Something MORE for Santa

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Something MORE for Santa Page 2

by AKM Miles


  Michael led him back to the elevator they’d used the day before and Derek found himself in front of the same office door. This time, though, Michael turned to the left and they entered another office down the hall.

  “There you are, you little brat. Where in the hell have you been?” A big-chested, over-made-up blonde scowled at them from behind the desk. She didn’t appear to be very concerned to see the boy arrive with a stranger. Michael’s fingers tightened around Derek’s. Derek returned the grip. Bitch!

  “He’s been with me. I’m sorry you didn’t know he was helping Santa tonight,” Derek lied.

  “Max didn’t tell me anything about him helping any Santa. You,” she pointed a blood red nail at Michael, “are supposed to be in that room watching cartoons like I told you. Now come here.” She came around the desk and reached for Michael, her nails digging into the boy’s slim shoulder. Malice flashed in her eyes.

  She reminded Derek of the witch in Snow White. When he was a small child, his mother had taken him to see the movie, and there was a film crew outside the theater when they came out. A lady with a microphone came up to him and asked him what he remembered most about the movie. He’d replied, “Witch got long fingers!” Witch, bitch — either worked for Tawna in this case.

  He spoke his thoughts. “Oh, I don’t think so. Michael is part of the Santa display on the second floor. I’ll take responsibility for him. I’m sure you have a lot to do here.” An emery board and a bottle of clear nail polish sat out on her desk. He gently took her hand and pulled it away from Michael’s body. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Michael rub the place where her nails had dug into him.

  “Well. I’ll be talking to Max about this. I’m supposed to be watching his son. Max trusts me,” she said self-importantly.

  “That’s fine. Michael and I are going to grab something to eat before we get back to work,” Derek said. He quickly ushered Michael back out of the office.

  As the elevator door closed, Derek said, “By the way, you’re excused for using that word.”

  Michael gave a little giggle. Derek grinned. This kid was pretty smart, and he didn’t deserve to be left with a woman like that. Derek would gladly take the fallout from Daddy Max.

  “I’ve only got about ten minutes left before I have to go back to work, so let’s find some food quickly so I can get my gum in and be ready to smile for more kids.”

  “I thought your breath always smelled good,” Michael said, grinning up at him.

  “Job requirement. By the way, where do you live? Do you and your dad have a house or an apartment in town?” Derek had wondered that before.

  “We gots a penthouse at the top of the building. That’s where we live. It’s the whole top floor.” Michael sounded excited about that, and Derek couldn’t blame him.

  They hustled into the small locker room where Derek grabbed his bag of cookies and shared them with Michael. They sat together on the bench munching. Then Derek gave Michael a piece of his spearmint-flavored gum and they headed back to the floor for his last shift.

  Halfway through the shift, things were going great with Michael posing as an elf in many of the pictures. Then, trouble barreled around the corner and stomped their way.

  “Uh-oh. Daddy’s mad.” Michael jumped up from the big wooden block, wrapped like a Christmas present, where he’d been posing for the photos. “I’m sorry, Santa.”

  Daddy Max didn’t look impressed. Derek couldn’t leave his big Santa chair as another mother plopped a set of twin girls onto his lap. He tried to observe Michael and Max over the mama’s shoulder, but he couldn’t ignore the little girls either.

  Max was one gorgeous man, even with the frown marring his wide tanned forehead and drawing those thick brows downward. Max met Derek’s gaze, and his frown deepened while he continued to listen to Michael. Derek wished he could see those teal eyes more closely again. He liked that the very tall man squatted down to Michael’s level as he talked to him. With a last glance at Derek, Max picked Michael up and turned to stalk away. Michael wrapped his arms around his dad’s neck and looked back at Derek.

  Derek had no choice but to get his mind back into Santa mode. Once again he had a moment of, “When is there going to be something for Santa?” But just as quickly he continued ho-ho-ing and making Christmas pictures and wishes special. Through the rest of his shift, Derek expected to be summoned to the office upstairs for a serious dressing-down. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken Michael from the person his father had trusted to watch him, but he still felt he’d done the right thing.

  He was changing into his street clothes when the door to the locker room opened, and there stood Max. Derek felt at a decided disadvantage, wearing nothing but his navy boxer briefs.

  “Uh, hello.” Derek reached into the locker for his slacks. He was due at the bar in forty-five minutes.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Max asked.

  “Yes, sir. I have another job that I need to get to by ten, so I hope you don’t mind talking while I dress.”

  “That’s all right,” Max said, and Derek noticed that Max watched closely as he pulled up his slacks and secured them. He reached in for the white shirt and turned to Max as he buttoned it. “I need to address what happened with Michael tonight,” Max began.

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, I know I had no right to take him away from… Tawna, is it? Yes, Tawna, but he was very unhappy with her and…”

  “How is it up to you to make him happy? I made arrangements for his care and assumed he was safe with his sitter…”

  “Well,” Derek interrupted, “you know what you do when you assume, huh?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Those heavy brows flew upward.

  “You know the saying. It makes an ass of u and me? Okay, maybe you don’t. Anyway, Michael showed up just before my last break.” Derek slid his tie around his neck. “And when I asked why he was alone he admitted that he was supposed to be with Tawna, but that she was a bitch.” Derek grinned at Max’s gasp.

  “My response exactly, until I met her,” Derek went on. “She yelled at him and grabbed him with her claws. I bet if you pull his shirt aside you’ll find she left marks on him. He said she was mean and I believed him, so I told her he was working with me. You’re right, it wasn’t my place to do that, and I apologize. But frankly, if I were you, and this isn’t my place either, but I wouldn’t leave a child I loved in the care of someone who clearly thinks he is a, and I quote, ‘little brat’.” Derek sighed, knowing he’d overstepped, but unwilling to retract any of it.

  Max studied Derek in his uniform a moment, and then said very slowly, “She hurt him?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t hit him in front of me, but when she took hold of his shoulder she dug her nails in, and when I pulled him away from her he rubbed the spot. He enjoyed sitting with me and talking to the children and being in some of the pictures. I’m sorry if you’re upset with either of us. I’ll take the responsibility for it. He didn’t ask to stay with me, but after she grabbed him I thought he might be safer with me. But she said you trust her, so if that’s true, well, that’s up to you. I really have to go to Tango now. My shift starts soon.”

  “Tango? The gay bar on Fourteenth?”

  Uh-oh. Did Max have something against gays? Would he freak out now about the fact that Derek had been taking care of Michael?

  He drew a breath. “Yes.”

  “Nice place,” Max said.

  Okay, then. This time it was Derek’s eyebrows that rose in surprise.

  “I won’t keep you. I know you have to get to work. Will you come to my office tomorrow, say about a half hour before you start your shift?” Max half turned to leave.

  “Yes, sir. Uh, am I being fired?” Derek had to start making plans if that was the case. But if that was the case, why was he coming back tomorrow?

  “Not at all. I’ll see you in the morning.” Max left a bewildered Derek to hurry out to his next job.

  CHAPTER TWO

&nb
sp; Max pulled Michael onto his lap, and as Michael chattered away about his latest adventures in Super Mario Bros Two on his Nintendo DS, Max made the appropriate comments at the appropriate times. He ran his hands over Michael’s hair and cupped his neck. He nodded as Michael told him about commercials for a new game, and gently moved his son’s shirt aside to look at his shoulder. Michael flinched away from Max’s fingers as they carefully moved across four red curved marks just over the top of Michael’s bony little shoulder.

  “Don’t, Daddy,” Michael said with a frown.

  “What happened to your shoulder, Michael?” Max moved the shirt back over the marks.

  “It’s okay. I know I was bad.” Michael’s animated features turned somber.

  “You’re right. You shouldn’t have left your sitter and gone wandering in the store. Anything could have happened to you. I know that you know your way around, but you know I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you, right?” Max kept his voice calm, though inside he seethed, having seen the marks that woman had put on his son.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy. I won’t do it again, I promise.” Michael’s head went down and Max knew he was genuinely sorry. Michael was a good kid, the best in fact. The two of them made a perfect pair.

  “Michael, I forgive you. Just don’t go doing anything that could get you in trouble. I need my best buddy forever, yeah?” Max pulled the boy closer to his chest and Michael put his head on Max’s shoulder.

  “I love you, Daddy.” Michael sighed into Max’s neck and melted his heart.

  “You, too, buddy. Now, tell me something.” Max pulled Michael back and looked into those eyes that were so like his own. Michael nodded slowly, waiting.

  “Are you really scared of Tawna? Has she been mean to you before? Has she ever hurt you before? Michael, has she ever hit you?” Max held his breath. He’d asked the questions quietly so as not to alarm Michael, but he had to make an effort to relax his tightly clenched muscles as he waited to hear what Michael would say.

  “I’m afraid to answer. I don’t want you to be mad,” Michael admitted.

  “Have I ever done anything to you when I was mad? Michael, you’re not afraid of me, are you?” Max had never even conceived of such a thing.

  “No, Daddy. You would never hurt me. But she told me, I mean, she said…” Michael ducked his head again.

  Max put a finger on Michael’s chin and raised his face so he could see those eyes again. He waited for Michael to finish without prodding him further.

  “She told me I better never tell you anything bad about her.”

  “What kinds of things is she talking about?” Max asked. “What does she do? She’s supposed to make sure you have plenty to do, plenty to eat, and to answer any questions you have.” Max smoothed a hand down Michael’s hair. “So, what did she want you to keep quiet about? You can tell me. You won’t get in trouble.” Max hugged Michael close again, thinking that might make it easier for the boy to answer.

  “She don’t like me. She calls me a brat all the time and says I’m a pain in the… uh, she says this Daddy, not me. She says I’m a pain in the ass and I better not bug her and make noise or anything. She’s got real mean eyes when she talks to me.” Michael lay motionless across Max’s chest, his head on Max’s shoulder. He reached with his little hand, touched Max’s face, and whispered, “I think she likes you.”

  Max almost snorted his disdain for that theory. “Tell me the rest of it. Has she been getting you meals when I’m not here like I asked her to do?”

  Max was thinking of the times he’d come in from meetings, or from being on the floor with this crisis or that and catching Michael up as he ran to him. Michael always asked if they could have a treat. Had his child been hungry and not fed properly? Tears came to his eyes as he thought about how negligent he’d been in the care of his child. He tightened his arms around his son.

  “Michael, you are the joy of my life. I won’t have anyone being mean to you in any way. I guess I owe Santa an apology. I’m glad he took you away from Tawna and kept you with him. He said you enjoyed helping Santa and being in the pictures. Is that true?”

  “Yeah, it was fun. He’s nice to me. You didn’t yell at him, did you? He was just being a good Santa. He makes the kids laugh and smile for the camera, and tells them he knows they have good hearts even when they say that they’ve been a little bad. I think that’s really nice of him, don’t you?” Michael squirmed to move back so he could look at Max again. Max sat him on the desk in front of him and wrapped his arms around him, scooting his chair closer until they were huddled close together.

  An idea brewed in Max’s mind. “What if I asked Santa if you could work with him on his shifts while he’s here? Just him though, not the others. This one seems to like you a lot. Would you like that?”

  Michael’s eyes lit up and if he hadn’t been sitting so close to Max, his feet would have been kicking. As it was, they tapped lightly against Max’s stomach. God, he loved this kid.

  “Would you ask him? I bet he’d say yes. I’d love that so much. I hate just sitting here all day. I mean, I like the games and TV, but it gets lonely.” Michael put his hand up to cup the side of Max’s face, grinning when it scraped over Max’s short whiskers. Michael giggled, rubbing his hand back and forth. “Daddy, you need to shave. You’re scrubbly.” Michael laughed at the word they had made up together. Another idea came to Max.

  “You’re right. Let’s get a late snack. I’m calling a new babysitter to come for a couple of hours. I’m not leaving until you’re asleep, okay, buddy? But I have to go do something, and I think it needs to be done tonight. I’ll be here when you wake up and we’ll see about finding you a better sitter for the next two weeks. After the holiday is over, we can relax a little and spend some more time together.”

  “Okay, Daddy. I know you have to work. You know what I wish?” Michael said, his hand still moving over Max’s face.

  “What’s that, buddy?”

  “I wish you had somebody to love you. You don’t need no more losers. You need somebody that sees you.” Michael spoke with such solemnity that Max scooted back a little to search his son’s features. Where in the world had that speech come from?

  “Michael, honey, what made you say that?”

  “I know you said you changed and that you like guys. That’s okay with me. I know the word for it is gay. I’ve heard the kids at school talk about it, too. We got one girl in class who has two dads instead of a dad and a mom. Gracie says they love her a lot. But you don’t have anybody. I don’t want you to be lonely, Daddy. You need somebody to see you.”

  “Wow, you are some kind of son, you know that? You see me. That’s enough for right now. I love you, Michael. Now, tell me what you’d like to eat and then we’ll watch a little TV together before bed.” To his surprise, Michael asked for chicken nuggets and a salad.

  Good Lord, he expected social services to knock on the door and say he was the worst parent in the world. His son was hungry. He’d been mistreated by the woman Max had appointed to watch him during his hours at work. Max wanted to hang his head in shame. And Tawna Fisher would rue the day she’d decided to try to get to him through his son.

  § § §

  Max parked his silver Lexus in a dark corner of the lot by Tango. He wasn’t sure why he had come here, but he hadn’t been able to squash the impulse. The first time Max had met Derek Campbell, he hadn’t noticed much about him because of the intense pain of his migraine. The second time, Derek had been wearing his full Santa suit. So when Max had watched Derek dress earlier in the locker room, he’d nearly been floored by the compact, beautifully built man. He’d wanted to go to him and see if those tight little muscles were as flexible as they looked, if the skin was as velvety as it appeared, and if those big eyes really were as rich as chocolate.

  Max slammed his car door and headed into the bar. He’d been here before, twice. The first time he’d just admitted that he was gay and had come to look around, finally a
t liberty to do so. He hadn’t engaged anyone in conversation, but instead had soaked up the atmosphere of freedom to be himself among others who shared his preferences. The second time he had talked to the bartender for a few minutes and been propositioned three times. He’d left alone, suspecting he might like this new life.

  That had been a couple of years ago. He hadn’t dated after his wife’s death, and it hadn’t taken him long to figure out why. He’d married Sylvia because his family had expected it, and because he hadn’t been able to admit that women didn’t do it for him. He’d experienced niggles of interest in men, but he’d forced himself to ignore them. He’d been married only two years before Sylvia and her parents died in a small-plane crash while she was visiting them.

  Thankfully, Michael had not been with her. He couldn’t even remember his mother. Max sometimes felt bad about not missing her more, but he knew they eventually would have divorced. Sylvia had been Norwegian, a beautiful blonde, but she hadn’t been a warm mother or wife. They hadn’t fought, but theirs had been a cold existence and he hadn’t been happy. He doubted that she had either.

  Max opened the door of the bar and realized he was already searching for Derek. He’d looked up Derek’s file when he’d picked up Michael tonight. Derek Campbell: twenty-five, brown hair, brown eyes, five-nine, and sexy as hell earlier in those navy briefs. Derek had listed one of last year’s Santas as a reference, as well as the owner of this bar. Max wondered what Derek’s story was. He seemed like a hard worker, but these weren’t very lucrative jobs. Derek was a puzzle, and Max liked puzzles.

  He made his way to the bar and ordered a beer, then searched for both Derek and a table. Spotting one goal, he headed to the wall on the left side of the dance floor and snagged a small table a waiter was just wiping down. When he sat down, he saw that the nice butt he’d been admiring as he crossed the club belonged to the object of his search.

  “Hello, Derek.”

  Derek’s head jerked up and his eyes widened when he saw Max sitting at the table he’d just finished busing.

 

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