Save me santa, p.2
Save Me Santa, page 2
That didn’t sound right either, though.
I didn’t like fruit cake, and we had a whole kitchen full of real food that Cashel and Gareth could cook.
“What did we do after we put the ornaments on the tree?” I had a vague memory of that. “Um, didn’t someone come over?”
Why was my memory so foggy?
As we all slowly stood, Cashel stumbled toward the kitchen to hopefully make coffee. I was glad we hadn’t missed any classes, but I really didn’t like not knowing what happened. “What else looks wrong?”
Gareth sighed but didn’t argue with me as we both started wandering around the room. As he walked over toward the table, he looked down at the plastic the cake seemed to have been wrapped in and looked at it strangely. “Come here and smell this.”
It sounded like he was getting ready to make a bad fart joke, but I came over and did it anyway. “Weird. It makes my eyes water.”
What the heck was in it?
“Can food poisoning make your brain foggy?” I thought it was a legitimate question but Gareth giggled. “What?”
“It’s alcohol.” As I stood there probably looking stupid, he called out to Cash. “Hey, man, come here.”
He snickered as Cash came in, still frowning. “I started the coffee.”
Looking at me, he shook his finger. “Don’t touch it.”
Refusing to point out it’d been months since I had a problem with any appliance in the kitchen, I pointed to the cake. “Your mother tried to kill us.”
Ha, it wasn’t me causing the problems now.
Looking confused, Cash leaned over and Gareth started to giggle again. “What the…”
Cash’s head popped up and he groaned. “She sent us the boozy one she made for my Aunt Margaret. She says Aunt Maggie is a lush and only sends her shit that’s soaked with booze. It’s some kind of stupid sibling rivalry. Last year Aunt Maggie said she just keeps throwing them away but not to tell my mother. She loves the idea of my mother wasting all that time and money.”
Well, that explained some of the physical problems…and probably why Cash kept making excuses to stay with us for the holidays.
“Why did we eat that much cake?” Knowing why we had a hangover did not explain why we’d actually eaten the monstrosity.
They both shrugged.
“Maybe the same reason we threw the brownies away?” Cash pointed toward the kitchen. “They’re half-eaten and the rest are in the trash.”
Weird.
Gareth seemed to think so too because he went over to the kitchen looking more than a bit angry. “Fuckers.”
That wasn’t helpful.
Before I could remind him of that, Gareth came storming back in the room. “They’re fucking pot brownies.”
First, what?
Second, how did he know?
I probably didn’t want to know the answer to the second question, so I focused on the first. “My mother gave us marijuana-laced brownies?”
What were they doing at church?
I couldn’t decide if it made me curious about going back or more hesitant. “Um, is that why we threw them away?”
I wasn’t sure about that, but it did explain the strange dream I had about kissing an elf who’d saved me from—
“Was there a spider in here yesterday?”
They should’ve looked at me like I was crazy, but their mouths dropped open and Cash shook his head like he was clearing it out. “I had a dream about a big fucking spider.”
Gareth just nodded slowly before looking at the Christmas tree.
Okay, so maybe the spider brought the pot brownies and not my mother?
It honestly seemed more logical, but I walked over to the tree to see if it could jog my memory. “Oh, there’s a spider web.”
It wasn’t the monstrous size that had shown up in my dream, but there was a spider web.
“Did Santa actually send an elf to rescue us from a spider?” Even I knew it should’ve been nuts but the guys shrugged like it was reasonable.
“I think a better question would be why did you kiss Santa’s elf?” Gareth laughed when my mouth dropped open.
What had we done yesterday?
****
“Oh, man, tell me you didn’t eat the brownies.” Patrick’s anxious voice coming through the phone answered one of the questions we’d been listing off all morning.
So I was helpful and called out from my bedroom.
“Patrick did it. There was something funny in the brownies.” Patrick groaned as Gareth and Cash started talking excitedly in what seemed to be the kitchen.
“You’re such a tattle-tale, Brady.” Sighing, he huffed. “You can’t tell, Mom. I didn’t do it.”
I wasn’t sure I believed that at all, but since he’d been the one chosen to come rescue us from the mouse that had disappeared as soon as we’d called for help, I probably owed him one.
“Mom would’ve killed you if she’d eaten them.” He should be very grateful I was the one he’d accidentally poisoned. “She’d have been so disappointed. She told that cashier at Walmart the other day that you were so mature and helpful.”
Running errands with family was time-consuming, but it kept me from having to buy my own groceries.
Patrick was still projecting drama as he sighed again. “Kenny said he was going to make the guys something that would be fun. I didn’t know what he meant. My job does piss tests. He’s an idiot. But he’s also an idiot whose mom thought he baked something for the Christmas bazaar, so she brought it with her.”
They were both idiots.
“That’s just…” Shaking my head, I decided it wouldn’t be worth getting everyone upset about. He’d just always had poor taste in friends. Mom was right. He wasn’t living up to his full potential. “Fine. I won’t tell. But I have a question. Did we call you about a spider?”
He barked out a laugh.
“No, but you texted me a picture of your tree and said that Santa sent help so I didn’t have to worry about anything.” I could almost hear the shrug in his voice. “I didn’t see it until this morning, though. That’s when I realized what had happened.”
“You’re just lucky you tried to kill me and not mom. She’d have been very disappointed.” Looking around my room, I was glad I wasn’t the one with that hanging over their head. I might not get a present from Santa if I’d screwed up that badly.
He groaned again. “God, Brady, that’s not…never mind.”
Before I could start explaining why she’d be so disappointed, he distracted me. “How did Santa save you?”
That was a very good question.
“I don’t know.” Shrugging, I sat up and looked out toward the living room. “We think there was a spider in the Christmas tree but we can’t remember what happened?”
That was the best explanation I could give him but there were still holes in it.
Laughing, Patrick found it hilarious. “How much of the brownies did you eat?”
Entirely too much.
But now I was the one sighing. “I don’t think the memory loss is from the brownies. That seems to be from the entire fruit cake we ate that was soaked in something alcoholic. Cash’s mother tried to poison us too. It was a long, foggy night.”
As he snickered, I remembered what he’d said about my texting him. I was starting to think there really had been a very large spider in our house last night. But that acceptance brought on another question. Where had it gone?
Santa didn’t really send elves to save people, did he?
If he didn’t, was there a chance we could still have a giant spider in our house somewhere?
“Did I tell you what happened to the spider in any more detail?” It was rude to interrupt, but he just wouldn’t stop giggling.
“No.” Taking a breath, Patrick seemed to be fighting to get himself under control. “Just that Santa sent help.”
That didn’t answer any of my questions.
“I had a dream that I kissed one of Santa’s elves and now I’m wondering if I need to finally have some kind of sexual identity crisis.” I was kid number ten out of twelve, so by the time I’d come along no one cared what I liked or what I was obsessing over.
The fact that I’d gotten scholarships to pay for college and my obsessions were toys instead of something dangerous made it easy for my parents to shrug and pat me on the head. So Patrick, child number five, wasn’t surprised at all. “As long as the elf was a dude, you’re still gay.”
“That’s what I thought.” And honestly, I liked toys, so given the chance to date an elf, I’d probably take it.
“Do you know how to track a spider?” The only thing that came into my head when I thought about the spider was a zebra. That either meant it had stripes or was an asshole, but I wasn’t sure how I could’ve known it’s personality.
So maybe it’d been striped?
“Do you know any striped spiders?” It was a serious question, but he started giggling again.
After taking a deep breath, he finally managed to get words out. “God, Brady, I’m not friends with any or a zookeeper.”
I’d seen his friends…he was probably both.
I was also starting to think Kenny had made more of those stupid brownies, but Patrick distracted me before I could remind him about his work. “Do you actually think there was a spider in your Christmas tree?”
“We found a web in there this morning but no spider…so, yes?” It was starting to worry me, honestly. “If we find a large spider, will you help kill it?”
He groaned, but thankfully, I didn’t have to remind him about trying to kill me. “Yes, I owe you.”
Patrick was going to owe me for years for this one and his groan said he knew it. “Let me know if you need me to come kill a bug.”
Before I could tell him spiders weren’t bugs and it’d been big, he hung up.
He was so rude.
“Oh, wow.” Gareth’s startled exclamation had me climbing off my bed and heading for the living room before I’d thought about what I was doing.
Had he finally found the spider?
Looking around and searching the ceiling, I was confused to find them standing by the front door and seemingly holding another package. “If it’s food, just throw it away. I’m not taking any more chances.”
Even I learned my lesson at some point.
Christmas food was clearly dangerous.
“No.” Cash turned around and held out a gift bag that was covered in little elves. “It’s for you.”
What the…
Walking over, I took the large bag and looked inside. “Oh, it’s my bear.”
Clearly the lesson here was to always trust Santa.
Moving over to the couch, I sat down and placed the bear beside me. He was adorable. But before I could play with him, I knew I had to figure out where he’d come from just in case it hadn’t been Santa. “There’s a card.”
It wasn’t helpful either.
Sorry I was an ass.
The spider is safely back home.
Santa said you were good, so here you go.
I hope it’s a good peace offering.
Merry Christmas
Santa’s Secret Helper
So there had been a spider and Santa had sent someone to rescue us?
Chapter 3
Jude
“Why does the elf think you’re mad at him?” Flamethrower Dude’s voice left me shaking my head.
What the fuck?
I’d opened the window again, not to listen in on my neighbors, of course, but because it was still too fucking hot in the apartment and I wasn’t turning the air conditioner on in December.
Closet Dude wasn’t any better. “Man, you must have magic kisses for an elf to apologize.”
The most frustrating part was that I wasn’t sure if Dumb and Dumber were bullshitting or not.
“Elves are very busy this time of year.” Bambi’s words made me sigh, but he was a little so it didn’t matter if he was being serious. “He had to have sent a human. You know, like the Santa at the mall who I told about the bear.”
Okay, so having information I shouldn’t have had access to might look odd. I had to give them that. Setting my phone down, I looked up at the ceiling and listened to the ridiculous conversation. They’d been quiet for a while, but after a phone call that I couldn’t hear the words of, they’d gotten all excited again.
It seemed like they’d finally found Bambi’s present.
“So did he not sign his name because he’s on the down low or…” The questioning tone of Closet Dude had me wondering what they remembered from yesterday.
They’d been so quiet after I’d come back from giving the spider back to the idiot who kept buying pets he wasn’t supposed to have in our building, I’d thought they’d gone to bed early.
Clearly more mischief had been involved because I wasn’t sure pot brownies should’ve fucked them up this badly.
“Maybe he’s a Secret Santa?” Flamethrower Dude was at least approaching this from the standpoint that I was human. “But, I mean, he did know about the bear.”
What the fuck had they been doing this morning when I’d been at the fucking mall?
Sighing, I closed my eyes. I knew that stupid gift would come back to bite me in the ass. But I’d thought it would be awkward conversations about the spider or being invited for dinner. Nope, now I was magic.
This was what I got for being polite.
“So we’re sure he’s not an elf?” Closet Dude sounded like he was looking at his equally fucked-up buddies and trying to figure out what was going on. “This seems…”
Good grief.
“Well, he got me my bear and he did apologize for whatever happened, and he made sure we knew there really was a spider and we weren’t nuts.” The way Bambi was singing my praises made me smile.
He was something else.
“So we’re going with human with paranormal connections and he came to save us? We’re going with he, right? Are elves nonbinary?” Flamethrower’s questioning tone had me rolling my eyes again.
“I dreamed about a boy elf so that’s what I’m going with.” Bambi’s confident tone had my mouth dropping open.
He’d dreamed about me?
Closet Dude snickered. “Your best kiss this year came from an elf.”
Bambi groaned and it sounded like he’d smacked Closet Dude. “My only kiss this year because I refuse to count the way that weird man slobbered over me as a kiss.”
Weird man.
They laughed, not giving me any more details and jumping to a new topic again.
Fuckers.
Who was the weird man?
“Okay, so what are you going to do about your Secret Santa?” Flamethrower Dude had a very good question.
“Um…” Bambi’s voice got quiet and I started to worry I’d missed what he’d said. Thankfully, it seemed like he’d just taken a minute to think. “Leave a thank-you card?”
God, how could he keep getting cuter?
“It’s the polite thing to do, right?” There were a few minutes of jumbled conversation where they debated the merits of thank-you cards for Secret Santas, but in the end they decided to leave something out overnight for the Secret Santa and see what happened.
Fuck.
What was I supposed to do?
“Shoot.” Bambi’s worried tone had me focusing back on their conversation. “I don’t have a card.”
That was the problem?
“You should probably make one. I mean, if he got you the bear you wanted, then he probably knows you’re little. He’ll want something homemade.” Closet Dude’s answer seemed surprisingly logical.
Instead of panicking about someone knowing he was little, Bambi sighed. “You’re probably right. I don’t have any more construction paper, though.”
They definitely would’ve heard me laughing, so I kept my lips closed as my chest jerked up and down.
“Then are we going shopping?” Flamethrower’s answer always seemed to boil down to shopping. “Or are we calling your mom and asking if she needs to go to Walmart? She won’t notice extra art supplies.”
Did Bambi’s mother know about him being little?
The groan he let out distracted me from the question. “No, I don’t feel like traveling with the herd and she’s got everyone home plus my cousins and my oldest brother’s kids. It’ll be a circus.”
How big was his family?
“Okay, let’s go before something else goes weird and Santa actually shows up.” Closet Dude sighed. “Our vacation has been exhausting so far.”
“What color should a Secret Santa thank-you card be?” Bambi’s question had me shaking my head. “Do you think I should go on Pinterest and find some ideas? How would I search that?”
As they moved around the apartment, I lost track of their conversation until they charged out of their apartment like a herd of elephants.
When it was peacefully silent, I glanced over at the window and tried to decide if I was going to close it or not. Not. I was an asshole and I wanted to hear about my card as he made it. I had a feeling my afternoon had just gotten a lot more interesting.
Hmm, was I going to have to go to the mall again?
****
“How do you think that looks? Should it have more glue?” The almost gleeful way Bambi said glue was kinda like how some craft people sighed longingly when they said glitter. Clearly it was a favorite craft product if I could hear his excitement through the window.
Someone scoffed. “You’ve got to be kidding?”
Flamethrower Dude.
“It looks great.” Closet Dude was more diplomatic. “Your Secret Santa is going to love it.”
Considering he’d been working on it most of the evening, I would love it no matter what it looked like. My imagination wasn’t even sure where to start, but he was a little who’d made me a card. I had to like it. Those were the fucking rules.
“So, I know this is a thank-you card, but what are you going to say besides thank you?” Flamethrower Dude was surprisingly thoughtful.
“Hmm.” Bambi was either dragging his feet answering or hadn’t thought about it at all because he made several thoughtful sounds and didn’t rush out his answer. “Well, I’m going to thank him.”
