Page 10 of Daddy Christmas

“What is it?”

Open the damn box and find out, Laura. It was a pocket grill. It didn’t actually fit inside your pocket, but close. It was tiny, folding out of a tin case, and could hold four hot dogs on a small grid placed above a little box that you put the charcoal in.

The guy at corporate had requested a large company logo on both sides. I’d bitched enough to get my way, and in the end, I’d incorporated a mountain range into the company logo and placed it on the handle of the grill.

I watched Mr. Abrams carefully plan his exit. He left the podium and slowly moved toward the corridor leading to his office, indulging a couple coworkers in chitchat on the way. The man really didn’t enjoy sticking around. But for tonight, he smiled politely and did a decent job of pretending.

There’s another corridor…

One that was way less crowded with partygoers.

I chewed on my lip and glanced behind me. I could head down there right now and intercept Mr. Abrams when he returned to his office from the other hallway. It would be a minute or two before he’d gotten past the employees who wanted a moment of his time.

Screw it, I didn’t have a whole lot to lose except face, and I could live with that. I ducked out from the party area and made my way down the corridor toward Mr. Abrams’s office. At the same time, I was due for a stern talkin’-to. Mr. Abrams was an illusion in my head. He was the epitome of my fantasies, physically. His assertiveness. His height. His age. Which, in the grand scheme of things, was nothing. My best relationship so far was probably a high school boyfriend who’d been anything but my “type.” It took a lot more than good looks to build something.

I wasn’t going to build anything with Mr. Abrams. I just wanted to test the waters and see if it might be possible to flirt or talk to him without his internal grinch ruining everything.

As I rounded the corner in the back, I noticed two young women standing near Suravi’s desk. I didn’t recognize them.

They smiled politely at me, one of them a bit more amused by my undressed appearance than the other.

“Are you waiting for Mr. Abrams?” I wondered.

One of them nodded. “He said he’d see us after his speech.” She exchanged a grin with the other one that left me feeling weird. They looked alike, both blond and pretty.

They weren’t Mr. Abrams’s…type…were they?

I had too little to go on, but my boldness had taken a hike. Either way, Mr. Abrams had plans.

So this was where I decided to go get wasted.

* * *

“Why’re you leavin’ me already?” I managed to get out. “It’s only ten or something!”

“Mya went home an hour ago.”

I squinted toward the voice and felt myself being hauled up from my chair. God—lights. Everywhere. “Too bright.” The music had died too. People had gone home… Damn, was I the last one here? The cafeteria seemed empty.

“Where do you live?” the voice asked. “I’m taking you home.”

“Uh…” If I focused really hard, I… Wait, was that— “Mr. Abrams, is that you?”

“I’m glad your eyesight works. Here. Your other friend brought you your clothes before she left.”

Fuck. His words were too many and coming too fast for my brain to process them all. I screwed my eyes shut as the floor moved beneath me, and I scratched my head—which reminded me. I was clutching money in my other hand.

“They gave me a hundred bucks to wear only this tonight,” I said. “Now I’mma buy more yarn for Nana’s Christmas gift. Yarn’s more expensive than you think.”

“I see.” Mr. Abrams disappeared. Or he sat down on the other side of the table and held up my slacks. “Put on your pants, Parker. You can hold my shoulder for support.”

Nooo, not when he was finally here and didn’t have beautiful girls waiting for him. I wanted my moment. I could get dressed later. “I have a better idea. You were Daddy Christmas earlier but didn’t hear my wish.” I batted away the pants in his hands and plopped down sideways across his lap. “It’s Santa’s job to listen, and I’ve been a good boy all year.”

Mr. Abrams cursed and quickly glanced around us.

I found that funny. “Are you afraid someone’s gonna see us, Daddy Christmas?”

“Parker, this isn’t appropriate. You need to put your clothes on so I can take you home.”

---