© 2024 Debra Anastasia. All rights reserved. This material is the intellectual property of the author and cannot be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without express written permission. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author.
Lila won the poll with 70% of the votes! Suit Cover with 46% of the votes. There will be typos, please have mercy on me.
Chapter 1
WereClaus
I watched as my boss got in his little electric car and pulled away from the curb. The real estate office I now worked in was desolate and quiet, save for the gentle bubbles popping near the top of Mr. Flappy’s fish tank.
Darren Fargone was confident I would be able to handle the place while he went to scope out a new property.
I was confident as well. Mostly because the only job I really had here was answering the phone. And there was only ever one caller. Darren’s mom. He lived with her and she always had questions.
Fargone’s Real Estate was one big room and a bathroom that had two desks and a few filing cabinets. Darren had dreams of adding a sitting area.
I had a dream of quitting. I had never been a quitter before, but I was sure the amount of dead air and space in this room was going to do me in. This was my first real adult job. Before I moved to Tivoli, I had been working in Mahopac at the typical jobs for high school students. I was a gas station attendant, a discount clothing cashier and for a few minutes-- a waitress.
But now that I was done with college, my shiny Political Science degree mocking me while I got dressed in the morning, I needed a job. And Darren was the only person hiring in this tiny town.
“You have to know somebody before you can be somebody, little lady.” That was a direct quote from the clerk down at the town hall. I wasn’t sure how anyone survived being a new person in this town, but I was going to find out.
The phone rang. It would be Darren’s mom, as usual. I answered as if it wasn’t.
“Tivoli Real Estate, you move we groove. Lila speaking, how can I help you on this lovely day?”
Darren’s mom lets me get through the whole spiel everytime. “Hello Dear, it’s Darren’s mother, Estelle.”
I mouthed her greeting along with her-- a perfect lip sync.
And the same with her inevitable question, “May I speak with my son?”
When Darren and I were in the office together, I was required to put his mom on hold and then use the intercom to notify him of his phone call. The intercom would be helpful if I wasn’t looking at him in his beady eyes at the same time.
When I brought it up, he suggested I needed to practice so I would be ready when the real estate took off. It was a 50/50 chance that Darren would tell me to lie to his mother and say he was with a client. He was never with a client.
If he decided to speak with her, he would set her on speaker phone and I got to hear about how her ancient pug was feeling that day. Down to his potty time.
I really disliked this job. It was stressing me out thinking about the fact that I might have to quit my first adult job ever. I knew he wouldn’t be swamped. He could make his decision about talking to his mother alone-- but there was a small part of me that had noticed how proud he was to have a receptionist that wasn’t his mom. That was a huge step for him. To have an employee. He would be crestfallen when I quit so soon after she had retired.
And I had to quit. As soon as I found a job that could replace this one, I needed to bite the bullet.
I looked at his picture on the wall. It was larger than life. My eyes dropped to the rendering on his hands. His hairy, hairy hands. And I wasn’t trying to body hair shame him or anything. But we spent seven hours a day together and my eyes would linger on his knuckles. And I’d chastise myself. But the next thing I knew, I’d be drawn back in. I was pretty sure I could plate little tiny french braids on each of his knuckles if I tried.
I was afraid the impulsive thoughts would win one day and when he slumped into his mid day nap, I’d give in and have at his hands like an expert in dressage on a horse's butt. French braiding the hell out of them.
“No, Mrs. Fargone, your son had to meet a prospective client out in the field.” It felt nice to tell her the truth. Or what Darren had told me. I had no idea if he was meeting anyone. They would have had to arrange the meet up through him directly, because I would’ve certainly remembered someone other than Mrs. Fargone calling.
“Well, that’s exciting! Please tell him I called.”
I carefully penned the information into a While You Were Out post-it note and set it in the center of Darren’s desk.
The wind picked up outside and I noted that the first leaves of fall were starting to swirl through the town like confetti. I loved fall. The colors, the smell, a nice weighted sweater. All of it made me happy.
I walked over to Mr. Flappy and sprinkled a small bit of his food on top of the Betta fish’s water. It floated there for a few moments before he realized what time it was. I watched him eat and spit out a few flakes.
While I was consumed with watching my watery friend, the bell on the door rang, alerting me to a customer.
When I saw who it was, I was gobsmacked.
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He was a giant with rippling muscles. Like the kind of strong that was from working out, but also he liked hiking in the New York mountains. I got to see all of his definition because all he was wearing were a small pair of tighty whities with a candy cane pattern.
The worst part was where a normal man bulge usually was, he was rocking a huge novelty stuffed candy cane, complete with a hook and everything.
“Can I help you?” I knew my face was not welcoming. My eyebrows were knit together. I put up one hand to cover his candy cane area in a makeshift privacy bar.
“I guess? I was told that I had to come see you. You had initialed in the box ‘extra Holiday tasks as required’ when you were hired here, right?”
“I did initial that, yes.” I held up my other hand too, blocking out his top half with his pecs. I remembered that particular part of my contract because Mrs. Fargone had made a big deal about it. I had to use a special pen and everything. It was strange at the time, but I was also very near his curiously hypnotizing knuckles, so I hadn’t put a lot of thought into it.
“Well, I can’t get these off and an old woman told me to come in here.” He pointed out the window with one hand and at his nethers with the other. I thought I saw Darren’s mother scurrying away, gray hair wild in the breeze.
“I can’t help you with that. We sell real estate, sir. And I think that’s my boss’s mom, they live down the street together.”
The phone had been ringing. I picked it up out of habit, but kept one hand up to help me visually block Mr. Candy Cane’s bits from view.
“Good Afternoon, Fargone’s Real Estate, you move we groove.” I was unsurprised by Darren’s mom’s voice.
“You initialed the extra Holiday Tasks line on your contract. Holiday Tasks. I watched you.”
She had skipped our normal niceties and jumped right into my contract. “Hi, Mrs. Fargone. Darren isn’t in right now, but I add to the message that you called again. And I just saw you outside.”
“Pish posh. You do know you replaced me as receptionist, correct?” Mrs. Fargone sounded forceful. In charge.
“I remember you standing over my shoulder on my first day, yes. I now have a half naked man with a candy cane where his penis should be in this office right now. And he tells me you sent him here. If you think this is something that I know how to handle, you’re quite wrong.” I squinted as Mr. Candy Cane adjusted his hook.
“You see, I’m not. Go ahead and put me on speaker phone. Chris can hear this part as well. You are alone, yes?”
I covered the mouthpiece of the office phone and mouthed ‘Chris’ to my scantily clothed visitor.
He nodded and shrugged his shoulders.“I never told her my name.”
Maybe the hairy knuckles had been a warning from the universe to stay away from this place. It would have been a really subtle warning though. I focused back on my phone conversation.
“I literally just saw you running away from the office, why don’t you come back?” I peeked around Mr. Rippling Abs, a.k.a Chris, but could no longer spot Mrs. Fargone.
The whole office was starting to smell like peppermint and pine trees as I clicked the phone back into place so the speaker feature would engage.
“I’m gone. This is your task, not mine.” She sounded like she was speed walking--feet hitting the ground at a fast pace.
“My chest hair is going gray while I watch.” Chris said with concern, piping into the conversation.
“That’s going to happen. All your hair is going to gray and rapidly.” Mrs. Fargone assured him before giving me direction, “I need you to go to your desk. It’s an antique that has a special section down by your feet.”
I should’ve walked out the door, but instead I sat down behind my desk. I had spent a lot of time studying it during my long days with no clients and few calls. There was one part that was not symmetrical with the rest of the design. Sure enough, that was where I was directed to.
“There’s a little engraving of a star. Press that down.” A car door slammed on her end of the phone.
I pushed at it gently at first but then harder until I felt a mechanism engage. Where before there was just a solid wood panel, a new drawer popped out. It was filled with a dusty leather bound book.
How to be a Were-Being
Maybe this was a dream. Maybe I had fallen asleep on the couch and in a few minutes I’d wake up and this hyper-realistic nonsense would be a fading memory.
“He smells like the holidays. Find his smell on the tab.” Mrs. Fargone’s voice over the phone seemed echoey. Like she was going into a hole.
I checked the side, and like an old-timey dictionary, there were tabs carved out. Instead of the start of words, there were smells listed alphabetically.
The air still had a very distinct smell, I found Peppermint and flipped it open.
“Did you find it?” I sighed. She took that as an affirmative answer. “Read that entry.”
I put my finger under the title.
Introduction to a Were-Claus
The beginning of a Were-Claus will be accompanied by the stiff scent of peppermint.
I took a deep breath. It was like someone had a crock pot melting candy canes for a few months.
“Read it OUT LOUD so he can hear you.”
I rolled my eyes at Mrs. Fargone’s bossy directions, but started over out loud.
Chris came close to me so he could peek over my shoulder. “Were-Claus? Like a werewolf? But no wolf? Just Christmas stuff?”
I turned my head and was face to cheek with the candy cane that he had decorating his red and white undies.
“Oh sorry.” He put his hands over his offending parts. “You don’t happen to have, like, something I can cover up with?”
I turned to face the book again.
“I have a cardigan in that cabinet.” I pointed over my shoulder.
“That’ll have to do.” The scent faded a bit as he walked over to find it. I tracked him with my eyes until I realized I was really just ogling his firm butt. Then I snapped my focus back to the details on the page.
After a reasonable pause, I turned to see he had wrapped my flowered cardigan around his waist and was struggling to tie it in a knot that didn’t have a gaping hole for his candy cane to stick through.
“First reassure the Were-Claus that this is perfectly natural. He may have had an affinity for pine trees and snow his whole life thus far.”
I glanced at Chris man. He had warm eyes that had an inviting gleam to them. Were they gleaming more than before?
He shrugged and nodded. “I mean, that’s most guys I think, but go on.”
“He will find that his body rejects any non-thematic clothes. Most Were-Claus arrive with a pair of undercovers to keep the jingle bells and Holiday Sausage from shocking people.”
Um. What kind of book is this? Holy crap.
Chris looked amused and accompanying his smile he had a freaking adorable dimple. And a really sharp jaw. Damn it.
“It’s a very old book.” Mrs. Fargone now sounded a bit winded, like she might be exerting herself.
The font in the book was fancy enough to be slightly hard to read quickly.
My cardigan went flying over my head and hit the wall with a thump.
“Why did you throw that?” I turned my head toward Chris.
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t know what happened.”
My eyes skimmed over him again. The v was very much defining his lower abs. Looking back at his face, his tight jaw twitched and his dimple popped out a bit again. Chris was gorgeous. Like crazy good looking. I watched as his jawline got fuzzy with scruffy gray hair.
“There’s a closet in the back that has holiday decorations. See if you can find something that suits his holiday!” Mrs. Fargone was just shouting now.
Okay, I could do that. I pushed my chair back and had to shimmy around Chris and his candy cane business.
He took a step backwards and held up his hands to give me space. “So sorry. Ho.”
“Did you just call me a ho?” I paused.
“No, Ho.” He tried to look at his own lips. “I’m not trying to say ho, Ho.”
“Well you’re doing a really great job of it. Dickhead.” I folded my arms over my chest. He could check his own freaking closet for holiday material.
“He’s going to devolve into holiday platitudes and greetings ONLY soon. Get that man something Christmas to wear!” Mrs. Fargone sounded like she was now sitting in a speed boat, going as fast as possible. The water slapping against the hull like a regular heartbeat and everything.
I tossed up my hands before stalking to the small closet in the back. After pulling it open, tons of holiday decorations tumbled out. Every dang holiday. We had Valentines, Halloween, and New Year’s Eve. Was there even Arbor day? There was--with little fake trees and everything.
I dug through it until I got to the tell-tale red and green sparkly ones. A little deeper and I yanked a fuzzy velvet tree skirt out and what looked like a long swatch of fake greenery.
He was right behind me when I whirled around. “Whoa.”
“Ho!” He made his blue eyes as big as he could. I tossed the tree skirt at his shoulders and he helped adjust it like a shawl. “I’m so sorry, I’d never call a woman a ho.”
He could talk again, so it seemed. He wrapped the pokey greenery around his waist. “This hurts, but it’s okay.”
Again, the candy cane was peeking out.
“What’s your name, and how did you end up here today?” It occurred to me that he might be having a medical incident. Or maybe I was having one. Either way, information was vital. I knew his first name, but also wanted to make sure he knew it still.
“I’m Kris. And you are?”
“Lila.” Why was I blushing. I was totally blushing, my cheeks and ears getting hot.
“Kris and Lila, follow the book!” Mrs. Fargone disconnected from the line.
Now, I was here at my job with a half naked guy and no more coaching from Mrs. Fargone.
“So do you like Christmas?” Kris tilted his head to one side.
“Actually, I kind of hate it.” I gave him the truth. If he needed some sort of Holiday help? I was the worst person in the world for the job.
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Author’s Note: Welcome to Tivoli and Mahopac, New York. I grew up there! Next up is Chapter 2 on Thursday Nov. 5, 2024 where we try to find out what Kris needs next and keep Lila from getting fired. Thank you for reading, don't forget the poll below!
