“One one-night stand and you never hear the end of it,” I said airily. “This calls for more wine.”
“I won’t argue with that,” my friend said.
I topped off our glasses and pulled my feet up under me. “So who’s the lucky buyer?”
“Some corporation,” she said around a mouthful of Thai food. “Becoming, LLC.”
I choked on my wine.
“You okay?” Michelle asked, slapping me on the back.
“Fine,” I rasped. “Totally fine. Did you say Becoming?”
“Yeah. It’s a holding company for who knows what. Not that it matters. It could be a serial killer consortium and I’d still happily collect my commission.”
My head was spinning.
I stood up and stumbled to the back door to stare across the pasture.
“I drove by on my way home from the grocery store, and there was a furniture truck out front,” Michelle called after me.
It had to be a coincidence. Right?
What were the odds that—
My inner pandemonium was cut off by the doorbell.
I spilled my wine in my mad dash to the front door.
“You expecting Publishers Clearing House or something?” Michelle wondered from the living room.
I yanked open the door, ready to throw myself into the arms of…a stranger with an official looking envelope.
“Can I help you?” I asked, trying to smother my disappointment.
“Ms. Aucker?”
My heart was thumping in my head, chest, and feet. “Yes.”
He held out the envelope. “For you.”
“Um, thanks?”
I closed the door and returned to the living room tearing open the envelope like a toddler on Christmas.
“What’s that?” Michelle asked, a spring roll clutched between her teeth like a cigar.
I frowned. “It looks like legal papers.”
She wiped her hands on her jeans. “Gimmie.”
I handed them over and fought the urge to run out the back door to check out my new neighbor.
“Definitely legal,” Michelle reported. “Looks like a contract. Huh. That’s weird.”
“What’s weird?”
“Are you a songwriter?”
“Uh, no,” I said with a nervous laugh.
“Well according to this, Becoming Records wants to pay you for a song you cowrote…with Vonn Barlowe and Tommy Kwik?” Her screech had Betty looking a little nervous.
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
“Hey, there’s a note in here. It says, ‘Howdy, neighbor. Thanks for the words. Dinner at my place?’ And it’s signed with an X. No wait. That’s a V. Definitely a V.”
I snatched the note out of Michelle’s hand and read it.
“Is this real? Is this actually happening?” Michelle demanded. Betty was now tap dancing between us trying to figure out what we were so excited about.
“I’ll be back,” I said. In five seconds I had pulled on my back-door boots and was out the door running, tears on my cheeks and a smile so wide it hurt my face.
There on the far side of the pasture stood a lone figure leaning against the fence. Even from that distance, even through the tears, I could just make out the silvery beard.
Still in the holiday mood?
I’ve got a special present for you!
Check out what Vonn and Brooke are doing on Christmas Eve five years later…
1-Click Here
**If you are having any trouble tapping on the extra scene please type lucyscore.net/onobonusepilogue into your phone or computer browser.**
Behind the Scenes
The idea for One Night Only came from Mr. Lucy attending a concert. He sent me a picture of CJ Ramone from Me First and the Gimme Gimmes on stage looking like quite the punk-rocking silver fox and so Vonn Barlowe was born.
Punk Christmas Playlist
“Silent Night” by The Dickies
“Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” by Reel Big Fish
“Last Christmas” by Jimmy Eat World
“Oi to the World” by The Vandals
“Run Rudolph Run” by Slaughter and the Dogs
“Please Come Home for Christmas” by Unwritten Law
“You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” by The Suicide Machines
“It Feels Like Christmas” by Eddie & The Hot Rods
“Silent Night / Hallelujah Chorus” by The Members
“White Christmas” by Bad Religion
Don’t Miss These Holiday Reads by Lucy
The Christmas Fix
Heart of Hope
The Mistletoe Kisser
Terms for this short story:
Messenger = angel
Demon = asshole
KELLAN
I don’t do celebrations unless they’re the worshiping-your-demon sort of thing. I’m all for those, because duh—they’re worshiping me.
Not Shay. Oh no. She likes parties and holidays and events where people dress up, smile, and laugh.
I also laugh on these occasions. I laugh at them, but she says they’re laughing with each other.
Right.
Anyway, I’m down for Halloween. That’s like a shrine made into a whole night of worshiping me. Humans have no idea the root of some of their “customs.”
But Christmas…
My girlfriend, a lovely messenger. (That’s the term we use for those celestial beings up above. I refuse to use the A-word unless we’re calling them assholes, which I’m game for.) But back to my girlfriend, who is not an asshole. Shay loves Christmas.
She gets all glassy-eyed when it comes to Christmas.
That’s the day all demons go into hiding. Who wants to be around to celebrate that kid’s birthday? But I love Shay. She’s the whole reason I came topside and all that jazz. So yeah, if my girl wants to celebrate the prick’s birthday, I guess I’ll have to participate.
But a part of me is hoping to see some form of action. For Halloween, there was a thing with a coven of witches, so who knows. Maybe one came back as a demon, and even better, they want vengeance on me.
Now that’d be a great Christmas.
“Kellan.”
This holiday was off to a bad start already. I turned, seeing Shay’s half-brother coming toward me. Shay was in class, and I was waiting for her. Now I was questioning my demon sanity. Could I go soft? Would that make me go dumb too? I mean, waiting for her in this hallway—where her building attached to the main college campus center—was stupid of me.
Although, I did note the way the college students were moving past me, giving me a wide berth. Good humans. They could be trained.
“You waiting for Shay?” Damien asked, stopping to talk to me like we were friends.
He even looked like he believed this—not fazed, not in fear of me. He watched the humans, but not the way he should have. He was half-messenger, or a little less than half of a messenger. Yes, they’re all saintly and annoying—or at least he was—but he had power. These humans were nothing. They were ants for us to step on. Why didn’t he get that? Why didn’t other messengers?