"So maybe you can find a place to roost and get some shuteye until your shift ends."
"Now Walt, you know I won't admit to that."
"Still, I hope you have a peaceful Christmas Eve. I mean, ain't that the way it's supposed to be?"
"You're right. That is how it's supposed to be. We'll just see how it is"
Chicago, Illinois
"More shrimp."
Dave had heard the call for refills on shrimp bowls so many times that he heard it in his sleep. The Henderson Financial Group party alone went through almost two thousand shrimp. Dawson Brothers Chevrolet, another thousand. And they both kept asking for more cheese, more canapes, more rumaki.
Eleven months out of the year, he loved being a banquet chef. And he was good at it. He had to be to be running a major facility at only twenty six.
He thought of it like being a theater director or a choreographer. The hall was his stage. Every wedding, every reunion, every anniversary or birthday party was a special event in people's lives. Occasions which he orchestrated into productions they would never forget.
Christmas time was another matter. As soon as the holiday season rolled around, corporate parties dominated his schedule. It's not like he was a communist or something, he was perfectly fine with capitalism, but man, he hated big company parties. There was no art to them. He may as well have been serving Chicken McNuggets. People came to them to drink for free and to see how much they could stuff down their gullets on the boss's dime.
It had been well after midnight before Henderson finally stopped asking for refreshes, and nearly one o'clock when the Chevy folks finally let the servers clear their buffet line.
He could have gone home and let his crew handle the breakdown and the cleanup, but that didn't seem right. He talked a good talk about teamwork. Times like this were when he had to walk the walk. If they had to work until two, so would he.
Thankfully, it had been the last night of the real Christmas craziness. There were a couple of parties coming up over the weekend, and then there would be the wild joyride of New Year's Eve.
For now, though, he had four days off.
He had planned to get an early start. With holiday traffic, he figured it would take him at least an hour just to get clear of the city and then it would be a good five hour trek to Boyne Mountain. It would be dark by five o'clock. He hoped to be at the ski lodge, sitting next to a roaring fire and sipping a well loaded egg nog by then.
But when his alarm sounded at seven o'clock, he shut it off and went right back to sleep. When he opened his eyes again, it was nearly nine thirty.
He supposed it didn't really matter if he arrived there later in the day. The deadline was of his own choosing, and he could still get there by suppertime.
As he shaved and showered, he was surprised by how eager he was to go skiing with his friends.
It wasn't just that he'd had no opportunities to socialize or date during the busy holiday season; he'd been in a funk since he and Vicky had broken up. That was Labor Day weekend. More than three months had passed. He hadn't been on a actual date since then. There was that night he hooked up with Kim, but they both knew it was a mistake to fuck around with someone from work, and they didn't repeat it.
He was nursing a fantasy that he might meet someone at the lodge, but if he did not, that was fine. The important thing was that he felt ready to get out again, now that his busiest time at work was past. He had turned down so many invitations to go out with his friends that he feared they'd stop asking him. He had turned down a chance to go to a Bulls game. He'd even said no to seeing the Lumineers. He fucking loved the Lumineers.
He had packed his suitcase the day before, so once he got dressed, he was nearly ready to go. He added his shaving kit and zipped the bag closed. As he toted it to the door, he thought of one last item to take.
Before each banquet, he gathered his crew for a quick meeting that was half briefing and half pep talk. Last night, the crew had surprised him with a gift, a fifth of Maker's Mark Bourbon. What better way to enjoy it than sharing it with his friends? He fetched it from the gift bag they'd presented it in, and stuffed it into the suitcase.
He locked his apartment and headed down the hall to the elevator. While he waited for it to ascend, he looked out the window of the small foyer. Between the rows of high rises there was a partial view of Lake Michigan. He always found that vast expanse of brilliant blue calming.
The elevator dinged, the door opened and he got in. The Muzak was playing a sappy string version of Deck The Halls. He hummed along as he rode down to the garage. His parking space was close by. He tossed his suitcase in the car's trunk, got in and started it. He only had about a quarter tank of gas. That was intentional. He planned to fill up after he crossed the state line into Indiana, where the gas tax was lower.
The first mile of his trip was stop and go, but once he got to I-90, he made good time, and was clear of the city traffic sooner than he had expected.
He crossed the Indiana line and when he reached Portage, got off the Interstate and pulled into 7-11. He gassed up and bought a couple of chocolate doughnuts and an extra large cup of Mountain Dew.
As the cashier, a heavy woman wearing a sweater adorned with a row of Christmas stockings with a kitten's head poking out of each one, told him, "Remember, Jesus is the reason for the season."
He thought, Well, that and the winter solstice, but he forced himself to show her a weak smile and kept that to himself.
As soon as he got back on the Interstate, he bluetoothed his phone with the car's sound system and opened his driving music playlist. The Smashing Pumpkins' Tonight, Tonight kicked it off.
"Oh, yeah," he smiled, "Tonight..."
Ann Arbor, Michigan
As hangovers went, this one wasn't too bad. Janie popped four aspirins in her mouth and chugged a glass of orange juice to wash them down.
She took her phone off the charger and turned it on, expecting to see a long list of calls and texts from Bradley. There were none.
The whole reason she had turned the phone off was that she didn't want to hear from him, but now she was disappointed that he had not made any attempt to contact her.
She did have a couple of texts from Pam, one sent just after midnight and the other early this morning, checking in to see if she was all right.
She answered her with a smile emoji and
I'm fine a little hung over
She thought for a minute and added
Merry goddamn Christmas
.
After using the toilet, she washed her hands and splashed cold water on her face. That perked her up a little bit.
Ruthie had brought in boxes of Christmas cookies for everyone in the office. She took hers into the living room, along with a tall glass of milk, and flounced down the couch. She put her head back against cushions and closed her eyes.
She was surprised that she wasn't a lot angrier, though not that she wasn't sadder. Her relationship with Bradley had been on borrowed time. She'd understood that for months. What pissed her off was that its sordid conclusion had to come two days before Christmas. At least she'd had the presence of mind to just walk out and leave the party without throwing a tantrum that would result in her humiliation much more than it would in his shame.
She nibbled on a cookie while focusing her thoughts. She considered herself very pragmatic, even in emotional situations. She had no intention to deal with Bradley at all. She was ready to just cut him out of her life. She did need to tell Pam what had happened. Rumors were probably already flying. It would probably be best to get that out of the way, but she could not bring herself around to calling her.
What to do about the holiday was a more pressing matter. The plan had been to spend it with Bradley's family in Wyandotte. That was off the table now, so the two options she saw were to go home to Onekama and her family, or to hunker down, have Chinese for Christmas dinner and watch Netflix for the next week. There was definitely an appeal to that, but when she considered it, she realized that the truth was, she wouldn't make it through without getting maudlin, and probably drunk. The odds were good that if she did, she'd call Bradley with some dumb ass notion that it was Christmas time after all, and love should prevail.
Fuck that Hallmark bullshit, she thought. She'd go home.
She checked the time on her phone. It was a five hour drive to TC. Her brother's family would be there all day, but Uncle Jim and the cousins probably wouldn't arrive till probably seven or so. If she got going, she could be there by then. Her mom would be making lasagna. That was just about the best comfort food in the world.
She ate another cookie and finished her milk, then took a shower. While she cleaned herself, she rehearsed what she would tell her mother when she called to say she was coming.
She could just say, 'my plans fell through, I'm coming up to your house,' leave it at that, and deal with the details later, but then her mother would be calling her while she was on the road to pester her about what had happened. The best thing was to just to tell her that she and Bradley had a falling out, so Christmas with his family was off the table. She'd have to be careful not to sound too much like she was saying, 'I can't do what I wanted to, so visiting you is the consolation prize.'That could be tricky.
The one thing she knew she wasn't going to tell her mom is that while they were at Pam's Christmas party, Bradley had disappeared on her. That she'd gone searching and found him in Pam's bedroom, laying in the mound of coats on her bed, while that bitch Elise sucked his cock.
That scene was not going into the Hallmark movie, or the story she'd tell her mother.
She finished her shower, dried off and got dressed. She threw a few things in her suitcase and set it by the front door. The brightly decorated gift bag with Bradley's presents was on the shelf over the coat rack. She pulled it down and set it with the suitcase. Her dad would like the top end headphones, and the sweater would fit her brother.
