One week until Christmas

The Décor Store was in a state of controlled chaos. The mad rush was in for procrastinators to get presents on time, but it was nothing Tom couldn’t handle. He knew what to expect on this last week of the holidays, and he appreciated the chance to stay so busy.

Hot Mall Santa continued to pack the crowds in. Tom heard of four women thrown out for flashing him and a rumor that a modeling agent had slipped him his card. Tom didn’t care if it was true. He did as much as he could to not think about Randall. No more walking past South Wing. No more eating at their not-so-secret lunch spot. Those were givens. But trying to wring Randall out of his mind was proving to be difficult. The things that Tom remembered the most were moments of them talking, of them driving through Veronese Estates, of the way Randall would look at him as if Tom were the most interesting man in the world, and of how Randall was the most interesting person he knew. The guy had been to how many states, and he was hung up on Tom? It sounded completely implausible.

Tom had heard another rumor that the mall manager had offered Randall a good chunk of change to come back for Valentine’s Day and play mall Cupid. Oakville Mall had never done something like that, but it seemed like a no-brainer. Randall in nothing but a diaper? They’d have money coming out of their ears.

“This can’t be happening!” A male customer wearing an ascot yelled at Tom four days before Christmas. “How are you completely out of the cobalt blue decorative spheres? I drove all the way here from Des Moines for them, and now you’re saying you don’t have them? What am I supposed to do?”

“You drove all the way here from Des Moines, Iowa?” Tom asked.

“Yeah, and you should have decorative spheres!” He didn’t seem the least bit concerned about driving five hours to Oakville for literal blue balls.

“I can call up our Des Moines store and see if they have it in stock.”

“I don’t live in Des Moines.” He looked at Tom like he was crazy. “Who cares about Des Moines?”

Seriously?

“I want you to know that I am never shopping at your store again, and I’m going to write a letter to your CEO. He’s my cousin. He’s going to shut this whole store down and fire you.”

“If your cousin is CEO, he could probably track down one of those spheres better than we can.”

“He’s busy. He’s on vacation. He has four kids.”

Tom nodded carefully. The CEO of The Décor Store was Margaret Wallis, who had one daughter, if Tom remembered the company newsletter accurately. He liked to joke that his customers were nutty, but then sometimes, they were legit nuts. It was never a dull day in retail.

“You know what? This whole store can lick my asshole.” The customer put on sunglasses (it was nighttime) and stalked out.

“Don’t you just love the holidays?” Kirsten came over carrying rugs to restock. They frayed and left her apron covered in orange fibers.

“To paraphrase Green Day, wake me up when December ends.” Tom took half her rugs and helped her stack them in the rug aisle.

“How are things?” she asked, and she was not talking about customers.

“It’s fine.”

“Have you gone to see him?”

“Why would I do that? He made it clear he does not want to see me, and it’s for the best because he’s leaving town. This was just a holiday fling.”

Kirsten gave him a hard look. Neither of them believed that.

“Tom, you’re taking it awfully rough for it just being a fling.”

“You’re the one who kept saying that we should all just hook up with Hot Mall Santa because it’s the thing to do.”

“I did.” She placed a rug on the bottom shelf. “And maybe I was wrong.”

Kirsten? Admitting she was wrong? Tom must need to clean out his ears.

“Maybe he was something more,” she said.

“He wasn’t.”

“Maybe he was. And maybe you’re just scared to admit that.”

“Scared?”

“Because you might fail.” Kirsten stopped folding and putting rugs back. Now she looked straight at him. “And maybe that will happen, but it doesn’t mean you always have to play it safe with your pining and crushing. How awesome were these past few weeks with him?”

Amazing. After his confrontation with Randall, Tom gave her the full scoop. The beach book, the sunscreen, the Wounded Soldier, the presidential audiobook challenge, Veronese Estates. He loved sharing those details more than the ones about sex.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Tom said.

“I’m sorry for making you say those things about him. I’m so used to objectifying hot guys. I didn’t realize they hate that as much as women do.”

“I hate to cut this gender studies class short, but we need one of you at the front of the store,” Antonio said, peeking his head in.

“I got it,” Tom said, grateful for the distance from Kirsten.

* * *

In retail, spring started right after New Year’s. The holiday season was like going on a bender that you wanted to forget as soon as it was over. On top of dealing with the onslaught of holiday shoppers, stores had to prepare their stockrooms for the spring shipments that came in late December. Because of inclement weather downstate, the truck coming with the spring merchandise shipment was delayed, meaning Tom and Antonio and a seasonal worker had to stay late to unload it after closing down the store. The seasonal worker only lasted until 11:15. His curfew was midnight.

The Décor Store felt like a different world during these late nights, one filled with magic and intrigue. Tom used to imagine a Toy Story-like scenario where the items all came to life once the customers left. He knew that wasn’t real, but it made having to stay here so late a little bit more bearable.

Although Antonio helped with that part, too. He ordered pizza from the Sbarro’s before they closed. The box sat on the break room table.

“You got mushrooms?” Tom asked when he flipped the box open.

“I know you love them,” Antonio said as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Are you okay with them? This is your pizza, too.”

“Yep.” He sat on the counter, which was probably against corporate policy. Antonio seemed ready to cut loose.

Tom looked at him an extra second. He had had food court pizza for his lunch break several times. He didn’t think Antonio ever noticed what kind of pizza he ate.

Tom held up his slice of pizza. “Thanks.”

“Let’s eat and then get to work.” Antonio joined him at the table and took a slice for himself. “I appreciate you staying late, Tom.”

“Well, I’m getting paid overtime, so it’s all good.”

“We really—I really am grateful that you’re here. You are this store’s secret weapon.” An earnestness took hold of the smoldering features of his face, creasing it in ways new to Tom. “Do you remember when we had to do summer inventory—”

“And that display of decanters fell and shattered?”

“Completely shattered! Into a million pieces!”

“We were so exhausted.”

“You suggested we put a rug over it rather than clean it up.” Antonio broke out laughing.

“I was tired and wanted to go home. Leave me alone!”

Antonio’s laughter faded into a smile fixed right for Tom. A wave of chills went up Tom’s back. Maybe the smolder wasn’t completely gone.

“We’ve had a lot of good times in this store, Tom.” Antonio didn’t stop looking at him, like a police officer trying to get his suspect to crack. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah.” Maybe those dreams he once had of being with Antonio weren’t so off-base. Tom needed a glass of water. His hand shook slightly as he poured himself a cup from the watercooler. “We should—we should probably get started.”

“You’re right. That stockroom is a mess!” Antonio brushed past Tom, his heat pressing on Tom’s back. “I’ll see you out there.”

* * *

Tom and Antonio got to work organizing the new influxes of boxes in the stockroom. They kept the spring seasonal stock separated from the general evergreen products. Antonio opened some of the spring seasonal boxes to see what new designs the Décor Store would be asking them to sell. Tom focused on keeping the stockroom in a workable condition, but Antonio kept scrambling his circuits. He would find ways to get close to him. Looking over his shoulder to get a look at what Tom was working on. Putting a brief hand on Tom’s lower back to maneuver around him when saying “excuse me” would have sufficed. It was all just left of appropriate employee conduct. Perhaps Tom was overanalyzing, but there came a point when enough ambiguous gestures coalesced around a common hypothesis.

I think Antonio is flirting with me.

“A butterfly scented candle.” Antonio read the label of the light pink pillar candle. “Flapping Wings.”

“How is it?”

“It smells like fresh flowers and cut grass. No butterflies. Why would they name it Flapping Wings?”

“I guess they ran out of spring names for these scents.” Many of them smelled the same and were rebranded to seem like new items each year.

“Here. Smell.” Antonio put a hand on Tom’s back and held Flapping Wings up to Tom’s nose. He watched Tom inhale the scent. They were so close Tom smelled him more than the candle.

“It’s yeah, grass and flowers. I still like it.” Tom’s cheeks heated up so much they could’ve lit Flapping Wings.

Antonio put Flapping Wings back in its box. Out of another one, he pulled a picture frame shaped like an Easter egg. He laughed to himself.

“I can’t believe we’re going to start putting this stuff on display next week,” Antonio said. “Retail moves at the speed of sound.”

“It’s fun,” Tom said. He wasn’t one of those people who complained about Christmas stock coming out after Labor Day. “Retail is all about anticipation. You get to look forward to new holidays and new seasons all the time. Anticipation is the best part.”

“What about the actual holiday?”

“Can’t live up to the anticipation.” Tom shrugged his shoulders, like that was his story and he was sticking to it despite feeling very nervous for some reason that he didn’t want to think about.

They continued moving around boxes and getting the stockroom in order. There were cubby areas for different types of stock which corresponded to sections in the store, an organization Tom made sure his fellow employees stuck to. He had to direct Antonio to the proper section for boxes he carried.

“You are a paragon, Tom.” Antonio rubbed his arm with his firm hand. If hands could smolder…but Tom would rather have the tender touch of Randall.

They took a break shortly thereafter for another slice of pizza and some water and coffee. Tom’s throat got that scratchy feeling when he stayed up late. Fortunately, he wasn’t opening tomorrow so he could sleep in.

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with you and the Santa guy,” Antonio said.

Tom shrugged it off, feeling weird discussing this aspect of his personal life.

“It’s his loss.”

“I guess,” Tom said.

“It is,” Antonio said with conviction. “It’s his loss for not seeing what a wonderful, thoughtful, sharp guy you are.”

He wasn’t used to compliments and focused on his pizza. And he couldn’t get over the feeling that Antonio was flirting with him. Majorly flirting. Throughout their relationship, it was just Tom wishing and hoping and nothing happening. What changed?

“I’ve always known who you are.” Antonio looked at him with those intense eyes again. “I know I’ve said it a million times, but I don’t know what I’d do without you here.”

Something snapped inside Tom. Inside of swooning at such a nice compliment, it fired him up. If I’m so important to you, then why have I not been promoted?

Antonio was definitely flirting with him, but why now?

And then Tom had his answer.

Hot Mall Santa.

“You okay, Tom? You have this weird look. Cute, but weird.”

Cute. Antonio’s smoldering words were nails on a chalkboard to Tom now.

“I started to think that you were into me. You’ve been flirting with me all night, more than usual.”

“What? Tom, I think you have the wrong idea…”

“Oh, I do.” Tom put down the box of picture frames. He was hit with a sucker punch of clarity. “I am such an idiot. Such an idiot. You were never into me. You only flirted so that I would take shifts nobody else wanted or not complain about getting passed over for a promotion.

“I have had the wrong idea this whole time. You were jealous of Randall, not because he was with me, but because he took the attention away from you, because suddenly you weren’t the center of my universe.”

Tom listened to himself clearly for the first time. He couldn’t believe he had been into this guy. He had had a retail mindset of only wanting the anticipation. But Randall was the holiday. When he was with Randall, there was no pining. Only living.

“I can’t even blame you. I let this happen. I let myself have this hopeless crush on you because it was safe. Nothing will ever happen between us, so I never had to worry about being rejected or hurt. And you strung me along just enough.”

“I think you should go home and get some sleep. You’re not thinking clearly. I think you’re overworked.”

“You’re never leaving Milo.”

“Tom…”

“And I’m never getting promoted.”

“I told you. I’m working on that. These things take time. If I could promote you right this second, I would.”

“Antonio, cut the shit. Has corporate given any reason why I haven’t been promoted? I do all the things an assistant manager does already.” Another bolt of clarity hit Tom. “Why would you need to promote me? I do all the work of an assistant manager at a sales associate wage. I make you look so good.”

“Tom, take a walk outside. Get some fresh air.”

Tom saw that smolder for what it really was. Manipulation. He laughed to himself. His pining had completely screwed over his job prospects.

“I quit,” Tom said. “I’m going to find myself a manager position.”

“Those jobs don’t grow on trees. You’re going to give up this path that we’re carving for you here?”

“I am.” Tom breathed in stale stockroom air that refreshed his lungs as if he were hiking in the woods. “But not tonight. I’m not a dick. I’m giving my two weeks notice.”

Tom got back to work. As luck would have it, he made his declaration at midnight. It was a new day, and a new world for Tom. He was ready for more risk. Tis the season, right?