Page 23 of Santa's Wish
Once that was settled, we spent Saturday shopping for business attire. Santa had given me the information for his tailor, but one look at their prices online told me I couldn't afford them. Off the rack suits on sale were more my style. My mom said the discounts would be even deeper after the new year, so I only grabbed the two cheapest for now.
After Sunday brunch and a race to see who couldfinish the Times crossword puzzle fastest (my mom), I took the train home. A delivery driver followed me up the stairs to my apartment. At first, I was a little worried, but then he stopped at my door. "Delivery from Santa."
I chuckled. "How did he even know when I would be home?" The food was from the nearby Chinese restaurant, and it smelled delicious.
I gave the driver ten dollars extra for scaring the shit out of me, and then I gorged until I was too full. Recognizing the start of a food coma, I hurried through my nighttime routine two hours earlier than usual. I fell into bed and slept so hard I dreamed of dancing with Santa.
Despite the early night and the great sleep, I woke the next morning feeling unprepared to face the day. This was my first day at a job that mattered, not some fast-food drive-thru position I could half-ass. I needed my whole ass for this job. Er, no. My ass shouldn't be part of my job at all.
I rose from my bed guided by sheer embarrassment and thoughts of Santa. His ass played a large role in his job, or so I assumed. I hadn't gotten to see him in action in the VIP room because he wouldn't take my money.
While the coffee was percolating, I checked outside my door for a paper. I'd let Santa know I would be gone for the weekend, but I was surprised to see thepaper on my welcome mat, along with a paper bag containing a warm blueberry bagel. I must have just missed him when my alarm went off at six.
The bagel was fucking fantastic with my coffee. I needed to go grocery shopping, but I kept putting it off. Every time I got hungry enough to go, food arrived at my door. Still, it was on my list for Tuesday evening.
The only item on today's agenda was to survive my first day at work. I was a glorified accountant. Why was I suddenly worried about becoming someone's juice pouch?
By the time I left the apartment, the sun had already risen. I wondered where Santa slept like the dead for the day. I also wished I could join him there and pretend I didn't have a big, scary job orientation meeting at eight.
I waited at the bus stop outside our building and startled when a long black car pulled up minutes before I expected the bus.
"Are you Mr. Bostwick?" The brown-skinned driver with gray marbling his kinky hair wore a suit nicer than mine. I felt underdressed.
"Imperial Accounting sent me," he continued when I gaped at him like a fish. "That you? Looks like you." He held up a copy of my employee ID photo.
"That's me." I showed him my matching ID badge.
"Get in. You don't want to be late for your first day."
He was right. I hated being late. I didn't want to bean asshole and ask to see his identification, either. Kidnappers rarely wore nice suits (not that I'd met many, or any, unless I counted the vampire who dropped me), so I took a chance and hopped in the back.
The five-block drive took longer than expected. Traffic was backed up for blocks around my office building. Finally, we inched close enough to see a commotion in the street and on the steps of the vampire council building next to Imperial Accounting. I'd thought it would be empty during the day, but an angry mob stood on the steps outside with picket signs.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"They're protesting how a former council member was brought to justice. The empress herself visited a month back and dealt with the problem with a silver dagger to the heart."
That sounded brutal, but I kept my mouth shut.
"The council member killed humans, too," the driver continued. "They think he should have been tried and convicted before she took the law into her own hands."
"Her title is empress, and they think they can tell her what to do?" I laughed, and he laughed with me. That must have been the right thing to say.
Finally, we creeped forward enough to pull into a gated entrance. With a flash of a key card, the gateopened, and we pulled into an underground parking structure.
Once we were parked in front of the basement entrance, I gathered my briefcase, scarf, and gloves. I reached for the door handle, but it opened from the outside, my driver already there.
"The name's Rick. Please pass along a good word to Mistress Colette when you see her this evening."
"I … will?" He was already back in the car, pulling away from the curb and leaving me standing before a revolving door.
A locked door. I didn't know revolving doors could lock, but this one wouldn't budge when I pushed on it.
"Mr. Bostwick, please swipe your key card."
I found the camera above me and held it up to the lens.
"At the card reader behind you."
