Claimed for Christmas

Chapter Eleven

It’s Christmas Eve, I’ve borrowed my mother’s rediculously small car, and like some sort of f.ucking i***t, I am now navigating my way into town to try and find things that my brother, sister in law, nieces, nephew and mother will not pull politely disappointed faces while declaring them 'lovely' tomorrow.

Everyone in front of me is driving like my grandma . . . not Gigi, she drove her car like speed limits were optional. The woman also didn’t seem to think that there was a difference between the road and the sidewalk, we took out a few trash cans when I was a kid and she’d take me and Elliott out with her, I’m not one hundred percent sure she had a licence if I’m honest . . . No, I’m talking about my other Grandma, I could walk faster than she drove and it looks like everyone out today took lessons from the old bird.

‘Get out of the way! I would like to get back before Christmas is over’ I yell at the windshield. ‘Actually, no I wouldn’t, take your time, maybe we’ll all be lucky and this God awful time of year will be done by the time I have to go back to Santa’s grotto of Denver.’

Twenty loooooooong minutes and I finally pull into the town square, crawling down the road as I search for somewhere to park my mother’s car and get this nightmare over and done with.

Three circuits and I luck out, a station wagon pulling out from beside The Brevlin Family Butcher shop just as I turn onto that side of the square.

I stop, giving the other driver room to get out before pulling into the space and cutting the engine.

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I open the driver’s door, stepping out onto the snow covered sidewalk that crunches underneath my polished loafers. Are they practical for this weather? No, do they make me look hot as f***k? Absolutely! So being impractical is worth it as far as I’m concerned.

I wipe down my hand down my caramel coloured cashmere coat, pulling the collar up, as the freezing weather cuts through me, reminding me that I’m in the middle of butt f***k nowhere where the only thing to do is to try not to die of f.ucking hypothermia.

Locking the car, I step carefully off the snow drift that has built up on th edge of the sidewalk and onto the cleared area that has been melted by salt and the bottom of heavy boots from the steady stream of pedestrians doing their last minute shopping.

I pull out my gloves, tugging them onto my hands as I look around the square, trying to decide which direction to head in first. I figure I’m best off starting with the youngest members of my family and trudge to my right to the edge of the square where the town’s toy shop sits proudly. Glancing up at the sign that in emblazoned in red with cursive gold lettering stating the name of the store, ‘Forster’s Toy Emporium’ along with the date that it was opened by the Forster family in eighteen sixty nine.

I place my hand on the long gilded handle, pulling the heavy glass door toward me and step inside. The heat blasting from the vents overhead douse me in warmth and I take a moment to thaw out because f***k it’s cold in Littleford!

‘Hi, welcome to Forster’s toy emporium’ a voice trills to my right, pulling my attention to the sixty something woman dressed all in green with an elf hat on her head and tinsel draped around her shoulders.

As I fully face her, she gasps, her hands going up to her mouth before she shrieks.

‘Elijah? Is that you?’ she squeals before she rushes at me, arms out wide.

‘Hi Miss Max’ I mumble into her overly voluptuous bosom of the store’s owner, that my face is now crushing into.

Like pretty much every shop in Littleford, Forster’s has been handed down through the generations, father to son until Maxine’s father realised that the misogynistic idea that only a male can be an heir was bulls.hit and handed the reins over to his eldest daughter when she was thirty five. She’s been at the helm of Forster’s Toy Emporium ever since and has grown the business substantially through an aggressive online presence that other old family companies initially shunned when the internet became popular. Her forward thinking, and refusal to follow ‘what worked before’ has made the small store in Littleford a household name for quality toys. They recently branched out and opened franchises in different locations in the USA proving that the small town girl was a shrewd business woman at heart.

‘As I live and breathe, Elijah Coltrane! it really is you!’ she gushes, releasing me only far enough that she can hold me at arms length, checking me over with that critical eye that all older women seem to develop.

‘Yup it’s me’ I reply with as much enthusiasm as I can muster, which honestly isn’t much, I forgot everyone knows everyone here, of course I wasn’t going to get through this horrorfest without being spotted by someone who recognises me.

‘Oh, I was just asking your mother about you last week when I saw her in the bakery! She didn’t mention that you were coming home’ she adds frowning.

I laugh weakly, ‘oh it was a last minute thing, no one knew I was coming until two days ago, I only got here last night . . . I wasn’t sure I could get the time off work’ I add.

‘Oh yes, your mom told me that you work in security’ Maxine beams, ‘I can’t believe it! Our little Elijah who would be part of our independence day parade cheerleading routine! Is a bodyguard!’

‘Oh I’m not a . . .’ I start quickly but she cuts me off.

‘It sounds so exciting’ she continues, ‘throwing yourself in front of bullets for the people you protect! Though . . .’ she looks at me apprehensively, ‘forgive me dear, but I was not the only one a little surprised to hear about your career choice . . . I mean . . . you were such a uniquely special young man . . .’

Special, Littlefords polite way of saying weird . . . OK I mentioned before that my family were super supportive, and no one ever outright made any negative comments as I grew up. I think that was more to do with the adults not wanting to offend my parents and the kids being scared of my brother than a progressive thinking town in a world that still hadn’t quite caught up to Gay rights. The thing is, I was a very stereotypical Gay teenager! Male cheerleaders were obviously a thing in high school, we were needed for more endurance needed lifts, but not many of them turned up to games in purple glitter eyeshadow and matching nails . . . nor did the make their tunic into a crop top to show off a little skin for the crowds . . .

I smile painfully at the older woman, ‘I think you must have misunderstood my mother before, I’m not a bodyguard Miss Max. I work for a security team as their receptionist. I don’t work in the field or protect clients, I answer the phone and make coffee.’

Maxine’s face falls slightly, ‘oh’ she murmurs before hitching a smile back onto her face and shaking my arms gently, ‘well I bet you are the best receptionist they ever had! No company works without the people behind the scenes after all! You are the backbone of the company no doubt about that!’

My smile hurts due to how fake it is, ‘well I’ll be sure to bring that up to the boss at my next pay review’ I mutter. I glance around us at the merchandise pointedly, ‘I suppose I really should . . .’ I start, edging away from the owner with the hope she’ll let go of me.

Maxine looks around us frowning for a second before her faces clears and she beams. ‘Oh, I’m sorry dear! I’m here blathering on, and you have shopping to do! Part of me wants to chastise you for leaving it so late but the other half is appreciative that you are spending your hard earned money here in your hometown.’

I nod as she beams, ‘yes, well . . . it’s been lovely talking to you . . .’

‘I’ll help you pick out your gifts, I assume you are looking for Elliott’s children?’

‘Seriously, you don’t have to . . .’ I argue quickly, tugging at my arms that are still caught in her grip though she only releases one, using the other to turn me around to face the displays.

‘I saw Darcie yesterday you know’ she continues as she steers me away from the door and down the nearest aisle with a vice like grip on my left arm that should not be possible by a woman her age. ‘She was buying personal items in the drugstore, now I’m not one to gossip as you know dear, but between you and me, it seems that they are done with the baby making . . . a shame, I always imagined your brother with four or more!’