A Christmas to Dismember, Addison Moore [howl and other poems .TXT] 📗

She sings a stunning aria that brings everyone to their feet once she’s through. The last to rise from his seat is the guest of honor himself, Quinn Bennet. His arms remain folded across his chest as the rest of the room breaks out into a raucous applause.

His behavior seems odd. Disturbing even. Hers was the best performance of the night by far.

The applause dies down, and Quinn heads to the stage, bowing slightly to Angelica as she speeds to the audience with her chin in the air. It’s clear she didn’t take too well to his snubbing.

“Thank you all for coming out tonight,” he says above a whisper into the microphone. The dramatic lighting only magnifies his dashing good looks. “How about another round of applause for the effervescent Angelica Chatfield?” Another short-lived round of applause circles the room. “Angelica always did know how to bring the men to their feet.” A burst of laughter erupts from the crowd, and I glance to Angelica seated in front and she doesn’t look amused in the slightest.

Quinn lowers his hand to the crowd, and everyone finds their seats once again.

“I want to give a special thank you to Bizzy Baker and the wonderful staff at the Country Cottage Inn. Out of all of my holdings, this treasure on the Atlantic has always held a special place in my heart.” Another light round of applause breaks out.

I give Jasper’s hand a squeeze as I lean in and whisper, “I swear I told him my last name was Wilder twenty times.”

It’s easier to hit on a married woman if you deny her husband exists.

I nod up at him because I think he’s onto something.

Quinn needles his gaze to his left. “And if Arthur Silver would please stand. If anyone deserves a trophy for dealing with me, it’s this man. Arthur is my accounts manager. He makes sure the bills are paid, and more importantly, he slips all of the beautiful women my phone number.”

A round of laughter ensues as the man Macy was hitting on pops out of his seat for a moment.

Quinn chortles as he glances out at the crowd. “Of course, we wouldn’t end the night without a proper thank you to Warwick, whom many of you know as the sharpest knife in just about any room. Don’t turn your back or he might just cut you with it. Warwick, my old friend, I couldn’t be happier to see your smiling face tonight. You never fail to do what’s right. And you won’t.”

“That’s right.” Warwick waves to the crowd from the second row. “I keep the numbers of the beautiful women to myself.”

The crowd breaks out into a fit of laughter once again, and Jasper and I join in on it. Warwick seems like a decent guy. I’m glad Quinn has good friends in the States.

“Yes, well”—Quinn looks dead ahead at someone seated in the front row, and I follow his gaze to Eve French—“some beautiful women refuse to stop throwing themselves my way.” He gives a little wink, but a bite of embarrassment spears through me for the poor woman.

The sound of a bell ringing comes from the right and in walks Santa Claus, dressed in his traditional red suit. He has a snow-white beard and a velvet sack is attached to his back.

“Ho ho ho!” Santa belts it out like the pro he is. “Have we all been good girls and boys?”

The crowd responds with a resounding yes.

“Well, I have a few treats for you.” Santa opens his sack, and before we know it, it’s raining candy canes and small stuffed animals as the crowd goes wild to catch them. “And Quinn, it’s nice to see you’ve landed on this side of the pond. You’ve saved me a trip.” He lifts a finger. “Never mind. You were on the naughty list this year.”

The audience thunders with laughter.

“Ah, wait a minute, wait a minute.” Santa waves a hand to the crowd and the volume dies down. “I was thinking of another Quinn Bennet. You were actually an exemplary individual this year.” He gives a hard wink our way, much to the delight of the crowd. “You’ve given a lot to a lot of people, Quinn. And for that reason, I have a very special gift for you.” He pulls a large red and white checkered box out of his sack and sets it on the floor.

Quinn twitches his lips at the sight. “Let me guess. The world’s smallest woman?”

A few snickers circle the room, and I make a face at Jasper.

Who knew Quinn Bennet was such a woman-hungry beast?

Quinn lifts the lid off the box and out pops the head of the world’s cutest blond puppy complete with a red ball on his nose that’s blinking on and off. There’s a red satin bow tied around his neck and he looks like the quintessential Christmas puppy.

The crowd loses it in a mixture of laughter and coos as Quinn picks the puppy up and cradles it in his arms.

Quinn looks to the crowd. “Now that Rudolph has arrived, I think we can really start this party. Enjoy your evening, everyone. Please, stop by and say hello to Rudolph and Santa before you leave.” The house lights come back on, and soon the room is swirling with conversations and errant laughter.

Cheery Christmas carols bleat through the speakers and people are mobbing the refreshment tables once again.

The night wears on and the crowd doesn’t thin one bit. Jasper and I make the rounds and talk to Leo and Emmie, Hux and Mackenzie, and we even spot my father and Jasper’s mother from across the room.

Just as we’re about to head that way, Sherlock and Fish run over. Sherlock is dancing a little jig as I scoop Fish up in my arms.

She mewls as she rubs her head over my chest. He’s going to have an accident if you don’t do something quickly. Do they make diapers for