Page 4 of Santa Daddy, I'm Not the One

I turned around. My full-time assistant, Sarah, stared at me in disbelief. “Is there something I can help you with?” I asked.

She dropped her gaze. “Nope, but don’t you think that’s a little too pricey compared to the original price?”

“I don’t pay you to think, Sarah. I pay you to close a sale. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Good. Then tomorrow I expect you to actually make an effort. And wear something more attractive. You make my store look cheap.”

Sarah’s face turned red. I spun around and walked over to the door. It was five o’clock, and I didn’t keep the store open a second longer. Just as I was about to spin the sign to Closed, a woman ran up the steps and caught the door.

“We’re closed,” I said sharply.

“But this won’t take long,” she said. “I drove almost two hours to get to this store.”

“And you’ll have to come back again tomorrow. The store’s closed.”

“It won’t take but a minute. I know exactly what I want. I have money.”

“But I don’t have the time. Listen, lady, come back tomorrow between the hours of eight and five. Not seven fifty-five a.m. and not a minute past five in the evening.”

I closed the door, spun the lock, and ignored her. “Sarah,” I called. “Don’t forget to clear the cash register before you leave.”

I walked to the back where my office was and closed the door. Loosening my tie, I took a seat at my desk and turned on my computer. I reached in my pocket for my phone but came up empty. Damn, I must have left it at the cash register. With a sigh, I got up and returned to the main room.

Sarah was finalizing the sale of a Star Voyager robot to the woman I’d told to return tomorrow. The woman had a smug look as she flounced toward the door, letting it shut hard behind her with a bang.

“What was that?” I asked, my waspish tone cutting through the quiet shop.

“You said my job was to close a sale,” Sarah said. “I didn’t see the harm in letting her in and selling her what she wanted.”

“You went against my orders.”

“To make you money.”

“Since when do you care about making me money?” I snapped. “You spend all day texting your boyfriend and ignoring the customers, but you want to act as if you are a decent employee? You’re fired.”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am serious. You no longer work here. I can overlook you being lousy at your job, but talking back to me, no, sweetheart. Get your bags and go. I’ll send your paycheck tomorrow.”

Sarah’s face crumpled. “Please, Landon, it’s Christmas. I need this job. My kids…”

Her plea fell on deaf ears. “You should have thought about that before you thought it was okay to be insubordinate.”

She grabbed her coat, her eyes flashing. “You know what? You don’t have to fire me. I quit. If I’m a lousy employee, you’re a heartless boss. I was already barely scraping by on what you pay me when you’re charging people an arm and a leg for your toys. You’re the reason these people have to spend so much on the toys. You buy out all the stock. I hope the city shuts you down for your business practice.”

Tears streamed down her face. She took up her bag and stomped out of the shop. I locked the door behind her, picked up my phone from the counter, and returned to my office. I worked for another couple of hours updating my spreadsheets, then shrugged into my coat and left the store. I would have to put up a Help Wanted sign tomorrow.

As I walked home, Christmas carols, laughter, and light spilled into the festive streets filled with families. Their joy only deepened the hollow feeling inside me. I burrowed deeper into my coat and kicked my way through the snow.

I don’t need anyone. I never have.

I arrived at my empty, sprawling house, in one of the wealthiest areas in town, an epitome of opulence and luxury.The black iron gates stood tall, their tips sharp as daggers glistening under the moonlight. With a swift press on the keypad by the wall, I welcomed myself home.

The house was a monument—a majestic Georgian colonial structure. It was the only house that didn’t have one decoration to symbolize the holiday. I walked past the trimmed hedges and rows of violas, which added color to my otherwise monotonous day. Two years ago, I’d inherited all this luxury. My life should have changed for the better, but it only got worse.

I opened the wide double doors made of polished oak and adorned with brass fittings and stepped into the warmth of the foyer. Portraits of family members lined the walls, but they might as well have been strangers. They sure as hell never acknowledged me. My father hadn’t even wished to see me on his deathbed.

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