Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
Jim
Christmas Eve…
The house was unusually quiet. Too quiet, in fact.
Even with the faint crackle of the fire in the fireplace and the lingering scent of the Christmas cookies the girls had baked for Santa tonight, something was missing.
The laughter, the clinking of everyone’s hot cocoa mugs, and Avery’s voice echoing down the hall—all that warmth had drifted out with her and the girls when they left to pick up Chinese takeout.
I smiled, shaking my head. Only Avery would decide to go out on Christmas Eve for lo mein and dumplings because she thought it would cheer me up from all the bullshit about me on the internet.
The truth was, she didn’t need to cheer me up, especially after the news she’d received.
I was actually more upset that her party had been canceled, since she’d been so excited about and looking forward to this silly little competition.
Now, thanks to a major slip-up by her planner, it was as if the event had never even been planned.
Was I disappointed for Avery? Absolutely.
But for myself? I wholeheartedly welcomed the idea of a quiet night: no cameras, no staff, no trending hashtags calling me the Grinch in designer boots.
It would just be my wife, our girls, me, and takeout on the living room floor while Christmas Vacation played in the background.
Tonight, we would be the normal family we are outside of the fancy events, like the one we went to last night and were scheduled to go to again tonight.
I’d worry about the canceled party and how much it was going to cost me another day.
Today, I was just happy not to have to go anywhere.
For once this year, there were no expectations.
No audiences. No dress up. Just us. I looked down at my Frank Shirley pajamas, cracking up that I was the first and only one dressed in these damn things, when it was usually the girls racing to pull on their jammies, and me bickering over the fact that I didn’t need to be involved in pajama gift exchanges.
Oh well. This put a smile on Avery’s face, and since her party crashed and burned, it was doubly worth it.
I glanced at the clock, then out toward the front gates.
It had been nearly half an hour since they’d left.
They should’ve been back by now. Maybe they hit traffic.
Or maybe Avery got distracted talking to the restaurant owners, something she did all the time, charming everyone within ten feet of her.
I poured myself a glass of bourbon and sank into the sofa, trying not to think about the hashtags still lighting up my phone. Every time I thought about checking them, I could practically hear Collin’s voice reading them aloud in that exaggerated tone of his.
When you spend seven figures on Christmas and still forget the spirit of giving.
Right. Because apparently, building an entire village to make your employees feel like kids again was selfish.
I rubbed my temple, letting out a chuckle. “Fucking social media.”
My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a faint rumble in the distance coming from outside. At first, I thought it was a delivery truck making its way up the hill. But as it got louder and closer, my brow furrowed.
What the fuck? That contraption was most definitely not a delivery truck.
It was an enormous pile of shit on wheels. It was old, obnoxiously loud, and absolutely out of place in my driveway.The damn thing’s engine coughed and sputtered, most likely leaving a trail of oil on my driveway and a permanent hole in the ozone.
I stood, bourbon still in hand, and stepped toward the front window.
The second I saw what it was, I froze. It was a rusted, half-collapsing, 1980s RV.
And not just any RV, it was Uncle Eddie’s RV from Christmas Vacation.
Complete with the busted exhaust pipe, plastic wreath duct-taped to the grill, and the words ‘Merry Christmas…Shitter’s Full’ sprayed across the back.
The psychopath driving it nearly ran over two lawn statues while it peeled through my manicured front lawn and came to a stop.
I blinked and set my bourbon on the side table. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Before I could process the absurdity of it, the RV door swung open—and out stepped Jake. I was right about one thing so far: a psychopath was the driver. Then the next one to step out was Collin.
Collin was wearing what I could only assume was the same thing Eddie wore during Frank Shirley’s kidnapping. Then there was my brother, dressed like Clark Griswold.
“Oh, for the love of—”
I opened the front door just in time to hear Collin yell, “Merry Christmas! You ‘bout ready to do some kissin’?”
“Very original,” I said, rolling my eyes at his memorized lines. “What the hell are you two jackasses trying to pull off?”
Jake raised his arms. “We heard Avery’s party got canceled, so we brought her party to you!”
“On my lawn?” I shouted back, laughing despite myself. “Have you both lost your damn minds?”
“Us? Never,” Collin said, walking toward me with a rope in hand. “The one who seems to have lost his mind is you. I can’t believe you actually wore the damn pajamas,” he trailed off laughing.
“What is the rope for?” I eyed it.
“Let’s just say the rope is the final addition to your cute little jammies,” Jake laughed. “And now, it’s time we throw your sorry ass into the role you wanted to play before your wife saved your ass with Christmas parties this year.”
“I will literally play the role and call the cops on you sons of bitches without concern about who might miss you on Christmas Day,” I said as firmly as I could manage.
This whole thing was beyond me, but part of me found it more hysterical than annoying. I swear to God, if Jake and Collin couldn’t truly prank someone—namely me—during the holidays, they’d most likely be pouting by Christmas morning.
“All right, we’re on a time crunch,” Collin advised Jake. “Tie his ass up and throw him in the RV.”
“Where the fuck are you taking me? Your house? Av’s party was canceled.”
“Pay no mind to where we’re going, Mr. Shirley,” Collin said. “All you need to know is what’s happening right now.”
“And that is?” I questioned.
“We’re kidnapping you and reminding you that next time, it would be wise not to offer the entire company your lame-ass version of a Jelly of the Month club.”
“Seriously? That is so far in the past that the fucking hashtags don’t even exist anymore,” I said.
“That’s what you think,” Collin chuckled.
Only these dipshits would hang onto that six weeks later, after millions were poured into holiday parties for the company. Now, I was playing the victim as they recreated the movie scene where Cousin Eddie kidnaps Clark’s boss and drags him to the house, wrapped in a bow.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You idiots couldn’t have picked a better time?”
“Oh, this is the best and only time,” Collin said, looping the rope like a cowboy. “Besides, you’re trending as the Grinch in Gucci. We’re actually doing you a favor.”
“By getting me trending as the boss from Christmas Vacation?”
“Precisely,” Jake added.
I shook my head, but the smile crept in anyway. “You two are out of your damn minds.”
“You’re saying that now,” Jake said, “but by the time we’re through with your sorry ass, you’ll wish you were as gifted as we are.”
“Gifted?” I muttered. “I don’t think that’s the right term to describe the two of you.”
They lunged.
And just like that, I had two monkeys tying me up and slapping a bow on my damn chest.
I stared at both of them, laughing like idiots, and before I could say another word, they dragged me across the lawn toward the RV.
“You don’t need to fucking drag me into that contraption,” I said. “Avery’s due back any minute with takeout, and she’s going to kick your asses for making her husband disappear on the night her party got canceled.”
“Trust me, she’ll love watching the videos your surveillance is catching,” Jake said. “She’ll forgive us. Hell, she’ll probably stop crying over her canceled party, too.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Collin said, trying to start the RV.
“You think this piece of shit is really going to start again?” I questioned, shocked that it managed the hill on my driveway.
“Just sit back, Jimmy. You’ll see,” Collin said as he kept cranking on the RV and stomping the gas pedal. “Come on, sweetie. Daddy needs you to fire up again.”
“Sweetie?” I choked out a laugh.
“Gotta sweet-talk these old ladies,” Collin said, still cranking on the starter.
“You’re going to flood it,” Jake said, eyeing Collin as he kept pressing the gas, but the engine still wouldn’t turn over.
“Come on, baby,” Collin said through his teeth, frustration apparent now.
I smiled, watching the plan fall apart right in front of my eyes.
“You’re too frustrated,” Jake said. “Speak to her as if she were your lover.”
“Right. Fuck,” Collin said. “I’m being too forceful and demanding.”
“Exactly,” Jake said. “God, tell me you’re not like this with Laney in the bedroom.”
“Depends, really,” Collin said. “Sometimes when it’s—”
“Can we call this shit what it is? A failed prank. Now, can you please untie me?”
“Oh, hell no,” Jake said. “We’ll hire a team of people to push this old gal to our destination if we have to.”
“Wait. There it is, baby,” Collin said softly as the engine tried to turn. “You like that, don’t you?”
“Mmm, the sweet spot,” Jake nodded.
“You both are sick fucks,” I said.
The engine coughed, sputtered, and then finally roared to life. The goddamn thing was loud enough to wake the neighborhood. A plume of black smoke filled the air, and I had no idea what to expect next.
“Where the hell are we going anyway?” I asked, bracing as we lurched forward. “I’m not sure this thing will make it out of the driveway.”
“Oh, once her engine gets running—” Jake started.
“Purring,” Collin corrected him.
“Right,” Jake patted the cracked dashboard. “She’s a dream out on the highway.”