Page 4 of Daddy's Christmas Elf
The changing room door flew open. A heavily built security guard, his ill-fitting uniform barely containing his bulk, glared at Eli.
“You go now,” the guard said, in heavily accented English. “I take you off hotel.”
“My stuff’s been stolen. I’ve got to report it to the manager.”
“Who care? Hotel full. Manager too busy. And he do fuck all,” the guard said, adding a derisive snort.
Eli’s spirits dropped even further, because the burly guard was right. The hotel was heaving, because the Jolly Eventful party wasn’t the only one taking place that night, and the misfortunes of a fired elf weren’t going to be top of the hotel manager's list. Eli blinked away the sudden sting of tears, as every star in the universe aligned against him.
“I’m going to have to borrow some chef’s whites, or some other uniform, because I can’t leave looking like this.” Eli stood up and waved an arm over himself, but the security guard just shrugged.
“The woman, with face like old prune, she tell me to take you off hotel.” The guard rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles before taking a step forward.
“Okay, okay. I’m going.” Eli stumbled back. He didn’t fancy being assaulted for a second time in one night.
“We go through car park. Is quickest. My break start in one minute.” The guard scowled as he beckoned Eli forward.
Eli groaned. What choice did he have? At least people would probably think he was on his way to a Christmas fancy dress party. Eli followed the chunky guard through a maze of narrow corridors, to a door which the guard unlocked. It opened onto the underground car park. It was small, with maybe no more than a dozen cars. A keen wind whistled through and Eli shivered after the warmth of the hotel.
“I put you on street, out of hotel,” the guard growled.
“Thought your break was starting.”
The guard stopped and looked at Eli from over one beefy shoulder, his face scrunched up in thought.
“They don’t pay me for break.” He jerked his head towards an upwards slope and an EXIT sign at the far end of the car park. “You go.”
A moment later the door slammed closed and the lock turned.
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Eli wrapped his arms around himself as a fresh gust of wind blew through the car park. He was already starting to shiver. His feet, protected from the rough concrete flooring by nothing more than the thin fabric of the ridiculous shoes, were already hurting as sharp pieces of grit dug into the soles of his feet.
Tears of frustration, impotent anger, and out and out hopelessness finally overflowed and Eli dragged the back of a hand across his eyes. The day had started badly and had gone downhill fast. And in the New Year, he was going to have to look for somewhere new to live. He drew in a shuddering breath. Get moving, get home — for as long as it was home. It’d take ages as he had no option but to walk, but he’d be rewarded with something to eat and a hot bath before he raided Benny’s not so secret stash of top-end vodka. Eli’s lips lifted in a tiny smile, the only good thought to come out of today.
Happy Christmas, Benny. Happy fucking Christmas.
The thought was a faint ember of warmth in Eli’s chest as he threaded through the cars towards the exit.
One car stood out amongst the rest. Larger, sleeker, shinier and polished to within an inch of its life. Eli didn’t know much about cars, but this one screamed classic — otherwise known as old. He also knew the emblem rearing up on the front, a tiger, or maybe a puma, meant it was a very expensive one. Or maybe it was a…Of course, it’s a Jag.
He glanced through the window as he passed, nothing more than quick and cursory. And stopped.
The car was unlocked, the little buttons standing proud.
On the back seat was a coat. A thick winter coat. And a scarf.
A fresh blast of wind blew through the car park, freezing Eli down to his bones.
A coat, and a scarf… Eli licked his lips. His eyes darted around the deserted car park. No sign of anybody or anything. Except a coat and a scarf, and he needed both.
No.
Eli shook his head and took a step forward, towards the slope and the EXIT sign. He wasn’t a thief and he wasn’t going to become one.
Another gust of wind, cold enough to freeze the blood in his veins.
Eli’s hand was on the rear door handle before he could stop himself. He could leave a note, telling whoever the coat and scarf belonged to that they’d be returned to the hotel. He was only borrowing, not stealing, that was all. He was only doing it because he was desperate.
