The red monstrosity he’d shoved into the Cherokee was way too damned big, but he remembered the boxes of Christmas stuff Kane dragged in during the holidays. There were things in there—sparkly things—and they could definitely do something to snazzy up the solid mass of bark and wood taking up residence in the front room.
He found several plastic bags and spools of ribbon. Sitting on the floor in front of the raw, fragrant wood, Miki opened up the first bag and was immediately covered in a rainbow explosion of bow confetti. They were all different sizes and patterns, a dizzying array of color Miki figured would at least brighten up the dull, dusty brown exterior.
Even if he had to duct tape them to the surface, because the small sticky tabs on the backs of the bows didn’t seem to be doing the job. He’d remembered the trick of doing tape loops and stuck the bows firmly into the wood’s bark. Surprisingly, the first bow stuck and held, a metallic-green beacon of hope glimmering in Miki’s eyes.
The rest of the bows went on as quickly as the first, although a few needed extra pushes to hold. He ducked and wove around the thick column until the whole thing sparkled and shone with embellishments. Stepping back, Miki took a good look at what he had done.
It was a horrible mess. The wood needed something else. Something red or sparkling.
“Okay, now what?” There was a tangle of white lights sitting in the box, taunting Miki like a poisonous snake rattling in the shadows. The trolley was a short distance from a plug, and Miki shrugged, snatching the strand of lights from its poorly concealed hiding place. “Why the fuck not?”
By the time he was done, the tall piece of wood was a bright, shining column of lights and bows.
A very ugly bright, shining column.
Past five beers drunk ugly.
“Jesus, what am I doing?” He stepped back, and his knee buckled, weakened from his time on the floor. Miki caught himself before he went down, grabbing at the couch for balance. “Kane’s fucking insane for screwing me.”
The wood didn’t answer. Instead it sat there on its trolley, blinking and flashing away, quietly mocking Miki.
His cell phone rang, and Miki grabbed it, falling into the soft confines of the couch. He thumbed the screen and answered, thankful for the break from the downward spiral he’d built for himself.
“Hey,” Miki sighed. “I’m glad you called. I kind of fucked up, and I really badly need your help.”
“WELL, MIKI boy, why don’t ye tell me what the fine hell it is first?” Donal circled the spazzy tall piece of wood. “Other than something ye’d see at a modern art museum.”
“It’s koa. From some place called Kaiwiki.” Miki shrugged helplessly. “Some guy named Primo sold it to me. For Kane. It fell. So, he could sell it. Not sure why, but that matters when you get that kind of wood. Kane had some, and Dude stole the one piece he had. It’s kind of how we met.”
“How much have you had to drink?” Donal eyed him. “Because you’re babbling there, son.”
“I babble when I get nervous. I start singing when I’m fucking terrified.” He chewed on his lip. “It’s kind of why Damie put me on the mike. Pretty sure in about five seconds, I’m going to start belting out ‘it’s a small world’ or something. He’s going to hate this.”
“It’s a good present, especially for m’boy.” The older man eyed the wood. “Ye could do with less lights. Maybe only a few bows. Several of the big ones will do. Want me to be helpin’ you?”
“You have no fucking idea how much I want you to help me,” he muttered. “Maybe you could start by shooting me in the head.”
“I’ll be avoiding that one, boyo. How about if ye’d be starting a pot of coffee for us, and I’ll start by stripping this poor thing loose of its bindings?”
By the time Miki got the coffee machine working and spitting out enough brew for two full cups, Donal had the chunk of wood stripped and draped with two strands of tiny faerie lights. Miki stood just beyond the circle of white light, amazed at how the man could take the disaster he’d wrought and turn it into something that didn’t burn out his eyes. Handing Donal one of the cups, he sighed in appreciative amazement.
“That looks great, dude, thanks. Really. I mean, no words kind of good,” Miki muttered.
“Pity. I’d have liked to hear you sing a bit. Maybe even something from Queen.”
“Can’t go wrong with Freddie.” Miki nodded enthusiastically. “You’ve saved my ass. Big time. Thank you.”
“Anything for one of me boys,” Donal said, taking the steaming cup from Miki’s hand. “Come on, then, let’s sit and talk about what’s botherin’ ye.”
Miki stood in stunned silence. He didn’t know what to do with Donal calling him one of his boys. The Irish-born cop didn’t seem to notice Miki’s slack-jawed shock and ambled over to the large sectional taking up a substantial amount of space in the warehouse’s living room. After stepping over the gnawing terrier, Donal sank into a corner of the couch with a sigh of contentment.