Brenda Page 14

  Bethany backed off a bit uncomfortably, which was admirable as most people would have been very uncomfortable. “Uh, right. Oh, I almost forgot. Here you go.” Bethany handed Jacob a piece of paper that looked like a flyer.

  “What’s this? It looks like a flyer of some sort,” Jacob said repetitively.

  “It’s a flyer,” Bethany said, deciding it was necessary to state the obvious. “It’s for our company New Year’s Party.”

  “New Year’s? It isn’t even Thanksgiving yet. How the hell are we planning for a New Year’s Party already?”

  Bethany shrugged and smiled. “I don’t know, but isn’t it wonderful? Oh, I just love the holiday season. Don’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Really? But you get to sing songs, and spend time with your family, and celebrate love and peace on earth. What isn’t to love about it?”

  “Literally everything you just said. And what’s with this New Year’s Party? Isn’t it more typical to have a Christmas party?”

  Bethany clucked disappointingly. Like a fucking chicken. “Well, we used to, but David complained. Said it was offensive to non-Christians, so we changed it to a New Year’s Party. It’s pretty much the same thing, but now at the end we get to kiss somebody.”

  “Hmm. I’m surprised David didn’t find something to complain about in that as well.”

  “Oh, he did,” Bethany said. “Something about not everybody using the same calendar and it being insensitive to the Chinese and offensively Eurocentric. But his wife was there and told him to shut up, and everyone else was sick of his shit too, so we just ignored him.”

  “I’m surprised that pompous prick let it go so easily.”

  “Oh, he didn’t. He kept complaining for a full hour after that, but nobody listened.”

  “Unbelievable. But no, I meant about the kissing. It seems like that would be sexual harassment or something.”

  Bethany shook her head, and her jowls moved side to side like they were dancing jowls. That’s going to be the title of my next book. The Dancing Jowls of Bethany Stomos. “No, he was actually pretty supportive of the kissing aspect. Something about human sexuality being a beautiful thing that shouldn’t be suppressed by the religious right or something like that. But, if you’re uncomfortable, you can opt out of it, of course.”

  “Yeah, if you’re gay or something.” Steve came out of his office and poked Jacob from behind in the ribs, since that’s a professional thing to be doing. He then quickly got a concerned look on his face and glanced around nervously. “Shit, he didn’t hear me, did he? And don’t tell me if you are. I don’t want any troubles with HR. Unless you want to tell me, in which case, totally tell me. I don’t want any trouble with HR.”

  “Uh, no, I’m not. And I’m totally cool with the kissing thing. Anyway, I’ve got to get to work.”

  “Damn right you do,” Steve said, with a douche boss laugh and a lazy point at Jacob as he headed to his office. “Oh, hey, do you have that report for me?”

  “What report?”

  “The one that you and Henry were working on yesterday. If you could just email that to me, that would be wonderful.”

  “No. I can’t. I haven’t reviewed it yet. Let me put the finishing touches on it, then I’ll send it. Alright?”

  “Uh, yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

  Jacob opened the door to his office, went in, opened the report that he’d sent Steve last week to use as a template, and got to work.

  After working for the rest of the morning, work in this case meaning essentially copying the report that Jacob seemed to have forgotten had been ripped apart by Steve, Jacob emailed the report to said Steve. He then looked at his phone to see a text from Rock telling him to meet him down at the mall where he was working his new job. I’ll spare you the actual text itself, since it was barely comprehensible, but Jacob got the message and packed up to head out. On his way out, he popped his head into Steve’s office where Steve definitely wasn’t masturbating.

  “Hey Steve. Did you get my report?”

  “No. When did you send it?”

  “Just now.”

  “Let me check again.” Steve refreshed his browser. “Oh, yes, there it is.”

  “Well, I’m going to lunch.”

  “See you.”

  “This concludes what was an unnecessarily long conversation to segue into the next scene, which will be me eating lunch with a friend of mine.”

  “Um, okay,” Steve said with a confused look on his face. He waited until Jacob was out of earshot to say, “What a weird thing to say. There’s something off about that kid.”

  Jacob walked into the mall to his agreed upon meeting place with Rock and walked past one of those set ups where kids get their photos taken with Santa. Jesus Christ, already? I hate kids and I hate this stupid holiday.

  “Jacob. Hey, Jacob,” a disembodied voice from nowhere called out as Jacob walked by. Yes, genius, it was coming from the mall Santa. Your mother must be proud. Anyway, Jacob walked up to the display and took a closer look.

  “Jacob, what’s up bro?” Santa Rock said, pushing the kid on his lap off his lap. “Alright, tubball, you’ve had your turn. Now get off Santa’s lap. Santa got to go get his drinky poo on.”

  Santa Rock came up to Jacob and did their stupid little bro shake, which was stupid, regardless of what Jacob may say about it. “So, bro, what’s up? Ready to go get your drink on?”

  Jacob shook his head in disbelief. “No, Rock, I don’t drink during work two days in a row. What’s with the outfit?”

  “Dude, I’m a mall Santa. I’m telling you, it’s a sweet gig. All I have to do is sit around all day letting kids sit in my lap. And sometimes, you get older girls who do it to be ironic. That’s one of the perks of the job.”

  Jacob sniffed the air, catching a familiar scent, and noticed it was coming from Rock’s beard. “And drink, apparently.”

  “Dude, I’m a mall Santa. I have to be drunk,” Rock said, pulling a flask of his jolly juice out from his red coat and taking a swig. “I’m pretty sure it’s part of the job.”

  “Jesus, Rock, right in front of the kids?”

  “Mall Santa, bro.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “Leave Santa alone,” one of the indignant little shits said, coming up to Jacob.

  “Who are you, you little punk?”

  “I’m Timmy, and you leave Santa alone.”

  “God damn it, a little kid named Timmy? At Christmas? You have got to be kidding me.”

  “No I’m not. My name is Timmy, and you leave Santa alone, you big meanie.”

  Jacob held out a hand to calm the kid. “Jesus Christ, kid, calm the fuck down. It’s alright. I’m a friend of Santa’s.”

  “No you aren’t,” the indignant little snot said, blowing a booger bubble from his nose. “You aren’t an elf and you aren’t a reindeer, so how are you Santa’s friend?”

  “Well, kid, I’m something more important to Santa than an elf or reindeer,” Jacob said, leaning down to the bright-eyed, bushy tailed child. “I’m Santa’s drinking buddy. Now why don’t you fuck on off so that Santa can do what he does best and be a fat worthless fuck.”

  The little snot eater started to cry, but Jacob quickly shushed him with terror in his eyes. “Shh. Be quiet kid. You don’t want to cry,” Jacob said in a scared tone of voice.

  “Why not?” Timmy the dumb fuck said as his eyes grew wider.

  “Well, you know the monsters that live under your bed? Crying is their dinner bell.”

  The kid started to cry again, but tried to hold back, when his mom came up to get him.

  “Timmy? Come with mommy. I’ll buy you a burger at the food court.”

  As the kid started to walk away, Jacob grabbed him by the shoulder, bent over, and whispered in his ear, “You know those burgers are made from reindeer meat, right?”

  Rock and Jacob laughed as the even more upset little fucker ran away, and Rock put his arm around Jacob’s shoulde
r. “Hey, kid. Have fun eating Rudolph. So, buddy, where shall I drink my lunch today?”

  They settled on a restaurant that met both Jacob’s requirement of serving decent food and Rock’s requirement of serving alcohol. After they had placed their orders, Jacob looked at Rock and spoke. You know, that thing that normal people do when they’re at lunch together, you anti-social nerd.

  “So, two questions for you Rock,” Jacob said, sipping his water.

  “Shoot,” Rock said, pounding his beer and quickly ordering another. I have to admit, as much of a failure as Rock was, he was doing a bang up job at this whole mall Santa thing. It was barely noon and he was already completely blitzed.

  “What is your relationship with Nancy and why is it affecting me?”

  “Ah, Nancy. We’re on another break. She was becoming too clingy. Rock doesn’t do clingy.”

  “So you’re ignoring her calls again?”

  “Yep-o.”

  “Great. Now if you could go ahead and answer my second question.”

  “Dude, I can’t remember that long ago,” Rock said, his drunken demeanor indicating he probably couldn’t remember much of anything.

  “Why is this affecting me?”

  Rock shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Why is Nancy coming up to me at work asking about why you’re ignoring her calls?”

  “Oh, dude, she came up to you at work? That’s so lame,” Rock said, taking another sip of his beer. “I’m surprised though. That’s very unlike her.”

  “What are you talking about, Rock? That’s just like her. She asked me why you were ignoring her calls last time you pulled this crap.”

  “No, not that. Asking you is just like her. I meant doing it at work. She tends to be very professional.”

  “Oh. Well, technically it was at a bar.”

  “You work in a bar now?”

  “No, I was drinking on the job. Can we focus on my question?”

  “I don’t know, dude,” Rock said somberly, moving quickly from jolly drunk Santa to divorced, depressed drunk Santa. “I like being with her and all, I just don’t really want a relationship right now. So, we start to get close, then I get uncomfortable, and so I ignore her.”

  “Because that’s the mature thing to do,” Jacob said, rolling his eyes. When Jacob Stanton is insinuating that you’re being immature, it’s probably time to seriously re-evaluate your life. But of course, Rock wouldn’t, because he was a stupid, oblivious bastard.

  “Hey, man, I’m not proud of it, but when the relationship trap is closing, Rock’s got to get to running.”

  “Whatever. You know, she said she’s not necessarily looking for a relationship. If you just want to bang her and keep it casual, she seems to be down with that.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t just want sex, you know. I’m not that shallow,” the definitely that shallow kid dressed up as Santa and smelling like a distillery said. “I want more than just sex, you know?”

  “Sure you do, Rock, sure you do.”

  “I do, man. Sex is fun and all, but it’s not enough. It leaves me empty inside. I want something more.”

  “Like a relationship?”

  “No man. Just, you know, someone I can talk to, you know? Someone who I can open up to and discuss things with.”

  “Yeah, a relationship.”

  “No, maybe I’m not explaining it very well. It’s just, you know, I want a bang buddy who I also like to hang out with. You know, watch movies, go to dinners, go shopping. Stuff like that.”

  “A relationship?”

  “No, but sometimes when I come home, I get lonely. I just want someone there to talk to. I guess I’m just not describing what I’m after very well.”

  “You’re describing it fine. It’s just that what you’re looking for is a relationship.”

  “Dude,” Rock said, putting his hand on Jacob’s shoulder and pointing a finger at him. “I’m telling you. I am not the relationship kind of guy.”

  “Sure, Rock. Whatever, you say. But look, you like hanging out with this girl, right?”

  “Yeah,” Rock shrugged, “she’s cool.”

  “Right. So all I’m saying is give her a call. I don’t think she’s as clingy as you think she is. If you feel things are getting too close, just tell her. She’s a lot more flexible with this relationship than you are making her out to be.”

  “Alright dude. You know, I never pictured you as much of a match maker. You’re a real friend, you know that?”

  “Whatever. I just want her to leave me alone.”

  “How was your day, sir?” Reginald asked as Jacob walked through the door at the end of the day, after he’d gone back to work and done a bunch of boring shit that probably had some point, but damned if I know what it was. I mean, Jacob still didn’t know what the company did, for Christ’s sake, and do you really care, anyway? No, you don’t, unless you’re a fucknut. You aren’t a fucknut, are you? Because you really don’t want to be a fucknut.

  “Well, it was alright, I suppose, except for the work part,” Jacob said, flopping down on the couch. “And the walking to work part. And coming home from work part. So, pretty much, it’s been downhill since I woke up.”

  “So, same as every day, sir?”

  “Yeah, pretty much,” Jacob said, turning on the television and flipping through the channels, before realizing it wasn’t 1990 and he had a DVR. Putting on one of his favorite shows that he’d seen a dozen times before, he turned back to Reginald. “By the way, I saw Rock today. He’s working as a mall Santa now.”

  “Really, sir? Huh, they’ll really hire anyone for that job, now won’t they?”

  “Tell me about it. I got there a little before noon, and he was already drunk off his ass.”

  “At least he’s taking the job seriously, sir.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Jacob said wincing, “but still. I mean, it’s Rock. Is he really the guy you want getting near your kids?”

  “I wouldn’t want Rock near anyone I cared about, sir. But still, I’m not sure I’d want any mall Santas near my kids.”

  “Yeah, there’s that. I guess he can’t be worse than most, though I’m pretty sure he just took the job to get girls to sit on his lap.”

  “Are you suggesting that Sir Rock is a pedophile, sir?”

  “No, not a pedophile. Just that he gets aroused by having girls sit on his lap. And he’ll trick them into doing so.”

  “That’s what pedophiles do, sir.”

  “No, not a pedophile. More like a pervert who is trying to manipulate his position to get girls to sit on him.”

  “Pre-pubescent girls, in this case. That’s a pedophile, sir.”

  Jacob shrugged. “Whatever. I still think he’s just a pervert. He’s just not a very smart pervert.”

  “Well, I agree with the adjectives in that description, sir.”

  Jacob shot up in his seat, which was considerably more effort than he generally exerted after work. “Oh, by the way. There is a New Year’s Party coming up.”

  “How is there a New Year’s Party coming up, sir? It’s two months away. Or does your employer use a different calendar than the rest of the world, sir? Is he a fucking Muslim, sir, or a Jew?”

  “I don’t know, Reginald. You know this fucking season, it starts earlier every year. That’s why every red blooded American with a soul who’s not a total dupe hates it,” said the blue blooded Frenchman with no soul who was a total dupe.

  “Mmm. I believe that’s Christmas, sir. Did you mean to say there is a Christmas party coming up?”

  “No,” Jacob sighed. “We’re not allowed to say Christmas, apparently. Guess who’s responsible for that.”

  “Fucking Richard, sir,” Reginald said, shaking his head sadly.

  “Right. Wait, no. Richard lives in Detroit. How would he be responsible for cancelling a Christmas party?”

  “Because he’s a dick, sir. He’s a giant, fucking dick.”

  “Well, I can’t argue with tha
t,” Jacob said. “But no, it wasn’t him. He may be a dick, but he still lives in Detroit.”

  “Serves him right, sir.”

  “Anyway, he’s probably never even heard of LDC. No, it was David. Fucking David.”

  “Fucking David, sir,” Reginald said, shaking his head.

  “But look, despite David’s dickishness, it actually works out for the better.”

  “How so, sir?”

  “Well, you know what happens at New Year’s, right?”

  Reginald shrugged. “The calendar changes, sir?”

  “No, Reginald,” Jacob sighed.

  “Pretty sure it does, sir.”

  “No, Reginald, god dammit. I mean, yes.” Jacob rolled his eyes. “Yes, fine, the calendar changes. Woopty-fucking do. Good job, Mr. I-State-The-Obvious-All-The-Time. You must think you’re a real fucking genius, don’t you, Reginald?”

  “Well, I don’t exactly have a great basis of comparison to work with, sir.”

  “Whatever. What I meant was kisses. They occur at the New Year’s Party.”

  “Kisses at a work function, sir? That sounds like sexual harassment. Surely, David must have objected.”

  “Funny. That’s pretty much the same thing I said, Reginald.”

  “Of course it is, sir.”

  “Anyway, apparently he’s cool with it. Something about human sexuality being a beautiful thing or some other hippie bullshit nonsense.”

  “Sounds like something Sir David would say, sir,” Reginald said.

  “Fucking David, Reginald, fucking David,” Jacob corrected.

  “Sir Fucking David, sir,” Reginald said.

  “Whatever. Point is, I get to pick a lady to kiss, and guess who I was thinking of?”

  “Ms. Fontaine, sir?”

  “Hell, yeah, wait. What? No, dude. Brenda. Why would you think I’d want to kiss Lucy?”

  “Because she likes you, sir, and occasionally I make the mistake of thinking you’ll do the smart thing.”

  “Whatever, Reginald. No, I’m going to kiss Brenda at the New Year’s Party, and that’s final.”

  “No, you won’t, sir.”

  “Excuse me?” Jacob said, with his eyebrows raised.