“Fuckin’ Christmas,” McKail grumbled to nobody in particular. He took a mouthful of his Jack Daniels and gently rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t slept for days and the dark purple circles under his eyes were beginning to let it show. Damned insomnia had come back and the timing of it was no mere coincidence. “Worst time of the damned year.”

McKail finished his Jack Daniels and pushed it closer to the bartender for him to fill it up. The bartender sighed and reached for the bottle on the shelf, just to the left of him. He doesn‘t want to be here, McKail decided. Probably wants to shut up early and go be with his family and friends. At the moment McKail and the other three losers getting liquored up good in the lousy joint were the only obstacles in his path. Good, McKail thought, with a chuckle. If I’m gonna be miserable, then so is he. Misery loves company, after all.

The bartender poured the bourbon and pushed it towards McKail, who took it and nodded a thanks. The bartender ignored it and went about his business. McKail smiled.

He wasn’t always this miserable, of course. Quite the contrary. Years ago, he loved Christmas and whilst working on the independent circuit, he’d always make sure he wasn’t booked so he could spend the holidays his with his late wife, Mary.

Christmas was her favourite time of year, loved it more than Thanksgiving. She grew up with a big family who always made a big deal of it every year and loved the idea of exchanging presents under the Christmas tree, in front of an open fire.

Before Mary, McKail just considered it just another holiday. He didn’t have much of a family to speak of and didn’t much like his foster parents all that much. However, after spending Christmas with Mary and her family for the first time, he understood the appeal. He realised that he finally had a real family and it was as though his life had finally come together and he could be happy.

Every Christmas since Mary passed away, her family still invited him to spend the holidays with them, but he could never face it. He was ashamed of himself, ashamed at what he’d become. A worthless drunk, chasing a dream that was always just out of reach. He didn’t want them looking at him like he was ion desperate need of help and he didn’t want their pity. But it was more than that. he hadn’t ever really gotten over Mary’s death and seeing her family again would only remind him of the best times they’d had together and he just didn’t have the strength to face that. Hell, he’d spent the last five years drinking himself into an early grave just trying to forget it.

“Fuckin’ stupid bitch,” somebody a few barstools over from McKail grumbled. He hadn’t noticed the kid before; must’ve just walked in. The kid had something of a young face, but a fat, flabby body with wide shoulders and arms that looked as though they were at least partially constructed of muscle. Probably made him look older than he was, but McKail guessed at twenty-two - twenty-four max. The kid had a good number of chins, combined with patches of facial hair around his jaw line which looked as though they could blow away if there happened to be a strong wind. More interestingly, however, was the acne scaring along the side of his face. Looked a little like Edward James Olmos, but a good deal paler.

“Can’t fuckin’ believe her,” the acne-scarred kid continued. He didn’t look up once. He just downed the final half of his beer and instructed the bartender to fill it up.

“What’s up, man?” The bartender asked, pouring him another beer. “Women trouble?”

The kid nodded. “Yeah.” He took another sip of his beer. “Sick of this shit, man.”

The bartender glared at him, expecting the kid to continue. However, when he didn’t, he felt obliged to pry. “Sick of what? Problems there, chief?”

The kid nodded. “Women problems. But I don’t wanna talk about it.”

The bartender nodded. “I hear ya, man.”

But he did. “Why have they gotta be teases, man?” The kid asked.

“Nature of the beast,” the bartender told him. “Hardwired into ‘em to be that way. It’s fun to them to see a man go crazy with lust over them, it reinforces their ego‘s.”

The kid glared at him blankly and McKail shook his head.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” McKail asked. “Jerry Springer?”

The kid chuckled a little, but the bartender just looked a little more pissed off. He turned his attention back to the kid. “What happened?”

“Met this girl at work,” the kid began, taking a generous mouthful of his beer. “She’s pretty, smart, got a good sense of humour and is easy to talk to. Everything I’m looking for. So I get talkin’ to her, being all friendly like. I wasn’t making a move or anything - even I knew she’s way out of my league. But then we get to be friends, get to know each other and, hell, we even flirted. She told me that I was a good catch and I had a lot to offer. Somewhere along the way, I fell for her.” He glared sullenly at his beer.

“She must’ve known, deep down, that I had feelings for her. I mean, I acted differently. Paid her compliments that I wouldn‘t even have dreamed of before, bought her little meaningful gifts that sometimes made her cry, sometimes made her laugh. We went to lunch together everyday, talked to each other over msn all day long and even went out for drinks together a couple of times. Hell, everyone else in the office thought we were dating we were so close.

“She told me she had a boyfriend at the very beginning, but I could tell she wasn’t happy in the relationship. When we grew closer and she opened up to me, she explained the situation to me. He’d recently been made redundant and couldn’t get himself a job, although she wasn’t all that convinced he was even looking for one. He’d just lie around their apartment watching TV, not even doing any household chores whilst she was at work. Sounded like a real loser to me and I found it difficult to understand precisely what she saw in him and I told her so.”

The kid stopped cold in his tracks, swallowed hard and took a mouthful of his beer whilst both the bartender and McKail stared at him, willing the conclusion of his story.

“And what?” The bartender began, obviously more enthralled in the story than McKail. “She get upset with you?”

The kid shook his head. “No. We were in a bar having a drink when I told her and being outside of work and plied with a little bit of booze, she let slip that she was already cheating on her boyfriend.”

The bartender shook his head. “Damn, that’s harsh.”

“Gets worse,” the kid told them, finishing his beer. “Turns out she’s dating some other guy from the office on the side. A salesman. Arguably the biggest prick you’re ever likely to hear about. Been seeing him for months.”

“Aw shit, man,” the bartender replied, filling up the kid’s beer glass for a second time. “That’s harsh.”

“There‘s more,” the kid continued. “The guy from the office she’s seeing is married. He’s got a good thing going with his wife too, couple of kids and a nice little set up. He ain’t ever likely to leave her. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

The bartender shook his head. “That’s one helluva situation you’ve got there. Man, I don’t envy you one bit.”

“Could be worse,” McKail announced, taking them both by surprise.

The kid glared at him wearily. “How? How could it possibly get worse?”

“You coulda got the woman of your dreams,” McKail began, “and then fucked it all up.”

“Nice, McKail,” the bartender told him. “Cheered the guy right up.”

“Oughta do,” McKail replied. “I’ve been in both situations and I know which one hurts the worst.”

McKail thought Elle and winced at the pain the memory invoked. She was the only woman he’d loved since Mary died and he’d fucked it up. Yeah, he knew which hurt the worst alright. McKail downed his bourbon and pushed his glass towards the bartender for another. The bartender took the glass and then turned back to the kid. “You to get out of the complicated relationship you’re in with this girl and move on. Otherwise, you’re gonna end up like him. A lonely drunk with nobody but Jack Daniels to keep him warm over Christmas.”

McKail nodded. “Ain’t no fairy tale ending for me, let me tell ya.”

Elle folded her arms tightly and watched her breath float away in the bitterly cold night air. She should’ve been huddled up on her couch in front of her open fire sipping on mulled wine, she should’ve been wrapping Christmas presents for her family and friends, but instead she found herself on the hunt for the man she loved, unsure as to whether he even wanted to be with her anymore.

Don’t think like that, she told herself. Jacob still loves you, he’s just ashamed at what he did is all.

Two months back, she caught Jacob with a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand and his secretary in the other. He swore there was nothing going on, that he was just getting drunk but understandably, Elle didn’t believe him. She reacted badly and told him that she never wanted to see him again. He reacted worse and actually believed her. He left a note for her and then left town. As soon as she read the note, Elle realised that she’d made a mistake.

Now, she found herself in what seemed like the bad part of hell desperate to find him and from what she’d seen so far, she preferred it to be sooner rather than later.

She’d already been on the road for six weeks or already, searching various backwater towns and big cities based on Jacob’s independent bookings and his contractual obligations with SCCW, but so far she hadn’t been able to get near him. Now, she’d returned to his old stomping ground in the hope of locating him, but the trail had grew cold.

“No luck here,” the voice said. “The motel manager hasn’t seen anybody meeting his description. Where should we try next?”

“Um?” Elle whirled around to see Sheriff White stood by the car, a warm smile spread across his face.

When she’d left Aspen Park to go find Jacob, he’d offered to come along for the ride and make sure she was safe. She thought it a little strange at the time, but he explained that he came to respect McKail for the few weeks they worked with each other in the Sheriff’s department. Plus he’d known Elle since she was little and didn’t want to see any harm come to her. Deep down, she thought he might be attracted to her in some way and that was his real motivation, but she put the notion to the back of her mind. She didn’t much care whether it was true or not, she just wanted to find Jacob and accepted all the help she could get.

“There’s another few motels further along the road,” she told him. “Reckon we should try ’em all then get some rest.”

Sheriff White nodded. “Sure thing, Elle. But this is a big town and we don’t even know whether he’s here or not.”

“He’s here,” she replied, for her own benefit as much as his. “Somewhere.”

“Ugh,” McKail grumbled, as he slumped down onto his bed. The bartender had thrown him out of the bar about a half hour back, but he felt mildly comforted with the fact that he’d managed to consume enough alcohol to see him through the night, enough to dull the pain and enough to forget his problems at least for a little while.
Then, there was a knock at the door. In his drunken state McKail didn’t bother to question why, he just got angry.

“Fuck off...” McKail shouted, drawing the pillow over his ears.

But the knock came again.

McKail hauled himself up out of his bed, propped himself up against the wall and staggered towards the door, muttering obscenities all the way. He fumbled with the lock for a time before managing to pull the thing open.

McKail propped himself up against the doorframe, whilst studying the familiar face staring back at him. It was a Lance White - McKail’s deputy when he was proclaimed the sheriff of Aspen Park by the mayor.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

White smiled and then punched him. The blow caught McKail by surprise and in his drunken state he could hardly defend himself. Instead, he lost his balance and tumbled backward to the foot of the bed.

“That,” White told him, with sadistic grin.

With that, White disappeared from sight, but in the distance a beautiful familiar voice rang in his ears, like a whisper - Elle. “Well?”

Then it was White again. “It wasn’t him. The manager was wrong.”

“Dammit! I was sure we had him this time, I --”

But McKail didn’t catch anymore, he drifted into unconsciousness.