlas. He doesn’t give him the benefit of the doubt. He doesn’t say that he might have made a mistake.
“What . . . what are you saying?”
“Listen, I know that you’re hurt and what he did wasn’t right, but do you really think, out of all the things he’s done for you, he would be doing them because he’s uninterested and just trying to stop you from competing against his business? I mean . . . he went and got your tarantula.”
How does he know that?
“I really don’t know, okay? I don’t know anything. All I know is that I’m hurt and I just want . . . I want this holiday to be over and done with.” My throat grows tight as tears build again, attempting to fall down my cheek.
“Betty—”
“Please, don’t.”
“I want to respect you, I really do, but I also need you to have an open mind.”
I stare out the window, the town coming into view. “An open mind about what?” I ask just as someone carting a box of ornaments starts to cross the road. “Watch out,” I shout as the box spills over the road, crushing the ornaments.
Uncle Dwight swerves his car across the road, me screaming as he stops right in front of Baubles and Wrappings, knocking over the statue out front.
“Oh my God,” I say as I grip his arm, trying to steady my breath.
Someone pops out of the shop and starts shouting, directing his anger at Uncle Dwight. So he steps out of the vehicle and starts shouting back.
The man puffs his chest up to Uncle Dwight, who puffs back, and I can see that this might not end well, so I get out of the car and walk up to them.
“If that is chipped, you’re going to have to pay for it.”
“Who puts a statue out front like that? Everyone hates that statue. Everyone!”
“That statue is an icon of this town.”
“Have you lost your mind?”