Eleven Months Later (a.k.a. Five weeks until Christmas again)

Eileen needed this wreath. Pine needles curled in a tight, welcoming circle with pinecones dotting the edges. It was the wreath for people who wanted to celebrate the “holiday season” instead of Christmas. Tastefully nondescript was what Tom would call it.

And tastefully nicked, too. Eileen pointed to small chips on the wicker edges of the wreath.

“Do you see that?” She put her finger on a microscopic mark that Tom needed a magnifying glass to see. “It’s all scuffed up. Which is a shame because it’s so pretty.”

He knew her game. She was not the first customer to point out a teeny-tiny flaw in order to get a discount. Tom once had a customer purchase $1,500 worth of damaged merchandise—some of it legit damaged—for the discount.

“I am sorry about that. It happens. These products are shipped from warehouses and moved to our stockrooms, then put out here. We do our very best to ensure that they stay in perfect conditions, but on rare occasions, things happen. You can always order a new one online. I believe The Décor Store is running a special sale for Cyber Monday this year.”

“I can’t wait for that. We’re having people over for Thanksgiving tomorrow.”

“We don’t have any extras in the stockroom. I checked,” said Donna. She was a plump forty-something mother of two who ironed her employee apron before her shifts. Tom knew if Donna said she checked, he didn’t have to second-guess her.

“Are you sure?” Eileen asked.

“We are,” Tom said.

Eileen ran her hand across the wreath, stopping on the mark like she was trying to stop the blood flow in a bullet wound. “It’s a really nice wreath…”

“If you are willing to take it as is, I can offer ten percent off,” Tom said.

“It is all scuffed up. I think twenty percent might be more appropriate.”

Ha! What planet are you living on, Eileen? This woman had much to learn.

“Unfortunately, I’m not authorized to give that kind of discount.”

“Can I speak to a manager then?” Eileen asked.

“I am the manager,” Tom said. That sentence never got old to him. “I can call around to other stores, see if they might have it. Or like I said, you can order it online.”

Tom smiled his most customer-friendly smile, which told her she was losing this game of chicken.

“I’ll take this one,” she said quietly, defeated. “With the ten percent,” she added with her last gasp.

“Wonderful. I love this wreath. Donna can bring this to the register for you.”

“Be careful,” the woman said as Donna lifted.

“Donna will take excellent care of it,” Tom said.

“I will, like it’s one of my own children.”

Eileen walked up to the register, with Donna behind her. Donna turned around and shot Tom a knowing smile. He gave her a nod of solidarity. Like any good manager, he had her back.

Tom strolled through his bustling store. His associates diligently helped customers and cleaned up their zones and completed transactions. After only six months as an assistant manager, Tom was promoted to manager. Like he had told Jordan on the phone almost a year ago, he’d been given the work of an assistant manager for a while, just without the title. When given the opportunity to be a true ass man, Tom ran with it.

The pillow wall was on the verge of having a pillow mudslide. The row of festive throw pillows were jammed to one side and slowly spilling onto the floor, while larger pillows were laid flat rather than sitting up and sticking out on their side. He didn’t blame his employees. Most customers never put merchandise back the way it should go.

He fixed up the wall, organizing the pillows by size and color. It wasn’t until he turned around did he realize he had an audience.

“Nice job,” Randall said. He wore mesh shorts and a tank top with his guns proudly displayed. Sunglasses perched atop his head. It had been his uniform lately.

“How’s the weather outside?”

“Still sunny and gorgeous. This is Florida. The beautiful weather isn’t going away anytime soon, Tom.”

Some days, Tom would wake up thinking he was back in Oakville and that he would be facing a cold, gray day—and Antonio. But then he would open his window, breathe in that warm ocean air, and thank his lucky stars that there’d been an assistant manager position open in Florida.

Antonio had resigned from The Décor Store shortly after Christmas. No store in the Oakville Mall would hire him. Last Tom heard, he was working as a sales associate at a Discount Barn Outlet.

Every morning, Tom stood on his back porch, which looked out on the ocean, and drank his coffee. Sunlight sparkled on the water. The blue of the ocean didn’t seem real to him. It was like Florida had discovered Photoshop for physical objects. Randall would join him, kissing his shoulder to let him know he was there. Tom needed those soft kisses like his morning coffee. He couldn’t believe this was his life.

Tom missed his mom and Kirsten, but both were happy to have a free place to stay in a warm climate. When he first moved down, his mom came with him to help him settle into his new apartment. They treated it as the Florida vacation they always planned to go on, with plenty of beach time. In fact, both ladies had flown down to celebrate Thanksgiving with him and Randall. They planned to take his mom and Kirsten to lunch at the News Café this weekend for prime people watching. Randall was planning to invite his cousin and aunt down for Christmas. He’d gotten back in touch with his parents, who still did not approve of his sexual orientation or that he dressed up as Santa, but they still wished him well. It was a baby step, and Randall hoped the first of many.

By the pillow wall, Randall slipped his arms around Tom’s waist, which Tom pushed off.

“I’m on duty.”

“And you’re drop dead sexy at it.”

“I have to make an example of myself for my employees.”

Randall cupped Tom’s ass and gave it a slap. “Was that a bad example?”

Fortunately, Tom’s apron covered the tightening in his pants.

“Or was fucking your boyfriend in the break room a bad example?”

Tom shushed him, maybe a bit too loud since a customer looked over. “Do you need help with anything? I love those baskets. I use them for extra umbrellas.”

“Good idea,” the customer said.

Tom turned back to his boyfriend. “Please do not mention that again while I’m working. Even though it was really good.”

He whispered the last part just to be safe. That had been an amazing night, and the break room table had proven remarkably stable.

“Do you need me to pick up anything from the grocery store?” Randall asked.

“No. Mom and Kirsten said they’re cooking Thanksgiving dinner as a thank you for letting them crash at our apartment.”

“Perfect. So all we have to do is eat.” Randall leaned on an outdoor table display. His biceps flexed under his weight. This tank top made his muscles seem larger than usual. Randall caught him looking.

“I was looking at your soul,” Tom said.

“Right.”

Michelle, one of the seasonal employees, came up to Randall with something familiar hanging out of her apron’s front pocket.

“Tom, I’m technically not on duty for another three minutes,” she said quickly. “Is this your boyfriend?”

“It is. I hope you brought your own Sharpie.”

Michelle produced said marker in her hand. Tom motioned for her to go ahead. Randall pulled the calendar out of her front pocket.

“Sorry,” she said. “I do love your calendar so much. Could you make it out to Arnold. That’s my brother.”

“Which month?” Randall asked.

She flipped to June, which for Flag Day, Randall waved a miniature (though not that miniature) flag in front of his dick.

Randall scribbled his name just to the right of his abs. He had signed with the modeling agent who had contacted him in his Hot Mall Santa days. To capitalize on his viral fame, they put together a calendar with Randall celebrating a different holiday nude each month. At first, Randall didn’t know if he wanted himself to be this kind of famous. Tom was supportive either way. He wasn’t recognized that often, only by people Tom worked with and some guys at the bars. It wasn’t like sitting on a throne being ogled every single day. And the money was much, much better. He had gone to New York for the photo shoot for a few weeks last winter. He and Tom had kept up talking and texting, and he returned to Oakville when he was done, renting a room from Kirsten’s college friend. Tom would never forget that day when he came back. Randall wanted to be with him, and he couldn’t deny that he wanted to be with Randall.

When Tom had heard about an open assistant manager position in Miami last March, he decided to take a risk and apply for a transfer. Randall not only supported him, but came along. He could model from anywhere, and with the money he was earning, he had enrolled in history classes at a local college once they moved down. He had his sights set on going to law school. “I really will be like those guys who strip to pay for law school,” he had said during one evening stroll along the beach, holding hands with Tom. “Except, you know, modeling.”

“Which is a classier version of stripping,” Tom joked.

Randall handed back the calendar and the sharpie to Michelle. She scurried back to the break room to put them in her locker.

His arms returned around Tom’s waist and planted a luscious kiss on Tom’s lips, one that was quick but said all it needed to say.

“Okay, now I’ll leave you alone,” Randall said.

Tom kissed him back. “Good. Because this is very unprofessional.” He walked with Randall to the store entrance. “I’ll see you at home.”

“Awesome. I love you,” Randall said.

“I love you, too.” Those words were still new for Tom, and each time he heard them was like finding another present under the Christmas tree.

Randall left, and Tom thought of him as he straightened out the throw pillows on a sofa in the front window.

“Oh. My. Lord,” Donna said, her eyes fixed on something outside. This Décor Store location wasn’t inside a mall, but in a downtown promenade that looked out on a busy street. The location filled the store with sunlight.

“What is it?” Tom asked.

“There’s a guy walking down the street wearing a Santa hat and a red thong.” Donna giggled like a schoolgirl. Other women came over to ogle the man.

“That is one hot Santa,” Michelle said.

Tom peeked out the window. “I’ve seen hotter.”

Can’t get enough Christmas stories? Turn the page to check out my first Christmas novella, You Got Scrooged, available on .