Scrooged by Vi Keeland
I realized I was still holding his phone. “I’m just going to send myself a few of the photos,” I said.
“Alright,” he said as he watched me program my number into his contacts. I messaged myself the entire set of pictures we had taken. I suppose that was a great excuse to make sure I left him with my number.
After handing him back his phone, I asked, “Do you mind if I post one of these to Instagram?”
He hesitated, then said, “Go for it.”
“I won’t tag you or anything. Not that I even know your last name.”
“Bullock.”
Bullock.
Adam Bullock.
Meredith Bullock.
Adam and Meredith Bullock.
Mr. and Mrs. Adam Bullock.
The Bullocks.
I laughed inwardly at my ridiculous thoughts, as I stared down at our photo. “Do you want me to tag you?”
He shook his head. “I’m not on Instagram.”
“Are you too cool for social media?” I teased.
“I went on there to see what the hype was all about once and accidentally liked someone’s photo from five years ago. Figured that made me look like a creep, so I vowed never to go on there again.”
I was cracking up. “I hate when that happens.”
After uploading my favorite photo of us—one where his arm was around me, I applied the Gingham filter and the hashtags: #AnUberChristmas #NewFriend #DontKnowHimFromAdam #ClarkKent
“Let me see,” he said, taking the phone from me. He stared at the photo and rolled his eyes. “Clark Kent, huh?”
“You remind me of him…in a good way.”
“My muscles?”
I giggled. “Your glasses. But now that you mention it…your muscles, too.” I felt my cheeks heat up after offering him that compliment.
Adam began to scroll through my other photos, most of which were of food. “Now, I see where most of your money goes. You’re a foodie.”
“Yes. I love taking elaborate photos of my meals in various lighting.”
“You’re very artistic.”
I couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting me. “Thank you.”
When he handed me back my phone, his hand landed on mine for a few seconds.
As much as I’d hoped to see him again, I honestly couldn’t fully read him. He’d alluded to the fact that he chose to remain single after losing his girlfriend to cancer in his twenties. Did that mean he wanted to be single forever?
How old is he anyway?
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-one,” he answered. “You?”
“Twenty-eight.” I smiled. “’Bout time I got my shit together, right?”
“Nah. You’re good. You don’t need to do anything differently.”
I shrugged. “I would hardly say that.”
“You’re a bright, attractive woman who stopped her life to take care of her sick grandmother. You’re just getting back on your feet between that and your douchnozzle ex throwing you that curveball.”
Once again, his words had soothed my soul somehow. Maybe I needed to take a bit of Adam’s advice, take my fate into my own hands. I got the sudden urge to ask him if he’d want to hang out sometime in the New Year. Maybe he was the type of guy who needed a clear signal, especially if he was closed off when it came to women.
My heart started to beat faster as I readied to pose my bold question.
Before the words had a chance to escape my mouth, the car skidded on some ice, sending us into a snow bank.
This time, Adam had come crashing into my direction. I felt his large hand on my knee.
“Are you okay?” he asked before promptly removing it.
No, put it back.
“Yeah,” I said as my heart pounded from the adrenaline rush.
The car wasn’t moving. The tires were rolling but we weren’t getting any traction. We were now stuck in the snow.
Crap! I was going to be late for my hearing.
The driver finally said, “You guys better go. I think I’m gonna be here for a while. The courthouse is only a couple of blocks that way. You can walk.”
I looked at the time on my phone and turned to Adam. “I’m actually running late. I have to go.” I waited a bit for him to say something, to give him a chance to make a move, but he just looked at me.
After I reluctantly exited the car, I realized he was getting out, too, and coming around to where I was standing on the sidewalk.
“Let’s go,” he said.
I perked up. “You’re coming with me?”
“Yeah. I’m going to the courthouse, too. That was always the plan.”
I hadn’t realized that, even though it made sense, given that he was an attorney.
“Oh, for some reason, I didn’t think we were going to the same exact place.”
As we trudged through the snow together, I no longer felt brave enough to ask him out. That car mishap had apparently knocked the courage right out of me, or maybe knocked some sense into me.
When we arrived at the entrance, I had to wait in a long line, while Adam could breeze right through the attorney only door. I held out a last bit of hope that maybe he’d ask to see me again, but was disappointed when he merely gave me a wave.
“Good luck today, Meredith. Whatever you do, just be extra nice to the plaintiff’s attorney, and I’m sure you’ll get what you need.”
I half-heartedly smiled. “Thanks. It was nice meeting you, Clark Kent.”
He walked through the metal detectors and yelled back to me in line. “You, too, beautiful.”
“All rise. The Civil Court of the City of New York is now in session, the Honorable Daniel Ebenezer presiding. Everyone please remain standing until the judge has entered and is seated.”
Daniel Ebenezer? Really? I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried. I was about to be tossed out on my ass by Scrooge on Christmas Eve? I started to laugh because it was so absurd. The bailiff shot me a warning glare, so I managed to turn my laughter into a cough until I settled down.
A judge in a black robe took his seat and everyone in the courtroom followed his lead. He put on reading glasses and buried his nose in some papers, then looked over at the bailiff. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s get started. Call the first damn case.”
Great. Just great. He really was Scrooge.
The bailiff cleared his throat. “Schmidt Real Estate Holdings vs. Eden. Docket number 1468944R.”
Wow. I’m first.
Nerves hit me full force as I stood and approached the little gate that separated the players from the audience. The bailiff nodded for me to enter and pointed to the right side of the courtroom where there was a lonely looking empty table.
A minute later, the squeaky little gate opened and closed again, and a suit walked over to the table on the other side of the court. I was so nervous that I hadn’t even looked over to check out my adversary…until I heard his voice.
“Your honor. Adam Bullock representing Schmidt Real Estate Holdings. We’ve been in discussions with the plaintiff and request an adjournment.”
My head whipped to Adam. Adam was my nemesis? And what was he doing requesting an adjournment?
The judge inched his glasses down his nose and spoke over them. “This case has already been adjourned once, Counselor. My docket is not your playground. Why can’t this be heard or settled today?”
Adam looked over at me. “Your honor, Miss Eden has provided some evidence that she may be entitled to succession rights. We’d like a little time to authenticate that evidence.”
The judge glanced over at me. “I take it you’re fine with this adjournment, Miss Eden?”
I was so stunned that I could barely speak. “Umm. Yes. Yes, Your Honor. Yes, I am. That would be great.”
The judge scribbled something down and spoke without looking up. “Re-calendared for Tuesday, February 14th, and I expect this to be worked out on that date.” He banged his gavel, and I stood there in shock.
I’m not evicted?
It’s over?
Oh my God.
My mouth hung open. I continued to stand there and just stare into space.
Adam walked over and extended a paper my way. His voice was all business. “You’ll need to fill this out, Miss Eden.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just took the paper from his hand. “Oh. Okay. Thank you.”
Adam lifted his chin to the bailiff, and, without another glance my way, he was gone. By the time I finally lifted my jaw off the floor, he was already walking through the courtroom door into the lobby.
I picked up my purse and shook my head in disbelief. Outside of the courtroom, I looked around. Adam was nowhere in sight. This was the craziest day ever. I waited a few minutes to see if he’d come back to talk to me, but he didn’t. So, eventually I headed to the ladies’ room, and figured I’d call an Uber once I was done.
But when I went into the bathroom, I started to fold up the paper in my hand—the paper I’d completely forgotten that Adam had handed me—and noticed that there was something written in pen on it.
Meet me outside. I’ll get the Uber.
My heart started to pound. Oh my God. Forgetting I needed to pee, I took off for the front door of the courthouse. Through the whiteout conditions of the snow, I saw Adam getting into a Town Car. I didn’t bother to waste time with my jacket or hood; I just made a run for it—slipping and sliding all the way, barely avoiding falling twice to get to the curb.
Adam opened the car door with a giant smile and laughed. “Get in here. You’re going to break something.”
I was out of breath and on a high when I slammed the car door shut. “I can’t believe it was you!”
“Guess there is a such thing as luck after all.”
“I…I have no idea how to thank you.”
He winked. “That’s okay. I have a few ideas.”
The car slowed to a stop. Adam wouldn’t tell me where we were going, but we definitely weren’t heading to the airport or back to my apartment. But, I didn’t care. I never wanted to get out of this Uber. Not only was I sitting next to a hot guy who smelled good, but he’d saved my ass from being homeless on Christmas Eve—from Ebenezer Scrooge, of all people. I had no doubt that the judge would have evicted me had things not worked out the way it did.
Adam opened the door, and I looked up at where we were. “Rockefeller Center?”
“You said you loved the tree. Figured our flights were probably delayed anyway.” He shrugged. “And if we miss them…that wouldn’t be such a bad thing either, would it?”
I beamed from ear to ear. “No, it definitely wouldn’t be.”
Adam exited the Town Car and held out his hand to help me out. He didn’t let go even after the Uber started to pull away. His hand was warm and so much bigger than my little one. We walked side by side to the tree. I really did love it here. Rockefeller Center at Christmas was a magical place, even if I didn’t get my proposal.
Adam and I stood and stared up at the tree. He looked at me and then stopped a couple walking by. “Excuse me. Would you mind taking a picture of us in front of the tree?”
They both smiled. “No, not at all.”
Adam fiddled with his cell and handed it to the woman.
“You ready, beautiful?”
I’d assumed he meant to smile big for the camera. So I did.
But obviously he had something else in mind. He grabbed me into his arms. “Meredith Grab-my-junk Eden, you stole my Uber, snapped photos so I can lie to my mother, and made me commit perjury to a judge today, and yet I haven’t smiled this much on Christmas Eve in years. Will you do me the honor of putting this picture in the empty frame on your desk?”
I laughed. “I’d love to.”
With a big smile on both our faces, Adam bent me backwards into a deep dip, and planted his lips over mine.
It just goes to show that with a little luck, fairy tales can come true, despite Ebenezer Scrooge.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
Much Love,
Vi & Penelope
Piper
It was a lazy Saturday on the Upper West Side. Christmastime in New York was always my favorite time of the year. From the hustle and bustle of passersby with their shopping bags, to the lush wreaths on the doors of the brownstones in my neighborhood, I just loved every bit of this season. The air was so cold today that it felt like a true cleanse of my system every time I breathed it in.
I’d just left one of my favorite cafés, where I’d spent the afternoon sipping hot cocoa and looking through some catalogs to get ideas for an apartment I was re-doing. As an interior designer, browsing for décor was one of my favorite things to do, even in my spare time when I wasn’t on the clock; I really didn’t even consider it a chore.
As I approached my apartment building, I noticed a man sitting down on the ground right in front of it. From time to time, the homeless would choose a spot outside of my building, probably figuring that it was a nice, safe area. Unfortunately, all too often, residents would complain, forcing those poor people to move. I never had an issue with the homeless parking themselves outside our building. It wasn’t like they were hurting anyone.
Rather than approach this man, I had an idea. Turning back around, headed in the direction from which I came, I walked toward my favorite delicatessen. My plan was to buy the man a damn good lunch and give him some cash. After all, that gesture would be right in line with my decision this year to forego Christmas gifts to my friends and family in favor of good deeds. Rather than spending money needlessly on a scarf or Broadway show tickets, I’d help someone in need and let each friend and family member know exactly what I’d done for someone else in their honor. So, who was going to be the lucky recipient of today’s good deed? I figured helping this homeless man, buying him lunch, and giving him some cash might be the perfect present for my Aunt Lorraine.
When it was my turn in line at the deli, I said, “Large pastrami on rye, please.” After placing my order, I grabbed a bottle of Coke from the refrigerator, a bag of sour cream and onion chips, and a large chocolate chip cookie from the counter that was covered in Saran wrap. Not knowing what the man liked, I basically just ordered all of my own favorites. You couldn’t go wrong with anything from this place.
Returning to the sidewalk and feeling good about myself, I headed back toward my building. I’d also slipped a fifty-dollar bill into the paper bag.
Luckily, the man was still sitting in that same spot on the ground when I returned. From a distance, I could see he was wearing a flannel shirt. Or was it a jacket? As I approached, I also noticed ripped jeans. A baseball cap covered his face.
Now standing right in front of the man, I bent down and cleared my throat. “Hello…I’m Piper. I, uh, thought you might be hungry,” I said, reaching the bag out to him.
He didn’t immediately say anything as he lifted his hat a bit so he could see my face through the sun. Even though it was a cold day, the sun was shining brightly.
I added, “There’s also a fifty-dollar bill inside the bag. All I ask is that you don’t spend it on alcohol.”
He opened the bag and took a whiff, then said, “Then it’s okay to spend it on strippers?”
Not knowing how to answer that, I stammered,” Uh...I’d prefer you didn’t, but whatever makes your Christmas merry, I suppose.”
He abruptly lifted his hat off his head. That was when I noticed his striking blue eyes, head full of thick, beautifully tousled copper hair, and really handsome face.
His eyes seared into mine as he said, “What are you smoking, lady?”
I swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“You think I’m homeless?”
Oh.
No
What?
He’s not homeless?
In an attempt to defend myself, I cringed and said, “Why else would you be sitting on the ground outside of this building?”
“Oh, I don’t know…maybe I’m doing some work inside and came out for a smoke?” He scowled. “Any number of things.”
It was then that I really took a moment to look at him. He wore one of those heavy flannel shirts that were more padded like a jacket, the ones I’d always see construction workers donning. Of course. From a distance, he somehow looked like he might be homeless, but up close he looked like something out of an L.L. Bean catalog. He wasn’t just handsome; he was gorgeous. He had the perfect amount of chin scruff and large hands that looked like they’d seen their share of work. He looked…sexy. Not homeless. Not homeless at all, you idiot, Piper.
With every second that passed, I started to realize just how much of a mistake I’d made. The rips in his jeans were intentional, not a result of tattered wear. He was clean and didn’t look anything like someone who lived on the streets with limited access to a shower. Rather than smelling bad, he smelled quite good in fact, like cologne with a hint of cigarettes.
“Clearly, I made a mistake. But you were sitting on the ground…I jus—”
“So, if someone takes a rest on the ground, they’re automatically homeless?”
“We’ve had homeless people camp out in this very spot before, so it seemed plausible.”
He scratched his chin. “Let me ask you this, Piper...if a hooker walks the streets in heels, bending down talking to strangers, does that mean that every woman walking the sidewalk in heels—such as yourself—who bends down and talks to strangers is a hooker?”
Is he indirectly calling me a whore?
Plain and simple, I’d tried to do a good thing. And I fucked up. But that was no reason for him to be so mean.
“Look, I’m sorry. Clearly this was a huge misunderstanding. I was just trying to do something good for someone.”
“So you could feel better about yourself...”
I squinted. “Excuse me?”
“By labeling someone you perceive as beneath you, it makes you feel better about yourself. Further solidifying the entitled rich girl that you are.”
No, he didn’t.
Despite the frigid air, my body temperature started to rise.
“I’ll have you know, I work very hard for my money. There’s not a spoiled or ungrateful bone in my body.”
“Perhaps, then, you should do your research before handing your cash out to random people on the sidewalk. But it didn’t matter to you. You didn’t care who you were handing it to, as long as you were getting your fix of self-righteousness.”
This prick was getting on my last nerve.
“I don’t know who you are, or what you’re even doing outside of my building, but—”
“Finally...she asks who I am!” He stood up. “Might that have been a good idea before you handed me fifty dollars and a bag of food?”
“You know what? I am sort of wishing now that it were a bag of dicks instead, because that’s what you deserve…to eat a bag of dicks!” I huffed, “I’m done with this conversation. Have a nice day. Stuff the sandwich up your ass and use the money to buy yourself some manners!”
It had taken me hours to calm down from that infuriating encounter.
Later that evening, I was headed out with a friend when I stopped at the sight of something at my feet just outside my apartment door.
It was a paper bag. Upon closer inspection, it looked like the same paper bag I’d given to that guy earlier—because it said Rick’s Delicatessen on the front.
Hesitantly, I picked it up and opened it.
I gasped at the sight of what looked like seven rubber dildos inside in various colors.
What the fuck?
There was a note.
Per your suggestion, I went ahead and bought a bag of dicks. Actually, technically, you said you wished you’d given me a bag of dicks and that I should buy some manners, but they don’t sell manners on 8th Avenue. As luck would have it, they do sell dicks. So, wish granted. While I’m unable to “eat” them as you so kindly suggested…(because, you know, you’re such a nice, giving person who cares about your fellow man), I figured you might get more use out of a bag of dicks than me. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
P.S. The food and the fifty you left me with went to an *actual* homeless person as per your intention.
