5 flannel shirts, 4 big mud tires

3 shotgun shells, 2 huntin' dogs

And some parts to a Mustang GT

Beguiled with as much restraint Lauren Masters could muster, considering her thoughts currently involved duct tape, ammonia and Eli’s dead body; she begged for reprieve from her torturer.  It was Christmas after all. One could only hope.

“Eli!”

“Would ya’ change the music to something other than country…please?”

Undoubtedly, Lauren’s words fell silently drowned out by the noise pollution that is Redneck’s Christmas sung violently off key. Fully knowing what was to happen next, Lauren exhaled a repressed sigh, relaxed her taut muscles, and waited. As expected the sharp increase in volume that accompanied any questioning of Eli’s taste in music, flooded the car’s interior.

Eli Whitney was a certified Grinch.

Nevertheless he was Sasha’s affable husband, baby Austin’s father, and her albeit reluctant ride to his mother’s house, Lauren conceded.

Already, she was regretting her commitment to join the Whitneys for Christmas dinner. If it weren’t for the sapient Mrs. Whitney’s incessant pleas she would have spent tonight in the company of old movies on her rutty couch. Least of all Lauren hated to disappoint the woman considering she had just heard the news of Mrs. Whitney’s sister passing away.

Inching towards her feet in the confined space Lauren searched frantically in the cargo area for the glittering package wrapped in reindeers. The crinkling of cheap wrapping paper beneath her wool coat breathed relief into her worried nerves. She hadn’t forgotten it.

“Who did I marry?”  Sasha deadpanned. “You go from wannabe gangsta rapper to hillbilly redneck at the drop of a hat.” Twisting her small frame to face Eli before he could initiate an encore of what sounded like stray cats in falsetto, Sasha mutely dared the giant to deny it.

“… Of course Lauren, none of this happened while we were dating. Back then, he was into R&B and all that jazz.”  

For the first time since they started the hour long drive to Long Island from New York City a smile found its way to Lauren’s full lips and she chuckled.  Once, Lauren had beamed with iridescent expectation of finding that perfect thing – a perfect partner, a perfect home, a perfect family. Nothing was perfect. Melting further into the buttery leather seats, Lauren resumed stroking the springy curls of her backseat companion, baby Austin and willed her somber regrets to fade to black. After dating a string of rebound losers post-op a five year relationship that had ended abruptly, Lauren’s hopeful radiance was muted with cynicism.

Eli and Sasha made for an odd pair. Everyone knew it. But, it was also apparent to everyone who knew them they were perfect for each other. Match one massive ex-military turned stock market investor towering at over six feet with a driven CEO that barely topped his sternum and you had the Whitney’s.

“…Isn’t that right Austin; you like daddy’s music?” Eli cajoled. At the sudden mention of his name, sixteen month old baby Austin grinned decorously from the perch of his car seat.

“No, he doesn’t!”

“It soothes him,” Eli reaffirmed.

“Anything, you play would soothe him just the same,” Sasha fired back while moving her arm from resting lovingly across Eli’s seat to glower out the window at the passing foliage. “You know I wouldn’t want to be your friend. You’re an asshole.”

“Correction, he’s an equal-opportunity asshole,” Lauren tactfully quipped as not even Eli’s mother much less his wife could ever get him to change the radio dial. Sensing the rising tension exuding from the front seats, Lauren decided it was time for a change in topic.

“When’s the funeral?”

“The twenty-ninth,” Eli answered quickly, happy for an end to the discourse over his taste in music. “What is that Monday? Tuesday?”

“No that’s Sunday,” Lauren corrected him upon recalling her calendar to the exact minute she would be spending New Year’s Eve unplanned. Lauren was what some would call meticulous. Every hour was planned to the last millisecond to maximize productivity. However, for the next seven days there was a big hole in her normally well-planned life.

“Isn’t that what he had said?...I need fun,  someone passionate not schedules and to-do lists.”

And like that, almost ritualistically, for the past three months and twelve days Lauren had awoken with a black marker to scratch off another day on the Chinese food takeout calendar. She had been counting down the days to this very moment.  She was more than ready to kiss this year goodbye, for next year Lauren had pledged to be impulsive. But, like a true compulsive planner Lauren had managed to even pencil in spontaneity. The next seven days would be her way of easing into it.

“Wait!” Eli grumbled.  “That means Drew is arriving on Sunday morning. I would have to leave straight from the club to the airport then.”

“Honey, I told you I could pick him up,” Sasha lovingly suggested.

“No. No. You have the baby. That means bringing Austin out into the cold. I’m just going to have to do it,” settled Eli.  

Like much of the Whitney clan Drew would be converging on New York City for their aunt’s funeral, an affair Lauren wasn’t looking forward to attend much like tonight’s dinner.  Drew, short for Andrew, had once been a failed…liaison. There was barely more than a chaste kiss passed between childhood friends. It was a clandestine secret only Lauren knew for the inebriated Drew barely remembered his name the following morning.

“Lauren, does your boss have any hook-ups for a rental car?” Eli directed at her.

Seemingly, lost in her thoughts Lauren took a lengthy time to answer, managing to respond at a barely audible pitch. “Huh?”

“Why don’t you let Drew have your car?” Sasha spoke aloud floating an idea that certainly would not go over well with Eli.

“Uh…but –” Eli stumbled to find a reasonable argument against it.

“Oh come on! You let Ian have it for two weeks.”

“Well….”

Lauren pulled out of her trance at the sudden mention of Ian Sullivan’s name, her glance shifting from staring blankly into the car seat next to her to the adults upfront. Her smile had returned and this time it stretched amusingly from ear to ear upon hearing that incredulous tidbit. Eli had let Ian Sullivan, a notorious reckless driver and a gigantic asshole that even Eli would corroborate that statement, drive his car – impossible.

Lauren had never met the man in question but had only heard the dubious details of his legendary stunts and lead foot tendencies; though she would bet her life on it some of those wild rides had to have been exaggerated.

“Eli, I know the man is your best friend but he is a road hazard. Drew is your cousin, first cousin at that and besides he will be here for less than three days?”  Sasha pronounced making for a very solid argument.

“FINE!”

Brimming with delight, Sasha seized the moment and refocused her attention back on the unsuspecting Lauren. Twinkling with mischief artfully hidden beneath a demure smile Sasha got straight to the point. “So Lauren how is that guy of yours?”

A disdainful scoff followed by an even lesser lady like scowl creased Lauren’s lips.

“What happened? Y’all had a fight?”

Eli unceremoniously choked on a cough that echoed loudly adding tension to the unbearable stiff air. As the engine roared into action at full throttle he whispered feverishly shifting in the driver’s seat “What exit are we?”.

The thought of girl talk involving his idea of the Virgin Mary – Lauren was too much for the man to fathom. Incredibly, the music that was blasting at maximum suddenly changed to gospel.

A fight Lauren thought. Nope she had realized a little too late he was a pig. The mere mention of her last rebound fixture brought on tiny migraines. He was a waste of her goddamn time. Whilst he had wished her a Merry Christmas earlier that morning, she’d left the message unanswered. Nope. It was time to move forward.

“Well, if things don’t work out how about uhm...Ian?” Sasha disbelievingly inquired keeping her stare trained at Eli’s form for a hint at anything. He gave away nothing.

“Wha…!”

The bulky mustard colored scarf suddenly felt like a boa constrictor around Lauren’s neck. Fastidiously pulling at the loose knot at her throat, Lauren struggled to find an appropriate answer. Her throat had suddenly gone desert dry. She needed a drink, a stiff one.

Hearing no protest coming from the backseat, Sasha pressed, “I think you would like him.”

After a few quick swallows, Lauren worked up enough courage to respond quizzically, “B…but, you just told me he’s a hazard.”

“Not that type of hazard, a road hazard.”

“Just don’t let him drive your car,” Eli interjected sounding rather contrite, eliciting a cacophony of laughter to erupt throughout the car.

Considering they were discussing his forever young and unsullied (at least in Eli's world) Lauren dating his degenerate best friend, Lauren was surprised Eli was calm and acting shockingly cavalier about the whole thing. Lauren sensed something was afoot and netted her brows at the pair who must have been sipping on some jungle juice.

“Look he’s a good guy Lauren,” Sasha repeated sincerely resting her palm on Eli’s forearm. “Ian needs a good woman.”

“He’s one of those men that take care of a woman. He’s generous to a fault and because of that he’s been taken advantage of…a few times,” interjected Eli.

“How old is Ian?” Lauren cautiously probed.

“He’s uh…” Eli faltered trying to pull the tiny detail from the recesses of his brain.

“Thirty-five,” answered Sasha enthusiastically, calculating Lauren was warming up to the idea.

“Well, I guess it’s the same age difference as –” Lauren tentatively whispered below her breath. The thought died mid train; lost in a fog of forgotten memories labelled never revisit.Seriously, was she actually entertaining the notion of dating road hazard Sullivan? Lauren flirted with the idea she must be going crazy.

Gradually, audible voices were beginning to penetrate the smog convulsing Lauren’s mind. And, as if delivering a well-polished sales pitch both Eli and Sasha contributed a biographical break down of the man, “he’s a cop Lauren.”

“He’s fit.”

“Buff, you are gonna’ like him.”

Lauren couldn’t help but snicker at that last announcement. This matchmaking ploy had Sasha written all over it.

“He lives somewhere around here as a matter of fact,” Eli contributed. Lost as to even what borough they were in Lauren sparingly glimpsed her surroundings. From the highway it all looked the same to her. Frigid cold flurries, the occasional red tail lights and endless white dusted roads stretched for miles.

“Well, when you go out to eat you might have to be careful. He’s one of those guys that watches their daily intake.”

“You mean he’s a calorie counter?” Lauren quizzed Eli. Oh hell no, he could forget it.

Lauren wasn’t a wafer thin beauty she came with generous curves. The last thing she needed was someone condescendingly passing judgment on her diet. She knew she needed to shed a few okay several pounds but dammit it was already listed in her planner to resume her gym membership come January.

“Nah! More like he will order three entrees just to make up his protein count then look at you like you are the crazy one for not eating as much as he is.”

“Oh!”

“You might have to cook,” added Sasha.

To Lauren that may be a deal breaker. Not that she wouldn’t cook if the guy warranted it, and by warrant she really meant he had to be damn near husband material. For she wasn’t about to be Susie-home maker for no man again.  Lauren firmly believed her place in society was outside the kitchen.

“Not necessarily –” Eli tempered. “He’ll throw down seeing as he’s about his proteins.” Bubbling with a fit of the giggles Eli added, “He will  teach you.”

“Hey, I can cook,” snapped Lauren, landing a well-placed punch to Eli’s right shoulder.

Poorly managing the cacophony of chortles that were now visibly rocking Eli’s colossal frame, he replied “of course baby girl."

It’s not like I’m marrying the guy. Why the hell not!  Lauren contemplated deciding to ultimately throw caution to the wind.

Hearing the familiar click of the seat belts unlocking and Sasha’s announcement of, “we’re here!” Lauren felt like she was being stifled by too many layers of clothing once more.

“He’s not joining us for dinner is he?”