Red Hot Christmas

by Mara White

  “What kind of protein you take?” Manuel asked him as they loaded their carts with cleaning fluid and supplies to tackle the bathrooms.

  They took the service elevator to the twenty-third floor. Another team was doing the lower lot and yet another team would take care of the observation deck and the tourist haunts.

  He and Manuel talked shop—not work, but working out and lifting, meal plans and supplements. Manuel had only recently taken an interest in his fitness and constantly drilled Frankie for information. He thought Manuel’s real motive was getting the attention that he’d witnessed Frankie get from women. But, Frankie wanted everyone to be fit and to find their best selves, so he coached Manuel and had even given him a few personal training sessions on a guest pass at his gym. A gym which, when he was starting out, had been way out of his budget; a gym that now gave him a discount because he brought in so many new clients. But truly, Frankie owed his career and his path to health, to his trainer Lou. Sure, he’d always played sports, had a nice body and worked out regularly, but it wasn’t until Lou had spotted him that he’d made this full transition to focus on wellness and in the process become somewhat of an internet sensation.

  On the twenty-third floor, Frankie took the men’s while Manuel did the women’s. They put up their triangle restroom compliant signs. Frankie had a system and it didn’t hurt that he was strong and had a ton of stamina. He could mop, scrub, scour and wash, admittedly faster than most people. He left a room spotless too, and had a few secrets he’d learned from his grandmother. Two guys came in to piss while he was cleaning. He really didn’t mind as long as they aimed in a straight line and didn’t fuck up his work. Two suits talking about their weekend. They worked at Russ and Ogden where the illusive Phoenix worked. He wondered if she talked to them.

  “Did you see Amber’s fucking skirt? What’s she trying to do? Distract the whole fucking board room with boners? Jesus, those legs and that ass should be illegal,” the suit said, shaking his dick.

  Frankie shook his head in dismay as he mopped behind them. He’d been raised not to talk about women like that. By his father, but also, inadvertently by his mother, grandmother, and sister. Sure a chick might give you a boner, but that was your fucking problem, she wasn’t doing it on purpose. And even if she were, you don’t talk shit about a woman’s body in the bathroom with your co-workers.

  “I bet she’s a fucking demon in bed. Wonder if she’s ginger downstairs too. Half the time when she’s talking I’m nodding my head like: Yeah! But what I’m really thinking about is bending her over my desk and fucking the shit out of her.”

  “You and me both, bro,” the other said while washing his hands.

  Frankie grabbed the cherry scented cleaner with the industrial spray nozzle and accidentally sprayed their expensive shoes and the cuffs of their pants. You couldn’t get the smell of that cleaner out of your clothes even if you ran it through a street cleaner.

  “What the fuck?” one guy said sensing the spray on his ankle. He turned to admonish Frankie, but then thought better of it when he took in Frankie’s build and his very noticeable muscles.

  “Watch it!” the other guy said threateningly and pointed a finger at Frankie.

  He smirked at the two suits and their now ruined designer shoes and custom fit pants.

  “My bad,” Frankie said, a full smile overtaking his face. He turned back to the stall he was mopping and whistled a tune to let them know their conversation was finished.

  Amber

  She was a full partner at Russ and Ogden. There were four of them and they’d started the company together; built an empire from the ground up. She was the only woman executive in said empire, and a lot of the weight and stress of the company fell onto her shoulders. The business plan had been her idea and she recruited the other three from the brokerage firm they had been working in. It had taken a lot of convincing to get them to walk away from solid money for a new venture that had never been done before—but she had. Russ and Ogden auctioned video ad space in real time. Ads that were tailored to the viewer and therefore more valuable. The sale always went to the highest bidder. They also acquired long term accounts and permanent ad space, but it was the live auctioning that made the job incredibly stressful.

  Amber knew she needed an outlet soon or else she’d start drinking heavily or dabbling in drugs to alleviate the pressure. She loved what she did and was proud of the fact that her idea had taken off and flourished. But with great success came more pressure and an endless cycle of scrambling to keep up with the growth. Chase Ogden, her ex-husband had been her main weapon. Sharp as a whip and cutthroat in business. They were perfect partners, both supportive and protective, worked well together and became equally obsessed with getting ahead. Amber started working out like a maniac to compensate for the brain burn and the perpetually fried nerves. Chase said he was working out too, but at a different gym. And by different gym, he meant Scores, where he’d acquired a taste for both strippers and coke. Not the carbonated kind. She didn’t blame him, nor did she hate him. But she couldn’t see him coming back from the direction he’d veered off in. It wasn’t an amicable divorce by any stretch. But Chase had given her the company while he went back into banking. Rightfully so because the business was her brain child. But it was still a little sore, the loss of their strong partnership almost four years later.

  “Amber we go live in five,” her assistant Jerry warned her.

  “Thanks. Is the crew queued up?”

  “All set,” he said as he clipped her mike pack to the back of her shirt.

  Every day she had to go into the lion’s den, the lone female, in a cloud of testosterone and privilege, not so coded misogyny and sexism. She should have worn the red shoes.

  She could pee in five minutes if she ran for the restroom. Two green teas in the morning, a diet Coke, and a Macchiato had her bladder on overdrive. Once they were locked in the wired board room to do the live auctions, they couldn’t discreetly leave—the place was on lockdown. She bee-lined for the women’s right across from her office. Ignored the janitor’s sign and zipped into a stall while they were cleaning another one. She peed and practiced deep breathing on the toilet. She had a garter holding up her black seamed silk stockings. Her heels were shiny and black, four inches with a small bow detail on the back. Amber spent a lot of her money on clothes—to her they were armor. She came out of the stall talking out loud to herself. Positive affirmations were part of her self-therapy to get through the high stress.

  “It might be a lion’s den, but you are a tigress! Your claws are longer and you have the gift of intuition. Those pigs have nothing on you!” she growled. “You can fuck them up. You always do. Don’t blow this.” She mantra-ed to herself. She flexed her fingers like claws and growled a little just for extra oomph to get herself going. The tight skirt she chose was jacked up over the garter and she couldn’t pull it down. Amber could feel her ass hanging out in the breeze. What if she couldn’t fix it in five? She messed it up more when panic set in. Her body froze instinctually when she heard someone clear their throat behind her.

  Please be that one sweet lady Lourdes, please? She silently prayed. She turned around in slow motion hands covering her ass, only to gaze straight into the sexy, smoky eyes of one Fit_and_Full_Frankie, holding a mop and smiling at her with that mega-watt jaw dropper.

  “Oh God!” She said out loud and covered her face. “Shit!” She exclaimed and then dropped her hands back to her ass that was in plain view thanks to the wall of mirrors behind her.

  “That was probably the best pre-show pep talk I’ve ever heard,” he told her. The guy leaned his mop up against the wall and stepped over in her direction.

  “I’m so fucking embarrassed and I think I’m stuck. I go on in,” she glanced at her watch, “fuck. I go on in thirty seconds.”

  “Here, let me. Close your eyes so you don’t feel embarrassed. I’ve seen these before and I think I know how they work. Also, I have a sister and up until recent
ly, she was my roommate. So I know about ladies and lingerie and I’ll be discreet.”

  His fingers were touching her before she could refuse, which she really couldn’t, because her partners would fuck up the auction without her there to help. She cringed at his touch, expecting to be humiliated or feel violated or all the other things that scared her to death. But Frankie’s touch was a surprise, because he was gentle, careful, and surprisingly, not remotely sexual. He untwisted the garter with attentive and warm fingertips. She could smell his cologne and that terrible industrial strength cleaner. He lifted the garter a little farther up her thigh, his touched spreading a plain of gooseflesh all over her body like wildfire. She swallowed and pulled her skirt back over her rear end. It was admittedly tight and she had to shimmy it back and forth in order for the fabric to accommodate her generous curves. She kept her eyes closed because if she were to open them, she’d be too close to his face, which in turn would provoke an acute memory of what she did to herself just last night while staring at his picture.

  “You’ve got ten seconds. You’re good, you can make it,” Frankie told her brightly. He was earnest, and he was kind. Honestly, she felt confused by his chivalry. She was used to the guys she worked with who were all swine in Armani. It wasn’t a diss, those guys would be the first to admit it.

  “Oh God, you’re a-” She was at a loss for what to call him. A good friend? A nice person? Gay? Totally not into her at all?

  “A gentleman. You’re such a gentleman.”

  She ran for the board room before she could get herself in any more trouble.

  Frankie

  Frankie’s family feasted during the Holidays. They went all out, even adding in some of his grandmother’s traditional Puerto Rican specialties, pasteles, mofongo, plus all your average American fare. Gloria was coming home but only for a day. How generous of her to leave Silicon Valley to convene with the mere humans for a minute.

  “If you don’t bring Peebo, I’m not coming,” she’d told him over the phone the night before. He’d put it on speaker and Peebo was doing laps around the kitchen island yapping his ass off, ears flying out behind him. Frankie was afraid the poor little guy would have a heart attack before Gloria finished berating him.

  “Bring something home for Grandma, something with California or Google on it. She loves that stuff and talks about how much she misses you every Sunday when I’m over there.”

  “Stop guilt tripping me Frankie! I’ll grab her something at the airport. Don’t forget Peebs or I won’t even let you through the door.” He sighed and she hung up. He scooped up the little whack job of a dog and petted his head to help him calm down.

  Gloria insisted on face-timing with the pooch, but half the time she’d miss their set appointments so Frankie wouldn’t even get the phone ready because he’d witnessed the damn dog go into a depression when his absentee mother disappointed him by not showing up for a scheduled phone visit. He’d keep the phone on the counter and only pick it up and yell for Peebo when it was already ringing. Gloria talked to the dog in baby talk and Peebo would bark back and scratch the hell out of the couch with his tiny paws. Frankie didn’t think it was healthy for the little dog’s heart, but he was good-natured and put up with it because Gloria supposedly loved the damn dog. Only now he did too and was feeling quite protective. But he also loved his sister, albeit reluctantly on some days.

  Lou met him early to get in a workout on Thursday before he left for Jersey with Peebo in his carrier and the dozen bagels his father had requested from the city. They did Lou’s special fat burner regimen in anticipation of the calories he’d pack on.

  “I’ve gotten a really good response from the agencies we’ve sent out to. No bites yet, but they’re coming. I can feel it,” Lou said as he spotted him on his bench press.

  Frankie’s mother and grandmother did almost all of the cooking. He drank beer with his dad and ate nutted cheese roll with water crackers while the house heated to ninety degrees easily, and the windows fogged up from all of the cooking. Gloria barged in the door, a mess of jackets bags and scarves, and greeted her dog before even saying hello to anyone else.

  “Oh my baby wooby, did you miss mommy? Did little Peeby miss his momma? Is Frankie a terrible daddy?” She dropped her suitcase in the hallway and his father stood to take it up to her room.

  “I thought she was gonna fly out tonight?”

  “No flights. Earliest she could get was Friday afternoon. Plus, your mother guilt tripped her because Granny’s so old. Told Gloria it might be her last Thanksgiving and she agreed to hang out for a day.”

  “I take excellent care of that dog, for your information,” Frankie told his father walking into the kitchen.

  “I can hear you and Hummus gives him gas,” Gloria said. When he walked into the brightly lit room Gloria was already hand feeding the dog shreds of dark meat from the turkey. “You spoil him,” Gloria said and laid a kiss on Frankie’s cheek. He pulled her in for a bear hug even though she was annoying, demanding, and made ten times what he did, she was still his only sibling.

  “Frankie, Honey, can you set the table? Do the red glasses and the plates that are already out on the buffet.”

  “Sure.” He rubbed his mother’s shoulders from behind as she whipped the potatoes.

  Frankie literally had to push his chair away from the table and undo the button on his jeans as he sunk his fork into warm pumpkin pie covered in fresh whipped cream.

  “The two best cooks in Bergen County, maybe the whole state,” he told his mother and grandmother between bites of desert. His grandmother was in the kitchen preparing Café con leche the old fashioned way. She kissed his head when she set it down in front of him.

  “Francisco, you look so handsome, m’ijo. I’m serious, even better than all those boys in the magazines or on my novelas. You’re going to be a star someday, Frankie. I can feel it.”

  “Grandma, quit spiking the coffee,” Frankie said, color rising to his face. “Dad and I are on dish duty so you ladies are free to relax or do whatever you want. Right, Dad?”

  “Don’t you get sick of cleaning?” Gloria piped in.

  Frankie wanted to shoot back a snappy retort about the rent she’d ditched him with. But he bit his tongue instead. What he did for a living was honest and decent. His priorities lay in fitness but there just wasn’t any money in it, at least, not yet. He gritted his teeth and shot Gloria a fake smile. He too, could be condescending if that’s how she wanted to play.

  “Be kind to your brother, Gloria. Frankie works hard and not everyone can work at Google.”

  “Ladies out of the kitchen,” his father bellowed to put the kibosh on the sibling rivalry.

  Up to their elbows in a sink full of suds, his father started in on the third degree. Who was he dating, anyone special he was interested in, was he at least trying to go out?

  “Training schedule is tight, dad. Plus work full time. Then there’s Peebo who is high maintenance too and believe me, he doesn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Zip? Zero? Not even somebody cute at the gym?”

  Frankie immediately thought of the Phoenix whose name he was now pretty sure was Amber after their run-in last week. Just thinking about her made him feel dizzy and giddy and all sorts of stupid things that only served as a warning she was way out of his league.

  “There is this one stone cold fox, dad. Works in the building. Ad exec or some high powered position like that. Gorgeous, smart, confident and hella sexy...but way out of my league. Maybe if I met her at the gym, but this girl is the like the top dog in one of those trading companies.”

  His father looked at him and dried his hands on a dish towel.

  “Have you tried to speak to her, son? Sometimes what a woman wants is someone she can depend on. Someone loyal and caring, not just some hotshot lawyer or broker with money to burn. Maybe she wants a family like you do. You’ll never know unless you give it a shot.”

  He nodded. His dad was right but the situ
ation was intimidating. Amber, he guessed, would want to continue her lifestyle and he wasn’t quite up to the standard of wealthy superstar. Like his trainer Lou sometimes said, “you can’t afford a woman like that.”

  “I guess I could try asking her out.” He scooped up Peebo who was whining at his feet. “What, your mom already find someone better to play with?”

  “Your mother was the star journalist when we first started dating at school. She had all the credentials and the international experience. I was just a greenhorn with a pipe dream and a resume that boasted editor of my high school year book and internship at the Star Ledger.”

  “But you were so passionate and had a real knack for chasing down a story,” Frankie’s mother interrupted as she swept into the room and put on the tea kettle. His father pulled her into a hug and they stood in a sweet embrace smiling at their son. He wanted what they had. He always had. Frankie wanted to grow up and be just like his parents.

  They watched a movie and by ten o’clock he was done. The food coma had set in and he needed to crash.

  “I’ll take the couch in the basement,” he said. Frankie stood and stretched. He’d have to put in a good two hours at the gym tomorrow, sweat out the carbs.