It Started With a Sleigh

by Kaydence Snow

  El laughed but nodded.

  “My parents always get a real one—from a sustainable Christmas tree farm.” I pointed at him to make sure he knew we weren’t wasteful. “And most of the ornaments are really old and kind of worn, but they have sentimental value. I mean, I think one of my earliest memories is putting this particular red bauble with white snowflakes etched into it onto the tree. I remember how the lights shone through it and made it look iridescent. I thought it was magic.” I chuckled. “Christmas trees always make me think of my family, you know?”

  I tore my gaze away from the beautifully decorated tree to find El facing me, watching my face as intently as I’d been watching the tree. He had a melancholy look in his eyes, a sad smile that didn’t bring out his dimples. My heart fell.

  “Oh, I am such a jerk. I’m going on about family when . . . I’m sorry. That was really inconsiderate of me.” I chewed on my lip.

  “So, Tin told you?” He ran a hand through his dark red locks. The sparkly lights made his hair look extra shiny.

  “He told me his background, about how elves are recruited and all that, but he didn’t share anything that wasn’t his to tell.”

  El’s smile widened, but it still didn’t reach his eyes. They were dark green, just like Tin’s. I couldn’t stop noticing how similar they were in some ways and how different in others. How much of that was due to the Christmas magic?

  “Tin was an orphan his whole life. I became one in my teens, so I do have some memories of family Christmases around a tree. It was a pretty small family, and the tree was nothing like this, but . . .” He trailed off.

  I felt awful. “You really don’t have to tell me anything. I’m sorry for bringing it up.” I turned to face him fully and placed a hand on his arm, but he just kept staring at the tree, a faraway look in his eye.

  “It’s OK. I don’t mind talking about it.” He shrugged. “My mom was murdered by her asshole boyfriend when I was six. I never knew my dad. I don’t think she knew who he was either. My nana raised me. We were all the other had. But she passed away when I was seventeen, peacefully, in her own bed. I was on the streets, sleeping in carboard boxes, when Shinny Upatree showed up in the middle of the night. I thought it was too good to be true at first, but eventually she convinced me I wasn’t hallucinating.” He chuckled, then turned to face me. “It’s a pretty sad story, but I don’t mind telling it, because I’m not alone anymore. I have those two dickheads.” He inclined his head, and I turned to look. Max and Tin were in the middle of the dance floor, leading the festivities as “All I Want for Christmas” by Mariah Carey played.

  I laughed and turned back to El. “I’m glad you have each other.”

  “Me too.” He smiled, and his eyes flicked down to my lips. When he looked back up, there was that glint of gold magic in his eyes I was coming to expect anytime one of them looked at me intently.

  A tree branch over his shoulder shook, making the baubles and tinsel bounce. My eyes widened as something shot out of the tree, trailing sparkly green magic behind it.

  I patted El’s shoulder and arm frantically, bugging my eyes out until he turned his head to look.

  Whatever it was jetted up to the top of the tree, looped around it, then dive-bombed back down, disappearing into the branches and popping back out right next to our heads.

  “Oh, hey there, little buddy.” El grinned as a tiny green human with wings perched on the branch and waved maniacally at him. He extended his fist toward it, and the little creature gave him a fist bump.

  El turned back to me and laughed. I was still wide-eyed, clutching the elf’s velvet coat for dear life.

  “It’s just a Christmas faery,” he explained. “Like the reindeer, it’s attracted to us when we’re in the real world. They’re mischievous but harmless.”

  “What if someone sees it?” I looked around. Everyone was partying, and no one had even glanced in our direction.

  “Relax.” El grabbed my elbow. “No one can see them except us.”

  “Oh. OK.” I released a sigh and relaxed my shoulders. “How come I can see it?”

  He shrugged. “You’re seeing all kinds of shit you’re not meant to. Obviously, the Christmas magic has a plan here. Just roll with it.”

  “So, what do they do?” I leaned in to get a closer look, but the little faery startled and jumped back. Then it stuck its tongue out at me and flew off in a flurry of green sparkles.

  El laughed. “They prefer crowds, parties, malls, that kind of thing. They just kind of flit about and do mildly annoying but amusing things. Swapping around the nametags on presents, refilling people’s drinks so they get drunk, hiding all the scarves, and . . .” He trailed off as his gaze wandered up over our heads.

  I looked up too. The little green troublemaker was floating above us, holding a mistletoe branch. It giggled, snapped its fingers, and flew off again, leaving the mistletoe floating in midair with its green magic.

  The Mistletoe

  El and I looked down at the same time. Suddenly, I was aware of how close he was standing, the texture of his coat under my palm, the heat of his hand cradling my elbow.

  “It’s tradition.” He smirked and stepped even closer, his chest barely an inch from mine.

  “Oh, well, we can’t mess with Christmas tradition. It would ruin what we’re trying to do here.” I tried to keep my face blank, but my lips twitched into a smile as I raised onto my toes and closed the miniscule distance, pressing my breasts against his front and looping an arm around his neck.

  He gripped my hip and brushed a stray hair off my forehead before cupping my cheek, all while our lips inched closer and closer until we were breathing each other’s air. I was acutely aware of every hard plane of his chest against mine; the gentle, warm hand at my cheek; his pine-and-spice scent. It made me think of strolling through an evergreen forest while sipping mulled wine, with snow falling softly all around.

  The chaos of the party around us disappeared as my lips finally met his. We kissed softly at first, our lips dancing sweetly. Then he dropped the hand from my face to wrap an arm around my shoulders and demanded more. I licked his lips, and he met my tongue with his, deepening the kiss in an intense, dizzying way that had me digging my fingers into the hair at the back of his neck, my other hand gripping the fabric of his coat.

  A chorus of cheers and hoots went up, and I finally remembered we weren’t actually alone. That faery may have been invisible to the rest of the room, but we weren’t. With one last peck, we separated, and I buried my face in his neck—partly to hide in embarrassment and partly to drink in his intoxicating scent.

  A pop song started to play and distracted the crowd once more, but when I raised my head, we still had the full attention of at least one person.

  Monica stood right next to us, her arms crossed over her chest, a massive, slightly unhinged grin on her face.

  “Whatcha doin’?” my best friend asked in that teasing voice I both loved and hated.

  El frowned. “I thought it was pretty clear what we were—”

  “No-no,” she interrupted him. “Wasn’t talking to you.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me along behind her. “Come on, let’s get a drink.”

  I threw El an apologetic look over my shoulder and mouthed, “Sorry.” He smiled and waved me off.

  Monica led me to the food table and grabbed a couple glasses of champagne. I realized I hadn’t had dinner and was starving, so I collected a plateful of pastries and Christmas cookies and followed her to an alcove with some chairs.

  As soon as we sat down, I immediately started stuffing my face to avoid saying anything. She watched me for a few moments, sipping champagne and doing her best impression of a Bond villain with narrowed eyes and a knowing smirk.

  “OK, what gives?”

  “Wha?” I spoke around a mouthful of croissant. “What do you mean?”

  “What do I mean?” She threw her head back and laughed. “Well, you were just making out with the ginger, you were
holding hands with the blond bubbly one in the car, and that was after you were making googly eyes at the black guy while falling all over his lap.”

  “There was a bump in the road. The car lurched.”

  “That’s not really the point though, is it? What is going on with you and these guys?”

  I groaned and took another sip of champagne to stall. “Honestly? I like all of them.” I cringed, but Monica just grinned and clapped her hands.

  “Excellent.” She nodded. “I approve.”

  “Seriously? I feel like some kind of pervert. Why are you so excited about this?”

  “Are you kidding? After the state that dickhead left you in, I haven’t seen you this interested in anyone.”

  After my last boyfriend and I broke up, I went through a serious depressed state. I’d been on a few dates and had a one-night stand or two, but I just couldn’t seem to connect with anyone. It had taken me a while not just to get over the relationship but to regain the self-esteem I’d lost by being with someone who constantly wanted me to change.

  Monica had repeatedly offered me a job at her company, but it always came as reassurance that if I needed the job, I would have one. With Brian, it was always pressure to do something else, get out of retail, get a job that looked better. He dressed it up as wanting more for me, but really, he just hated introducing me to his lawyer friends as his girlfriend who worked in the lingerie department. It was about the way I reflected on him. He didn’t actually care that I had goals, dreams I wanted to accomplish. Granted, those weren’t exactly going anywhere at the moment, but at least I was working in an industry adjacent to the one I wanted to be in.

  “So, what are you gonna do about it?” Monica asked.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I know what I want to do about it”—we both giggled—“but I can’t help feeling like maybe it’s wrong on some level, that I’m being disrespectful by flirting with all of them at once.”

  “Bitch, please.” Monica waved that away. “You just met these assholes. You’re not in a relationship with any of them. You don’t owe them jack shit. You’re entitled to have a little fun. Are they being weird about it? Are they making you feel pressured or uncomfortable?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “Are they being jealous or trying to compete in some pissing contest or whatever?”

  “No. If anything, they seem amused when I show attention to one of the others. They’ve even, more or less, insinuated . . . that is to say, they kind of suggested that . . . I think they might be willing to . . .”

  “For the love of God, woman, spit it out!”

  “All right! They’ve kind of hinted they’d be into sharing. Like, all at the same time kind of thing.”

  Monica watched me in silence for a moment, then burst into an excited squeal, clapping her hands and stomping her feet on the ground. “Oh my god! You have to do this!”

  A couple of party people looked over at her shouting, and I shushed her. “Look, I’m not entirely opposed to it, OK? I just don’t know if there will be an opportunity before they have to leave. I mean, we still have to get . . . that part they need for their car.”

  “Make time.” She leaned across the table, her eyes intense. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get men into bed together? Sure, they’re all up for a threesome when it’s him and two chicks, but suggest throwing another dick into the mix and ‘oh no, I couldn’t possibly! I’m not gay!’” We both rolled our eyes. “You have three, three, willing dicks. You have to do this for women everywhere. Also, so I can live vicariously through you.”

  “Can you not refer to them as dicks? They have names, Monica,” I chastised her but couldn’t keep a straight face, a full-bellied laugh escaping at the end.

  She waved that off. “Where are they from again? That was kind of odd in the car when they all said ‘North’ at the same time. Like, upstate north? Or Canada north? Or the North Pole?” She laughed.

  “Uh . . . I’m not sure. They didn’t really tell me much more.” I washed the last of my croissant down with a gulp of champagne and got to my feet. “I have to pee.”

  I kind of did, but I mostly needed an excuse to avoid this line of questioning. I could never lie to Monica. We knew each other too well.

  Thankfully, she didn’t demand I sit back down and instead pointed up the massive staircase around the corner. “Use the one upstairs near my office. The one down here will be full with this many people.”

  “Thanks!”

  I was up the stairs and down that corridor in a flash. After freshening up in the bathroom, I headed back out.

  A gray-haired man in a suit appeared at the other end of the corridor, heading straight for me but staring intently at the ground, lost in thought. He was tall and skinny, but his suit was perfectly tailored, and he had a distinguished air about him. His cheerful Rudolph tie contrasted starkly with the worried look on his face.

  “Alan?” I called out when we were just steps away from each other.

  Monica’s boss, the CEO of the company, looked up, startled.

  “Oh, hello.” He paused and gave me a small smile. “I’m sorry. I was so lost in thought I didn’t even see you there. Sadie, right? Monica’s friend?”

  “Yes. Hi.” I smiled back.

  He glanced over his shoulder, looking sheepish. “I was so distracted I walked right past my own office.”

  I chuckled as we both started back the way he’d come. “What’s got you so engrossed? Hope it’s nothing too serious.”

  He sighed and opened his door, flicking the light on. “It’s a work thing. I don’t want to bother you. Go enjoy the party.”

  “There you are!” Max appeared in the doorway, grinning brightly, his unbuttoned coat revealing the tight T-shirt and perfectly fitting pants underneath. Why did they all have to have ridiculous bodies? It was distracting. “Thought we lost you.”

  “Here I am.” I waved him over. “Max, this is Alan, Monica’s friend. Alan, this is Max, my . . . friend.”

  “Friend” didn’t feel right. I’d known him for only a few hours. Also, I was pretty sure what I wanted to do to him was more than friendly.

  They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

  “Now, what are you two doing up here?” Max asked. “Party’s downstairs.”

  “You’re right.” Alan nodded. “You two should go down. Enjoy yourselves. I have to finish an unpleasant task.”

  “Work? On Christmas Eve?” Max propped his hands on his hips and tutted.

  “Believe me, this is one thing I’d rather not do.” Alan sank into his big leather chair and sighed.

  “What’s going on?” I prodded gently. “Sometimes it can help to talk about it to someone who’s not involved.”

  He eyed us for a moment, then leaned his elbows on the desk. “All right, but there’s only so much I can say—privacy and confidentiality reasons.”

  Max and I nodded and sat in the two chairs opposite.

  “We’ve got a project—a big one. It’s a large apartment building with retail space in a city that shall remain nameless. It’s river frontage, and it’s only recently been zoned for expansion. Anyway, we’re in the late stages of acquiring the land. Most of the properties there are owner-occupied homes. We’ve made generous offers to all the residents, and most of them have vacated.” He sighed heavily. “But there is one single mom in a two-bedroom holding things up a bit. She’s accepted our offer but is having trouble finding another place—left it too late at this time of the year. Now, we work on a schedule with these things. They get warnings, dates by which they have to comply, and so on. It just so happens I have to issue an eviction notice to her. The paperwork is all drawn up. Everything’s ready to go. I just have to make the call.”

  “Wait, this late on Christmas Eve?” I asked. I knew the corporate world never really stopped turning, but this was a little crazy.

  “This is a cutthroat business. We have people who are paid very well to do these kinds
of things, no matter what day it is. If I make this call, the notice will arrive tomorrow.”

  “On Christmas?” Max and I both sounded outraged.

  Alan cringed. “It sounds callous, I know. But if you show any kind of weakness in this industry, it just invites trouble.”

  “Is it weakness? Or kindness?” Max asked mildly, no judgment in his voice.

  Alan looked out into space, as if considering carefully.

  “Alan?” I leaned forward. “What happens if you don’t make the phone call?”

  “Nothing.” He shrugged. “Tonight anyway. The phone call will be made after Christmas, and she’ll be evicted. She agreed to the offer—it’s going to happen. It’s only a matter of when. This isn’t my job, really. I just didn’t want the manager in charge of this project to have to throw a single mother and her three kids out of their home on Christmas.”

  “If you didn’t want your manager to have to do it, then why are you doing it?” Max asked.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “Clearly this doesn’t sit well with you. You would’ve made the call already if it did. From the sound of it, no one will even notice if you wait a few days.”

  “You know what?” He leaned back in his chair, threading his fingers together and watching us with an amused smile on his face. “Fuck it. It can wait. Let the woman have a nice Christmas with her kids.”

  “Good for you.” Max grinned at him, and I couldn’t fight a smile either. Monica didn’t talk about her work in any great detail, but I knew any property development company on that scale had to be involved in some harsh stuff from time to time. I’d just never heard about it firsthand.

  “You know, I’d actually like to do more. Be better,” Alan said after a while.

  “How do you mean?” I asked.

  “This business is tough. It’s cutthroat and fast-paced, and we have to make hard deals all the time. I’m proud of what I’ve built here, but I do wish the culture of the industry were a little different. When I think about the kind of money we turn over quarterly and then about how many homeless people out there are struggling . . . I just wish we could somehow do what our clients want but also do some good at the same time.”