Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Max
Narrator: Word has spread throughout town, and now Max is known as a class A predator.
Not really, but you know how gossip goes. You hear one thing, and then it’s passed on from ear to ear, changing ever so slightly so that the truth becomes a mere memory of what’s being told. Which means, guess who’s on damage control? Our dear friend Max.
And it all starts at Kringletown’s coffee shop, Warm Your Spirits.
Cole: Be there shortly.
I pocket my phone, irritated that Cole is not on time. I know he has two kids, but I can’t go into the coffee shop without executing my plan, so I lean against the side of the building, waiting it out just as a familiar masked Pepsi thrower rounds the corner.
When she spots me, she gasps and takes a step back, as if I’m the villain in this story.
Check the mirror, ma’am, because I’m not the one throwing deadly pantry items at heads.
“Are you stalking me?”
I roll my eyes. “Please, I have better things to do with my life.” I grip my side and say, “My back is fine by the way. Thanks for asking.”
“Then why are you just standing there . . . lurking? Are you practicing your Peeping Tom routine? Luring in innocent victims with your witty banter, only to try to break into their house and do God knows what to them?”
My nostrils flare as I whisper, “I’m not lurking. I’m waiting for a friend—”
“I’m sure you are.” She takes another step back as if I’m about to strike any second. “But you know what? I’m not falling for it, so just . . . just leave me alone.”
“Gladly,” I say, tossing my arms in the air. “Gladly. Just move on.”
“You move on.”
“No, you move on,” I counter.
“Why? So you can attack me as I move by you?”
Grinding my molars, I say, “If anyone attacked anyone, it was you attacking me. So I should be the one calling for help.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Oh, I will.” I lift my chin. “Help,” I screech. “Help, the serial soda killer is attacking me.”
“Stop that.”
She glances around to make sure I didn’t attract any concern, which I didn’t. Real great, I live here all my life, and no one is here to save me. I’ll take that into consideration next time someone is looking for help.
“Do not turn this on me. Typical man.” She snorts derisively and then backs up, keeping her eyes on mine.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you can’t take accountability for your actions.”
“Says the woman who concussed me,” I shout.
“Because you were trying to break into my cottage and harass me.”
“I was not harassing you,” I say, exasperated.
“Just . . . just stay away, Maxheimer. You hear me? Stay . . . away.” And then just like that, she sprints across the street, walking on the other side to avoid me.
I have half a mind to lunge at her, make her think I’m about to attack, only to tie my boot instead, but knowing her, she will twist the move into something of a murderous attack.
So instead, I lean against the building again and wait for my friend.
I need to right my reputation, and it starts with him.
“Let me hold the baby,” I say to Cole.
“Why?” he asks, clutching Florence, who’s wrapped up in a snowsuit, to his chest.
“Because holding a child will make me seem more likable. Remember, we’re trying to restore my image again.”
“You’re not using my daughter as a pawn in your scheme of making yourself look good.”
“Then why did you come with me if you weren’t going to help?”
“I didn’t come with you. We ran into each other on the sidewalk after you chased me down, yelling my name. I came to have a muffin with my daughter, not attempt to make you look better.”
I press my fingers into my forehead. “I wasn’t going to bring this up, because I thought that maybe you’d help out of the kindness of your heart, but since I see that the old Cole heart is still black, looks like I’ll have to resort to blackmail.
” Looking my best friend in the eyes, I say, “You owe me.”
“I owe you?” he asks, brows raised. “How on earth do I owe you?”
“Three words: holly jolly sidekick.”
His jaw clenches as he stares back at me, knowing that I’ve got him.
Two years ago, when Cole was in his dark place where he couldn’t celebrate Christmas, he pulled a 180 on everyone and entered the town Christmas Kringle competition.
The reason? To beat Storee, who entered as well.
At the time, they hated each other, but in their case, there was a very thin line between love and hate, and they crossed it without looking back.
But during the time when they were hating each other, he volunteered me as his holly jolly sidekick for the competition, which basically meant I had to compete in the challenges with him.
And let me tell you . . . there were some things that I did that I’d never do again.
Leaning in, he whispers, “You liked doing that.”
“I enjoyed bringing the Christmas spirit out of you. But would I have really strutted on stage in front of the entire town in dog ears and booty shorts? No.”
“Hey, you picked those outfits.”
“To help you win.” I roll my eyes. “Dear God, we had to use our bodies, and the best way to do that was to put you in lederhosen and me in booty shorts. And I was right. So you’re welcome.
Not that you ever thanked me at any point during that entire journey.
But you know, if you want to continue to be ungrateful, you can hog your daughter to yourself and let me flail—”
“For the love of God,” he mutters as he hands me Florence.
I knew it would work.
I grip her tightly and boop her nose with my finger. “Aw, you love your uncle Maxy Poo, don’t you?”
“Don’t call yourself that,” Cole says as he opens the door to Warm Your Spirits and leads the way.
Putting on a smile and channeling my inner Kringle, I walk in behind him with my head held high. I did nothing wrong. I wasn’t trying to break into her house. I wasn’t trying to attack her. I was simply searching for the truth.
And that’s what I’ll lead with.
Let the fix my reputation commence.
“Good morning,” Tanya, the owner, says. “Interesting seeing you in here, Max.”
I smile at her. “Just wanted to take my niece out, share a muffin with her.” I can practically feel Cole’s eye roll from here.
Tanya leans against the counter. “Uh-huh, looking for some sympathy after the shocking news that’s been spreading around about you? So you’ll use a child to clean up your image?”
“Told you it wouldn’t work,” Cole says, reclaiming his daughter and ordering a blueberry muffin and some water.
Cutting the bullshit, I say, “Tanya, do you really believe that stuff about me? Come on, you’ve known me for a long time. Do you really think I’m a pervert predator, attacking a woman on my own farm?”
“No,” she says, ringing Cole up. “But it’s been fun to talk about, that’s for sure.”
“Tanya,” I groan. “You know I don’t like to be the subject of gossip.”
“Which is why I’m glad you came in today, because I’d like to hear the truth.”
“Trust me, you don’t,” Cole says.
“Ignore him,” I say. “He’s resurfaced his grumpy disposition.” Shooing Cole away, I add, “Take your baby over there, and share a muffin while I lay down the facts.”
“Let me text Sherry first,” Tanya says. “You know she’ll be the biggest asset to fixing your image. She has the biggest mouth out of all of us, and the picture of you dressed as a dog in those booty shorts is still the wallpaper on her phone. You know she’s your advocate.”
I tap the counter. “Yes, do that. Ring your friend. The truth will prevail.”
I order a peppermint mocha and then take a seat at the counter, where I can talk to Tanya while she works and hopefully most of the shop can listen in. She drops off my drink just as Sherry arrives.
Rubbing her hands together, she says, “Oh, it’s a chilly one today.”
“I took the liberty of making you a coffee,” Tanya says, setting her cup down next to mine.
“Such a good friend. Thank you.” Sherry then turns to me and takes a seat. “Tell me everything.”
This was the goal when entering this establishment—to clear the air and let people know what really happened.
So I start from the very beginning, telling them about the invaders I heard in the woods, then my parents disappearing—which Cole of course interjected in order to tell them how much of an idiot I was—then my search for the truth and protecting my farm.
They patted me on the shoulder, told me that I was brave for going out there alone, and Cole rolled his eyes heavily.
And then when I got to the cottage part, I admitted that I took it too far, that maybe I shouldn’t have tried to peek in through the windows.
If anything, my parents raised a truth teller.
I told them I was justly arrested but made sure they knew I was not breaking in—I made that very clear.
The crowbar was for protection, not for prying open windows and busting into an unknown residence.
They nodded, agreeing with my wrongs, and then I brought up the farm.
I told them some lady has been snooping around, asking about our vendors and our suppliers, so when Kate saw that she was there again, I wanted to introduce myself, ask questions, but that was when it all fell apart, because lo and behold, it was the same woman who nailed me in the head with a two-liter bottle of Pepsi.
“Wow,” Tanya says with a shake of her head. “That’s some story.”
“I know, but it’s the truth. I wasn’t trying to attack her. I was just trying to find out what her angle was, you know?”
“That makes sense,” Tanya says, and when I turn to look at Sherry for confirmation, that she believes my story, she’s staring off into the distance.
“Uh, everything okay over there?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No.” She presses her hand to her forehead. “This girl, bright blond hair? More petite?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Really blue eyes.”
Like . . . the bluest I think I’ve ever seen on a person, not that I noticed or anything.
Okay, maybe I noticed a little.
“I know who you’re talking about. She’s with Dwight.”
“Dwight?” I ask. “As in Dwight Yokel?”