Page 12 of A Little Christmas! Johnny
I glance at the bay and notice that all the doors are closed and thankfully the sign on the regular door is flipped to closed. The last thing we need is to have a random customer come in hearing Paul claiming one of us is someone that preys on kids.
It’s not the first time he’s brought up the fact that I like childish things while suggesting it means something more nefarious. As far as I know, this is the first time he’s come out and said it so bluntly in front of anyone other than myself. This is why I don’t let anyone know what I enjoy. It’s not like I want to hang out with children or anything creepy like that. I just want to be able to enjoy what I enjoy. It’s not hurting anyone for me to like fucking cartoons or toys or wanting to build a blanket fort in my office.
“You’re fired,” Steve growls out. The only time I’d ever heard him this angry was when his college roommate was in the hospital years ago. Back then, I had just started working at theshop and Mike had brought him back here that night to calm down. I had to hold Steve back from physically going after the guys that had attacked his roommate. I’m pretty sure that they all ended up in jail for it eventually, so that was at least a good thing. But I’d never seen Steve lose his cool like that since – until now.
I rush into the room to see Paul on the ground with a broken and bleeding nose while Jackson is the one holding Steve back this time. It’s a bit comical to see our smallest guy being the one to hold back the boss, but he’s also one of the few that I know Steve won’t just toss aside. They’re friends outside of work.
“STAND DOWN!”
I put every ounce of force in my body behind that one exclamation, and it gets the response I had hoped for. Steve relaxes so quickly that Jackson almost falls over, causing the rest of the guys – minus Paul – to release some of the tension with laughter.
“Of course the freakshow gets special treatment,” Paul mutters as he climbs back to his feet. “What does he have on yinz? Is his head game that great that you forget him diddling kids?”
The guys who were standing between Steve and Paul throw up their hands and step back to clear a path. Jackson takes it a step further and actually waves Steve through with a bow. I’m still in shock that those words came out of Paul’s mouth. Did he seriously just insinuate that I got my position through sexual favors? The kids thing is something he’s been hinting at for the last six months, so that’s not exactly new to me, but apparently it is to the other guys in the shop.
I’m still processing the words that were said, so I miss when my friend gets in a few more punches. Eventually, I manage to get in there to pull Steve off of the asshole. In the scuffle, I catchan elbow to the eye from Paul, but the important thing is that the fight ends before anyone needs the hospital.
“Did you both forget that there are customers here?” I ask after managing to get the rest of the guys, minus Jackson who is technically off the clock, back in the shop to get back to work. “You already almost knocked one into Jeremy’s scrap pile before I got them out of there. Now, you’re yelling about child molesters and sucking dick in exchange for favors. Are you fucking stupid or something, Paul? Do you want this place closed down?”
Steve at least looks remorseful, but Paul glares at me.
“The shop wouldn’t have to close if fags like you didn’t work here.”
Before I can even react, Steve and Jackson both take a step toward Paul. I’m speechless. One of the foundations of Good Boy T & T is that we are inclusive of everyone as long as it’s legal. Even some of the things that the law needs to catch up with, we support as long as it’s between consenting adults and no one is being harmed against their will. Mike was a bit of a freak himself – not that the guys know as much as Steve and myself. His stories made me blush quite a bit over the years, especially after him finding out I’m gay and would understand things that his heteronormative son would never get.
“Say that again. I dare you.”
We all turn to the new voice coming from the doorway, and I see Russel, Dexter’s neighbor and the owner of the soon to be aluminum scrap heap in bay six, standing there looking like he’s about to bring the wrath of the divine down on Paul. The idiot doesn’t recognize danger and digs deeper.
“Fucking faggots shouldn’t be around normal people. Especially ones who keep toys and shit to lure in the little kids to fuck them.”
Even though I spent the morning laughing and having fun with Russel, the smile on his face now has me ready to piss my pants. Where did the fun and quirky guy from before go?
Fifteen minutes later, the police have taken Paul away for trespassing and assault, but for the life of me I can’t figure out how it happened. By all accounts, Steve should have gone as well, but the officers just took statements from everyone and left. One of them, in response to Paul demanding why no one was arrested for assaulting him exclaimed, “We can’t arrest a door knob, sir.”
12
DEXTER
Me:
I swear I only went to the restroom, sir.
Dave:
Whatever happened has my son calling in favors.
Handle it or you will find another place to live.
My fingers make their way through my hair for the millionth time since I got us back home from the auto shop. After the cops took that jagoff away, Russ handed something to Johnny before pulling me back to my car and demanding we go home. The only reason I let myself be dragged away was the small wave and smile I got from my boy on the way out the door. Then, I got the joys of an hour long rant from my best friend followed by getting chewed out via text from my landlord – a man with the ability and means to make a person disappear permanently.
“Ignore my father,” Russ exclaims, exploding through my front door like he’s some action hero. “He’s just butthurt that my first time removing someone’s existence isn’t one of hiscompetitors. But personally, I think it’s better that it isn’t. Plausible deniability an’nat.”
I’m going to end up with ulcers from this man. If it wasn’t for the fact that we’ve been neighbors and best friends for the last five years, I would be running for the hills. Pushing up off the sofa, I head to the kitchen to make something for a late lunch. It’s too early for dinner, but if I don’t eat something before my shift starts at six, I’ll make myself sick.
I operate on autopilot and it’s not until I hear Russ squeal that I realize I defaulted to dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets and mac and cheese. Exasperated, I pull out the divided plate I keep in the cupboard for him and plate some up, adding a packet of apple slices from the fridge. From the condiment shelf, I grab out the dipping cup leftover from the last time he was over for dinner.
He’s the only Little I’ve ever met that mixes barbecue with ranch to dipeverything.I’ve seen ketchup and hot sauce plenty getting mixed with ranch dressing, but this weirdo mixes barbecue with everything if he can. That’s why I am the one to cook when we’re eating together. I don’t want to repeat barbecue mashed potatoes ever again. No matter what he claims, they do NOT taste like barbecue potato chips.
