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The smell of pine cones and apple pie, filtered through the house. There was a crisp warmth coming from the fireplace, where there were 12 stockings hanging, each with a name painted on the fluffy white part. As for the Christmas tree, it seemed to get larger with each passing year. This time around the angel at the top seemed to slant a bit, as it touched the ceiling.

 

 


The overgrown tree omitted a blue and white sparkle of lights, dancing to the rhythm of Silent Night. There was an array of gifts scattered around the floor, it looked like there wasn’t much space under the tree, anymore.


When I entered the kitchen, I found almost everyone sitting at the dinning room table. I always wondered where they’d gotten that table. It was huge, fit for a mansion. It sat about twenty people, and we were about eight shy from that number in the family. Although at the rate it was growing, we’d need a new and bigger one within a couple of years.


One chair was empty, and I knew instantly who it was. Why did he always have to be the outcast? I think he actually liked it. “Hey everyone.” I muttered, taking my seat next to my oldest brother.


“Well it’s nice that you blessed us with your presence.” Howie scolded playfully. I gave him an elbow in the gut, and he groaned. “I was just saying.”


“Yeah well shut up!”


Howie and I were the ones to get along the most. Probably because we could have passed as real brother and sister. We both had tanned skin, with chocolate brown eyes and curly hair. Many, even complimented him on looking just like my dad, with exception of his height. It had to be the Puerto Rican in him. But Howard Dorough wasn’t blood related to us. He had been adopted by mom and dad, when he was seven. I love him all the same.


He’s the oldest of us siblings. A metro police officer, husband to a beautiful woman named Leigh and father of DJ (Daniel James) who is ten and Heidi who is due any day. When things are going sour between us all, he’s usually the mediator. And let me tell you when you are as many as we are, you need one of those.


“Dad says it’s not good to say shut up.” Baylee said, from across the table. I always forgot about my brother Brian, and how righteous his little tight knit family was.


I bit my lip, “Darn…I’m sorry. He’s right…it’s a really…really bad word.” I grinned, looking up at Brian. Who was giving me a scowl. He knew damn well that I was being sarcastic.


Brian Littrell was adopted at the same time as Howie, only, he was five. From what mom says he was always quiet, polite and never said bad words. Brian didn’t look like mom or dad, but he could have passed for mom’s son. He had sandy blonde hair, and friendly blue eyes, with a dreamy smile. I think that’s what lured Leighanne into marrying him. The smile. They also had two children, Baylee who had just turned seven and Katy who was almost three.


They were the perfect little family. No kidding. They attended church every Sunday, in their little cute outfits. Both worked at Sunrise Hospital. Brian as a pediatrician and Leighanne as a nurse in the emergency room. Their kids were blonde and blue eyed, well mannered and financially set. Even though his perfection annoyed me. I loved him just as much.


Angie stood at the door shrugging out of her coat. “Evening everyone.” she hollered over the commotion at the table. Her chocolate brown eyes, scanned the table and she grinned as her eyes locked with my fathers. My older blood sister; whom I envied in every way. For one she was slim and beautiful and another reason was she had an awesome job as dancer in the show Bite at the Stratosphere.


She was two years older than me, unfortunately I tended to look like the older sister. There wasn’t much to Angie, though. A divorcee of a really nice guy and mother of Hannah, her six year old daughter. Rumored to be a big slut, who gives good head and has a list of one night stands.


I guess marriage and divorce, can do that to you.


“I think we should go ahead and start!” My dad commented glancing over at the empty chair.


The table was littered with food. There was a tray of roasted chicken and one of dad‘s roasted pork and even some tamales. Bowls of mashed potatoes, dressing, green beans and cranberry sauce. And mom couldn’t forget the beans and rice. There was a little of everything, due to my family being of different cultures.


Mom was all American. Blonde and blue eyed, born and raised in Texas. Used to singing carols at the piano and opening presents Christmas day, while enjoying child friendly eggnog.


Dad on the other hand was full blown Puerto Rican. Tall, dark and angry looking. He was born, but not fully raised in Puerto Rico. His mom and dad migrated to Texas when he was in his teens. So dad did have some American in him. Plus they shared and respected each others culture and beliefs.


“Dude where the hell…” Brian’s eyes flew onto Nick, who corrected himself quickly, “I meant…heck is Alex?” he asked. His eyes looking around for an answer, while chomping on a piece of chicken. He let out a sigh and began telling one of his adventure stories.


Nick was the youngest of the boys. Who joined the family at the age of four, even after mom and dad had succeeded at having their first birth child. The more the merrier…was dad’s motto.


Hell, I would have quit at Howie.


Growing up with Nick was a blast, we were close in age and he was just plain goofy. We were constantly in trouble and nothing much had changed now that he was older. Well, with the exception that he had lost a ton of weight, and the guys couldn’t call him chubster anymore. Unlike us, Nick took a chance and got the hell out of this heat infested City and moved to Malibu, California with his long term girlfriend.


He was now a professional surfer, who occasionally posed for the camera to be plastered on a sport magazine. He was making bank, and he loved to share the wealth, especially with mom and dad.


Mmm…mom’s chicken tasted the same every year, and I wondered how she did it. I couldn’t even make my coffee taste the same throughout the day. We were all in light conversation, mainly informing the surfer of anything new. When the front door crashed open, followed by a loud thud.


All the men, were first to sprint out of their chairs. Then it was me. All the other women chose to stay seated. It was mainly cause they already knew who and what it was. I entered the room, dad was picking up Alex off the floor and Howie was helping him keep steady.


“Hey…Ima…late.” Alex slurred.


Nick stood hands on hips, “Shit Alex!” he got a nudge from Brian. “Dude…I’m sorry, but this is an occasion for a choice word, like shit. SHIT!” he mumbled. Watching as dad and Howie, helped Alex to the leather recliner.


“Damn it Alex. What is wrong with you?” My dad bellowed. Alex immediately looked up at him, like a scolded puppy. “Third time this week.” he gave him a stern look and walked away.


Brian let out a huff, and decided he didn’t want to deal with it. So he followed dad into the dinning room.


“Lookie here…we have the famous surfer guy home.” Alex laughed. “It’s nice to be amongst your presence.” he pretended to bow, falling forward.


Nick glared at him and gave him the finger. “Fuck you…” he snapped and stormed to the kitchen. I was dying for Howie to leave now, so I could walk over and slap some sense into Alex.


Even though it never worked.


“What the hell is wrong with you?” Howie spoke softly.


Alex clumsily stood up to Howie, their faces inches away. “I did something…” his gaze moved to the floor. “But I can’t tell you what…” he nodded. “I gotta go.” he began for the door.


Howie caught his arm and spun him around. “Are you fucking serious? There is no way that you can drive home. You’re a cop for chrissakes Alex…we are supposed to give a good example.”


Alex placed his hands on Howie’s chest and gave him a hard shove. Making him stumble back. “No…you are. You’re the best cop in Metro…you’re the righteous one, not me. Dad is truly proud of you!”


“I’m tired of you feeling sorry for yourself all the time. Maybe if you weren’t such a damn drunk and a sorry excuse for a…” Howie didn’t get to finish his sentence, since he got a blow to the jaw.


Alex flung the door open, and walked out to the cold night. I walked up to Howie and asked if he was ok. He nodded, and with a motion sent me to look for Alex.


There were about eight cars in the driveway and Alex’s Escalade was the one at the end.


“Alex wait!” I shouted, feeling the cold nip at my cheeks and hands. It doesn’t rain or snow in Vegas, but it sure gets cold. Too cold.


He leaned against his black Escalade, placed a cigarette between his lips and went for a lighter. I snatched it from his mouth and threw it onto the floor and stomped on it to emphasize my seriousness.


“What the fuck?” He gave me a cold look.


I pointed towards the house, “You can’t do this to the people that care and love you. It’s Christmas eve for god’s sake. There are children in that house.”


“I know…that’s why I’m leaving.” he rummaged his pockets for keys, but came up empty handed. “Shit…I left them inside.” He pushed himself off the truck and stumbled forward.


Hesitantly I placed a hand on his chest, and pushed him back. “I’m not letting you drive.” I gave him a stern look, but deep down I was scared shitless.


Alex had a temper and I knew it first hand.


Alexander Mclean was the last to join the Thompson family, at the age of fourteen. Mom and dad already had two teenagers, so they thought it wouldn’t be so hard to raise another. They knew that he was different, especially coming from an abusive family. He was never legally adopted, which seemed to bother him a bit. But mom and dad treated us all the same. We were all the Thompson kids.


He seemed to have a lot of pent up anger, that came and went. Which to this day none of us knew the root of. No matter what anyone said or did, Alex never seemed comfortable in a family environment. But I knew there was a soft side to him, even if he carried a hard exterior.


I believed it was just a wall he kept up, to protect himself from feeling anything. And I thought the badass look fit perfectly with his position as an undercover cop for Metro, in Las Vegas. For the most part he took his job seriously. Hell, until recently he had been known to be one of the best in town. Somehow, between the summer and now. Alex had fallen into some kind of emotional comma, where he wasn’t letting anyone in and was binging on alcohol and random sex.


It was even rumored, that he was one of the many bad cops in Las Vegas District. I have to admit…there were times that I believed it.


There was never a brother and sister relationship between Alex and I. I was only six and he was already fourteen when we first met and I immediately knew that I would never see him like I saw the other boys. As the years went on, we grew closer and before we knew it. We were both head over heels for each other.


Mom and dad never noticed and to this day, they would probably have a heart attack if they knew that…I Sophia Thompson had given myself to rebel boy Alexander Mclean on my prom night.


Actually, till recently I still did occasionally. Mostly during my weak moments.


Now that he’s older, he shares his bed with many other girls and he’s forced me out of his heart. Which I’m not even sure, I ever held any type of spot in, anyway.


I on the other hand, am still working on that.


His hair was covered by a black and white trucker hat. He wore a red and black flannel shirt, with a thick dickies jacket over it, that hid his shoulder holster. I stood there admiring his features in the light glow of the lamp overhead. He had a week old beard, that suited him and his hazel eyes had dark circles around them. His lips were pinched in…I really couldn’t tell.


“How about I take you home?” I asked, placing my hands on his face.


His hands rested on my hips and he pulled me towards him. “Only if you stay with me.” he whispered, kissing my neck softly. Why did I have a weak spot for him?


“Ok…” I said. I agreed only because mom, dad and the Littrells always went on a weeks vacation, up in the mountains. And I knew that the house wouldn’t be buzzing with questions. “Um...let me go. Someone might be looking. I’m going to get the keys.” I pulled out of his grip, I couldn’t afford to have someone see us.


The last thing I wanted was to have to explain to my dad on Christmas eve, that I had been maintaining a relationship with one of his adopted sons.