Page 28 of My Rival for Christmas

Kylie laughs like I’m a headlining comedian, slapping me across the shoulder as she shimmies out of her coat, hanging it on the rack by the door. Begrudgingly, I follow suit, making sure to place my coat over hers as a barrier to any germs.

“I’m so excited!” Kylie’s practically bouncing. “Do you think they can make me a gingerbread martini like they had at the spa?”

“I think you have a better chance asking for a glass that doesn’t have some kind of stain on it.” I look around the space. They’re not making anything that isn’t in the name of the drink. “And even then, the results aren’t promising.”

Dirty Dick’s certainly lives up to its name of being…well,dirty.We haven’t even been here for two minutes and I already know my feet are stuck to the floor. The moment I try to move, I’m sure they’ll make a wet, suctioning sound that already sends a shiver up my spine.

I don’t even want to knowwhatmy shoes are touching to make the floor feel this way. Booze and bad decisions can only make up a small percentage.

I don’t need to know the rest. There is a beauty in mystery.

But if I do drop something, anything tonight, including my passport, I will not be picking it up and instead will resort to causing an international incident to get home.

So while cleanliness is not a high priority of this place, at least it’s nailing its marketing. A+ on that front.

Aside from the grime-infected shoes that will no longer be making it home with me, the place has extremely low lighting—probably to hide most of the filth—high top tables with mismatched stools throughout, and dark stained wood walls that are decorated with a menagerie of neon beer signs and metal vintage car logos.

A few dart boards are on them as well, and an old-school jukebox sits against the far back wall.

“Silver Springs” by Fleetwood Mac is playing, and I feel my shoulders start to move in rhythm. Thankful for the sounds of classic rock, giving my ears a break from all the Christmas music that’s been playing at all businesses in town.

So maybe a point in the plus column for Dirty Dick’s?

Though this isn’t my typical music choice, musicality is so deeply ingrained in my bones, I can get lost in almost anything. Including Skrillex’s infamous “Bangarang.”

I’m about to ask Kylie if she thinks they have it on their song selection, already giggling at all signs pointing to no, when she does something so horrifying, so concerning, I don’t even have words as my jaw becomes unhinged, watching my best friend of eighteen years take a long, deep inhale.

Breathing in the stench.

Oh my god.

It’s official. We’re not leaving here without some kind of infection or illness.

How is she not gagging?I’m trying to barely breathe and it’s a struggle.

The smell of stale smoke and piss and bile and regrets are not a pleasant combo.

But not only is she not immediately doubling over retching, her impossibly wide grin gets bigger. “I’m so excited we found this place.”

“Oh no.” I wave her off, swallowing a gag. “This is all on you. Please, don’t feel obligated to give meanycredit in this. All the glory belongs to you.”

Her smile dims, not with sadness but concern.For me.“You’re having fun, though, right?”

So much for not being as sullen as I think.

“Yes.” I’m not going to ruin this night for her. “But I’m not going to lie. All I’m thinking about right now is face-planting onto the hotel bed after a very thorough shower.”

Where I will have to scrub several layers of skin off to feel clean after we leave here.

“I know it’s been kind of a long day, but just a few drinks and then we can go.” She hooks her arm through mine andtugsme away from where we’re lingering near the doorway.

I don’t know if it’s because she’s afraid I’ll bolt out the door to run back to our hotel room and my hedgehog, who is way too happy to be left alone, or because she really needed to put her back into unsticking my shoes.

“I overheard the employees talking about coordinating some kind of indoor games tomorrow for the residents since there’s supposed to be more snowfall than they expected. They’re talking about closing the slopes, too, and I just wanted to see the town a little bit before we might not get the chance since we’re leaving the day after tomorrow. We can go, though, if you want.”

“I’m fine.” I’m exhausted.

But, despite my early bird nature, I do know how to rally. I’m twenty-four, not eighty-four. More than capable of staying up past my bedtime.

---