There was standing room only to be found at Barry Hudson's small apartment turned "Holiday orphan party central", according to the young attorney's enthusiastic phone call shortly after he'd gotten home from work.
With his right arm stretched out ahead, Steve made room for Janine to sneak through the doorway and past a couple strangers he'd met years before but couldn't recall their names.
With a cordial smile and a few nods in the general direction of the crowd, they headed straight for the beverage table, the island and saving grace in the never-ending slew of people gently moving to the subdued Christmas music.
Multi-colored light chains had been strewn from room to room, and a small, ornately decorated tree represented the center of another table filled to the brink with food donations for tonight's pot luck.
"I think you can put it over there…", Steve whispered into her ear, then watched as Janine navigated a small path between bodies to proudly deposit her plate of food.
He'd barely turned around to pour some punch for her, when a strong hand slapped his shoulder, before somebody embraced him from the side, passionately shoving his head into his chest, then stopping for a second to smell the cologne on his black turtleneck.
"Stevo, my man! It's so good to see you. I am thrilled you could make it! It's been forever!"
A more-than-half-drunk Barry reappeared from below, a broad smile on his face and two tiny Christmas ornaments glued to either side of his elaborate mustache. Wearing an obscenely bright red and green sweater, his old college roommate looked to have added another twenty pounds since he'd last seen him…revenue weight, they used to call it at Berkeley.
"How'ya doin' Buckaroo? I was so happy to hear from you. Talk about good timing. Thank you so much for the call and having us.", Steve returned, squeezing the other man's shoulder amicably as he looked Barry up and down.
"I am well. Really well. The firm is doing great. Got some good clients. Life is good."
With the grace of a dying swan, Barry reached past him for a couple fresh champagne glasses, before filling them with punch, missing the second glass a couple of times and making a mess on the white table cloth.
"Where's the girlfriend, Stevo? I know you never go anywhere without something pretty by your side. S'not your style…"
"Janine is over there…by the food table…", Steve said, then turned around to locate his girlfriend, grateful to see her talk to another lady, the bright green ribbon in her hair noticeable from afar.
"Janine it is this time. I could never remember their names, only their hair color and body stats…let me remember… you prefer 38-24-36's, don't you? Never figured you to be a 38-guy but hey, whatever floats your boat, right?"
With a wily smile, Steve shook his head, gratefully accepting the two glasses that were already sticky with spilled punch.
"Easy, Barry, easy. Not within earshot…and how about you take the other one. I am on duty tonight, I can't drink.", he cautioned, his warning causing his friend's glassy eyes to turn somber, before he reached over to grab him by the chest, gently shaking him back and forth.
"You still with the force, aren't you? Aw man, Stevo, we gotta find you something safer. Accountant job maybe? Hand model? You have pretty hands. Look at those manicured fingernails. I don't know, I just am not comfortable having you out there on those streets. You know what kind of murderous spirits wander those alleys out there?"
"Believe me, I do.", Steve said smilingly, hoping to assuage his friend's worry and get rid of the trembling fingers digging into his ribs, "Come on, take this glass and just relax. I am fine. Let's go and check out all that food you've got over there. I am starving. Looks like you could use something in your stomach too. It'll help with the hangover tomorrow."
"Hangover? What are you talking about, Pal? A couple years of police academy and you treat me like some drunk you just pulled over down on Geary? Don't you remember how much we used to party back then, tequila sunrise boy?"
They shared a much needed laughter as they worked their way through the winding path of people, the relaxed atmosphere doing wonders to Steve's strained nerves on that dreadful Christmas Eve.
With one arm wrapped around his friend's shoulders, they finally arrived at the table overflowing with plates of food, containing everything from fried chicken to crab legs, cookies, cake, brownies and meatballs.
Looking around for a moment to take in the scene, Steve was amazed at the amount of people fitting into Barry's one-bedroom-one bath apartment, all of them either alone or with a significant other to converse with, yet all of them sharing the common theme of having no place to go for the holidays; people lost in the endless world of family troubles, life changes or out-and-out loneliness.
"So, what did the cutie bring to eat? And where did you find this one? She's what…part Chinese?", Barry whispered in his ear, then nudged his chin toward Janine.
"Part Japanese.", Steve corrected, his eyes drifting over his girlfriend's immaculate black hair and the red sweater accentuating her stunning figure, "Her grandparents came over here before the war. I met her down at the wharf a couple months ago, I was responding to a call and she was the greeter at the restaurant where our stiff was found."
"I bet it was love at first sight. Your sight at those…attributes…", Barry joked, then pointed at a plate in the far-left corner, "Is that what she brought? What the hell is that?"
Unable to keep a straight face at his friend's eyes growing big, Steve chuckled, then took a courtesy sip out of Janine's glass.
"She made kimchi and fried Mopane worms."
"I beg your pardon?", glancing back and forth between the assortment of food and the plate containing the black, deep fried delicacy, Barry swayed a little, then shook his head, biting his lip insecurity, "I can deal with the spicy cabbage nonsense all day but…but you mean to tell me you're dating a chick that eats invertebrates? Dude…"
"They're actually pretty good. I've had a few of them before. Crunchy…like potato chips. Just a bit more…earthy-tasting…"
"How do I even know you?!", Barry complained half-heartedly and ran a hand through his sweat soaked red hair before sipping on the punch, nearly emptying the glass, "And to think I used to have such a man-crush on you. Never knew you were such a weirdo…"
They broke out in another round of laughter, when Barry nudged his elbow and slowly dragged him away into the adjacent kitchen.
"Here, I want you to meet somebody else. Might be a good connection. One never knows with you cops and all…"
Following his friend through a row of dancing and swaying people, trying not to spill the punch glass when a few hands appeared from the crowd to pat his shoulder, Steve nearly crashed into Barry's back when the young attorney stopped in front of his kitchen island, trying to get the attention of a woman standing near the sink.
"Stevo, meet my friend Claire Gifford. She's a writer for the Telegraph. Claire, this is Stephen Keller, he's a cop. A damn good looking one, if you ask me. Got good taste in women but horrible taste in food."