Page 15 of Kit
I couldn’t believe it. My special gift from Santa was now gone. I had no one to go to to fight for me. No one to turn to for comfort.
I stood where I was for a few stunned seconds. Another daddy nearby said, “You need to leave, Kit.”
I glanced about the room. I’d done nothing. But more daddies joined in.
“Yeah. Kit, go on home, now.”
“Cool off for the night and we won’t report you.”
I moved to the middle of the room, passing by Miles.
“Great, Miles. Thanks for helping me out.” I made a face at him.
“What? I didn’t do anything.” He scrunched up his face. “Daddy!”
A man jumped up. Daddy George. Before he could come over and give me one more scolding, I muttered to Nicky, “Exactly. You didn’t do anything.”
I stomped to the door, opened it, then turned. “Fuck you all.”
I slammed the door behind me. Hot tears welled in my eyes. The guys standing around in the hall all turned to stare at me.
“Hey, little boy,” one of them said. “Need some comfort?”
He wasn’t being mean. Just concerned. But I was mad, and I ignored him, stomping past the kink rooms and upstairs toward the bar. Everything looked blurry and unfriendly. But one thing stood out. A blurry red blob on the stage by the dance floor. Santa.
I hurried forward to the glittery Christmas pathway that led through the crowd. There was a small line in front of me. It was late. Almost one a.m. Online it had said Santa would be at the party until one.
I hoped I’d have time to see him. If only the line would move faster.
I blinked, clearing my eyes, watching as Santa dealt with every visitor who wanted to sit in his lap and have a photo. Some laughingly tried to pull his beard. Others went into lewd poses when the photos were taken. Something for everyone.
Finally, it was my turn. I had my eye on the clock over the bar. Five minutes to one. I stepped up to the stage and approached.
“Kit. You’re back.” Santa sounded surprised.
“I—I just wanted to see you again.”
He chuckled like he always did, a lovely sound. “I’m flattered.”
“I know this is my second time, but can I sit in your lap again?” I asked.
“My lap is your domain,” he cryptically replied.
As I climbed up, his hands went to my waist to help lift me into place. I leaned against his pillow belly and put my cheek against that silken beard. For this moment, I was home. It was a perfect fit. I closed my eyes against the still present sting of tears.
“Sweetie, why are you shaking?”
I spoke into his chest. “I’m mad.”
“Why?”
“Just—not a fun night.”
“Where’s your doggy, Kit?”
“Nicky has it.”
“Nicky? Did you give your toy away?”
