Chapter One

David Keese loves his job (despite the burns and cuts he often gets) but he absolutely hates what he got for his Christmas gift at the annual party.

            “Okay David, it’s your turn to pick a gift.”

            At his boss’s command and with a little smile David Keese moved towards the gifts that had been displayed on the table. With care he looked over the brightly wrapped and ribbon laden, wanting to pick a good gift that would be a surprise yet still something that he would like.

            The restaurant had been closed for near two hours now, the last of the customers wished good tidings for the holidays before the doors were closed and the place quickly cleaned up by overeager employees who were ready to receive their paychecks and bonuses. The moment that was all done, the staff moved into one of the private dining rooms to have their scheduled holiday party. It was a week before Christmas and it was when they usually held their party. The restaurant would still be open the days up until Christmas but seeing as most of the employees had families, it would be closed on the actual day of the holiday. The party was a grand release of energy and excitement before the busy week before Christmas came and everyone intended to treat it as such.

Hands were instantly clasped around stems of wine glasses and plastic cups with eggnog while everyone chatted merrily as they slowly drank towards intoxication, their voices soon slurred together.

Everyone had been required to buy and wrap a present. When everyone had filed in, the presents had been set on a table without an identifying mark on it. Names were then called based on the amount of hours worked for the month. It was a way to shame and reward but most of the employees were already lightly buzzed and far from caring about it, their work clothes getting rumbled and their jackets tossed in the corner without care.

David was in his white t-shirt and black slacks himself, the chef’s jacket he was required to wear at work hung up neatly in his locker and his winter jacket mingling with the others in the cluttered corner. He was one of the few that were still sober, having been drinking water for most of the night. Wine was only good for cooking in his opinion and eggnog made his stomach feel heavy. He hardly ever drank anyway and on the occasion that he did, it was usually a beer. Anymore and he started to feel tipsy. Besides he was driving home and unlike the others, he didn’t live close enough to the restaurant to walk. So it would be irresponsible for him to drink and he didn’t want to take an overly expensive cab. He was trying to save his money up so that when his father’s birthday came next month, he could buy him something really nice like a new grill or a bunch of steaks. David knew his father liked to do manly things like cooking out and making steak and any chance he had to do it, he relished. The last couple of birthdays he hadn’t been able to give his father something really good, he wanted to make up for it.

            After another moment of deciding, he picked up a small square gift wrapped neatly and tenderly in red paper with a design of gold bells and a large gold bow on it.  Satisfied with his choice he returned to his seat, holding it in his lap delicately with burned fingers. He’d had a run in with a too hot pot handle; he’d misplaced his oven mitts and had thought it would have cooled down enough for him to grab it without them. He was wrong and the food all ended up on the floor.

 The rest of the gifts were soon chosen, most people going towards the bigger packages, and then came the time to unwrap them. Uproarious laughter filled the room and mixed with the crinkling and sleek swishing of paper as everyone acted like overeager kids.

            David was one of them, practically bouncing in his seat as he worked on ripping the paper away, struggling with some of the tape. When the pretty paper was pulled back and lying at his feet and the bow attached to his curly brown strands of hair, he had a small black box in his hand, sliver designs swirling against the dark color. With almost grave respect he lifted the top off and was greeted with two slender strips of a creamy thick paper printed with elegant black script, curiosity registering on his face. They looked like tickets to something. Tickets were a horrible gift and he pouted in indignation. People weren’t supposed to give tickets away, they didn’t know if the person who got the gift would even like them at all.

 But before he had time to puzzle out what the words and numbers printed on it meant (the script was too ornate to be legible to his untrained eyes), his boss was standing at his shoulder wearing a hideous gold tie with blue stripes that had clearly been his gift. David gaped a bit. The tie was so shiny and seemed so big. He wondered if it was a prop from a clown costume. He liked clowns. He’d considered becoming a clown once upon a time but he found out he was much better at cooking than juggling.

One of the grey haired male’s hands came out to tap the paper. “Ah. I see you got my gift, tickets to the orchestra’s Christmas performance,” Mr. Ackers spoke in his booming voice. “Very expensive. Very good seats. But worth it. The performance never fails to entertain.”

            As soon as the gift was explained, David could feel his heart fluttering with distress and he almost dropped the box. The orchestra. He did not like the orchestra, he didn’t want to go and see it. Violins and cellos and the like bored him to tears. Classical music was not something that he was enjoyed or would make any effort to seek out. He needed loud music with lots of fast playing musicians. Music that made you feel as if you’d just taken a bunch of speed and were able to run around the world. That and cheesy pop music. Not to mention the orchestra brought back horrible memories. There had been a time when he was in the orchestra at his high school (his mother said he needed a classy extracurricular). He’d gone through instrument after instrument and usually he just broke them. So many strings snapped when he touched them, making his fingers bleed and sting. He hated the orchestra.

 But a gift was a gift and he wasn’t one to be rude when he received one, especially when it came from the man who could fire him at will. What did suck was that it wasn’t even possible to give the tickets to someone else. Mr. Acker might be attending the same show and now he knew that David had the tickets. It wouldn’t do well for him to offend his boss.“I see, I’ve heard good things about their performances,” he lied awkwardly though the red faced man didn’t seem to notice the lack of genuine excitement which might have been due to the alcohol he was practically chugging. “I can’t wait to get a chance to see it myself.”

            David hadn’t heard anything about the orchestra though he assumed if the tickets were expensive someone must consider it worth the time of day. He would have to go despite his dislike of it. At least with an extra ticket he could invite one of his friends to go along with him and keep him from falling asleep and snoring amongst all those stuffy audience members. He was dreading the poking that he was sure he was going to have to suffer through. He really wasn’t good at staying awake when he wasn’t interested. It made dating awkward.

            A too-hard pat from Mr. Ackers on his shoulder drew the chef’s attention back to his boss, eyes turning upwards inquisitively even as he almost fell from the chair. “Yes sir? I’m sorry, I was day dreaming…about the orchestra.” He offered a winning smile.

            “Ah. I figured as much. Don’t worry I didn’t say anything important that you missed,” he laughed good-naturedly. “Just enjoy yourself at the show. Take someone special. A date to the orchestra is guaranteed to get you in their door.”

            With a lecherous wink that made David blush, the larger man went off to examine other people’s presents, no doubt trying to determine who had gotten him the tie while David continued to stare in hidden dismay at the tickets. He was trying to think of someone who would willing go with him to the orchestra. He couldn’t think of anyone. But, as he gazed about the room, his eyes landed on a familiar black haired figure and a wicked smile crossed his lips. Sam, the host with the slick manners and a smile that made guys and girls alike melt. Even David had had a bit of a crush on him when he first started working at the restaurant. He’d gotten over it quickly though when he learned that Sam would sleep with anyone but would date no one. David wasn’t much into one night stands. Despite Sam’s moral failings though, the two of them had become pretty good friends. David was always lying for Sam when one of his many conquests came into the restaurant, furious or desperate. And it was because of this that Sam owed David. He owed him a lot. David hated lying and he was bad at it. And he felt so guilty every time he did it. Yet he was a loyal friend. He’d never even asked Sam to do anything in return but now he finally had something that he could do for him.

            Getting up, he headed over to where Sam was flirting with one of the new waitresses, tugging on the back of his shirt gently. It seemed he had arrived just in time, the girl was giggling and her cheeks were pink. Sam was clearly about to seal the deal and take her back to his home after the party was over. One rule that David had set out for Sam and had tried to make sure he followed was no sleeping with people he worked with. It made things too complicated and when it ended badly (it always did), things became really awkward. “What do you want?” Sam asked, pouting.

            David rolled his eyes and pulled him away from the girl. “First, you need to stop flirting with her because that’s a big no-no and do you want to have a crazy girl passive aggressively try and get you fired? Again? And second, I need you to do something for me. And I know you won’t like it but still. You owe me. So much. I’ve done a lot of stuff for you.”  He tugged on his curls as he rambled, looking up at the other through his eyelashes. He tended to ramble and play with his hair when he was nervous about something, when he was broaching a subject that he knew would not be taken well.

            “Oh?” Sam smirked and leaned closer to him. “Relieve some of that tension? Because that’s not something I wouldn’t like. In fact I would like it very much.” His fingers slid over David’s shoulders and he had to repress a shudder. Sometimes it took a lot of willpower to resist Sam’s advances when he made them and David had always been bad at handling people flirting with him. He either didn’t know when people were flirting with him or he blushed and stuttered and made a full of himself. Sam found it cute, he had told him so and that was why he did kit as often as he could.

            “No. And stop that. You know you’re not allowed to do that. I hate when you do that. It’s mean.” David batted at his hand and stuck his tongue out. “Look, I got tickets to the orchestra for my exchange gift. And I want you to come with me so I don’t fall asleep while watching it and snore or something like that.”

            Sam quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t want to go to the orchestra,” he said, making a face. “I don’t like classical music.”

            “I know you don’t. I don’t either. But Mr. Ackers gave the tickets so I have to go because he might be there. And I don’t want to get on his bad side. And I don’t want to go alone. And I don’t know anyone who would want to go with me. And you owe me! Remember that. You owe me.” David offered the sweetest smile he could muster, still playing with his hair as he watched him.

            Sam shook his head. “Can’t you just like, take a kidney or something? I don’t want to go and listen to classical music.”

            “I’m sure there will be plenty of hot people there you can try to hook up with. Wealthy, stuck up people who would love to slum around,” David said, trying to make it sound appealing.

            “Well it is fun to-hey! Why would it be slumming?” Sam demanded.

            David laughed. “Because you’re sleazy as hell,” he said. “And they’ll find you wonderfully lower class.”

            Sam ran his fingers through his hair and shrugged. “Well, I guess. I can’t really deny the fact that I’m sleazy,” he smirked, looking David over.

            “Don’t be sleazy with me. Just come to the orchestra. We’ll make fun of all the snooty people and we can go and get food when it’s done with. It’ll even be my treat. Please Sam? For me?” David pouted at him. “And you know that Mr. Ackers likes me and if he sees you with me maybe he’ll like you more.”

            Sam looked thoughtful. David knew that the last part would make him consider it seriously. Sam knew that Mr. Ackers wasn’t very fond of him and it was a miracle that he hadn’t been fired yet. Seeing Sam at the orchestra with David (who was one of Mr. Ackers favorite employees) might increase his opinion of him. And even if it didn’t it was still worth a shot. “I guess I can go,” Sam finally sighed, shaking his head.

Reviews

[TL Boehm]

nicely penned - do you plan to continue? You have a diverse style - each piece you write is different - which is so wonderful.