Page 22 of The Christmas Keeper

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Needless to say, we never returned to our aborted blowjob. We showered, ate, and left for the alehouse together. The lunch hour was slow that day, which suited me as I had plans to close around two so we could get home and start working on our gingerbread house for the contest tomorrow night.

A few of the regulars mumbled a bit when I made last call at two in the afternoon.

“Go home and be with your wives,” I told a small group of guys watching SportsCenter. “Don’t you all have kids? Go spend some time with the little darlings.”

Kenan was snickering beside me, his hands in hot soapy water, washing beer mugs as I bantered with the customers.

“You’re good with your clients,” Kenan said as bubbles climbed up his forearms.

“Yeah, telling them to go the hell home is Customer Relationship Goals 101.”

That made him laugh softly. “They know you’re only kidding.”

“Am I?” I asked, shooting him a dubious glance before ringing out a couple who had stopped by after doing some last-minute shopping in town.

“Yes, you are. I know you love all of them.”

“You’re delusional,” I countered and made my way into the kitchen to clean the grill, which was always a fun job. I was scrubbing away when Kenan jogged through the kitchen. “Problem?”

“Nope, the last table just left, so I thought I’d tap those two empties now.”

“Ah, good thinking. The mill is letting out early so they’ll be lined up outside for the Penn State game.” College football was big around here. We didn’t have any pro teams close enough to drive to the games. Buffalo maybe, but who the hell wants to drive into Buffalo in the winter? You might get snowed in and not be able to return home until Flag Day. “Do you need help?”

He flexed his arms. “I’m a beast,” he tossed out before thundering down into the basement.

I chuckled to myself before returning to my scrubbing. Once I had the grill cleansed and rinsed, I did a fast tidy of the sandwich prep table and was just doing a fast skim of the deep fryer to remove bits of coating and French fry when Kenan returned.

“I hate these little burned bits floating in the oil,” I said as he shifted around behind me. “They just dirty up the oil that much faster and cleaning out the fryer is a shitty job that I hope to dump on you since you’re the help.”

Smirking, I glanced over my shoulder. He stood in the doorway, arms filled with boxes from the basement, looking like he’d just been caught tiptoeing out of the Louvre with the Mona Lisa under his arm. The smile fell from my face instantly.

“What are you doing with those?” I snapped. He gently placed them on the floor, wiped his cold, dusty hands on his WhitehamAlehouse apron, and set his jaw. Not going to lie, he looked damn hot when he jerked that whiskery chin up a notch.

“I thought we could add a few decorations to the bar. We have the menorah up in the window on the left of the door, but the other window is barren. I thought we could add a small tree to that one, sort of saying that the ownership embraces celebrations of all faiths.”

I tossed the burned bits back into the fryer, then chucked the metal skimmer into the metal sink. It hit with a loud clang.

“I don’t do decorations,” I flatly stated.

“You did the menorah.”

“That was only to shove a fist up Al’s ass,” I countered with so much acid it was a wonder my tongue didn’t smoke after the words had left it.

“Oh, I see. So you don’t support the Jewish community at all. You were just playing along to be a dick to someone. That fits.”

I didn’t know if I should be mad or hurt. I went with mad since hurt would mean I was feeling things that a man with no heart should feel. And that would be bad. Scary bad.

“Don’t try to make me sound like some kind of bigot. You know it was placed in the window as a way to show that there are other religions celebrating something big this time of year other than the Christians. If we start filling every nook and cranny with holiday shit, we’ll have—”

“We’ll have what, Brann? A bar filled with some light and joy? Oh right, yes, God forbid we show any kind of brightness or love to the world lest some of that seep into that chunk of calcified carbon resting in your chest!”

I opened my mouth for a counterattack when Al, of all fucking people, pushed through the swinging door decked out in a green suit with a red tie. My retinas went into anaphylactic shock and tried to black out my brain so it wouldn’t have to suffer.

“Oh, here you boys are!” Al said, giving the sandwich station a loving look. I shot Kenan a dark glower that was supposed to be about him not locking the front door but was taken in some other way I assumed since I got a heated glare in return. “That turkey looks delicious. Mind if I have a few slices just to tide me over until Glory runs home to make our lunch and bring it over?”

“Sure, whatever.” I motioned at the covered containers of lunch meat, tomato, lettuce, onions, and pickles. “Buns are underneath. What did you want, Al? We’re closed early.”

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