Mona bit down on her lower lip. I hugged the sickly reindeer close to my chest. The urge to ram an antler up Hoberman’s tight holly hole was strong.
“No Sir, the floor is clean and sparkly as Santa’s shiny black boots.”
“We’ll see,” he muttered. We rode up to the basement and hurried out of the elevator. Hoberman stared at us. Once the doors closed Mona and I flipped Hoberman off with great passion and artistic ability. Then we raced outside, gave the poor reindeer a toss into the dumper and said a small bit of something over his death, and then ran back into the store at full speed to hit the ladies department at Mach one. Hoberman was down on one knee swiping the highly buffed marble floor with a finger. In a white glove. He studied his index finger carefully as we huffed and puffed to his right. “No glitter. Now let me see the display.”
We waved at the front window with panache. His bushy eyebrows climbed up his brow but he said nothing as he rose. Mona and I waited, holding hands, as Hoberman perused our front window for over ten minutes. He adjusted draping, dusted off a snowflake on a reindeer’s nose, and adjusted to bow on a snowman’s bowtie.
“It will do. Remove the sheeting and then you’re free to go home. I do expect you back on the ladies wear floor at nine am sharp tomorrow morning, Mr. French. As for you Ms. Hernandez, do make sure you don’t drift from the make-up counter during the next few weeks. I’ll be watching you closely to ensure no customers are left waiting while you chitter-chat with Mr. French.”
“Oh yes Sir, I’ll be right in make-up all day. Thank you, Mr. Hoberman,” Mona snapped back with so much vinegar we could have made pickles right there on the spot. I gave her arm a jerk, then tugged her to the front window. Hoberman scowled at us, stroking his stupid David Niven mustache as we tugged down the thick sheets to show the world our display window. The streets were already bubbling with activity. Today we’d see record sales, which I wished I could be in on but the window dressing job was a way out of the ladies department, I hoped. If I could land that job permanently I’d not be working on commission anymore.
Arms overflowing with sheeting, Mona and I made our way to the elevator. Several of my coworkers on the main floor—which was ladies wear, perfume, shoes, and women’s lingerie—met us with big smiles.
“Can’t wait to see the window!” They all cried as they dashed past us and down the hall to the first floor staff room where the time clock—and Hoberman—was waiting. Hoberman the Doberman. That was one of twenty nicknames he had. That particular one was because of how he guarded that time clock every morning and bit your ass if you were late. Mona started yawning as we rode down into the basement. I picked it up and was still doing it when I left her talking on her cell to her sister in the employee locker room. The slap of cold air when I hit 5th Avenue helped for a bit, but as I wiggled through hundreds of people piling into the city, the brisk winter air wasn’t working well. I covered my mouth to hide a massive yawn, bouncing off a couple who were rushing to make it to the parade route. Good luck to them. Those prime spots had been taken hours ago. All I wanted was a cup of coffee with Chet. Maybe the caffeine would give me a boost. Long enough to take the train home and sleep for a few hours.
Edelman’s was hopping as well, the usual morning crowd combined with the tourists meant seats were a minimum. I pushed in further, the bells over the door jingling merrily, and stood on my tiptoes to scan the tables. Chet was at one way back in the corner. He waved. I felt a rush of good will to a certain man flow through me. Using my elbow I broke through the double line at the takeout counter then danced around servers and patrons until I reached the small round table right beside a skinny but festive fake tree. Chet stood up, his smile warming me right down to my toes.
“I hope you don’t mind that I ordered us something to eat. I was starving,” he said as I peeled off my coat and scarf.
“Oh no, eating sounds good.” I draped my outerwear of the back of the spare chair, just as Chet had, then sat down. He did as well, pushing a cup of coffee toward me with his long fingers. “Thanks. This looks amazing. I’m dragging.” I stirred in some sugar and gave it a dollop of cream then sipped and sighed. “Best coffee in four blocks.”
“I agree. Oh, here’s our breakfast bagels now.” Chet and I both leaned back to let the harried server place our food in front of us. The huge BEC was served on a red plate with a brown paper napkin under the whole wheat seeded bagel. Rich gooey cheese leaked off the sides of the egg and bacon plastered between two perfectly toasted bagel halves. A serrated knife lay beside the bagel as well as several butter pats. “Can we get a refill when you have a second?”
The young man in the red Edelman’s t-shirt nodded then hustled off. I licked my lips, thankful that the chatter of a packed eatery and “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree” that was flowing from the sound system covered up my growling stomach.
“So, did your manager approve your window?” Chet asked as we sawed our bagels in half.
“He did, after he futzed a bit. This is huge. And hot!” I licked a droplet of melted cheddar cheese from my finger. Chet watched closely. A merry sort of heat pooled low in my belly then spread to my nether regions. “Did yours pass muster?”
“It did, after the departmental head of graphic design gave it a final tweak.” He rolled his eyes and I chuckled. “I honestly have ten years on this guy, and a degree in graphic design, but since he’s one of the Billings family – some distant cousin or something – he gets to sit in judgement over something I’ve been doing for over twenty years.”
I cut my bagel into bites and forked one, my mind settling into a nice place. Not too jazzy and not too sleepy—just here and happy. Peaceful, I guess, even though we were surrounded by holiday madness.
“You have a degree?” I asked before popping that first bite into my mouth. Oh it was glorious, Bacon, egg, and cheese hitting my tongue at the same time as the whole wheat goodness did. My lashes fluttered in joy. “Mm, this is the best thing ever.”
“The company or the bagel?” He asked as a crooked smile played on his lips. “Sorry. I was blatantly fishing for a compliment there.”
I chewed then took a sip of coffee. “No need to fish. I’m happy to give you a compliment. Your smile is the best thing ever. Right after this bagel, of course.”
“Oh, of course!” He laughed lightly. An old song started to play—Dolly Parton singing about Christmas in the mountains. “Bagels first, smiles second. I feel like I need to ask you about yourself if you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I’m twenty-three, gay, single, the product of a mixed marriage. My mother is from the Queens and my dad is from the Bronx. I’m negative and on PrEP, I drive but don’t own a car. I’ve worked at Bosh & Marks for close to four years and I’m hoping to someday leave ladies sales and move into the window dressing full time. Oh! And I love long walks on the beach at Coney Island, kittens, and tall dark men who don’t hold grudges.”
He took a bite of his bagel half, his appreciative gaze skipping over me as he chewed.
“That was quite a mouthful,” he said after swallowing.