The Seven Days of Christmas

by Edward Kendrick

  “No kidding.” By then they were at the lot. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.

  She grinned. “Bright and early, wearing my running shoes. See you then.”

  * * * *

  “You survived the day,” Marty said as soon as Trey found a seat at the bar.

  “Barely, but I did. I’ll have—”

  “This?” Marty set a bottle of beer in front of him. “I saw you coming.”

  “In this crowd?”

  Marty nodded. “You stand out. It’s…the hair.” He didn’t want to say it was Trey’s sexy eyes, although it was the truth. Very sexy—and too often in the last few days, sad as well.

  “This mop?” Trey laughed, running his hand through ‘the mop’ in an obvious attempt to tame it.

  “Yep. Look around. Most of the men are into macho, short, and well-styled cuts, and ouch, that didn’t come out the way I meant it to. I wasn’t trying to put you down.”

  “I know. I get the picture.” Trey took a drink, and then said, “Back to what you were saying when I sat down. I’m beat, but I did survive. Tomorrow might be a different story. Thankfully, since I’ll need to keep her around until Nan comes back, Carol’s good, even if she is winging it at times.”

  “You hope Nan’s back soon.”

  “No kidding.” Trey sighed, resting his elbows on the bar.

  Marty would have continued their conversation if he wasn’t being bombarded with orders from other people at the bar. At least, because it was Friday night, he had help. Jack was handling the tables, taking orders, and then coming behind the bar to mix drinks or pour the beers he needed for his customers if Marty was swamped.

  It was a good fifteen minutes before Marty was able to get back to Trey. He found him with his nose buried in a book. His usual habit while he drank his one beer before taking off.

  “Another thriller?” Marty asked.

  Trey grinned. “When do I read anything else?” He showed Marty the cover. “It’s book five in the series and so far, it’s up to par with the rest of them.”

  “Why that, not an e-reader?”

  “I like the feel of a book, the weight, the texture, being able to physically turn the pages, and watching my progress through the story. If I wanted to, which I wouldn’t and haven’t since college, I could make notes in the margins. I don’t have to worry about a battery running out because I forgot to charge it. On top of all that, I love owning the books I read. Enough said?”

  “Yeah. I bet you’ve got wall-to-wall bookshelves in you place.”

  “Only one wall, but then, my apartment’s pretty small.”

  “Why did I figure you owned a house?” Marty saw a woman at the far end of the bar wave wildly at him and grimaced. “You can tell me why you don’t when I get back.”

  Several minutes later, Trey was answering Marty’s question. “I don’t need a house. I’m hardly ever home. I run the shop during the day, and then spend a lot of my evenings there, making more costumes. By the time I get home I barely have the energy to shower before I fall into bed.”

  “You’ve been here the last few nights,” Marty pointed out.

  “Because I need to get away from red velvet, white fake fur, and green and red elf costumes before I put a torch to them.”

  Marty chuckled. “That bad, huh?”

  “Yeah, it is. Whoever invented Christmas…” Trey scowled as he took a deep drink of his beer.

  “Aren’t the other holidays just as bad?”

  “Well, I’m not a big fan of bunny suits, but other than that…” Trey grinned. “I love Halloween. It’s exhausting but exciting, and I hire enough temps to keep from going insane.”

  “It’s too late to find another one for the next few days?”

  “I’m afraid so. It does take at least some training so they know the difference between, say, Victorian and Biblical. Okay, that’s a bit extreme but you get the picture.”

  Marty nodded as he began wiping down the bar. “I was thinking, but I guess not.”

  “Umm?” Trey cocked his head in question.

  “I’m off during the day, well, until six, which means I’d have to leave at five.”

  Trey’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you volunteering to help out?”

  Marty shrugged. “I could do crowd control, sort of. Keep people entertained until it’s their turn, if that’s how it works. I wouldn’t be any good at pointing them in the right direction, although I do know what Santa’s look like.” He mentally crossed his fingers that Trey would accept his offer. It might give him a chance to get to know him better. Something that was hard to do when the only time they saw each other they were separated by two feet of oak bar top.

  “All the Santas are rented, thank God.” Trey pensively tapped a finger on his book. “If you’re serious, you’re on. It doesn’t pay a fortune, but if you want to wear a costume here on Christmas Eve, you can borrow one.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about the money, though I won’t turn it down. I figured, you’re a friend, you need help, and I’m willing to give it.”

  “You have no idea how much I appreciate that. We open at ten. If you show up at nine I can give you the cook’s tour.”

  “You have food, too?” Marty wisecracked in an attempt to cover his elation.

  “No, smartass. I think a café attached to the shop would be more than I could handle.”

  “Probably, at least right now. Okay, I’ll be there at nine on the dot. I do need the address.”

  Trey wrote it down on a napkin when Marty handed him a pen.

  “I used to live close to there. Why didn’t I ever see it?”

  “Now that, I couldn’t answer,” Trey replied. “Maybe because you never needed a costume?”

  “There is that.”

  “I better get out of here,” Trey said, sliding off the barstool. “Be on time, or I’ll dock your pay,” he teased.

  “Oh, no!” Marty clasped his chest in horror. “Please, Mr. Scrooge, not that.”

  Trey laughed. “First I’m the Grinch, now I’m Scrooge? Is that a step up, or down?”

  “Sideways?” Marty winked, and then watched Trey until he had left the bar. Don’t get my hopes up, he cautioned himself. He might never see me as anything more that his local bartender and a sort of friend, especially since he has no clue I’m gay, too. How do I rectify that without sounding like I’m coming on to him? With any sort of luck, working there will give me a chance to figure it out.

  Chapter 3

  The third day

  “You made it on time,” Trey said when he let Marty into the shop Saturday morning.

  “Believe it or not, I’m an early riser, even when I don’t get away from the bar until after closing.”

  “Which is five nights a week?”

  “Well, yeah,” Marty replied.

  “Come on. We’ll get rid of our coats and then I’ll show you around.” Trey took him back to the break room where they did as he’d said, and he started the coffeemaker. Opening a door at one side of the room, he said, “This is my secret sanctum where I create everything.” The room held a long table, two sewing machines, racks of fabric, and several mannequins.

  “You’re multi-talented,” Marty said.

  “How so?”

  “You run your own business, deal with the customers, and make all the costumes you rent out, too, right?”

  As he had with Carol, Trey explained that he only made the period ones. “I’m not a tailor, and there are plenty of sources for more modern clothing, as well as seasonal costumes like Santas, Easter bunnies, superheroes and what have you.”

  “Still…” Marty looked at the racks of costumes when they got to the showroom. “This is impressive.”

  Trey spent a few minutes telling him what was what and how the racks were organized. “Not that you need to know, if you’re going to keep herd on people until Carol and I can deal with them.”

  “The more I know, the more help I can be,” Marty said.


  “This is true.” Trey was impressed that Marty seemed to want to do more than just keep the customers entertained, as he’d put it last night when he’d volunteered to help out.

  Marty paused by the section of Roman costumes to check out the gladiators. “Not much to these, is there?”

  Trey grinned. “What you see is what you get.” He eyed Marty. With his build, he’d look fantastic in one of them. “If you want, you can borrow one for Christmas Eve at the bar.”

  * * * *

  “Naw.” Marty laughed. “I’d be showing a bit too much skin. It’s a local bar, not a strip club, in case you haven’t noticed. I don’t need ladies who’ve had one too many throwing themselves at me.”

  “Yeah. Their boyfriends might not be too happy.”

  “I wouldn’t be too happy, either. Now if it was a cute guy…” Marty winked. There, I did it and it wasn’t that hard.

  “Umm, okay. I didn’t know…Not that it matters.” Trey swallowed hard.

  “Why would you? I never said anything, even though I know you’re gay.”

  “That obvious, huh?”

  Marty shook his head. “Not at all, to look at you. But I’m observant. For starters, you never check out the single women. Then there’s the fact you look very uncomfortable when one of them tries coming on to you.”

  “I could be married,” Trey pointed out as they went into the front office.

  “Nope. I found that out the second time you came into the bar. Well, the second time after I started working there.”

  “You did?”

  “You don’t remember? I straight out asked.”

  Trey frowned then smiled. “That’s right. You wanted to know if my wife would be joining me. Clever.”

  Their conversation came to a halt when Trey went to the front door to let in a nice-looking young woman. “This is Carol,” he said. “Carol, Marty. He’s going to help out for the next few days.”

  Carol looked Marty over and grinned. “Now you’re what I’d call a hunk of eye candy. Welcome to the mad house.”

  Marty snorted out a laugh. “Thanks, I think. You don’t hold back, do you?”

  “Nope. My boyfriend says I have no filters between my mind and my mouth at times. Where did Trey find you?”

  “I tend bar where he hangs out sometimes. He was telling me about being shorthanded, so I volunteered to help out for the next few days.”

  “Great. Let me get rid of my coat and lunch and…You better have coffee brewing, Trey.”

  “Of course,” Trey replied.

  Carol hustled off, returning a couple of minutes later juggling three cups. “I hope you take it black,” she said to Marty after putting them down on the front counter.

  “I do. Thank you.” He picked one up, took a sip, and then at Trey’s suggestion set it on the desk behind the counter where a customer couldn’t knock it over.

  Trey and Carol did the same and then, after glancing at the clock, Trey went to unlock the front door and their day began.

  * * * *

  “I have to leave,” Marty said, catching Trey between customers.

  “Damn, it’s five already? Okay. Thank you for your help. It really made a difference.”

  “Will I see you later?” Marty asked as he put on his coat.

  “Definitely, after I go home to grab something to eat.”

  “Great.”

  Trey watched Marty leave before greeting the next couple waiting for assistance. If asked, he might have admitted he saw Marty in a different light now that he knew he was gay. I won’t do anything about it. I’d rather have him as a friend than anything more. I don’t want the pain again, when things go sour, and they will. I learned that the hard way with Dylan.

  Yes, that had happened three years previously, almost to the day, but Trey had never forgotten the feeling of betrayal when Dylan hadn’t stepped in to defend him, denying instead that there was anything wrong with his family.

  “He’s cute,” the woman said. “Your boyfriend?”

  “No. He works here. Well, he’s helping out until after Christmas.” Why do the women look at me and know instantly I’m gay, but the men don’t? Trey wondered when the woman’s husband seemed surprised at her question. Her, Carol…Okay, that one at the bar Thursday night didn’t have a clue, and she’s the kind of woman I wish did. If she had, she wouldn’t have been so annoying. Or not. He smiled at that thought as he took the couple into the showroom and to the rack of women’s Victorian costumes, when they told him they were going to a Dickens’ themed party Christmas Eve.

  * * * *

  Trey decided to change clothes as well as eat supper before going to the bar. Normally, when he stopped by there, it was right after work and he was on his way home, so he would be wearing an open-necked dress shirt with chinos or khakis, his uniform, as he thought of it, because he owned the shop and needed to keep up appearances. Tonight, he debated between a long-sleeved T-shirt and a turtleneck. After trying on several of both, he finally opted for a black turtleneck and dark jeans, muttering, “You’d think I was going on a date.” He wasn’t, but he still wanted to make a good impression on Marty. One that said he could be relaxed and enjoy life if he put his mind to it.

  When he arrived at the bar a little before eight, he wasn’t in the least surprised to find it was very busy. Because it was, he leaned against the wall at the end of the bar to wait until a seat became available. While he did, he watched Marty.

  He’s got the art of dealing with people down to a science. Nothing they do or say seems to faze him. He was the same way at the shop. Easy going and deflecting people’s impatience when they had to wait their turn. Trey smiled. Maybe I should ask him if he wants to quit here and work for me. Not that he would. He probably makes more here in a week than I could pay him for the month.

  Trey saw a man get up and made quick work of grabbing the vacant barstool before someone else could. He had barely taken off his coat and folded it over the back of the stool when Marty arrived to set a bottle of beer down in front of him.

  “What if I’d decided to have a mixed drink instead?” Trey asked with a grin.

  “Wouldn’t happen. You’re a beer man through and through,” Marty retorted, grinning back. “I’m glad you made it. I could use someone sane to talk to.”

  “Bad night?”

  Marty shrugged. “Seems like everyone’s in the holiday mood and wants to let the world know it.”

  As if to prove it, a group at one table began singing “Santa Baby,” with one of the women raucously acting out the words. Not to be outdone, two men and their dates, who Trey figured had begun drinking long before he arrived, countered with “Baby It’s Cold Outside.”

  “Next thing you know, they’ll be stripping,” Trey said caustically.

  “Naw. They’re just having fun, loudly, but still. Like I said, it’s that time of year.” When Trey’s mouth tightened, Marty said, “You really don’t like Christmas, do you?”

  “Nope.” Trey picked up his beer, taking a deep drink.

  “Bad memories?”

  “Yes and no. I used to love it until I realized that for a lot of people it’s a time to show off how magnanimous—” Trey made air quotes, “—they are. They couldn’t give a damn about what the holiday really means.”

  “Ouch. Okay, hold that thought, or don’t. I’ll be back.” Much to Trey’s surprise, Marty squeezed his hand before moving down the bar to take care of other customers.

  Now he really thinks I’m the reincarnation of Scrooge. He’ll probably back out of helping at the shop next week, and I can’t say that I blame him. He stared morosely at his reflection in the back bar mirror. I should leave before I make things worse.

  Trey picked up his beer, set it down, and stood.

  “Tell me you’re not leaving already,” Marty said.

  “I am. If I stick around, I’ll only bring you down.”

  “Bull. Sit.”

  Trey chuckled. “I think that’s supposed to be bullshi
t.”

  “That, too. Sit down, please, and, umm, tell me why a costume shop.” Marty sighed. “When I get back.”

  Trey did sit, partly because he didn’t want to go back to his lonely apartment. Mainly, though, because Marty seemed to want his company.

  “I have returned,” Marty said a couple of minutes later. “Now, tell all.”

  “Not much to tell. Way back when I was in high school, I thought I wanted to be a fashion designer, until a couple of my teachers pointedly told me I didn’t have the flair it took. That shot that, but when I got to college, intending on majoring in business, I decided to take a costuming course for yucks and grins. That, I did have a flair for, so I ended up with a double major, business and costume design.”

  “Thus history was made,” Marty said with a grin.

  Trey snorted. “Not sure it was history, but I knew I wanted to open a costume shop that carried more than the usual stuff you can buy online, so I did. I do love creating costumes, and…” He took drink, emptying the bottle.

  “It keeps you off the streets and out of the bars,” Marty replied.

  “Except this one.”

  “I’m glad. I’d miss your smiling face if you decided to go somewhere else,” Marty said quietly, his expression open and guileless as he looked directly at Trey.

  Trey gulped, sensing there was more to his words than that. “I like it here,” he replied softly. “The bartender is, umm, great eye candy, to quote Carol.”

  Marty laughed. “I think she said a hunk of eye candy. Not that I am. I’m your average, everyday male.” He shook his head when a woman at the far end of the bar called his name. “Here we go, again. I’ll be back.”

  “You’re beginning to sound like the Terminator.”

  Grinning, Marty went to see what she wanted.

  * * * *

  Marty glanced Trey as he dealt with the woman’s order, and then those for two other customers. Am I, maybe, getting through to him that I like him as more than a friend? It’s hard, since we can only talk for a couple of minutes before I have to take care of other customers.

  “Maybe…” He had a thought. One worth considering. But will Trey be willing?

  Finally free, for at least the moment, Marty went back to him.