Snow Day Santa

Chapter 1

Chapter

One

AMARI

RECOVERY

Since my divorce almost two years ago, Christmas had become bipolar, either unbelievably magical or surprisingly empty.

In the blink of an eye, my fairy-tale marriage with my college girlfriend went up in smoke.

Most of the holiday traditions that I cherished as a father had morphed into unexpected moments of pain, thanks to my fake, wannabe diva ex-wife, Lise.

Although Lise and I shared custody of our six-year-old daughter, Aspen, I hated that my only child wouldn’t grow up with her biological parents living in the same house. No kid asked or deserved to be a product of a broken home.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and bowed my head in the corner of my work office to say a quick prayer for my angel.

Please let my baby grow up with good sense and not suffer from our dysfunction.

Before tears that teased the back of my eyes fell, I picked up my phone to check in on Aspen.

When Lise answered the phone with a heavy sigh, I braced myself for her to be on some bull.

I’d already dealt with her nasty attitude this morning when she picked up Aspen’s belongings to travel to their vacation home in Fort Lauderdale for Christmas.

“Yeah?” Lise’s curt voice poked at my heart, piercing it like the sharpest of needles.

On paper, Lise and I looked like a perfect match since we graduated at the top of our class with civil engineering degrees at Morgan State University. In real life, we were opposites, like fire and ice.

“Good afternoon to you too.” I gritted my teeth and counted silently so I wouldn’t mirror her disrespect.

“What do you want, Amari? Rob and I have stuff to do.”

“Let me talk to Aspen before y’all leave.”

“Hurry, since we need to get on the road before the storm.” Lise smacked her lips so loud that I rolled my eyes.

I sprayed several spritzes of my eucalyptus-scented mist spray into the air as I sucked in a big breath and waited for Aspen to come to the phone. I needed any bit of encouragement to get out of my funk.

“Daddy!”

The high pitch of Aspen’s voice made me as giddy as she sounded.

“Baby girl. You ready for the holiday?”

“I sure am.”

Christmas was Aspen’s favorite time of year.

Although it was over a week away, I bought her enough toys to fill half of the small storage unit in the back of my two-story house.

When I ran out of room there, I hid a kid-sized rolling princess suitcase full of frilly dresses and designer shoes in the back of my bedroom closet, along with three shelves of books by authors who centered positive messages for Black kids.

“I’ll get more presents from Santa when we get back from Mommy’s?” Her cute voice rose and fell with excitement.

“Yes, sweetie. You know he visits you in two places every Christmas since you’ve been such a good girl.”

Aspen giggled.

“Yep.”

My baby’s confidence was high, and I loved it.

No matter where my angel spent Christmas, her daddy was going to spoil her rotten and fulfill her heart’s desires. Her princess experience would always be top-tier in my house.

“Are you going to tell Santa I’ll be in Florida?”

I chuckled, since Aspen loved bragging to her cousins that I had direct access to Santa. No one stroked my ego like my angel.

“I’ve already made him aware.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

“It’s time to go. Tell daddy you love him.” Lise’s sugary sweet voice replaced the hard-as-nails one that she answered the phone with.

“Bye, Daddy. Love you.”

“Love you too, baby. Be good for mommy.” I smiled faintly, pleased that Aspen was going to have a pleasant holiday, even if it wasn’t with me.

“Later, Amari.” Lise hung up before I could respond.

Rude ass.

No matter how much we didn’t care for each other, Lise and I agreed to be somewhat cordial in front of Aspen and try to center her needs. Neither of us enjoyed having to console our child when sadness covered her face after one of us ended our call with her.

I placed my phone on my desk and sat behind it with my head low in my hands. Christmas might as well had been a funeral without witnessing the joy on Aspen’s face when she opened her truckload of presents.

That was why I immersed myself in my work as CEO and lead contractor at Snowden Fix-All during the holiday seasons when Aspen wasn’t with me. As everyone else spent money, I made it hand over fist. My company was my second child and a manifestation of my discipline and commitment to my legacy.

I rolled my shoulders back and stretched my long legs before thumbing through the overflowing piles of papers on my desk.

After spending several minutes updating my physical calendar with appointments, the bell at the outer doors to my office suite rang.

Since my assistant was off for the day, I waited for my visitor to find me.

Within seconds, I looked up to see my buddy and right-hand man, Malcolm, pop up into my open door.

Without waiting for me to invite him in, he stomped his big, booted feet on my all-weather mat several times.

Clumps of snow of various sizes fell onto the mat and my freshly mopped floor as Malcolm’s wet, black Timberland boots thudded across my tile.

He sauntered to the desk like a bear seeking its next meal.

I crossed my arms with my frown soon matching the one on his face.

“Why you coming in here looking like you ready to tear somebody’s head off? And messing up my floor?” I pointed to the wet tracks behind Malcolm. “Even Aspen knows how to wipe her feet.”

Malcolm didn’t bother to look at the spots I pointed to but plopped his husky body into the stackable chair in front of my metal desk. He shook his head with pursed lips.

I pushed my calendar aside and sat on the edge of my desk with my hand on my thigh.

“Don’t throw your pissy mood my way, man. I ain’t no damn Lise.” Malcolm snapped at me like I’d done something wrong.

I clenched and unclenched my fists to simmer down as he poured salt into the tender wound about my ex. I had to remember that it wasn’t Malcolm’s fault that my marriage to Lise hadn’t worked out.

Instead of telling me what his problem was, Malcolm peered down at the cell phone in his right hand and shook his head. As always, the sturdy buttons of his flannel work shirt burst at the seams.

“When are you going to buy clothes that fit? My clients don’t want to see all your secrets.” I pointed to my company logo on his shirt. “This is a veteran-owned business, and I don’t do sloppy.”

“Chill, man. I’m on a diet. This time next year, I’ll be swimming in this one.” Malcolm attempted to pull the fabric of his shirt from his body but only managed to stretch the buttons more.

“You know you can’t sew, so stop all that fidgeting.” I teased him, still slightly pissed about his poke at me earlier.

Malcolm’s rigid posture broke as he took a swig of the strawberry Slimfast in the small can he brought into my office.

Since he was sensitive about the three hundred plus pounds he mostly carried in his stomach, I spoke with temperance.

“Big men are in right now, and women like teddy bears. Look at Ruben Studdard. Walk a mile a day and you’ll meet your goals.” I referred to the 2003 American Idol winner as encouragement.

Although I’d never had a problem maintaining a healthy weight for my over six-foot height, I sympathized with Malcolm’s struggle and believed in body positivity for men as well as women.

Malcolm tilted his head back until he emptied his can.

“Ruben’s tall, so his weight is balanced. The last chick I dated said I was shaped like Grimace at McDonald’s. That was cold-blooded.” Malcolm frowned like he lost his best friend.

“Not Grimace.”

Both of us chuckled.

“I got this.” He waved his can over his belly. “What you need to do is focus on yourself. Man . . . your evil ex is at it again.” Malcolm tossed the can toward my wastebasket and missed it by a foot before lifting his phone and swiping the screen with his thumb.

Since we became friends, Malcolm had become my quirky sidekick.

He lived vicariously through me, tracking my ex and her silly ways as if he were a private investigator.

He said he didn’t want me to be blindsided by anything Lise did.

I owed Malcolm a lot, since immediately after my divorce, he checked in on my mental state almost daily, making sure I didn’t fall into a state of depression because I had to start life over as a single father to a precocious little girl.

“What you talkin’ ’bout?” I sighed deeply and picked up his can before placing it in the wastebasket.

Despite common sense telling me not to egg Malcolm on, I wanted to know what Lise was up to. She had always been a loose cannon, so I mentally prepared myself to schedule an emergency session with my therapist if foolishness popped off.

“Looka here.” Malcolm thrust his cell phone in my face so fast I couldn’t make out what he tried to show me.

I reached for his phone and focused on the screen, frowning like the phone stank. Lise and her new husband, Robert, were booed up on a social media post where ol’ boy held her so tight that if she were a pimple, she’d pop. I read the caption under the photo.

When God sends you THE ONE…baby, hold him tight. I went from trash to treasure in love. Thank you, God, for loving me the RIGHT way in EVERY way. *tongue emoji* Our little angel will be blessed to have a daddy like you. #relationshipgoals #sexydaddytobe

I shook my head as I took in all the information on Lise’s page. She dissed me publicly with her cryptic words all the time. But a pregnancy? Whoa. She really moved on and chose to share her news with the world before sharing it with me.

“We were just on the phone.” I almost whispered the words as I reread the caption.