It Happened One Christmas. Leslie Kelly

Christmastime.

      2

      Then

       New York, December 23, 2005

      HMM. DECISIONS, DECISIONS.

      Lucy honestly wasn’t sure what would be the best tool for the job. After all, it wasn’t every day she was faced with a project of this magnitude. As a photography student at NYU, she usually spent more time worrying about creating things rather than hacking them up.

      Big knife? No, she might not get the right angle and could end up cutting herself.

      Scissors? Probably not strong enough to cut through that.

      Razor? She doubted her Venus was up to the task, and had no idea how to get one of those old-fashioned straight-edged ones short of robbing a barber.

      A chainsaw or a hatchet?

      Probably overkill. And killing wasn’t the objective.

      After all, she didn’t really want to kill Jude Zacharias. She just wanted to separate him from his favorite part of his cheating anatomy. AKA: the part he’d cheated with.

      Lucy didn’t even realize she’d been mumbling aloud. Not until her best friend, Kate, who sat across from her in this trendy Manhattan coffee-and-book shop interjected, “You’re not going to cut off his dick, so stop fantasizing about it.”

      Nobody immediately gasped at Kate’s words, so obviously they hadn’t been overheard. Not surprising—they were tucked in a back corner of the café. Plus, Beans & Books was crowded with shoppers frenzied by the realization that they only had one and a half shopping days left before Christmas. Each was listening only to the holiday countdown clock in his or her head.

      “Have you stopped fantasizing about having sex with Freddie Prinze Jr. and Jake Gyllenhaal at the same time?” she countered.

      “Hey, that could actually happen,” Kate said with a smirk. “It’s at least possible. Unlike the chance that you, Miss Congeniality, would actually go all Bobbitt on a guy’s ass, even if he does totally deserve it.”

      It wasn’t Jude’s ass she wanted to…Bobbit. She knew, however, that Kate was right. Lucy wasn’t the violent type, except in her fantasies. She might have fun playing a mental game of why-I-oughta but she knew nothing would come of it.

      “Can’t I at least wallow and scheme for an hour?”

      “Sure. But we should’ve done it over beer or tequila in a dive bar. Coffee in a crowded shop just doesn’t lend itself to wallowing and scheming.”

      True. Especially now that this place was no longer the same quiet, cozy hangout she’d loved since coming to New York three and a half years ago. It had once been her favorite place to meet up with friends, do some homework, or just enjoy the silence amid the scent of freshly ground arabica beans.

      Since a recent renovation, though, it had turned from a cute, off-the-beaten-track coffee bar into a crazed, credit-card magnet, filled with overpriced gift books, calendars and stationery. Driven city dwellers who excelled at multitasking were flocking to the place to kill two birds with one stone. They could buy a last minute gift for Great-Aunt Susie—a ridiculously overpriced coffee table book titled The Private Lives of Garden Gnomes, perhaps—while they waited for their Lite Pomegranate Vanilla Oolang Tea Lattes with whip.

      Christmas had been reduced to expedience, kitsch and trendy drinks. Fortunately for her, she’d dropped out of the holiday a few years ago and had no intention of dropping back in.

      “Face it, girlfriend, revenge just ain’t your style. You’re as violent as a Smurf.” Kate grinned. “Or one of Santa’s elves.”

      “Not funny,” Lucy said, rolling her eyes. “So not funny.”

      Her friend knew how much she disliked the silly costume she had to wear for her “internship” with a local photographer. Intern? Ha. She was a ridiculously dressed unpaid Christmas elf wiping the drool off kids’ chins as they sat on Santa’s lap. What could be more sad to someone who dreamed of being a serious photographer? Someone who was leaving to study abroad in Paris next month, and hoped to go back there to live after graduation? Someone who planned to spend the next several years shooting her way across Europe, one still image at a time?

      That girl shouldn’t care about Jude. That girl didn’t care about Jude.

      But at this moment, Lucy didn’t feel like that girl. For all the violent fantasies, what this girl felt right now was hurt.

      “You know, for the life of me, I still can’t figure out why I ever went out with him in the first place.” She swallowed, hard. “I should have known better.”

      Kate’s smirk faded and she reached over to squeeze Lucy’s hand. Kate had been witness to what had been Lucy’s most humiliating moment ever. Said moment being when Lucy had let herself in to her boyfriend Jude’s apartment, to set up his big surprise birthday party that was scheduled for tonight.

      Surprise! Your boyfriend is a lying, cheating asshat!

      Jude had already gotten started on his birthday celebration. Contrary to his claim that he was going to “pop in” on his family for the day, Jude had apparently decided to stay in town and pop in on his neighbor’s vagina.

      At least, that’s who Lucy thought had been kneeling in front of the sofa with Jude’s johnson in her mouth when she and Kate had walked into the apartment. She couldn’t be certain. They only saw the back of the bare-ass naked woman’s head—oh, plus her bare ass and, uh, the rest of her nether regions. Ew, ew, ew. She was still fighting the urge to thrust two coffee stirrers into her eyes to gouge out the image burned onto her retinas. If she’d ever had any doubt she was strictly hetero, her response to that sight would have removed it.

      “Maybe I should ask Teddy to beat him up.”

      Teddy, Kate’s boyfriend, was as broad as a table, and could snap Jude like a twig. There was just one problem. “He’s more of a pacifist than I am,” Lucy said with a smile, knowing Kate had intended to make her laugh. Teddy was the sweetest guy on the planet. “Besides, we both know Jude’s not worth the trouble.”

      “No, he’s not.” Then Kate grinned. “I am glad you got off a couple of good zingers, though. I still can’t believe you asked him if the store was out of birthday candles and that’s why he’d found something else that needed to be blown.”

      That, she had to admit, had been a pretty good line. It was a rare occurrence; the kind of one-liner she usually would have thought of hours later, when reliving the awful experience in her mind. Though, in this instance, since she was now feeling more sad than anything else, she might have been picturing herself asking him why he’d felt the need to be so deceitful.

      If he’d told her it wasn’t working out and he wanted to see other people, would she have been devastated?

      No. A little disappointed, probably, but not crushed.

      But to be cheated on—and to walk in on it? That rankled.

      “Of course, I wouldn’t have been able to speak. I’da been busy ripping the extensions outta that ho’s head,” Kate added.

      “She didn’t cheat on me, Jude did.” Then, curious, she asked, “How do you know they were extensions?”

      “Honey, that carpet so didn’t match those drapes.”

      Though a peal of laughter emerged from her mouth, Lucy also groaned and threw a hand over her eyes, wishing for a bleach eye-wash. “Don’t remind me!”

      Funny that she could actually manage to laugh. Maybe that said a lot about where her feelings for Jude had really been. This girlfriend-gripe session wasn’t so much about Lucy’s broken heart as it was her disappointed expectations.

      She’d really wanted Jude to be a nice guy. A good guy.

      Face it, you just wanted someone