Winning Mars

s. The one time he'd tried smoking a cigarette, he'd gotten light-headed and puked. That was the end of any fascination there. But dad--he genuinely seemed to enjoy the things.

"Jere," he said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Up close, Jere could see that his outfit was even worse than he thought. The reindeer were embroidered with some kind of ethread, which was running simple animations. One of the reindeer turned to look at him.

"Got a moment?" dad nodded outside to the deserted balcony.

"Uh. Yeah. Sure." That didn't make sense. Dad spent before-dinner doing the rounds, or smoking his cigars. He saved the theatrics and giveaways until after dinner. One-on-ones were always last, over glasses of port or bowls of ice cream.

Dad took him over to the stone railing, where the city glittered below. Jere heard a party horn, loud and long, coming from down in Hollywood, over the rush of traffic on Highland.

"I know what you've been doing," dad said, looking out over the city.