Something MORE for Santa

by AKM Miles

  Table of Contents

  SOMETHING MORE FOR SANTA

  Blurb

  Copyright Acknowledgement

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  About the Author

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  MLR PRESS AUTHORS

  GLBT RESOURCES

  SOMETHING MORE FOR SANTA

  AKM MILES

  mlrpress

  www.mlrpress.com

  Derek Campbell loves his job as Santa at Martin’s, but finds himself wishing for a little something for himself. He’s surprised when an elf hears his request and answers him. Derek gets more than he bargained for when he meets young Michael and then Max, who just happens to own Martin’s. He falls in love with both of them and they him, then something happens, something bad. They overcome because they’re strong together, and they have a good Christmas. But then, even worse things happen. What now? What follows is a wonderful holiday story filled with love, adventure, fear, hope, and kittens.

  Copyright Acknowledgement

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2014 by AKM Miles

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  Published by

  MLR Press, LLC

  3052 Gaines Waterport Rd.

  Albion, NY 14411

  Visit ManLoveRomance Press, LLC on the Internet:

  www.mlrpress.com

  Cover Art Winterheart Designs

  Editing by Kris Jacen

  ebook format

  Issued 2014

  This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.

  To those fans who always read my work as soon as it comes out and never fail to let me know how much they enjoy the books. Many have become friends. You will never know how much I appreciate your kind words. Thank you so much. AKM

  CHAPTER ONE

  “And what do you want for Christmas, young man? Have you been a good boy this year?” Derek muttered, leaning back against the wall in the dark hallway, the padding in his Santa suit making each movement awkward. This section of Martin’s Department Store was used only by staff. Right now, he was alone.

  He answered his own question. “I’ve been an exemplary boy, Santa. All I want is someone to love me. Is that too much to ask? A little something for Santa for a change. No more losers and no more rough stuff. I just want someone nice, someone who’ll see me.” Derek was tired of self-centered guys who expected things from him that he wasn’t into—like pain. All right, so he was cute. He’d heard it all his life. Big f’ing deal. Cute didn’t pay the bills. Hard work and several odd jobs barely allowed him to break even.

  “I see you,” said a small voice to his right, about knee level.

  Derek jumped and nearly said a word Santa would never utter, especially in front of a young… his eyes widened… elf?

  “Okay, I’m the only Santa working today and I know you’re not one of my helpers. So who are you?” Derek looked down at the little tow-headed elf with big sky-blue eyes by his side. Holding his little pointed hat in his hand, the youngster gazed up at him in quiet contemplation, and then nodded his head as if having decided something.

  “I’m Michael, not Mike, but Michael. Do you know anything about main headaches?” Michael asked, seriously.

  Derek peered down at the elf in puzzlement, and then realized what Michael-not-Mike probably meant. With forty-five minutes before he had to go back out to the store for another three-hour shift, Derek could spare a few minutes now.

  “I think you mean migraines. My mom used to have them.” His mother had suffered greatly, and over the years Derek had gradually learned which remedies best eased her pain. Then there had been the heart surgery, which hadn’t come in time. Derek missed her terribly. The bills were a constant reminder, and the reason he was so strapped for cash. It would be years before those bills were paid off, but he sent what he could each month, thankful for the hospital’s patience.

  “If you come with me, I’ll take you to someone who isn’t a loser and who’s never rough with anybody. But he’s got a really bad main headache again.” With that, Michael took Derek’s hand and tugged. Intrigued, Derek let the funny little elf lead him to an elevator he’d never noticed before.

  “Where are we going?” Derek asked.

  “To see my dad, but we have to be quiet ’cause he’s really sick right now.”

  Ah, so this elf was really a child whose father must work for the store.

  When the elevator doors opened, they were facing an office door in a hallway Derek was unfamiliar with. A luxurious carpet covered the floor, and the high-end décor led him to guess that the store’s mucketymucks, as his mom would have called them, worked here. Michael again took his hand and led him to the door. Opening it slowly, he raised his other hand to touch a tiny finger to his lips.

  Derek nodded his understanding and followed the boy into the darkened room. Michael closed the door and they stood a few seconds, letting their eyes adjust to the low light. A huge desk stood across the room in front of wide curtained windows. At a sound to his right, Derek turned and spied a bulky figure whose long limbs filled the generous proportions of a leather couch. One arm draped over his face. Derek recognized that position, remembering how his mother could never make the room dark enough to banish the pain.

  Michael stepped over to the man and touched his arm, leaning down to whisper into his ear.

  “Hmm?” The man’s voice spoke of pain.

  Derek could barely hear the word, the faint question. He had never seen such a large couch. The man, well over six feet tall, lay stretched out to his full length, but still room remained for the overstuffed pillows plumped at either end. Shaking off the distraction caused by the unusual furniture, he looked back to the man. His experience kicking in, Derek walked over and sat with his back against the arm of the couch by the man’s head. He leaned over and said, “Shh, relax. Let me help you.”

  “Can’t. Hurts. Michael, honey, what’s… oh…” His question ended with a groan. Grasping the man’s shoulders, Derek stretched one leg along the back of the couch. The other he set on the man’s other side, making a warm cocoon for the man’s head and shoulders.

  “Hey…” His patient tried to sit up, but pain forced him down again. Derek needed to reassure him before he could relieve his pain.

  “Michael brought me up here. I’ve got about half an hour left on my break. I can help you if you’ll let me. Shh, relax. My fat Santa suit makes a nice soft pillow, huh? I’m going to try what used to work on my mom’s migraines, okay?”

  There was no answer, but the man relaxed back into the V of Derek’s legs. Softly, Derek put his long fingers to work, starting at the forehead and slowly, gently, stroking the temples. Interpreting the man’s quiet acceptance as permission, Derek eased his fingertips further back into the thick, dark blond hair. In the scant light glowing from a partially open door, lines of stress and pain stood out o
n the man’s face.

  Meanwhile, Michael sat on the floor beside the couch, his small hand resting on his father’s clenched fist. Care and love for his parent radiated from the little boy’s face and in his posture.

  “Relax your muscles if you can. Unclench your fist and let peace take you. Hold Michael’s hand.” Derek knew that physical contact helped release tension and pain. Clearly these two shared a strong bond. In response to his son’s light touch the man slowly opened his fingers. Michael slipped his hand into the man’s much bigger one. The man sighed and Michael’s lips curved up in a smile.

  Derek began to hum quietly, but not the Christmas carols one might expect from someone dressed as Santa. No, he hummed “Soaked” by Adam Lambert, his latest musical obsession. His mother would have loved the singer, with his flamboyance and gorgeous voice. They used to watch American Idol together and rate the singers, most often agreeing on choices. His mom had been pretty cool, Derek thought with a smile. Her response to his being gay had been one of acceptance. She had supported him in every way possible.

  Derek kept his tone low and soft. His fingers never stopped their gentle motions. He moved them back to the man’s forehead and now drew upwards toward the top of his skull and into his hair. Long minutes passed as he kept up the soft movements and moved on to “Broken Open,” keeping to the ballads. He followed that up with a soothing version of “Mad World.”

  The man relaxed more and more; his body settling and his breathing slowing, and Derek felt happy for the first time in a long while. His life wasn’t horrible. It just wasn’t filled with joy and good things lately. Well, not for a long time. He leaned further over the man to look more closely at the chiseled features, gauging the degree of pain by the lessening of the tension around his mouth and the tightness bracketing his eyes. Derek knew he’d helped, but a quick glance at his watch told him he would have to hurry and get back into his headgear and become Santa again.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to get back to work now. Lots of little kids are waiting to tell me their wishes for a holly jolly Christmas. I hope this helped you.” Derek scooted back a few inches.

  “No, don’t go. I… you… that helped, really. That was nice of you. Who are you?”

  “Santa. A little elf brought me to you. I’ve really got to go now.” Derek regretted having to leave, but he’d have to beat feet if he was going to make it back to his big chair in time.

  “Michael, can you sit up here with a pillow on your lap and do what I was doing for a little while more? Just be very soft and gentle.” Derek stood and helped Michael up from the floor and onto the couch, putting a big pillow on his lap. He helped the man lean up and then back onto the cushion.

  “Santa?” The little boy looked up, a worried expression pinching his features.

  “Hmm?”

  “I can’t sing those songs. I don’t know them.” Michael sounded like he might cry if he couldn’t do it right.

  “It doesn’t matter what you sing as long as your voice is quiet and soothing. Hum some Christmas carols or anything. I’ve got to go. Good luck, buddy.”

  “Thanks, Santa.”

  “Yeah, thanks Santa.” The man gazed up at him for the first time and Derek almost gasped. The beautiful dark blue-green eyes made him think of jewelry or paint chips. What color were they? Teal. That was it. His mother had loved teal and fuchsia. But no one had teal eyes. They must be contacts.

  “Merry Christmas.” Derek let himself out the door, closing it gently and heading back to the second floor where the Santa scene was set up.

  Whew, that was a trip. Wonder who the man was? It was clear he had the pure love of his son going for him. Well, that and a killer bod with gorgeous eyes, soft hair, and wide shoulders. Okay, enough, Santa, back into the toys, Barbies, and video games mode.

  § § §

  After getting off at nine Derek hurried to his second job as waiter at a local bar where he’d be serving drinks and appetizers until two in the morning. Not a hard job, but he’d be exhausted by the time he hit the sack. For now these two jobs were enough, but after Christmas, he’d have to find something else.

  Having just finished vocational school, majoring in business and accounting, Derek had been devastated when he got the news his mother had a heart condition. He abandoned any idea of job hunting in his field and took smaller jobs that would allow him to take care of her. She’d been valiant, but had succumbed to the heart disease in the end, leaving Derek alone in the world. That had happened back in February.

  He grabbed a pack of crackers for supper, changed into his uniform, which consisted of black slacks, a white shirt, and a thin black tie, and headed to the bar. The Tango was hopping when he got there at ten. After stashing his belongings and extra clothes in his locker —because he never knew when someone might accidentally douse him with beer or coke or whatever— he was met by chaos on his way to the kitchen. Evidently Randy had walked out, again, threatening to never return. Why the manager allowed the drama queen back every time was a mystery to Derek. Either you worked somewhere or you didn’t. He knew it would be a long hard night, covering double the area and doing twice the work. Oh well, he hoped the tips would make up for it.

  He ran like a maniac all night. When he finally trudged up the steps to his tiny apartment in the cold early hours of Saturday morning, he wondered why he hadn’t developed a migraine of his own.

  That thought brought to mind the scene in the office with the little boy and his father. Michael-not-Mike was a cute one, and his love for his father touched Derek. He didn’t suffer from the “woe is me, I never knew my father” syndrome; he recognized pure love when he saw it. His own father had died right after he was born, so Derek had never even known him.

  He wondered why the kid had been wearing the elf outfit; he hadn’t been part of Derek’s Santa job. Maybe he’d see him today or tomorrow when he went in. Right now, he was ready to pass out. Well, after a shower to rid himself of the reek of smoke and liquor and sweat.

  He slept until nearly eleven and did some quick chores before going in to work. Martin’s was one of the largest department stores in Lexington, with several more spread over the south. But the chain had started here, so this was their base of operations.

  It was Saturday, and with only two weeks left before Christmas, parents would be bringing their kids in droves to have their pictures taken with Santa. Derek got ready in the locker room and headed out, hoping he wouldn’t have to deal with any more smart ones like last night. He chuckled wryly at the memory of the little girl who had asked, “How come if you’re a fat Santa, you got long skinny fingers, huh?”

  He’d responded with, “How come you’re such a pretty little girl, with your blue eyes and your curly hair, huh?” She’d laughed and told him she didn’t want dolls. She wanted books, lots of books. The kid must have been all of four. You go, Mom and Dad, good job.

  He’d almost finished his second shift when he glimpsed a certain elf inching closer to him from beside the long line of children and parents. When the boy got close enough, Derek asked him, “Hey, Michael-not-Mike, how’s your dad today? Headache gone?”

  “Yes. He’s in a meeting now. He’ll probably have another headache, though. He’s having them a lot.” Michael sat down on the floor beside Derek’s knee.

  “So, do you work here, too? I mean, as an elf.” Derek kept an eye on a mother who was trying to coax a crying child to come up to him for a picture. He turned his attention away from Michael for a moment.

  “There now,” he crooned, reaching for the child. “What’s got you so upset today, huh? Shh. Your mama wants a good picture to remember you at this age, and you don’t want it to be with a red face and your eyes all scrunched up, do you?”

  When she stopped crying, he lifted her to his knee where she could see his snowy beard and the tufts of white hair on his brows. “That’s better,” he said. When she reached to snatch the spectacles from his nose, he ducked. She giggled and he knew Mama would get h
er picture.

  When his shift finally ended, he stood. Michael, all but forgotten on the floor beside him, stood, too.

  “Wanna come with me?” Michael asked.

  “Depends. Where are you going?” Derek wondered if his dad was still in the meeting.

  “I’m hungry. Do you want to come have supper with me?” Michael asked, reaching for Derek’s hand.

  “Isn’t anyone watching you? How come you can just show up here and there all over the store? Does your dad know where you are? Where’s your mom?” Derek looked around for the boy’s father.

  “I told you my dad’s in a meeting, and my mom died a long time ago. I’m s’posed to be with the babysitter, but she’s mean, so I left and came to find you.” Michael said it like it made perfect sense. Derek immediately pictured a frantic babysitter searching the store. Not wanting to upset Michael, Derek started with some easy questions.

  “So, what’s with the elf costume? I thought you might be working here like I am,” Derek said.

  “Daddy got it for me.” Michael sneered. “Tawna says it looks stupid.”

  “Who’s Tawna?”

  “My new babysitter. She’s a bitch,” Michael said seriously.

  “Michael!” Derek exclaimed. “How old are you?”

  “I’m six and I’m in first grade. Why?”

  “Because that’s not a word for a six-year-old to use. I don’t think your dad would approve.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tears glittered in Michael’s eyes.

  “Hey, don’t get upset. It’s okay. You just might want to ditch that word until you’re older, huh? So, should we go find this babysitter, so you don’t get in trouble? Besides, she’s got to be worried about you by now.” Derek decided he’d deliver Michael to this Tawna and try to grab a snack to get him through his last shift. It was hard work being a jolly Santa for the little ones when your stomach was rumbling.

  “I don’t think so. Besides, she’s not my real babysitter. That’s Cindy, but she’s gone home ’cause of it being Christmastime and she doesn’t live here. Well, ’cept when she’s in school, you know.”