Dear Santa, I Can Explain!

by Kayt Miller

  I look over at my date who is now snoring in the seat next to me. My first instinct is to take her to my place, but that’s a no-no. I don’t take women home. It’s best if I just get her to her place and put her to bed. Picturing Lexie in her bed wearing only those stockings and garters is doing things to my dick again. “Stop thinking about it,” I mutter to myself. I look up. Eric can’t hear me thanks to the partition being up, and my date definitely can’t hear me since she’s passed out.

  When Eric pulls up to her apartment, I place my hand on her shoulder and shake her gently. “Lexie?”

  She lets out a little snort, and I see a small amount of drool has collected on the corner of her mouth. Why is that so adorable? On anyone else, I’d be appalled. “Lexie? Wake up, baby. You’re home.”

  “Huh?” She says startled. “What?” Pulling herself up to a seated position she looks around like she’s trying to get her bearings. “Where am I?”

  “Eric has just pulled up in front of your apartment building. Take my hand, and I’ll help you to your place.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  I take hold of her hand with my left and grasp her coat with my right. I don’t want to forget it tonight. Gingerly, she steps out onto the sidewalk. Straightening too quickly, she teeters. “Wow, I think I drank too much.”

  “You think?” I mutter.

  She giggles, “Oops, sorry. Not sorry. Since the food was so icky, I had a liquid supper.”

  “The food wasn’t ‘icky’. Far from it.”

  She rolls her eyes as she stomps away from me and toward her door. Grabbing her coat from me, she says, “You don’t need to walk me up. I’ve… I’m fine.” Just then, she trips up the first step. If I hadn’t been following close behind her, she would have hit face first into the jagged concrete step. I wrap my arm around her waist to keep her upright. Without another word, she attempts to twist away from me to go it alone. “I’m fine. Go home, Gabriel.”

  “I’m going to walk you up. Get over it.” Now I’m irritated. A gentleman always sees his date to the door. Well, okay. So, I don’t usually see my dates to their doors. No, my normal modus operandi is to let Eric walk them to their door.

  “Fine.”

  With my arm around her, we walk up the four floors to her door. I take the key from her hand and unlock the door. Pushing it open, I hear that stupid bird start to squawk like crazy. “Oh, hey Cy, baby,” she coos. “Mama’s home.”

  Mama’s home? She turns abruptly as soon as she crosses her threshold. Holding her hand out I place her keys in her palm. “Thank you. Good night.”

  “Wait. I––“ The door slams shut in my face before I can finish. Wow. That was rude and uncharacteristic of the Lexie I’ve come to know. Granted, I’ve only really come to know her for less than a week. It’s got to be a result of too much alcohol. Yeah, it’s the alcohol.

  Chapter 21

  Lexie

  Argh. My head. The loud, annoying beeping coming from my phone’s alarm has woken me from my drunken slumber, and I hate it. I want to chuck the stupid thing out the window and watch it plummet four stories to its well-deserved demise. But that would be a bad idea. I need my phone. It’s finally paid for through my wireless plan. If I drop it and watch it crumble to smithereens, it’d be a imprudent. Satisfying but imprudent.

  In any case, I need to get up so I can get ready for work. I should call in sick. I know he wouldn’t fire me since my hangover is all Gabriel’s fault. Who goes to a restaurant that gives you wine with every stinking course? Gabriel Parker, that’s who. And to think, I made a vow, after the holiday party, I’d never drink again. That promise was tossed out the window the second I was confronted with bitchy brunette Barbie and her husband. To be fair, Bill wasn’t that bad. He wasn’t that good either.

  Groaning, I push myself into a standing position. Well, standing is probably too generous a word. I’m upright. That’s good enough for now. Scooting across my bedroom floor Cy squawks. “Cy, shh. I need quiet, please.”

  “Squawk,” he says again loudly like he didn’t hear a word I said. And yes, I just put ‘squawk’ in quotes. It’s okay because Cy is human to me. He deserves quotes.

  “Shh, seriously buddy. Mama’s head hurts.”

  I guess he could give two shites because he keeps right on squawking. I make my way over to his cage and stare inside. “Well, no wonder you’re squawking. Your mirror fell, and you’re out of seed.” I reach in to hang his mirror back up, and he pecks at my hand gently. “I love you too, Cy.”

  After adding seed and giving him fresh water, I check on the rest of the crew. Ron and Hermione are fast asleep. I heard their wheels spinning in the night, so I know they were busy. I’m so used to the sounds my critters make at night I’m able to tune them all out. Actually, I think if they didn’t make a little noise, I’d worry and fret and get no sleep.

  Shelly is busy, not. She’s sitting on a rock with half of her little head poking out of her shell. I place some turtle pellets in with her and make a mental note to get some veggies tonight. “Oh, crud. I’ve got to go out again. Don’t worry kids; I’ll pick some things up at lunch and bring them home.”

  As I’m taking care of Shelly, my phone alarm alerts me that I need to get ready for work. I’ve set it to go off three times in the morning. Once to wake me, once to remind me to stop dilly-dallying around and get in the shower, and the third to get me out the door. I guess I need digital encouragement in the morning.

  Pouring myself a cup of coffee, I slosh in a dollop of mint chocolate creamer (yum!) and head off to the shower. It works wonders for my hangover. I almost feel human again. Almost. When I rush downstairs, I look around for Eric and the car, but there’s no one waiting. I check the time on my phone and see eight thirty.

  “Crap.” If I attempt the “L” and the bus, I’ll be late. I can’t afford a taxi right now if I want to buy a new dress for Saturday. I’ll risk being late as I run down the street toward my “L” stop.

  Forty-five minutes later, I rush into the door of Parker and Associates panting. I toss my things on my desk and grab the headset. The phone is blinking like crazy. “Well, well, well. So nice of you to join us,” Katya snaps.

  “No car,” I pant. “Had to take the ‘L.'”

  She ignores my reasons and says, “It’s a good thing you’re fucking the boss, or I’d make sure you were fired.”

  “I’m not f–sleeping with Gabriel.” Yet.

  She snorts. “Figures. No doubt he doesn’t want to see you naked. Who would?”

  What is it with this woman? I can’t argue with her, though. It’s pretty much the truth. I’ve had one person I’d call a boyfriend, and that was years ago. I think he just dated me because I was willing to write his papers for his college composition class. As soon as the semester was over, so was our relationship. We only slept together once, and that was the night before he broke up with me. Yeah, so there’s that.

  I shrug, “You’re probably right.” I think I surprise her with that statement because her jaw drops open and her eyebrows reach the top of her hairline. Not a good look, let me tell you. When the phone rings, I sit in my seat and answer, “Parker and Associates, how may I direct your call.”

  Katya is still standing next to the desk. I can see her in my peripheral vision, but I ignore her. I pretend to search my desk for something until she leaves. At that point, I grab my needed tools for the day and get started. There are probably thirty messages on the phone thanks to my tardiness. Whenever I’ve got a minute or two between calls, I listen to them and take hand-written messages that I’ll have one of the interns deliver to the appropriate people.

  A surprising number of them are for Cammy again. There was a call from the Tribune, one was from a producer at a morning show on WGN, and several more were from other magazines and news organizations. I wrote down the information quickly and sent them to her.

  Organizing my notes I see a shadow slide over the desk onto my computer keyboard. When I look up, I s
ee Archie. “Oh, good morning Archie,” I say as chipper as possible considering my headache is back with a vengeance.

  “Hi, Lexie. So, are you out of my candy?”

  “Shoot. I am. I only have Root Beer Barrels left. I promise I’ll get some for tomorrow, though.” Candy and vegetables. I need to write that down.

  “Oh, it’s fine. I just wanted a Smooch.”

  I feel the blush rise up to my face in seconds. I watch a similar blush creep up to Archie’s face. Gosh, he’s so adorable. Giggling, I assure him I’ll get more for tomorrow, but before he leaves, I need to say something. “Archie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry about the thing at the holiday party.”

  He looks confused. “What thing?”

  “Oh,” I say nervously. My voice starts to shake as I continue so I lean forward and whisper, “About not meeting you in the supply closet.”

  “Huh? What’re you talking about?”

  “You, um, asked me to meet you in the supply closet.”

  “I did no such thing, Ms. Cartwright. I’d never! You’re not my type. At. All.”

  Humiliation complete. “Oh, right.”

  “Besides. Weren’t you seeing Mr. Parker at that time? That would be inappropriate for you to do something like that at his party.”

  “Right. Yes. Of course,” I say quickly. When the phone rings I pick it up and say my standard line, “Parker and Associates. How may I direct your call?”

  While I’m relieved to have been saved by the proverbial bell, I feel the sting of tears at the back of my eyes. I won’t cry. I refuse to cry. And you know what else I refuse to do? I refuse to provide Archie Bowman with any more Smooches. He doesn’t deserve any. Besides, he makes a lot more money than me. He could buy them himself.

  “Hello? Lexie?”

  Oh shoot, my mind has been on Archie and not on the caller. “Yes?”

  “What’s going on?” asks Gabriel. “I’ve been saying your name repeatedly.”

  “Oh, sorry. Archie was here, and I was distracted.”

  “Why was he up at the front bothering you?” Gabriel’s voice sounds unusually harsh.

  “He wasn’t bothering me.” Until he was. “He wanted candy.”

  “Oh, well, I suppose that’s alright.”

  “Gee. Thanks.”

  “How may I direct your call this morning?” I didn’t even know he wasn’t in the office today.

  “I don’t need you to direct my call. I wanted to speak to you.”

  “Uh, hm.”

  “You were late today?”

  Jeez. Can Katya just let it go for one day? “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, Eric wasn’t there, so I had to make a dash for the “L” instead.”

  “He said you never came down, so he left when I needed him.”

  “I was downstairs by eight thirty. It’s fine. I don’t need a ride anymore. I’d rather plan my time myself. I’m used to getting to work my way.”

  “No. I insist.”

  I could argue, but I’m too tired. “Fine.” Whatever. God, I’m in such a terrible mood now. First, it was the car, then Katya, then Archie, and now Gabriel. My day is shaping up to be a hum-dinger. I sit in silence waiting for him to say something else.

  “The reason I’m calling is because I need you in conference room two at noon today.”

  “That’s my lunch hour.”

  “I know.”

  I groan. I wanted to use that time to get veggies and Archie’s candy. I no longer need the candy so just the veggies. “Fine.”

  “You’ll be there?”

  “Yes.” I’ll be there. I’ll be grouchy and irritable, but I’ll be there.

  Chapter 22

  Lexie

  When Kim comes to my desk to relieve me promptly at noon she asks, “What’re you doing for lunch today, Lexie?”

  “I’ve got to meet Gabriel in conference room two, I guess.”

  “What’s he got planned? Something romantic?”

  “At work? I hope not.” I really hope not. That’d be awkward.

  I hang my purse strap over my shoulder and walk around a set of cubicles to conference room two. I knock on the door to be safe and hear a woman’s voice. “Come in.”

  I open the door and blink. The room is empty except for an older woman; I’d estimate her age to be between fifty-five and sixty-ish. She’s dressed in a dark skirt, and a light pink sweater set ala Landsend. Her hair is silver and cut bluntly at her chin. She looks very put together and rather distinguished. “Um, hello?”

  “Are you Alexia?”

  Oh, geesh. “Lexie. It’s just Lexie.”

  “Lexie. Right. Would you like to have a seat?”

  I look at the table and see it’s set with dishes, silverware, and glassware but there’s only one set. I shrug and step over to the table. Not knowing where she wants me to sit, she raises her arm to the seat with the dishes. I roll out the chair and plop down into the leather seat.

  “Lexie, my name is Catherine and today we’re going to talk about dining etiquette.”

  Oh, you’ve got to be effing kidding me right now. “Dining what?”

  “Etiquette.”

  “Why? Why are we talking about dining etiquette?”

  “Well, apparently there was a mishap at dinner last night.”

  “A mishap?”

  I watch her pull a tiny notepad from her purse. “Let’s see. You drank excessively ‘like a sailor,' it says here. You spoke about a television show from the 1970s, and you repeatedly mentioned dead baby animals throughout the meal. Also, you didn’t seem to know which utensils to use with each course.”

  I stand up and away from my chair. I’m offended. So much so I feel those stupid tears again. But, I bite them back to save for later. “I’ll have you know that my mo-mother taught me table manners.”

  “Well, she must not have––”

  “Stop. Stop right there!” I say with my hand out in front of me. “You will not disparage my mother’s teachings. She was the b-b-best person I ever knew.” Oh hell, here they come. I concentrate on holding them back. Not. Going. To. Cry. “As for the dinner conversation, please tell Mr. Parker to shove it up his arse right along with eti-fucking-whatever training this is. If I embarrass him so much, tell him to take someone else.”

  I turn to leave. “Oh, and another thing. You need to know. I never cuss. So, I’m sorry I said that word. But the man is an a-hole and very, very presumptuous. He drove me to it. Why don’t you tell him to have training on being a proper boyfriend because he s-u-c-k-s, sucks at it.”

  I open the door and shut it behind me. I wanted to slam it shut but I can’t do it. It’ll draw too much attention to myself. I walk past Kim right to the bank of elevators. I’ll spend some time in the lounge on the main level getting myself together. Then I’ll buy some veggies and something for myself to eat for dinner, because I will not be dining out tonight with Mr. Jerkface. That, I can guarantee.

  Chapter 23

  Gabriel

  I received a call at twelve ten this afternoon telling me that the etiquette lesson I had planned for Lexie was a crash and burn. Not only that, but my mother was quite upset with me. When I called her up to ask for help with my girlfriend, she was happy to help. She was appalled at the thought I’d be with a girl who had such terrible manners.

  But, after ten minutes alone with Lexie, my mother had changed teams. “I don’t know what happened last night at dinner, but you need to apologize to her.”

  “Me? Why?” I whined.

  “Because you’ve finally decided to date a girl with spunk and personality. So, suck it up, son. You’d better make nice with her, or you’ll have to deal with me.”

  “Mother, please.” I want to tell her it’s all fake but that’ll make her even angrier.

  She continues, “Then on top of everything, I disparaged her mother. Is her mother gone?”

  “Gone? How should I know? Where would she be?”
/>
  “Gone. As in deceased. Is her mother deceased?”

  “I. Don’t. Know. Jesus, mother. Let it go. I’ll make nice with her, okay. Everything will be fine.”

  “It’d better be Gabriel. If you end up marrying her, she’ll always remember the day we met, and it won’t be a fond memory for her. I won’t have the mother of my grandchildren angry with me over something that appears to be all your fault.”

  “Christ, mother. I said I’d take care of it. And don’t worry. I won’t be marrying her, therefore, we won’t be reproducing.”

  “Famous last words,” she mutters as she hangs up on me.

  I love my mother. Did I mention that? I do. I love her as long as she stays up in South Barrington where she belongs. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, and all that.

  At five fifty-five, I knock on Lexie’s door. I’ve got some yellow carnations in my right hand and a box of sugar-free chocolates in my left as a peace offering. When she doesn’t come to the door, I knock again.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s me.”

  I listen for her to unlatch her door. It seems to take her an unusually long time to do it, but when it finally opens, I see the issue. “You’re not dressed?” No. She’s not dressed. She’s wearing red flannel pajamas with, what are those, Santa’s reindeers printed all over them. Her feet are covered with slippers with reindeer heads. On the left is Rudolf, I recognize the red nose. On the right is Rudolf’s girlfriend from the original cartoon. I can’t remember her name.

  I look up and see Lexie’s got some green goo on her face. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a mass of curls and waves, and she’s clutching a large bowl filled with popcorn.

  How is it possible that this woman, at this moment, has taken my breath away? And why, all of a sudden, do I get the overwhelming desire to take her to my bed and make her mine, forever? It’s strange since she looks rather like a homeless person. No offense to homeless people.