The Sleight Before Christmas (Holiday Hijinx Series Book 2)
The Sleight Before Christmas: Chapter 15

Running a line through the carpet, Serena stands idly by as my kids eyeball me, both of them lined up like they’re reporting for duty as instructed. Irritation and fury rage for dominance within for a multitude of reasons. One, because I finally had Serena in a sweet spot. One that meant a hell of a good night for us, if not the night. Judging by her drawn-up posture now, all bets are off. Even more so that my kids struck again so soon after the last debacle. One in which we haven’t even had a chance to deal with Gracie yet. Serena and I had wanted her good and scared before we addressed it. As things stand, our children still seem to be fearless.

“Sir,” I clip out. “You will address me as Sir every single time you talk to me from here on out,” I snap. “You will say please and thank you for everything. You will be polite and respectful when spoken to. Respectful and Sir, understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Gracie says immediately.

“Yes, Sir,” Peyton parrots nervously, feeling the tension in the room.

“Gracie, you will feed your brother, bathe your brother, and not let him out of your sight until we leave this cabin. He is your responsibility until I say otherwise, and you will make sure he is cared for. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” she utters.

“Peyton,” I glower at him. “I don’t even want to know how you managed to make your grandfather piss his pants.”

He immediately opens his mouth to confess.

“I don’t want to know!” I boom, and all three of them jump as I continue my rant, practically running in circles on the ancient, threadbare carpet of the Raggedy Ann and Andy attic. A room that I had taken my family to for some modicum of privacy to demand respect. “I’m fed up, and as of this moment, Rudolph has absolutely no reason to come here.”

“Daddy!” Peyton shrieks as I stare down at him.

“Daddy, Sir,” Peyton backtracks. “Yes, Sir,” he finally says, eyes lowering.

“Tonight and tomorrow, that’s all you have left. Tonight and tomorrow. If you want anything at all for Christmas, you will behave until then, understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” they both say in perfect unison, but I’m not buying it.

“No more activities,” I state as both their mouths drop. “Until karaoke. You read, and you,” I point to Peyton. “No club.”

“Yes, Sir,” Peyton says, real panic in his eyes for the madman who has replaced his father.

“Peyton, go downstairs and stand next to Aunt Erin until we get to you. Gracie, you stay.”

“Yes, Sir,” Peyton says, looking toward his mother, his eyes saucer wide before he walks out.

The instant the door closes, Gracie begins to cry, and I cut my hand through the air. “Do you have any more drugs, Gracie? Anything else on you that we should know about? A loaded gun, perhaps?”

She shakes her head, her tears conveniently breaking free.

“Save them, Gracie. No one is buying them, especially when you can summon them on cue.”

She reads my hostile gaze and sniffs.

“You scared the ever-loving shit out of your uncle, who’s practically been sleeping for two days now—”

“Daddy, I—”

“You what?” I seethe, “what excuse could you possibly give me?”

“I didn’t take any of them, I swear to God,” she says, her real tears flowing. “A friend gave them to me last minute before we got out for break. I put them into my purse, and I was going to throw them away, but I forgot cause—”

“You got caught shoplifting?” I pose, and her cries come harder, these more fear-induced and far more convincing.

“I don’t even recognize you,” I dig in. “What were you thinking?”

“You and Mom smoke pot,” she blurts, “I’ve smelled it.”

I stop my footing as Serena whips her head up, her eyes searching my face helplessly as I glare over at my daughter.

Oh, karma, you angry, vengeful bastard. Absorbing the blow, I fire right back. “Are you eighteen years old?”

“No, Sir—”

“Do you pay your own way in this world?”

“No, Sir,” Gracie barks back in utter fear, and I can only deduce it’s from my demeanor.

“Until you do, until you are an adult who can make adult decisions, do not ever proceed to toss ours in our face, ever again, understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Pot is legal in a lot of states,” Serena defends pathetically, but I hold up my hand. “Baby, I know what you’re trying to do, but I know what our daughter is, too. Just like she knows exactly what she’s doing.”

Gracie cries harder as I burrow in.

“Don’t you, Gracie? You know we’re having a horrible week. That we’re doubting our ability to parent and that you just made it ten times worse with your accusation. But the thing is, I know I’m responsible,” my voice cracks as my mistakes eat away at me.

Regret instantly coats her voice as Gracie speaks up. “Daddy, I’m sorry.”

Shaking her words away, I stop and level her with my gaze. “I’ve never put you in harm’s way or endangered you, and neither has your mother, but what you just did was drive the knife further into both our hearts. But you know that, don’t you?”

“Daddy, I’m sorry—” she pleads.

“No, you’re not,” I snap, “and until you are, I don’t want to look at you or talk to you. Until you bottom out, and mean it, I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

I stalk out as Gracie’s sobs follow me.

Walking downstairs, I hear Erin’s scolding whisper and take the steps further down to see Brenden drawing a penis on Eli’s face where he sleeps comatose on the couch. The head stopping just short of his gaping mouth. Peyton watches on, his eyes wide, his own mouth open in shock.

Serena stops at my back before bursting past me and stalking toward Brenden. Eyes widening, he immediately stops drawing, his voice low and cutting as Serena makes a beeline toward him, murder in her eyes. “Are you serious? My son is watching!”

“What? Isn’t the theme of this Christmas adults behaving badly? Have I gotten the wrong memo?”

Peyton giggles as he watches Brenden quickly add the final touches, which include hair on the giant balls now marring Eli’s face. Just as Serena is about to pounce, Ruby’s voice cuts through the air and has us all stilling.

“I can’t believe I have to parent my forty-something kids,” she states as I take the remaining steps down, dread filling me.

Ruby gives us each a pointed look before ushering Allen in, or rather, coaxing him in. His eyes fill with fear as he surveys his family, and Ruby unleashes.

“Mere days in, and so far, we’ve had everything but a partridge in the most dysfunctional of pear trees.” She spreads her glare between all of us. “This is not how we roll.”

“Way to go with the modern verbiage choice, Mom—shit, sorry,” Brenden backtracks under her glare.

“Yeah,” Ruby says, taking a menacing step toward him. “Let’s start with you.”

I wince at the delivery as Brenden points to himself, mouthing ‘muah.’

“Get your ass to the store to pick up some alcohol to get that shit off your brother’s face.”

He frowns. “But we have some in the cabinet. I made sure.”

“Oh, did you?”

“Yes, Mommy,” he answers, and I’m not entirely sure it’s sarcasm.

“Well, since you went to all that trouble of drawing a penis on your brother’s face,” I try to hide my smile. Really, I do, “I’m going to impose on a little more of your time.”

“Understood,” he nods, eyeing Erin, who lifts her brows unforgivingly. Her expression every bit ‘I told you so.’

“And while you’re at it, you can add this to your list,” Ruby says, lifting a sheet of paper before it promptly rolls down three times its original size. Brenden’s eyes widen at the length of her annual last-minute list. One she typically sends her most dependable kids to fetch. Not this year.

“Me?” Brenden squeaks like a pubescent boy.

“Last time I checked, you had two arms, two legs, and a wallet,” she snaps. “And I swear to God, Son, you give me any more lip, you’ll lose it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he states, his ears turning a rare red. “Sorry, Mom,” he adds genuinely before hauling ass to the hall tree to wrap up.

“You miss one thing on that list. You go right back,” she snaps after him, refusing his olive branch so soon.

“Thatch, Serena,” Ruby draws up next, and I walk further into the living room so she can address me, or rather, bitch me out.

“It’s not working,” she states, and I nod as she points to Allen. “Pants pissed!” She reminds us all as Allen hangs his head in shame.

“I’m on it, Mom,” I relay as Gracie comes down the stairs, her face splotched, which is evidence enough, but apparently not for Grammy.

“Young lady,” Ruby addresses her in her most serious tone. Gracie quickly scans the room in fear before facing her livid grandmother. “I don’t care what you do in your own home—your parents can discipline you for that—but in this house, you will respect us. You will fall in line, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Sir,” Peyton shouts as I palm my face.

“And you,” she looks down to Peyton. “Take a damn bath, you stink.”

“I going to Grammy! Daddy just told me.”

“Good. Change your clothes, too, I’m sick of that shirt, and we don’t take the Lord’s name in vain in this house. No more ‘Jesus for Christ,’ understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” he mumbles nervously.

“Erin, carry on, you’re the only one who will be invited next year,” Ruby says as Erin rocks Jameson in the recliner, grinning in response.

“Whitney,” Ruby clips out, and Whitney shuffles in from the kitchen in her elf slippers, looking every bit like she’s on the plank.

“When your husband wakes up from his coma, you two make dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“It’s Sir, yes Sir, be spectful, Auntie Whit,” Peyton whisper yells as Brenden slams the door closed, his laughter following him to his truck.

Ruby takes a patient breath, and it’s then I spot the gumdrops in her closed fist. “I want a quiet night, and I mean quiet,” she states. “Understood?”

We all nod as she turns on her heel and grabs Allen’s hand, leading him down the hall toward their bedroom. “We need a miracle to save this Christmas, honey.” We hear echo back as Serena meets my eyes, hers shadowed with the truth—we should have stayed home.

We ruined Christmas.