A Billionaire for Christmas
I give up. Hell, I give up. I smile and let her have her way.
No words are said as we make love.
They’re just not necessary.
Time passes, or it doesn’t.
Memories are made or maybe remembered.
Love is long and lasts for moments that drag on forever.
Happiness is found and all our mistakes are forgiven.When I wake up, I’m alone and Miles is standing over my naked body holding a sterling silver tray in one hand and matching silver tongs gripping a small white towel in the other.
And somehow… this seems right.
I chuckle and stare up at him through one half-cracked eye. “Miles, my man. What’s up?”
“I have a lemon-scented hot towel for you, sir.”
I point at him. “You’re even cooler today than you were yesterday, you know that, Miles?”
“I do, sir.”
“Hey!” I sit up. “What happened at the poker game?”
“I didn’t play, sir. I helped the Kraken plan the wedding.”
“Aww, shit. I’m sorry.”
“No need to be sorry, sir. It was my pleasure. And exceeding expectations is part of my job description.”
“But the trip was my Christmas present to you.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed, grab the towel and wipe my face with it, then look up at him. “Now I’ll have to think of something else.”
“I have a request, sir. If you’re strapped for ideas.”
“Hit me, Miles. I’m all ears. I can’t fuckin’ wait to hear your request.” I peek at the spread on the silver tray, then take a small bowl of Barbie and Ken rolls and pour them into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully as I try to imagine what kind of present Miles would be interested in. A nice watch? A new suit? A crazy Vegas wedding for himself and Christopher?
“I would like you to kill someone.”
I spit out the half-chewed cinnamon rolls and start coughing. He slaps me on the back and gives me a minute.
“What?” I finally manage to croak.
“Kidding.” He flashes half a smile. “We both know you’re not the killer in the family.”
I point at him again. “You’re a dick, you know that, Miles?”
“I do, sir.”
“Seriously, what do you want for your present? I’m kinda rich, so don’t be shy. But I’m not gonna kill anyone. I really don’t have it in me.”
“Of course not, sir. I would like for you to help out Mr. Dumas. He’s in a spot.”
“Jack?”
“No, sir. Alonzo. He’s in some trouble and requires assistance. But he won’t ask. He can’t tell Tony what he’s been up to because he will never hear the end of it, his father is busy with other things, Luke is in the middle of a blissful sexual threesome, Johnny doesn’t like him, and while Joey did build his current life on a bed of lies, he’s not really the man for the job. So that leaves you.”
“Wait.” I put up a hand. “What the fuck are you talking about? What job?”
“Alonzo, sir. He’s having… girl trouble.”
I bark out a laugh so loud, Miles takes a step back. “Alonzo needs my help with a girl?”
“He does, sir. When I signed on to work for Miss Dumas, now Mrs. Boston, I signed on to take care of her whole family. And I have noticed that Alonzo is struggling in the love department. He has trouble opening up and I feel like you have mastered this particular skill. At the very least you are the first to make it official.” He stops and smiles.
I wait for more info, but he seems to have finished his little speech.
I let out a long breath. “Miles?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I feel like you’re not quite grasping the meaning of the word ‘present.’ When a billionaire offers you the gift of your choice you ask for… I dunno. A fancy car, or a racehorse, or hell, a Fabergé egg, if that’s your thing. You do not ask him to give his brother-in-law love lessons.”
“I understand, sir.”
“OK.” I nod “OK. Then… what kind of present do you want?”
“I would like you to give Alonzo love lessons, sir.”
“No, Miles! My man. That’s not—”
“Knock, knock!” The pocket door is sliding open as these words come out of Emma’s mouth. “You awake, Mr. Boston?”
“Hey, Mrs. Boston,” I say, smiling up at my wife. “I’m up.”
She glances down at my morning wood and chuckles. “I can see that. But Christopher tells me we’re about to land, so get dressed. It’s Christmas! And I have a very, very special present planned for you.” She waggles her eyebrows at me.
“Oh!” I laugh. “OK, then! I’ll be right out.”
She closes the door and I turn back to Miles. “Miles, don’t ask me to do this. That dude hates my guts. Like, he seriously planned the skydiving hoping I’d die. Or at the very least be seriously injured. I’m really not the man for the job.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Great. So what can I get you?”