Page 58 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
“Nah, I’m good.” He twists back and forth and then side to side. “Shit, my back will be fucked now.”
“Language around Flo,” Storee says.
“Sorry.” He clears his throat. “Well, now that I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself, I think I’ll go bury myself in work. Ladies, good seeing you.” He looks around and then finishes with his eyes on me. “Have a good day.”
“H-have a good day,” I say as he takes off, his giant feet stomping across the shop until he’s gone.
“Well, he’ll be thinking about that all day,” Storee says while taking a seat.
“You think so?”
“Oh yeah.” Storee nods and breaks off a piece of cookie for her daughter. “Atlas is the type of guy who thinks and rethinks things constantly. Bet you anything he’ll be bothering Cole about it tomorrow as well.”
“Are they . . . are they really that close?”
Storee nods her head. “Yeah, their parents were best friends, which of course caused them to play together as kids. They grew up together, and then when Cole was eighteen, his parents died in a tragic car crash, and Atlas was the first one at his side.” She drops a piece of cookie in her mouth. “His family took Cole in as their own, offered him a job, helped him through the hardest time of his life. I honestly believe if it wasn’t for Atlas and his family, Cole wouldn’t be around either.”
Wow, that’s not... that’s not what Uncle Dwight has said about him.
“But enough about him. I bet he’s the last person you want to talk about right now. Tell me about you. Are you all settled in? Are you enjoying Kringle?”
“Umm... almost settled in,” I say, trying to get comfortable, even though this new information about Atlas doesn’t seem to settle well. “Just have a few more things to take care of. And I love Kringle. It’s so picturesque and everything I would have dreamed about living in a small town.”
“Picturesqueis the perfect way to describe it. My aunt Cindy lives here, and when I was younger, my family visited all the time. I didn’t appreciate it as much because I lived in Southern California and didn’t love the cold winters. But now I couldn’timagine being anywhere else. I’m sure you’ll get to that point too once you spend a little more time here.”
“Yeah, I think I might.”
Chapter Twelve
Max
Narrator: The back spasms have not stopped since his trip over the table.
The embarrassment he felt has yet to subside.
And the humiliation of Storee telling Betty he likes her eyes is the only thing that has kept him from sticking his head in a pile of snow, because he saw the look on her face.
He saw the blush in her cheeks.
He heard the compliment about his eyebrows.
It gives him hope. Hope that their plan might work. That he might be able to create enough time for Martha and Mae to find something, anything to block them from creating this farm.
Only time will tell.
Storee:Reporting in.
Max:Christ, it took you long enough. I’ve been thinking about your talk with her all day.
Storee:I know. The seventeen texts asking were unnecessary.
Max:Sorry if I feel like you’re the key to saving my farm. And it was sixteen texts.
Storee:Remember what I told you about being dramatic?
Max:You’re right, I’m sorry. This morning was humiliating, and I think I was trying to see if I fucked it all up.
Storee:No, I think the trip over the table was perfection. She seemed genuinely concerned. I told her you would be thinking about it all day, and she was surprised by that. I then gave her a brief, and I mean very brief, snapshot of who you are and how you took Cole in but left it at that. Planted the seeds.
