Authors note: This is a follow-up to Mr. Miller's Christmas Story. You may want to read that one first.
Time moved slowly between Christmas and the 4th of July. Not a day went by that I didn't think about the events that occurred at Mr. Miller's Christmas party. It didn't help that I'd frequently run into people I saw at the party, but couldn't say anything because they didn't know I was even there. No one did, aside from the Millers and the other Santas, that is. I saw Mr. Miller's car at our gas station a couple of days before the 4th. He rolled down the window, and I raced over. He didn't say anything...just gave me a wink. His driver, though, gave me an invitation. I was really psyched, happy that I'd proved myself worthy.
The 4th turned out to be a bright sunny day. Not too hot, but hot enough for a bikini for the women's bodies and the men's eyes. Mr. Miller must have had one rule: a red bikini. It had to be more than a coincidence that all the women wore them, while the guys were dressed in an assortment of swimwear.
Debbie was there, hanging out with Mary. They were both looking good. My face flushed when I saw the blonde that I'd had so much fun with saunter by. I gave her a smile. (I was right, she didn't even acknowledge my existence.) I kept waiting for a chance to talk with all of them, but really, what was I going to say? I guess I chickened out and just enjoyed the beer, the bods, and the bands.
After what happened at the Christmas party I was expecting some wild stuff. But there was nothing really, other than a simple wet-tee-shirt contest. I did hear that there were a couple of hot chicks giving blowjobs in the upper bathroom for a hundred bucks a pop. Of all days to leave my money at home. (Ahem!)
Even though it was a bit of a let-down, I did have a great time and couldn't wait for the next Miller party. Unfortunately that never happened. The newspaper reported that the FBI and the IRS were after him, and they had already seized all of his property. I followed the story as the weeks went by, but they never caught up to him.
(The locals liked to joke that maybe he's hanging out with Whitey Bulger.)
As the months turned into years, I never really stopped wondering what happened to the girls before and after the Christmas party. I finally ran into Debbie one night at a birthday party and got up enough nerve to flat out ask her about the Christmas party. She wasn't really talking, although she did remember seeing me at the 4th party. Later in the night, fuelled by alcohol, I told her I was one of the Santas. Then, having got her attention. I whispered into her ear, "You were great that night."
She flashed me a dirty look, and then she laughed. I was a little confused. She finally said that she knew it wasn't me because her Santa was a lot shorter than I was. She pulled me close and gave me a quick feel and said rather archly that even for a short guy he had a bigger dick then I did. Then (as if I needed more), she threatened to kill me if I told anyone.
And that was that.
But it didn't end my search. If anything, it was now becoming an obsession, even though I knew how pathetic that was. I should have moved on, but it had its hooks into me.
But, finally, about a decade after the party, I would get my answers.
It began with a stroke of luck that came in the form of a tall blonde named Candy. Candy used to live next to me growing up (when she was known as Candice), and we were always good friends. She was also Debbie's best friend back then.
After years of traveling abroad, she moved back into town, and we picked right back up with our friendship, which finally turned into a sexual one, one lonely rainy night. It didn't last too long, however, as we weren't a good match. We were both dominant, both in bed and out, so it just didn't work.
Truth be told, the main reason it didn't work is that Candy likes to humiliate -- sexually humiliate, both men and women. I found this out for the first time when she used to be a cheerleader back in high school, but got thrown off the squad for hazing. God, if you could hear some of her drunken stories about what she used to make those poor girls do.... (But I'm sworn to secrecy.)
I got a taste for myself one night when she announced that she wanted to ride me naked like a stallion (not that way), complete with a horse's bit in my mouth, and a horsehair dildo up my butt, while she beat me with a riding crop. Of course, I laughed it off, but then she emptied this bag onto the bed, and there was her equipment, just like she said. I looked at her in disbelief. She was serious. I can take a lot, but this was too much just to get laid. The relationship cooled with my refusal, but we managed to stay friends.
One night after way too many beers I even told her the Christmas story. She called me the next day and wanted to hear it again. She even came over for a third telling.
It seem to light a flame in her. I think the biggest reason was that Debbie was involved. She also didn't seem to know anything about Mr. Miller or his parties and was a little pissed that she hadn't been invited.
Candy went on and on about Mary. It seemed like they were still friends but she felt that Debbie had turned into a snob over the years. Debbie was now married-with-children to this old rich lawyer worth millions, living the glamorous life -- facts which Candy said Debbie was all too happy to point out. Candy moved to Vegas shortly after that (she never stayed in one place for too long), and I thought I lost my last chance at ever finding out what had happened.
Then about a year later I got a UPS package. It arrived a couple of days after my 31st birthday. Inside was an audio cassette tape and a handwritten note.
It simply read:
Happy birthday, Steven.
Listen, do with it what you want and get on with your life.
Whips and chains, Candy.
I chuckled and picked up the tape cassette. I was a little perplexed. I mean, who has a tape player nowadays. I took it to the local Radio Shack, and the geeky sales guy hooked me up with a cheap player and some headphones. I couldn't even wait to get home; I plunked in the batteries and listened to it right there in the parking lot.
When the tape started, I was a little slow on the up-take, but it soon came to me that it was a taped phone conversation between Candy and Debbie. It started with some small talk about Debbie's perfect kids and her husband's big cases. I yawned, but came to attention when Candy asked, "Debbie, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, Candy. What's on your mind? Your voice sounds funny tonight."
"Really, yeah, been fighting a bug that's all. Anyways, how was the wedding, Debbie?"
"Fine. It was for business, had to make an appearance. Everybody got sloshed. Just put hubby to bed. You know, men."
"Sounds like you had a few yourself."
"Yeah, but just wine. Someone had to drive home."
"Yeah, I'm having a drink myself. You?"
"Shhh...a little gin and tonic. Don't have to drive now, just sitting next to the fireplace."
"I won't tell. Hey, Debbie, I was at the Mirage the other day, and I got a panic attack. I swear there was this guy in there playing craps, who looked just like Mr. Miller."
(Candy was lying here, I could tell it in her voice. She wasn't a real good liar, so I wondered where she was going with this.)
"Mr. Who?"
"You know...Mr. Miller. I never knew his first name."
(Silence.)
"Hello, Debbie. You know who I'm taking about; it wasn't that long ago."
(More Silence.)
"You see Debbie, I know you went to his parties."
"W-what?" (Debbie mumbled.) "How?"
(Candy giggled a bit.) "You remember I dated Steven for a while. He told me he saw you there at one of the famous 4th of July parties. I think it was the last one."
"Who, Steven?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, that asshole." (Ouch. I thought we were still friends.)
"I see you know him."
"God, you don't still see him?" (What, do I have the plague or something?)
"Ah, no, I don't see him. I live in Vegas now. He's still in Vermont."
"Yeah, that's probably where he'll die, too. I can't believe you slept with him?"
"Yeah, me either." (Now that sounded way too convincing.) "But don't try and change the subject. I was talking about Mr. Miller's parties."
"What? It was a 4th of July party. You know: fireworks, beer, hotdogs, music, and that's all."
"That's all, eh?" (Candy prodded.)
"Y-yeah, What?"
"Debbie, do you remember that I'm a year older than you are?"
"Of course, so?"
"So I turned 21 first, like one year before...."
"I know, so?"