A Husband For Christmas

There are two types of people in this world. There are the good who place their morals in lead and their actions to follow with the origin of a kind and selfless heart. Then there are the bad who place actions first and care for consequences after, no matter if they are at the expense of others. But then there was  Xander Angeles... He was a specific type of wicked all his own. The kind of person whose intentions were only present by self gain as he would have this veiled behind a skillful smile perpetually etched to hide such deception. I had the disprivilege to watch him swindle at least half of Manhattan into his apartment with a new face worn in a similar slender physique, all while his smile would remain the same as he would cast a wink before disappearing into his apartment of sin. I was not a purist by any means as I enjoyed steamy literature and the thrill of seductive male leads on television, but I was also not one to flaunt my sexuality, or lack thereof, before a tiny space set throughout these series of apartments. But for the last five years this was where I had been destined to remain, sharing a wall with a raging nymphomaniac worn behind a painfully handsome expression that annoyed me to no end.  And this day would appear to begin the same. With trash in hand and my purse over my shoulder, I began to descend the dark hallway stained with age and cracked with failing construction caused from a lack of care, as I would come upon his most recent victim sneaking out in his particular walk of shame. I am aware it was simply a mirage in my head, but I would have sworn that the floor had been worn by the amount of women who had taken that same lead, with this poor busty blonde proving synonymous. Hiding her face from me in shame, she would quickly descend the steps of the apartment once the elevator would not call to her immediate request, and she would disappear into just another notch on his bedpost. And then came the displeasure of his door opening once more, only this time, with his chiseled frame halfway over the threshold as he called out to me. I loathed my body for my curious eyes, taking in the etchings of his muscles and how they curved perfectly to his own movements. "Hey!" He would call to me with the morning tone that most girls would find weakening to their knees. But I found nothing about Xander to be knee-weakening...not unless this was in terms of leading to nausea, then this list would become endless. But it had been the details such as half a decade as neighbors, having been introduced and reintroduced at least a dozen times, and him only ever referring to me as "Hey". It made me pity the girls he had managed to convince to his sheets as I was certain he had forgotten their names well before losing their clothes, if he had even cared to learn them at all.  "Hey!" He called again, this time eyeing my skirt, stockings, and sweater combination as I did my damndest to ignore him. But the sudden feeling of his surprisingly soft hands on my wrist would force me to lift my eyes to him.  "Is she gone?" His eyes peered down the hallway on both ends to ensure that the woman was not loitering about. "Who?"  "The blonde..." I scoffed, verifying he hadn't known her by name but by physical attribute only, proving how shallow one man could be.  "Yes. Can I go now?" But as I asked him with a tone showcasing my annoyance, he would begin to undress me with his own set of emerald irises. Beginning at my long mocha hair pulled to a ponytail, he continued to the part of my lips and the buttons of my sweater, until my sudden need to clear my throat would remind him of his physical hold on me.  "Don't you think it's funny that I always catch you staring at me? If you wanted to be invited in...you could ask-"  My disagreeable chuckle would be impossible to hide as it passed beyond my low attempt to conceal it..  "I've seen you scale those girls, comparing yourself...questioning questioning "when will he finally look my way?" He would taunt me as I would now glare at him as my hand became my own possession once again.  "I used to pity the girls I've seen take the walk of shame out of your apartment, but I can assure you that I am nothing but an innocent bystander forced to witness those brainless girls think you are worth even a second of relinquishing themselves to, when I can't even stand to have a conversation..."  But instead of being offended by my words, he seemed to take them as some sort of compliment as that smirk widened even more to appear nearly Cheshire.  "Innocent? I would love to test that sometime..." he would attempt to bring the backs of his fingers to my arm, before finding my immediate rejection.  "Fight it all you want...But I know that the innocent girls are just the ones who haven't been f****d yet, at least well away..."  Despite my attempts to fight against it, I could feel my cheeks illuminate in a blush, not from arousal but the surprise in his vulgarity as I would remove myself from this conversation before he had the chance to explain in graphic detail what he had forced his former nightly conquests to endure.  "When you stop telling yourself you want to remain innocent, I'll be waiting to corrupt you..." he would call to my back as I pulled the wall of the elevator downwards, becoming trapped in its caged barrier, before finally leaving Xander's proximity. The amount of relief within his absence was similar to that of that first breath following the relief of a cold or removing your bra after a day of constriction. But he was also the kind of annoying that made me think of his antics in random parts throughout the day; each time leaving me rolling my eyes or exhaling with a scoff.  Aside from a narcissistic neighbor, my days were filled with collegiate academics between those needed as a necessity to graduate and those I had longed for as my own passion; filmmaking and screenwriting. Following well in the footsteps of my father, whose name I hid from my own to keep from remaining beneath his shadow, I knew the workings of a movie set well before I knew how to multiply. But along with these classes came the daily call from my mother to remind me of all the aspects I had under control in my life, everyone else seemed to possess something I didn't; someone to share it with.  Growing up with three siblings; making me the second along the line, but the eldest girl, I was constantly expected to be an influence in every way-which included marriage. Yet another year would come to pass with the approaching holidays without a significant other to share it with. This would prove to be normal in any other family, I am sure of it. But in the conservative Catholic household I had known to be my place of origin, with my siblings all harboring the successful trifecta of career, romance, and self, I was the blacksheep for the ninth year running. But it was not for lack of trying I can assure you...as I have had boyfriends, but they would actually make Xander appear like Prince Charming in comparison. And now between the pages of my screenplay textbook and bites of my cranberry chicken salad came the dreaded call from my mother.  "Have you had a good day, sweetheart?" My mother, a creature of habit would question with her kind timbre that would thaw a frozen wall in seconds with her warm cadence, would also hold that tone of borderline disappointment that came when knowing you were not the favorite among the children.   "Have you met anyone new today?" This was her way of asking me if I was still hopelessly single as I hadn't done so much as mention a love interest in the past three years as I knew they would be planning a wedding well before I even gave his last name.  "I am actually in a polyamorous relationship...Me, myself, and I..." I explained as my mother would sigh that judgmental huff that a mother executed so well.  “You are approaching thirty...Maybe you would consider having dinner with one of my Zumba friend’s sons? They are all incredibly motivated in their fields with a lot of them promising to become VP of their companies or close to it-” My mother truly missed her calling in existing as a trophy wife as she needed to become an executive producer on a ‘reality’ television set with bachelors and bachelorettes as she could make even the most vile men sound charismatic and the most frigid women seem enchanting. I should know...my last boyfriend was one she had made the introductions for...an introduction better left unmet... “Sweetheart?” I returned to reality after becoming lost in my thoughts as I assured her I was listening as I would hear her sigh upon the end of the phone before the judgemental tone of my father was quick to take over for my mother’s frustration.  “We were going to wait until you got here for Christmas...but...we are setting you up. Before you starting getting political, he is a good guy from a good family...I even had my private investigator and lawyer look into him-” “How very medieval of you…” I commented beneath my breath as I could hear the disdain in the silence between us.  “It has been years since you had someone and there is no harm getting to have a friend, if nothing else. You WILL meet him-” I could just imagine who they would have me set up with as the images began swirling in my mind of a preppy man who looked nice enough but was as cold hearted as they come with business first, mistresses second, and football or hockey a close third.  "I have myself-"  "And what about when your mother and I aren't here anymore? I need to make sure each of my kids are well taken care of..." I rolled my eyes at this as this would be the line he would use on everything following a heart attack a handful of years back. However, I had no interest in getting married, at least for the foreseeable future as I saw the misery it causes in those trying to be successful.  "It's been decided-"  "Actually, I'm bringing someone." I blurted out as I found the entire idea incredibly claustrophobic.   "Really?" My father asked in a lack of convincing as I would murmur in confirmation.  "Yep."  "Have you been seeing him long?" My mom would ask in hopeful words as I would end the call quickly before returning to my classes. I had allowed the comfort of this lie to get me through the majority of my day before calling my mother back to hear her crying upon the other end of the phone.  "Are you okay, mom? Is dad okay?"  "Yeah...I'm just...I was worried about you and being in New York all by yourself, but to know you have someone, it just makes me feel so much better..."  "Yeah, mom, about that-"  "I just worry...You kids are my life and I...I just want to make sure you all have someone to go through life with so you can have the life your father has given me...I have been worried about you ever since Ron and I..."  "Mom..."  "I'm just so happy you're bringing someone home. I've already made up your old bedroom and I have a gift for him-"  "Mom!"  "I'm sorry sweetheart..." This guilt and the sound of my mother’s tears made happy by this relief was enough to keep me from explaining my confession. Looking at it in hindsight now, I realize how much could have been avoided...but I also know there is no sound as bitter as your mother’s cry. And at least in this moment, I didn't have it in my heart to tell her the truth.  Returning home following a dull remainder of classes, I would hear Xander's voice echo within the hallway in full disdain. Cursing in expletives I wasn't aware could exist in combination, my eyes would fall upon that of a red notice spread across his door. Although I had passed in a second's glance, it was enough to understand that it had been an eviction notice. But a girl whose means were as unlimited as mine, I still understood the concept that someone must make a way for themselves-which was why I wanted under my father's shadow. There would be an echo of pity, however, as I believed this would serve as a cold holiday for him in the meantime.  "I just don't understand why your parents care so much...I mean...Your twenties are for f*****g all the wrong people...Why do they care if you get married?" Jeanie would explain while sipping out of her wine glass as I took my seat on the rival side of my couch.  "Because they are worried that I'll be taken advantage of without them because of my family's money. They want to know and approve of everyone their kids date and marry...But I think at this point they would be happy just as long as he has a heartbeat..."  "So what are you going to do? It's not like you can just hire someone..."  I nodded in agreement as if such a service existed, I was positive it would eliminate many lonely hearts around the holiday season. But then came the idea of money and how I considered picking someone from the side of the road just to pose for the weekend as my beau...which led me to this dreadfully naive comment that would set this entire disaster into motion.  "Why not?"  "Well unless you're talking about an escort, I would think kidnapping might be hard to explain away-" Jeanie chuckled to herself as I shook my head in rejection of her own belief this would be doomed to fail.  "What if there was someone in need of money and I was in need of someone? I have the money..." Having known the details of the unfortunate living situation, Jeanie had also come to know the details of his eviction, connecting the two as I motioned towards the hallway.  "Are you kidding me, Josie?! He does porn!" Oh...and that was another detail about Xander's immoral lifestyle that I may have forgotten to mention... he was an adult movie actor, not known by any means from what I have been told, but ‘big’ enough to have that as an official job title.  "Which makes him safe because my parents wouldn't know who he was...AND it's not like I actually like him...But I can pay him just enough to get through the weekend and then he will have his money and I'll have them off my back for another year..."  "And what about NEXT year?"  "By then, I'll be graduated and too busy in some other country shooting the documentary of the century..." I could see the details as I spoke them aloud as I imagined somewhere like Thailand or Austria, learning of the cultures and the secrets lost in translation. "I don't know...these things have a habit of getting messy...I mean have you ever watched a holiday romance movie? They may be predictable with actors wildly attractive for being ‘perpetually single’ with practically the same endings-"  "He would have to agree to it first..." I was already thinking of the specifics, ignoring her words specifically as I could not imagine walking into that house for yet another year looked at in both pity and disappointment.  "Are you sure this just isn't your excuse to be around him?" The amount of frustration behind my glare at Jeanie was palpable without the need of explanation as she would hold up her hands in surrender and regret.  "I just think it's interesting that for the last...five years you have been saying how much you hate everything about him and now you're suddenly so open to spending time with him...Intimate time..."  My narrowed eyes sharpened.  "It is three days of low PDA in a religious household, highly against displays of affection unless you're married...and even then it is only a peck and that would be deemed scandalous..."  "I still think it's just going to spell trouble in the end...but...what the hell, right?"  I looked at my glass, pulling the white zinfandel to my lips after repeating the question to myself.  "Well then..." Jeanie motioned for the door.  "Right now?"  "If not now, then when?" She challenged me, calling what she believed to be a passionate bluff. If I was being honest with myself, I believed so too. But as I finished the contents of my third glass, having lost count in the conversation, this would be the liquid courage needed to stand to my feet. Her eyes rose in surprise as I would steal her glass from her hand, finish hers as well, and set off into the direction of the door.  Feeling similar to walking to the end of a cliff, knowing only doom would await me if I walked to its edge and expected descent, my hand would tremble before finally committing to a knock.  Dread and regret. The best two words to describe this wait before horror and anxiety now took its place as the door would actually come open. Whether it was the smug look on his face or that of the alcohol having begun to take its effect, the worry would subside just long enough for me to work up the courage to bend beyond my nerves.  "I have a proposition for you..." his expression would widen in approval before his arms would cross in curiosity.  "I'm listening..."