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Chapter Nine

The ninth thing at Christmas that's such a pain to me:

Finding parking spaces

(DADDY, I WANT SOME CANDY

Donations!

Facing my in-laws

Five months of bills!

Writing out those Christmas cards

Hangovers

Now why the hell are they blinking?!

And finding a Christmas tree)

"Why did you suggest we go to the mall?"

"There isn't anywhere else besides the square, which is probably equally as crowded. Where else do you want to shop?" Chloe says.

"Well, we're not going to be shopping anywhere, because there's nowhere to park," Aubrey replies.

"We could have shopped last night in the square if Aubrey hadn't gotten us arrested," Beca says.

Aubrey glares back at her through the mirror. "We didn't know who we were going to be buying a gift for yet, Beca."

Beca gives a 'like that matters' shrug.

"Damn it!" Aubrey lays on the horn as some douchebag pulls into the space right in front of them.

"Aubrey." Chloe covers Aubrey's hand with her own. "Beca's right. We already went to jail once."

"What do you want me to do, Chloe? Just keep driving around in circles?"

"Maybe you should try driving in squares," Beca suggests.

"Beca…"

"Let's keep looking," Chloe says, "We're bound to find somewhere to park eventually."

xxxxx

"How long is it til eventually?" Beca asks, "Because it feels like we've been driving around and around for hours. Are we there yet?"

"No, Beca, we're not there yet."

Beca closes her eyes and blows a raspberry as she leans her head back against the seat. "I have to pee."

Aubrey throws an empty water bottle at her face.

"My dick won't fit in that hole." Beca chucks it back.

"If you had a dick, I doubt it's ever even seen a hole other than your asshole," Aubrey hits her in the head with it again, "And that's only because it takes up your entire being."

"Well, I doubt your hole has ever seen a dick – and the stick in your ass doesn't count," Beca counters.

"If Aubrey needs to get laid and you have a lonely dick, Beca, it sounds like a match to me," Chloe says – then turns to look out the window after receiving two separate death glare.

"You know what? I have an idea," Aubrey says, "How about we just go in one at a time while the other two drive around?"

"You couldn't have thought of that earlier?" Beca asks.

"You didn't think of it at all."

"I'm going to go in first," Chloe says, "You two can resolve some of this tension."

xxxxx

"I hate this," Beca mutters on what must be their twentieth circle around, "I have never had a Christmas suck this much."

"You must have had a lot of nice Christmases then," Aubrey comments.

Beca unbuckles her seatbelt to lay across the backseats. "I don't know if I would say that."

"Are you going home?" Aubrey asks, "To be with your family?"

"No. I mean – my dad and Sheila are here so my mother says it would be cheaper for me to just stay and spend it with them again."

"So we're stuck with each other," Aubrey says.

"Looks like it," Beca confirms, "Why aren't you going home? Chloe said your dad is overseas. You don't want to go be with your mom?"

"Oh, um…" Aubrey squeezes the wheel and looks out the window like she might see Chloe walking towards the car. She shakes her head. "She's not here anymore."

She's not – oh. Oh. Beca lifts her head. Aubrey's mom was definitely 'here' last time they saw each other. "Wait, how long ago did she die? Shit, that was a dick question."

"It's okay. Five months," Aubrey answers, "Two weeks. One day."

Beca collapses back down. "I'm sorry."

"She was sick for awhile. It's not like it was sudden or anything. I had time to prepare."

Beca knew she was sick, but not that sick. Sudden or not, that doesn't really sound like something that can be prepared for. "I'm sorry I sent that text telling you not to come. In my defense…you saw what you walked into."

"You know, I hate real trees…"

Beca bolts upright again. "Seriously? I tried to buy a fake tree and they wouldn't let me put it up."

"I think I'm allergic. Every year, Chloe demands a real tree, and every year I can't breathe through my nose." The sniffle that follows proves her point. Or maybe she's sniffling because Beca is a dick who asked her how long her mom has been dead with zero tact.

"Have you told her this?" Beca asks.

Aubrey doesn't answer.

"So it is still your fault we can't have a fake tree."

"It seems like such a waste to cut down a tree every year when you could just store one in the attic."

"Exactly!"

"But it makes Chloe happy."

Beca sighs. That much is true. "I currently have a seven foot tall fake tree taking up my entire half of the room right now because of Chloe. The only thing I can see is the top half of Amy's bed."

Aubrey laughs.

"Yeah, laugh it up."

"I saw your tree. It's a shame it's not decorated."

"I'm not really a decorations kind of person. Also, if I put the decorations on, I'm going to have to take them back off."

"That is how that works," Aubrey agrees.

"Maybe I should just take the whole tree down."

"No, you should keep it up."

Beca arches a brow.

"I like looking at a Christmas tree that doesn't inhibit my ability to breathe."

"Fine. Whatever. I'll keep it up," Beca says, "But only out of spite and because I'm not quite sure how to take it apart."

xxxxx

Chloe opens the car door and peaks inside. "Are you two okay with each other now?"

"No," Aubrey and Beca both answer in unison.

"I'm going next, because I really do have to pee." Beca leaps out of the car before an argument can be made. "And don't leave without me!" It's a good thing Chloe is in the car, because despite whatever kind of moment they might have just had, she wouldn't put it past Aubrey to leave her at the mall and just drive home…

xxxxx

"So, what did you guys talk about?" Chloe asks.

"Nothing," Beca answers. She climbed into the backseat again once Aubrey went into the mall so Chloe couldn't peak into her bag, which she keeps between her legs, one hand clutching it closed. "We sat in terrible, awkward silence."

"So you didn't even keep fighting?"

Beca shakes her head. "Just silence. Why? Did Aubrey say we talked?"

"Who did you get?" Chloe asks and reaches behind the seats once they're stuck being traffic – just like Beca knew that she would.

"Do you not understand the point of Secret Santa?" Beca asks and pulls the bag onto the seat with her, "It's supposed to be a secret."

"I got Stacie."

"A secret, Chloe. Look, the cars are moving again."

"You know you could have sat in the front."

"And risk Aubrey buying a booster seat to keep me in the back?"

"You might be able to see out the windows better."

Beca rolls her eyes. "She'd probably turn on the child locks along with it."

"I don't think Aubrey wants you trapped in her car."

"Unless she has my body in the trunk."

"I think you make her out to be meaner than she is."

Maybe. "But you do admit that she's mean."

"She's not mean. She's just…Aubrey."

"Wait." Beca places her bag beside her so she can lean forward between the seats. "Is this Stockholm? If you're being held hostage against your will-"

Chloe pushes her back.

"Oh, hey, somebody's pulling out!" Beca scoots forward again. "Dude, go. Oh my god, go, go."

Chloe sharply spins the wheel, turning the front end of the car before anyone else can inch their way in. And then she stops. A car behind them honks.

"Pull in!" Beca says.

"I'm trying." Chloe steps on the gas. "We're not moving."

Beca glances out the back window as more cars begin to honk. "Why?" she asks, "Why aren't we moving?"

"I don't know."

"We were moving a second ago."

Chloe keeps trying, but they're stuck.

"Is your foot on the gas?" Beca leans the entire upper half of her body over the center console to check. That was a stupid question and, judging by the expression on Chloe's face, she didn't appreciate it very much. "If it makes you feel any better, that's not even the most offensive question I've asked today." More honking. "Hold your reindeer!"

"They can't hear you."

"I know, it just makes me feel better to yell at them, but it's Christmas and if I'm going to yell, I should at least make it festive. And now I see the problem; it appears we have run out of gas. We probably should have paid attention to that while we were driving around in a circle non-stop for a very, very long time." Beca falls back into the back seat.

xxxxx

"Maybe we can push it into the parking spot," Chloe suggests.

"And by we, you mean me, because someone has to steer the car."

"We can switch," Chloe offers and unbuckles her seatbelt.

"No." It's cold out there. "Just…stay out of my bag."

"At least wear this." Chloe pulls her sweatshirt over her head and tosses it into the backseat.

Beca puts it on underneath her jacket. "You know the chances of either of us being able to push this car alone are slim to none, right?"

"We have to get it out of the way somehow."

Yeah. People have gone from honking to yelling. "Wish me luck."

"What's the problem?" a guy yells when Beca steps out of the car.

She shuts the door, steps around to the back, and puts her full weight into trying to push the car forward. It doesn't budge.

"Come on!" It's the same guy.

"You're going to be waiting either way!" Beca yells back. She turns around and presses her back against the car. "Oh my god." How heavy was Aubrey's car? She turns sideways and tries that way then stops, panting. It's a little distracting how Chloe's sweatshirt smells just like her. Focus, Beca. It's also really warm… "If you guys wanted to get out of here faster, someone could help me out."

A few people roll their windows back up, visibly complaining. It's the yelling man, a big burly guy who looks like Santa with many vaguely threatening tattoos, who steps out of his car to assist. Better than no one. He glares at her the entire time as, together, they slowly get the car moving and Chloe steers it between the lines.

"Thanks," Beca exhales and leans against the trunk, "Merry Christmas!"

He slams his car door.

"It's nice to see Santa and the elves working together," Chloe teases lightly as she gets out of the car. She huddles close to Beca for warmth. Because Beca is wearing her sweatshirt. Right, right.

"Uh, here," Beca says, quickly taking off her coat and handing that to her, "The zipper works now."

Chloe puts it on and zips it up.

"That guy looked like a North Pole convict," Beca says, "He's probably murdered a few elves."

"I'm glad he spared you." Even with a jacket on, Chloe remains pressed up against her.

Beca clears her throat and takes a step to the side – but with her sweatshirt on, the sensation of Chloe's arms wrapped around her doesn't exactly leave. "How do we fix this before Aubrey comes outside?"

"I don't think that's possible," Chloe answers.

"There has to be a gas station around here somewhere." Beca turns in a circle, but all she sees is mall and parking lot.

"We couldn't even push it a few feet into a parking space. We'll never make to a gas station."

"Don't they have those little red cans that you can just fill up and carry?"

"Are those even real?" Chloe asks.

That's a great question. "So are we going to just stand here and stare at it until Aubrey comes back?"

Chloe shrugs.

"We could sit inside."

"We could," Chloe agrees.

But they don't.

xxxxx

When Aubrey texts them to pull around front, they meet her there on foot. She stands near the entrance, looking bewildered, carrying Starbucks in one hand and a bag too small to be carrying much of anything in the other. She probably opted for a gift card, Beca decides.

"So, we have some good news and we have some bad news. Which do you want first?" Beca asks.

Aubrey looks at Chloe.

"Okay, the good news is, we found a parking spot – and it's actually not even that far away," Beca continues, "And the bad news is Chloe drove around until we ran out of gas so we had to push the car into the empty spot and now we're stuck there forever." She nudges Chloe in front of her.

Chloe gapes at her.

"Why are you wearing each other's jackets?" Aubrey asks.

"Did you not hear me? I just said the car is out of gas."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Aubrey asks, "Why didn't you guys go get gas?"

"We were distracted," Chloe answers calmly.

Aubrey is still looking at Chloe's sweatshirt on Beca's body. Is she…jealous?

"Kind of like you're distracted right now," Beca says.

Aubrey locks eyes with her. "I'm not distracted; I'm thinking."

"Well can you think faster?" Beca asks, "It's cold out here."

"I could get the chainsaw out of the trunk," Aubrey offers, "You'll warm up if I chase you with it?"

"Dude, why do you still have the chainsaw? You really need to give that back."

"I'll think about it," Aubrey replies.

"Maybe we should call Stacie," Chloe suggests.

"Why Stacie?!" Beca asks.

"She's most likely to show up," Chloe answers.

"I would rather ride with Lilly before I ride with Stacie again."

"Great idea," Aubrey says, "You call Lilly. And we'll ride with Stacie."

xxxxx

"You guys have been hanging out together a lot," Stacie says the moment to she arrives to pick them up.

"Because we're both friends with Chloe," Beca reminds her.

"I'm starting to feel like your chauffeur."

Beca sinks down into the seat, unsure of how she got roped in to riding shotgun. "Well you wouldn't be our chauffeur if Aubrey didn't keep getting us stuck places."

"You guys were the ones who didn't notice the tank was low," Aubrey argues.

"And you couldn't have noticed when you were in the car?" Beca asks.

Aubrey scoffs at her. "This is your fault. This is all your bad Christmas mojo following us around."

Beca turns around in her seat.

Aubrey arches her brows.

"I was driving the car," Chloe says, "Technically it was my fault for not paying attention. Sorry, guys."

Aubrey exhales a lengthy sigh. "It's fine, Chloe. I'll deal with it."

"It is what it is," Beca agrees, "It's not like it's my car sitting in the mall parking lot."

"I have a question," Stacie announces, "Why is it always okay when it's Chloe's fault – but if it's one of your guy's fault, it becomes a big deal?"

Beca turns back around to face forward and lifts her shoulders in a shrug. She…doesn't have an answer for that. Her head lolls against the window and she watches her breath fog up the glass.

Aubrey must not have answer either, because she folds her arms and looks out the window as well.

"You want to know what I think?" Stacie asks.

"No."