Chapter 1
Christmas Eve – 1994
Jane hated flying. But she also hated to lose.
If refusing the flight from New York to Los Angeles meant losing the chance to reconnect with her sister, then she would endure the anguish the second that the plane was off the runway and into the air. It wasn’t so bad after an hour. Of course, she still clung onto the armrests like her life depended on it.
She arrived at LAX late that afternoon, relieved to be back on solid ground, though she still felt out of place from the California setting. There she was – a hot thirtysomething brunette who looked even hotter under a couple of layers of winter clothes. As she walked through the terminal, she spotted a young blonde in a white tank top and skintight turquoise yoga shorts. She greeted her boyfriend – a blonde himself with a mullet, tall and rather handsome in Jane’s eyes.
“Mama!” Jane heard a small voice cry out more than once.
Turning away from the two blondes out of a romance cover, she noticed a small African-American boy standing alone in the middle of the terminal, tears streaming down from his eyes. The kid could have been no less than five years old – the exact age of Jane’s nephew, Jacob.
Jane gingerly approached him. “Hey, buddy,” she said with her distinct New York accent. “Where did you last see your mommy?” The boy wiped his eyes, sniffling as he pointed to the plane Jane just got off of, its passengers still getting off. Jane figured the kid got off before his parents did. “Tell you what. I’ll sit with you ’til they get off. Deal?” The boy nodded, seeming to calm a little.
After a few minutes, the kid’s parents – a well-dressed couple – walked into the terminal, his mother’s worried eyes frantically searching around for her missing son. “Mama!” the boy cheered, running to her welcoming arms.
While the mother and her son embraced, Jane approached the father, a dignified gentleman in a suit and tie with a receding hairline and bushy mustache. “I kept ’im company ’til you guys arrived,” she told the father.
The gentleman shook her hand in an expression of gratitude. “Thanks. We’re here on vacation. He’s so anxious to go to Disneyland for Christmas that he almost went without us!”
Jane snickered. “Poor lil’ fella. Wish I had his enthusiasm.”
“You here with anybody?” the father asked her.
“Nah.” Jane shook her head. “But I am here for someone.”
The father nodded understandingly, looking from Jane’s aquamarine eyes to beneath her dark jacket. He tensed as he noticed the handgun she had kept in a shoulder holster, concealed by her jacket.
Noticing his tense gaze on her gun, Jane told him, “It’s O.K. I’m a cop.” She showed him her NYPD badge for added measure. The father relaxed when he saw it. “Eleven years on the force. Even off-duty, I still act like I’m at work.”
“Well, thank you for your service,” the father said. “And thank you for looking after our son.”
Jane smirked. “No prob, sir.”
Proceeding further through the terminal, Jane spotted a young floppy-eared man-dog carrying a Xanatos Enterprises card with the name “J. McClane” written on it in magic marker. He looked awfully nervous, his gloved hands twiddling along the edges of the card as he held it.
“I’m Jane McClane,” she told the young man.
“Max Goof,” he introduced himself while looking up and down at Jane. “You’re way hotter than I expected.”
Jane cringed, holding back a chuckle. “Excuse me?!”
Catching himself, Max stammered, “I-I-I mean, when I was told to pick up a ‘J. McClane,’ I figured it would be some guy named ‘Jack’ or ‘John’. B-But you’re clearly not a…that is…” He stopped while he was ahead and gave a heavy sigh. “This is my first time as a limo driver.”
“Obviously,” Jane teased. “Just chill out, kid. This is my first time riding in a limo.” She winked at him, which only made him feel even more flustered.
Scratch that. Having Jane sitting up front in the limo flustered Max even more.
He figured she would sit in the back, as most limo passengers do. Nope…there she was across from him with her legs crossed and the scent of her lavender perfume filling his bulbous nose as he maintained composure driving through the busy Los Angeles road.
“So why did you want to become a limo driver at 16, Max?” she asked.
“Well, uh…I’m trying to earn money for college,” Max said. “I’m only a year out from graduating high school.”
Jane gave a nod of approval. “Beats working at McDonald’s.”
“So, uh, what brings you to LA, Miss McClane?” Max asked.
“Please. Call me ‘Jane’. And I’m here visitin’ my sister. We hadn’t seen each other in five years.”
“Really?!” Max sounded surprised to hear this. “W-What happened that made you guys disconnect for so long?”
Jane squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “If it’s all the same, Max, I’d rather not talk about it.”
“I totally get it,” Max accepted. “I’ve been living out here in Los Angeles with my dad – the famous ghost hunter from way back in the day, before he became an actor and then a father.”
Jane snapped her fingers in recognition. “That’s where I’ve seen your features before. You’re Goofy’s kid, aren’t you? You guys danced with that singer, Powerline, last summer.”
“After a bit of coaxing…and, uh, almost falling to our deaths over a waterfall,” Max reflected, to McClane’s bewilderment. Awkward silence soon followed after, prompting Max to switch on the radio. “You don’t mind if I play some tunes, do ya?”
“No, it’s cool, but…” She cringed at the hard rap music blasting from the speakers. “How ’bout some Christmas music?”
“This is Christmas music,” Max told her.
Jane shook her head, allowing the young limo driver to enjoy his new-age holiday hit – something from that rap group. What’s their name? Oh, that’s right. Run DMC. It wasn’t “Christmas in Hollis,” which was the only other holiday tune they were famous for. This was one from 1992 called “Christmas Is.” Jane had to admit how catchy it sounded, bobbing her head ever slightly to Max’s amusement, glimpsing at the corner of his eye.
Only a minute into the beats did they finally see their destination: Xanatos Plaza – a well-lit, impressive, and spanking-new high-rise that stood above all of Los Angeles. Dropping her off at the front entrance, Max told Jane, “I’ll wait for you in the parking garage in case things don’t work out with your sister. You got a place to stay in LA?”
“Why? Are you inviting me to your place?” Jane teased with another wink that made young Max hot under the collar.
“N-No, I just meant that…” the junior Goof stammered again.
“I’m kiddin’, Max,” Jane said. “I’ll find someplace.”
“Well, if it does happen to go south, I’ll find you a hotel,” Max insisted.
“That’s sweet of you, honey. I’ll take you up on it. See ya later.”
Jane proceeded into the Xanatos Plaza lobby, a sterile area that was beautiful and deserted at first glance, until one noticed the security guard hidden behind a massive desk. As soon as Jane approached, she asked for a “Holly McClane,” prompting the guard to point to a touch screen computer console. “Just type it here,” he instructed.
Jane did so – first typing “Holly McClane,” to which the touch screen displayed the following text: NO SUCH EMPLOYEE LISTED.
This urged Jane to stop and think, until she made a sickening deduction.
Again, her fingers tapped over the screen, typing a different name: “Holly Gennero.” This resulted in the display revealing an elevation of the building and then a floor plan of the 30th floor with Holly’s office blinking.
Dammit, Holly.
Having the info she needed, Jane took the express elevator up to the 30th floor and walked into an office Christmas party in full swing. She moseyed along, weaving in and out among the partygoers, spotting open beers in an ice bucket and taking one for herself. As she sipped on the beer, she nearly choked in reaction to the sudden firm grasp she felt on both of her butt cheeks. Presuming it to be a drunk businessman, she quickly spun around with a closed fist ready to punch – only to see a very drunk woman. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” she slurred, delivering a wet smooch on both of Jane’s facial cheeks.
She watched the woman saunter away, nearly tripping on herself. “Frickin’ California, man,” Jane muttered, shaking her head.
“You must be Jane McClane,” the dignified voice of a man said.
Jane turned to see the bearded face of David Xanatos staring back at her. Underneath that beard was a confident smile that might as well have been a signature trait of the CEO’s, in addition to his ponytail and casual black suit. “Nice to meet ya, Mr. Xanatos,” Jane said. “Sweet digs ya got here. It’s almost as big as the one back in New York.”
“Ah, that’s just a personal experiment of mine,” Xanatos waved off. “This plaza is my real pride and joy.” He took his arm around Jane – a gesture she preferred for him not to do – and led her away. “C’mon. Holly’s office is right around this corner.”
Together, they entered there, Jane once again noticing the surname “Gennero” on the office door, much to her immediate disgust. They found Holly on the phone with her daughter – Jane’s niece, Pauline – promising her that she would be home later that evening after the party. When she noticed Jane, Holly cut the conversation short. “H-Honey? Mommy’s gotta go,” she told her daughter. “I love you, too. Merry Christmas Eve!” She gave a kiss into the receiver and hung up, focusing all her attention on Jane. “I was hoping you made your flight.”
“I was hoping you were hoping that,” Jane remarked.
Invited into Holly’s executive suite, Jane made herself at home real fast. She removed her jacket and plaid shirt – leaving only her white undershirt on – and also her socks and shoes, something that Holly wished she’d run by her first before she did. “You know, this isn’t a hotel,” she told her sister.
“I know,” Jane said, sitting on the couch and switching to the Knicks-Celtics game on the one television set in the suite. “This is how I relax.” She took another swig on the half-full beer bottle she snatched up earlier. “So how does it feel workin’ for the ol’ stuck-up ponytailed playboy himself?”
“Mr. Xanatos is more generous than public opinion makes him out to be,” Holly stated. “If it weren’t for him, I don’t know where I’d be right now.”
Jane mockingly shrugged. “Probably still livin’ in New York, goin’ by ‘McClane’ instead of ‘Gennero’.”
Holly moaned, caught by her deception. “It’s nothing personal, Jane…”
“You’ve been divorced for as long as Jacob’s been alive, Holly,” Jane called her out. “There’s no damn reason you should still be callin’ yourself ‘Gennero’!”
“This is California, Jane!”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“The guys I work with here have zero shame when it comes to catching a divorced woman on the rebound. I had to keep the illusion of being married, so none of them would even think of making a pass!”
“That’s such bull$#%+! At least they’d be an improvement over the @$$hole whose name you still carry around!”
“You were the one who introduced me to that @$$hole – don’t forget that!”
The heated exchange between the McClane sisters was interrupted by a knock on the door. Rather than wait for Holly to invite them in, the visitor – Holly’s personal assistant, Clarabelle Cow – rushed right in. “Mrs. Gennero?” Clarabelle beckoned with her distinct southern accent. “Mr. Xanatos wants you to make a speech for the whole crew.”
Somewhat relieved at this request, Holly told Clarabelle, “Tell him I’ll be right there.” Clarabelle left thereafter, while Holly gathered herself. She looked to the despondent Jane once more and offered, “Stay at our place in Santa Monica for the week. Pauline and Jacob will be happy seeing their aunt again.”
It was the only cordial thing for Holly to do, and Jane was grateful for it. “I’d like that,” she said, tears in her eyes. “Now go and do your thing.”
Holly departed her suite, smiling.
Jane could hardly believe the events that transpired within the last few minutes. She and Holly acted so civil towards each other, then they were ready to go to war, and now Jane’s been invited to stay at Holly’s for Christmas and probably New Year’s, too. It all just proved what their sisterly relationship had been like from the day Holly was born. Being the oldest of them both, Jane had to be the better example…and yet, in all that time, she never was.
It only made her feel that much more like a complete jerk.
She sulked in front of the television set, from which she saw that the Knicks were losing 7 to 18 – just another thing to add to her dismal Christmas Eve.
Just as she took another sip of her beer…
BLAM! BLAM! RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT! BLAM! BLAM!
AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!
Jane instinctively dropped the bottle, leaving its remaining contents spilling over the carpeted floor. The gunshots and screaming came right outside Holly’s suite. Her handgun drawn, Jane peeped through the doorway to see a group of armed men storming the 30th floor and forcing everyone down.
They were led by a pale woman with wild, frizzy hair – one side black, the other side white – and a duck in a Scottish kilt.
“What the hell’s this?” Jane pondered aloud.
