“I need to get laid.” Santos hands me a glass of champagne and frowns.  I smile and take a sip of the fizzy liquid, nudging some confetti that has covered most of the floor. 

“Good luck.  Your options are limited here.” I nod toward the room.  It is the aftermath of a rather subdued New Years Eve. Subdued but really nice, and exactly what I needed. There was a big dinner, complete with lobster and steaks.  Little Kimmy ran around, eating ice cream and dripping all over the floor.  All the adults in the room were significantly plastered, save for me.  I had imbibed way too much over the course of the week and needed a breather. 

Barb and Brad Forrester are singing Auld Lang Syne loudly and off key.  Mark and Emily haven’t stopped making out.  Mrs. Hiddleston is laughing and giggling with her sister and relatives at the kitchen table, tipsy but still elegant and graceful as ever.

Santos is wearing sequin leggings and is sprawled across my lap.

“My options are limited.  Looks like it’s you and me, kid. As always.  How about it?” He laughs and looks up at me.  I squeeze his nose and then scrunch up my own. I think he’s had at least a bottle of champagne all on his own.

“That sounds like a really horrible idea.  Neither of us is that desperate.” I shake my head slowly, trying hard to keep my thoughts from the fact that yes…I do feel a bit desperate.  I was left high and dry by old what’s-his-name.  Mr. Promise-to-fuck-you-silly-but-then-leaves-the-country-instead. 

“I am though, Gracie. I’m desperate.  I need to get back to the mother land so I can get back to my regularly scheduled program.” Santos sits up and sighs.  He has been calling America the “mother land” all week .

“Where’s the champers?” He looks around for a bottle that still has anything left in it.  I hand him a half full one.

After Tom left, I made sure to keep busy.  I went sightseeing and did some epic shopping with Emily and Santos. I ran around the island a few times.  It was great.  I read a few books (more like stared at some words and then took a nap).  Maybe not as great as a night with Tom would have been, or even a few nights with him, but again, I’m not thinking about that. 

“We leave tomorrow, Santos.  And then you can have your fill of frisky young men.” I try not to stare at Emily and Mark, but I’m wondering if they are going to go to their room.  They are really going at it.  I am not nearly drunk enough for this.

“Drink more, Gracie.” Santos says as if reading my mind.  He pushes my hand, trying to raise my glass to my mouth.  I take a half hearted sip.  “What’s wrong, lovey? You’re not thinking of the bad man are you?” He asks with a frown, referring to my ex.  Santo is a little drunk, but he’s still coherent.  As coherent as Santos gets.

“No. I’m not.” I shake my head, just as Richard’s dumb face pops into my mind. 

“Yes, you are.”

“Well I am now.  Thanks!” I laugh and then shake my head.  “My life is sort of a mess right now, that’s all.  No boyfriend, shitty job…” I press my lips together and try not to wallow too hard in my self pity party.  Santos grunts and scoops up some of the confetti bits off the floor and throws them at me.

“Let’s get some things straight. One, Richard was a dick. Obviously.  You’re better off without him.  Two, you don’t need no man.  Three, I thought your job was going better. Four, it’s a new year.  You need to take that bull by the horns, lady.  Make it a good year.  Fuck last year.  Last year is dead and gone!” Santos clinks his empty glass against mine. 

“You’re right.  You’re right.” I shrug.  There’s no point in arguing with him, but he’s also right.  It’s a new year.  I can have a new start.  Richard is in the past.

“Of course I am.” He clinks my glass again, and I take his from him before he breaks them.

“And my job’s not that terrible. At least I got that promotion.” I’m thankful I have that to focus on when I get home.  Gallery work. Hopefully some curating.  Anything to get me to a better place. 

“Okay, so focus on that then. I will focus on that new job I’m going to land.  And all the hot guys I’m going to bang when I get home.  You focus on how bad you want to talk about some old dead guy’s fingerpaintings.” Santos giggles, knowing this will annoy me.  I shove him hard and he gives me a wounded look.

“Santos?” I frown and feel some verbal diarrhea coming on.  Santos raises an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“I made out with Tom.” I whisper.  He blinks two times and then shakes his head.

“Like…recently? Like now?” He points a finger.

“The night before he left.” I breathe in and out.

“How?! HOW?!” Santos asks frantically, and I shush him, putting my hand over his mouth.  He stands up, yanks me off the couch and then pulls me from the living room and toward the stairs.  We practically run up the stairs, and he shoves me into my room.  He shuts the door behind me, and then sort of staggers into the room.  What a lush.

“Jeez. Psycho.” I mutter under my breath.

“Oh, you haven’t seen psycho.  Tell me what happened!” He is grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“God, you do need to get laid.  You’ve never cared this much about my sex life.” I grin and he rolls his eyes.

“Because you were with Richard the Dick for so long, and his idea of crazy sex was doing it on a Tuesday night instead of your regularly scheduled Friday night.” Santos plops down on my tiny twin bed and waits.  “Now you’re knocking boots with a gorgeous Brit.  I need to know the details.”  I roll my eyes.

“There’s nothing really to tell.  We went to his room and made out.” I shrug, though I can feel my heart start to race a bit. Santos is nearly giddy with glee.

“Just made out? How did you end up in his room?”

“Santos, stop making this a big deal.” I walk over to the tiny dresser, and start taking off my jewelry and pulling my hair down from the braids I have wrapped around my head.  It’s time to call it a night.  Lame New Years eve, going to bed at half past midnight.

“It is a big deal. Now tell me or I’ll cut you.” He waits.

“We were watching the movie and he came in and sat next to me.  We chatted for a bit and he asked if I knew where his room was.  Then he just left.” I bite my lip, turning my back on Santos so he can’t see the wild blush creeping up my chest to my cheeks.  Santos giggles.

“What a cheeky bastard! I love it.”

“Shhh!” I say in a harsh whisper, not wanting the whole house to hear.

“So why didn’t you have sex?” Santos asks, lowering his voice.

“Because I’m a good girl.” I sit down next to him on the bed, running my fingers through my wavy hair, massaging my slightly aching scalp.  Santos hiccups and then rests his head on my shoulder.

“That’s true, but tell me the real reason why.”

“Because his mom knocked on the door.” I grumble.  Santos starts laughing so hard, that I’m sure they hear him downstairs.  He’s wheezing and practically choking on his laughter, which of course, sets me off into a fit of giggles.  We both end up sprawled on the bed, slapping each other and grabbing our stomachs, trying to breathe through the laughter.

I roll to the side of the bed, tears streaming from my eyes, just as I notice that my cell phone is blinking with an alert.  I frown, reaching for it.  There are very few people in the world who would be trying to contact me now, and most of them are in this house.

I swipe my phone open.  It’s a text message.

Happy New Years. Hope you saved me a kiss.

It’s from a number I don’t recognize.  I sit up, Santos still wheezing beside me.

Thank you. Who is this? I text back quickly.  A moment passes.

Tom.

Oh. My. Tom.

“Who are you texting?” Santos asks.  I shake my head, standing up and making a beeline for the bathroom. I run inside, and shut the door behind me before Santos can ask anymore questions though I hear him whining from the other room. 

How did you get my number?  I ask.

I have my ways.  Did you get a New Years kiss?

None of your business.  I text back and then sink down onto the floor.  My heart is racing again, and I suddenly feel hot all over. 

Santos doesn’t count.  Hope to see you soon, Gracie. I stare at the words.  He must have gotten my number from Emily, though she didn’t mention it to me.  I bite my lip and then text him back quickly.

Happy New Year, Tom.

I quickly go into my contacts and add his name to my phone.  This is a bad idea.  This is a very, very bad idea.

“Gracie! Stop sexting and let me in.  I have to take a piss.” Santos yells, banging on the door and hiccupping at the same time.  I grin and tuck my phone into my bra, then open the door.  He must have been leaning heavily on it, because he falls into the small bathroom and then immediately starts throwing up champagne into the bathroom sink.

Happy new year, indeed.