by Denise Wells
“I can’t do that.”
“Sure, you can. Just make up some reason for needing to see him.”
“Like what?”
“He dropped a cuff link, and you want to return it.”
“Why wouldn’t I have done that before I left?”
“Because you put it in your pocket for safekeeping and then forgot about it until you got home.”
“Oh, that’s good. Okay, I can do that.” I think on it for a second. “But what happens when I see him, and I don’t have the cufflink to give back?”
“There is no cufflink, dumbass. It’s just a ruse to get his info, or at least the info on the company. Then we can go from there trying to figure out who he is.”
“Right. Okay.” I rub my finger along my jaw, pondering whether I want to go to such extremes for a guy I didn’t even talk to.
“Stop thinking about it so hard,” Sarah chastises. “It’s still fate, we’re just giving it a little push is all.”
Sarah’s my best friend, easily. And we are both huge believers in fate. We both plan to meet the loves of our lives in some fated way. Not that I think he’ll be the love of my life, but this could be good practice.
“Okay. I’ll call in the morning before I report for elf duty.”
“Yay! I’m excited.”
Her excitement is contagious, and I find myself smiling a bit wider.
She picks up the remote and points it toward the TV to restart the movie.
“What’re we watching?”
“Love Actually.”
“Perfect.” I settle in to enjoy our favorite holiday movie, because who doesn’t love a chance to ogle both Colin Firth and Hugh Grant in the same movie.
Sigh.
I forgot to set my alarm last night, so by the time I wake up, I have thirty minutes to get to Coleman’s for my elf shift. No time to call the catering company about the guy last night. Or what company’s party we’d been working. As it is, I barely make it with twenty seconds to spare.
“You’re late,” the woman says who meets me at the Santa’s Village. “I almost called in someone else.”
“I’m so sorry. I was told ten o’clock.”
“Right, you start at ten, which means you need to be here at least fifteen minutes early to get dressed and ready.”
“My apologies.”
She shows me to the employee locker room where I can change and store my things. Only once I have it on do I realize my elf costume is this side of ridiculous. Though, given it’s an elf costume, I don’t know why I expected anything less.
A green pointed hat sits atop my head with jingle bells dangling from it that make noise whenever I move. I’m wearing a long-sleeved red and green horizontal striped shirt on the outside. Underneath, a red short-sleeved shirt with jagged hems and tights that match. To complete the ensemble, tight fitting green shorts—also with the jagged hem—and curled toe elf shoes with jingle bells at the tips.
I secure the wide black belt at my waist and take one last look in the mirror before heading out to the main floor. Everything I have on is just a little too tight to be family friendly. My dick is clearly outlined in the shorts, and my chest looks huge in the shirt. I’ll be surprised if I’m not sent home at once for looking lascivious.
A line has already formed, looking to be about twenty-five kids deep, by the time I reach Santa.
“About time,” Santa growls when I move to stand next to him in his big, ostentatious throne of a chair.
“Sorry, man. I got the time wrong.”
He gestures toward the line. “Well, get going.”
I approach the first child in line and ask if he’s ready to meet Santa. He yells, “Yes!” in response and runs toward the stage. While we wait, I approach Mrs. Claus, who is staffing the cash register. “Is that what I do? Get the kids when it’s their turn? Then help them down when they finish?”
“That’s it. Easiest gig ever.” She looks me up and down, then smiles. “You’re new.”
“First day.”
“Samantha.” She extends her hand toward me and licks her lips. I can’t help but notice her costumes also a bit on the sexy side, but it looks like she’s pinned the neckline to be lower than it should, as well as raised the skirt to be higher. If Santa’s suit wasn’t so baggy, I’d say we’d have a better chance selling pics outside an adult bookstore than here.
“Ahem.” Santa clears his throat loudly. His bloodshot blue eyes glaring in my direction, and naturally ruddy cheeks turned down in a scowl. I have a feeling he doesn’t like me much without even knowing me. I rush back to the stage and help the kid down, direct him to Mrs. Claus, then escort the next in line to Santa.
“I’ve got dibs on Mrs. Claus. Hands off, elf-man. You get me?” Santa leans close and growls at me.
“Loud and clear. No worries.” He’s about as jolly as the Grinch.
I make a mental note to avoid him as much as possible and continue with the monotonous task of escorting kids back and forth, making corny jokes every so often to make the nervous children smile.
“Hey, what do you call an elf who sings?” I ask the little girl waiting in line.
“What?”
“A wrapper.” I hold my palm up in a high five. She doesn’t return it.
The girl stays stoic. “That’s lame.”
“Okay, what about this one? What walks around saying ‘oh, oh, oh?’”
She looks at me expectantly.
“Santa walking backwards!” She denies my high five once again. “Tough crowd.” I look around to see if I can find her mother anywhere, but don’t see a woman watching us, or the line for that matter.
She smirks. “How many presents can Santa fit in his empty sack.”
“Hmmm.” I rub my thumb and forefinger along my chin thinking. Santa snaps his fingers at me to get the kid on his lap and continue with my rotation. “Two million, five hundred, and sixty.” I tell her as I walk her to the stage.
“One,” she says as she climbs on Santa’s lap. “After that, it isn’t empty any longer.”
“Good one,” I tell her as I tap my finger on my temple to show it’s smart and I’m filing it away. I can’t decide if I’m offended to be bested by a kid or not.
We get busier as the morning goes on, and by the time we get our hour-long lunch break at one o’clock, I’m more than ready for it. It’ll take more effort than it’s worth to get out of my costume and into street clothes to get something to eat, so I head over to the in-store cafe in my elf costume.
After deciding on a soup and sandwich combo, I take a seat at a small table in the corner and do some people watching. Wishing I’d at least brought my phone with me, so I’d have something to do.
It isn’t until after I’ve received my order and am taking the first bite of my sandwich that I see him. The bourbon guy from last night.
What is he doing at a department store café?
Of all the coincidences to experience . . . fuck my life.
I can’t talk to him in an elf costume. Even one that shows off my cock to a great advantage. Plus, I’m still not convinced he’s even gay. If I don’t approach him, what are the chances I’ll ever see him again, for real? I go back and forth in my mind trying to decide what I want to do when my decision is made for me.
A small girl goes running toward him squealing in joy as she jumps into his arms, and he delivers noisy kisses all over her face. A woman is walking behind her with an infant in one of those carriers worn like a reverse backpack. They look alike in that way that couples sometimes do, dark hair and eyes, both crazy attractive, the woman with no obvious effort at all. He leans in and kisses her cheek. She beams at him with obvious adoration.
He’s married.
With kids.
Figures.
Except, wait, that isn’t the same woman from last night that was hanging on him. Wow. So, he’s straight, married, a dad, and a cheater.
What a dick.
3
Kris
I promised my sister I would meet her for lunch then go with her to bring my niece and infant nephew to meet Santa Claus. We’re meeting at the flagship store’s in-store cafe which is also the store that has the best Santa photo setup.
Our flagship store is huge by department store standards, five stories tall, with each level measuring in at eighty thousand square feet. It’s more like a mini mall with only one brand: Colemans. In addition to an in-store cafe, we also have a gym and childcare for our employees, an indoor playground for kids, and we carry everything from sporting goods and appliances to fine jewelry and lingerie.
Our corporate office headquarters are on the three floors above the store which is already five stories tall. The building is not tall by New York standards, but it is tall for a department store. And our family owns the building free and clear; almost unheard of in NYC real estate.
I’ve just arrived at the cafe when I hear the high-pitched squeal of my niece, Kelsie. I turn with a smile and bend to one knee to catch her as she runs toward me. Kelsie is by far my favorite person in the world. Because of her, I’m not sure I can ever have kids of my own, I feel like she’s spoiled me for them. If my kid isn’t as fantastic as she is, I fear I won’t love them as much.
“I’ve missed you, OK,” she says like ‘O’ and ‘K’ are my initials, patting my cheeks with her tiny hands. OK, which she pronounces as okay, is her nickname for me. When she was first learning to talk, and we told her I was Uncle Kris, she responded with, ‘OK.’ At the time we thought she was just affirming that she understood, but that’s what she’s called me ever since. Truth be told, I love it.
“I’ve missed you, Kels.” I stand with her in my arms and step over to kiss my sister on the cheek.
“Thank you so much for this,” she says with a smile.
“Anything for you.” I look at her tenderly. If Kelsie weren’t my favorite person in the world, my sister Kelly would be. But unlike Kelsie, Kelly looks tired today, even more so than she did last night at the party.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Just tired,” she says. “The baby had a tough time with the sitter last night and was still up after we got home. Then he woke up every hour it seemed for the rest of the night.”
I nod in understanding even though I don’t understand since I don’t have kids and I’ve never lived with an infant.
“Damian got called in, some crisis somewhere in the world.” She waves her hand in the air. Her husband is an evening news anchor for a nation-wide network and often in high demand. Understandably, the man is brilliant and has great stage presence. But it means he isn’t often available for things like staying up all night with the baby or Santa visits, so I know she appreciates having me here as back up.
“Maybe you need a night nanny,” I tell her. Which I believe in. It’s how we were raised, and we’re fine. But she is determined to do it all on her own with babysitters. Even though she still works part-time.
She shakes her head. “Damian got up the first part of the night with him, but I knew he needed sleep too, so I took the second shift. I’m exhausted, Damian was exhausted, and now this guy gets to sleep it off all day in a carrier.” She motions to my nephew, who is indeed asleep, cuddled against her, looking like an angel in disguise.
We wait in line to order and then let Kelsie choose a table. She chooses one by a Christmas tree in a far corner, so she can examine all the ornaments up close, giving me a wide-angle view of the rest of the cafe. Kelly and I take a few minutes to recap the holiday party last night and the debacle that was Jeanette.
“I still can’t get my head around the fact that she thinks she can marry the gay out of you,” Kelly giggles.
“Gay is another way to describe love, right Mommy?” Kelsie asks.
“That’s right, baby.”
“Why would Jeanette want to marry the love out of OK?”
“Because she’s foolish,” I tell her.
Kelsie nods solemnly, as though absorbing and agreeing with this at the same time. Our food arrives. At the same time Kelvin, my nephew, wakes up and wants a bottle. I scoot Kelsie closer to me to help her with her food while Kelly tends to Kelvin. My family has a thing for names the start with K, if that wasn’t already obvious.
I cut Kelsie’s chicken strips in half, so they cool faster, and squirt some ketchup on her plate for her fries. I also make sure her milk-cup is in reach and her booster is close enough to the table and start on my grilled chicken.
“You’re so good with her,” Kelly says.
“I had a good teacher,” I tell her. She blushes slightly then situates Kelvin against the booth back beside her with a blanket to prop his bottle up and keep him in place at the same time. Quickly, like a mother with no time, she attacks her salad with a gusto.
The Christmas tree we are next to reminds me of what I want to ask her. “Hey,” I ask trying to sound casual. “Do you know who we used for catering last night?”
She stops chewing and looks up at me. “Why, was there a problem?” Covering her mouth with her napkin as she speaks.
“No, they were great.”
She nods and swallows before continuing. “A Decadent Delight. This is only the second time we’ve used them, so any feedback is appreciated.” Kelly doesn’t work for the company full-time, mostly on occasion, helping with event planning for things like the holiday party or staff appreciation day.
“What if I wanted to get in touch with someone who worked for them?”
She sets down her fork and turns her attention to me fully. “Well, well, Kris Coleman, why ever would that be?” She smiles.
“One of the bartenders caught my eye.” I shrug like it’s no big deal.
“Of course he did. When are you going to stop slutting around and settle down?”
“Mommy, what does slutting around mean?” Kelsie asks.
“Yeah, Mommy,” I taunt. “What does slutting around mean?”
“It means that OK is sharing his love with a lot of people at once,” Kelly says.
“Oh, good job, OK.” Kelsie says in a high-pitched, serious voice. “We’re supposed to love everyone equally, right Mommy?”
I chuckle at that.
“That’s right, baby.” Kelly reaches over and pats the top of Kelsie’s head. Kelsie preens under her mother’s praise.
“Look, Mommy, there’s an elf.” Kelsie points to the other side of the room where a man in an elf costume is eating alone in the opposite corner. My body temperature rises, and my breath quickens; the second time in less than twenty-four hours.
Do I know him? Or just find him attractive?
It’s hard to see his face since he’s eating, but his upper body is impressive if the tight-fitting costume is a sign: wide chest and shoulders, bulky biceps, and strong looking forearms. He looks up and our eyes catch, I feel that jolt surge through me. Like what happened last night with the bartender. In fact, he looks a lot like the bartender.
Which is either the world’s biggest coincidence ever—because what are the chances—or wishful thinking on my part. Because I liked the guy, I now want everyone to look like him. More than that, I want everyone to be him. I’m still holding his gaze when he scowls at me and looks away.
Okay, then. Must not be the guy.
I push him out of my mind and return my attention to my family and getting Kelsie pumped to meet Santa Claus.
It’s only after we’ve been in line for twenty minutes that I wish I would have pulled some strings to get us right up to see Santa. But taking advantage of our position as owners/managers/superiors goes against company culture. Having that leverage over others does not make us better or our time more important. And so, if our customers are waiting for something, and we want it too, we’re waiting for the same thing.
At this point, we’re only at the ‘thirty minutes from here’ marker in the line.
“We’ve waited so long I could’ve just rented a suit and posed for pictures with you,” I grumble to Kelly.<
br />
She laughs in response. “You don’t have to wait with us.”
“I’m good,” I tell her with a small smile that belies my statement a moment ago.
I pick Kelsie up in my arms and begin a game of ‘I spy’ with her.
“I spy with my little eye, Santa’s elf!” Kelsie exclaims, pointing toward the front of the line where I see the same elf from the cafe helping Santa.
Despite there being a good twenty or so people in line between us, he must’ve heard her, because he looks up and right at me.
I swear it’s the bartender.
“He doesn’t like you, OK.”
“Who doesn’t, baby girl?”
“Santa’s elf. He’s giving you the mean eye.”
I look up a third time, but he’s focused on something else. I guess if he gives me a dirty look again, I’ll know that, one, he’s not gay, and, two, he’s not interested. The line proceeds slowly, and I’m not able to catch the guys eye again.
Finally, after what seems like an hour, but I know is only half that, we arrive at the front of the line. The guy has gone out of his way to avoid meeting my gaze. But I can’t help thinking that he is the guy from last night. That being the case, I must have totally misread the situation. Because there’s no heat or desire coming from this guy now.
He approaches to bring Kelsie to Santa’s lap. I take Kelvin from Kelly’s arms and follow, wanting to try and get a word in. Because I’m an emotional masochist and can’t let this go for the life of me. He’s perfectly pleasant with Kelsie, even exchanging jokes with her, but when he turns to take Kelvin from my arms, his face turns cold.
It’s the blond from the bar. And he’s done a one hundred eighty degree turn from how he was last night. Kelvin clings to my neck, refusing to go with the angry elf. When he sees Santa, he starts to cry. I try to pry Kelvin arms from me as he starts to kick and scream. Kelly approaches, trying to soothe him and remind him about the Santa from the book at home.
Then Kelsie starts to tell him about all the other Santa things they have at home. Kelvin starts to calm down at the sound of Kelsie’s voice, eventually agreeing to let her ‘hold’ him on Santa’s lap. Kelly kneels next to them, keeping a hand on Kelvin in case he falls. I back out of the photo, near the elf.