Flash Fiction Holiday Blog Hop - Desperately Seeking Santa

Welcome to my stop on the Flash Fiction Holiday Blog Hop

This is the brainchild of Thorny, Kris and L.C. Chase who came up with the idea for a bunch of authors (and occasional scribblers like myself) to write a seasonal flash fiction from the same photo prompt.

In all I think there will be some 40 stories being published for the event over the next week.  The only thing that will be the same is that the stories must include:

- a winter holiday theme;

- a "bad boy"character; and

- a gift of some kind.

The other instructions were that the stories should be under 3000 words (preferably between 500 and 1000 words - I just crept over at 1260 words) and the story should fit under the umbrella of LGBT Romance

The links to all of the other stories can be found HERE 

So, below is my offering. I hope you enjoy it.

(With thanks to my betas Kaje, Elci, Kat and Rachel)

Desperately Seeking Santa

By K. Mason

Sunday 21^st December 2014

9.40 am

“You've got to be bloody joking.  Absolutely not. No way.”

I heard the words clearly through the wall behind my back.  The same wall which shook violently as the door to the office on the opposite side of it was yanked open, with some force, and then slammed shut again.  Heavy footsteps stomped away down the corridor

“Sorry Daphne,” I said with a final stroke to the soft fur of the lion head rabbit that was sitting on my lap. “You can have more cuddles later.” Cradling her to my chest I pushed myself to my feet and returned her to the large run in the centre of the room.

I brushed off the stray hairs from my bottle green staff uniform sweater, before heading for the open doorway that led to the rest of the garden centre.  As I stepped through I almost collided with Carol, who’d left her office at the same time.

“Sorry.” I jumped back out of her way.

“Oh, Jamie! Just the person I need. Can you speak to Dan for me?  I really need him to help out today and he wouldn't listen.  He just stormed off.”

“You need him to help with what exactly?” I asked carefully.

“Mr. Leibowitz phoned to say he can’t make it today. He’s picked up some form of stomach bug from his grandchildren.  It’s the last Sunday before Christmas, and we've no Santa for our grotto.”

“And you asked Dan?” I fought the urge to grin at the thought of my somewhat rough around the edges boyfriend spending the day as Father Christmas.

“He’s the only one that can do it.  No one else has a current police records check.  Please, speak to him. You’re the boss’s son, surely you can impress upon him how important it is that the Grotto is open today.”

“I won’t speak to him as the boss’s son,” I said shortly.

“Please Jamie, I’m desperate.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

****

Taking a short cut through Houseplants, I caught up with Dan as he stomped through the gift shop.  Well, normally it’s the gift shop, but from the end of September it was filled with all manner of things that sparkled, glittered and in some cases smelt of Christmas.  Beside a lit up white plastic tree swathed in red tinsel and an assortment of gaudy baubles, I snagged my hand on the thick weatherproof jacket Dan wore over his uniform.  I pulled gently and he stopped his march towards the lumber yard, where he usually worked.

“Hey you,” I said stepping up close behind him and slipping my arm through his.  I rested my head on his shoulder and leant into his neck.  Tucking my chin beside his, the rough stubble of his short beard scraped my skin.  For a second he turned his cheek towards me before pulling back.

“Jamie.” He wriggled trying to get away, a slight blush rising above the scruff and colouring cheeks.  Though I was out to my colleagues, Dan wasn't.  Not only that but our relationship only known to a very select few, and public displays of affection he didn't initiate could make him panic. 

“There’s no one else in here,” I said softly.

“I need to get to work.”  He pulled away again and I let him go.

“I heard you leave Carol’s office.” I said to his retreating back.  The words pulled him up short and he turned to face me.  His expression had gone hard.

“I’m not doing it.  I can’t. I won’t,” he said flatly.

“Why not?  It would really help everyone out.  We need you.”

“Someone else can do it.  You could do it.”

I laughed, I couldn't help it. “Whoever heard of a skinny bean pole of a Santa?  Even the children that really did still believe would see straight through the costume.”

“What about Paul in outdoor plants, or Jim from ponds and aquatics?”

I shook my head as I replied, “They can’t do it.  Neither of them have current police clearance.”

“See, another reason I can’t do it.  No one is going to want their kids near a known criminal.  There’ll be complaints, and then they’ll be forced to fire me to save the business.  You’ll have to find someone else.”

“No,” I said gently stepping forwards and reached out to him, taking hold of his hand.  “Stop that. You've served your sentence, your debt is paid.  It wasn't a serious crime, you were very young and influenced by others.  That’s why you only got a two year sentence and they’re still inside.  You've changed.  Look at you now.  You've got a job, a home.” I smiled up at him and added, “A boyfriend.”

“I, well, yes.”

“So please, will you do it?  You’re the only one who can.  Will you help us out? You won’t be on your own.  Janine is playing Santa’s little helper.  She makes a lovely elf.”  As I spoke I steered him between the shelves of, well, to be honest mainly tat, towards the staff break room.  “The children aren't allowed to sit on your knee, or to be hugged.  The most they can do is stand next to your chair whilst they have their picture taken.  You just have to ask whether they've been good and what they want for Christmas.  Then Janine will hand you a little parcel to give to them and they go.  That’s it.”

I pushed open the door and pulled him inside.  Glancing at the wall clock as kicked the door shut behind us.  Only 10 minutes before the store opened, time for drastic action. 

Santa’s red suit was lying over the back of one of the chairs.  On the worktop behind it sat a pile of white fluff that formed the obligatory beard, and a pair of wire rimmed round glasses.

“No,” Dan came to a sudden halt, jarring my arm.  “I can’t, really, I can’t do it.”

 

“Please?” I coaxed, turning into him.  I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his head down and kissed him softly before pulling away again.  “For me?”   I looked up with the best puppy dog expression I could manage.

“Jamie,” he groaned.  “I can’t, really, just trust me, I can’t.”

“Why not? We've agreed you are the only one that can do it.”

“It’s not that, it’s…” he broke of blushing furiously.

“Dan?” I tilted my head to one side and frowned.

“It’s just, well, I can’t…” I waited him out.  “It’s just, well, I’ve nothing on under my jeans, I went commando this morning.  I can’t be Father Christmas without pants on!”

“Oh!” I gasped before biting my lip to stop myself from laughing.

“See, I said I couldn't do it.” 

“Hold that thought.”  I raced out of the room back to the gift shop.  I knew I’d seen them, in among the other gifts. I scanned the shelves, finding what I was looking for between the dreaded Christmas jumpers and a selection of totally tasteless ties that played Christmas tunes.  I pawed through the stock till I found exactly what I wanted and hurried back to the break room, where Dan still stood where I left him.

“Here.” I thrust the box I was carrying at him.  “Early Christmas present, sorry, no time to wrap it up.”  Dan glanced down and opened the box, shaking out the bright red boxer shorts, festooned with green Christmas trees and trimmed with gold.  “See,” I continued.  “You won’t have to be St Knickerless after all.”