“Sit on the couch, babe! We have surprises.” Billy was so excited that it was almost contagious. Almost. She took her seat as Billy played game show host and Kara vamped up the hostess role she’d no doubt play in the distant future. They’d bought a tree stand, lights, and a hundred yards of tinsel at Home Depot, and hundreds of colored glass balls “for just $22.99” at the ninety-nine-cent store.
“I thought we were going to have a gift-free games night,” Nicola sniffed. “I was excited for vintage Trivial Pursuit and gossip.”
“We discussed that,” Kara said. “But none of us have any gossip. We’ve all been working so hard that none of us would win.”
It was true. November and December had seen all three of them working long hours. Nicola and Kara barely crossed paths, which immediately after Ojai suited Nicola fine. They’d agreed to continue living together; Kara had found the apartment at the foot of Runyon Canyon, Nic looked at it on her lunch break, and they’d moved their stuff in separately. They’d only begun joking around with each other again in the last couple of weeks. Billy’s new Spyglass gig kept him busy, and he’d been spending nights with Bluey, who suddenly had a lot of time on his hands now that Seamus was locked up.
“So we can just play Trivial Pursuit, then,” Nicola whined. She’d bought an original 1983 version of it on eBay. “We can do shots every time none of us have any clue what the question is even about.”
“I have an idea,” Billy said, sensing that Kara was about to refuse altogether. “Let’s save the trivia for New Year’s Day. And we all have to have a story. Because I sure as hell don’t have one now. But I do have a present for each of you. Let’s decorate the tree, heat some food, watch Pee Wee’s Christmas special, and do gifts.”
“That works for me,” Kara said quickly. “I’m gonna go sleep over at my folks’ tonight anyways, since for some reason they want us all to wake up at home tomorrow. It’s gonna be a Very Brady Kwanzaamas at the Jones house.”
“A certain Aussie is on his way back from Seattle today, and he’s gonna pick me up by eleven.”
Nicola was suddenly alert and hated herself for it.
“How’s Seamus doing?” she asked. “Did Bluey say?”
Billy shrugged.
“He always says the same thing. He says Seamus is either ‘right as rain’ or ‘coming along nicely.’” Billy changed the subject. “But wait—Nic, I don’t want you to be alone on Christmas morning.”
“Thanks, B, but I’m fine. After the year I’ve had, it’ll be perfect to sleep in, and hopefully it’ll be a bit foggy and I can hike Runyon and call Mom and Biscuit, and then I’ll see you at Gaynor’s for Christmas dinner.”
“That actually sounds perfect,” Kara said. “But now, I’m starving. Let’s get those snacks in the oven and decorate the world’s saddest tree.”
* * *
The record had reached the end of side two, and the needle was clicking against the label, sounding like an offbeat clock in the silence. Nicola looked at her phone. It was nearly midnight. Billy, Bluey, and Kara had left just after ten thirty. Nic had poured herself a shot of bourbon neat and put the Rolling Stones back on. She considered calling her mom, but it was too late, and sitting by herself in silence felt much more attractive.
She got up and took the needle from the record and walked toward the balcony. Dragging open the sliding glass door, Nicola stepped outside. The concrete was cold against her bare feet and the chilly night air slid inside the neckline of her flannel pajamas. She took a deep breath and surveyed the night sky over Hollywood Hills. No stars, no moon, just a uniform silver blank screen. She saw an owl circling around the silhouette of an oak tree. It landed and hooted twice, breaking a profound silence that Nicola only noticed when it was gone. Hollywood was preternaturally quiet tonight.
The cold started to get to her and she went back inside, the plush gray carpet warming her feet immediately. She walked over to the couch that was still strewn with wrapping paper and her gifts from her friends.
Billy had given her a beautifully wrapped and rather large box that he had filled with “free shit from work,” including two phones and assorted beauty products, beneath which she found a framed photo of the two of them. In the photo, she was fourteen; Billy was fifteen. The quarry pond was behind them, and the wet hair and broad smiles on their faces told her that they’d just jumped off the cliff together for the first time.
“Oh, no fair,” Kara had said. “I got her a photo, too.”