Christmas Tales - Brandon Witt Page 0,41
okay. I wasn’t upset.”
“Good.”
He looked nervous. It was a strange look on him. Then I realized why. He needed to get into the bathhouse and probably expected me to break down crying while I checked him in. Pity or not, I wasn’t that pathetic.
I forced a smile through the sting my words caused. “I don’t need your ID, obviously, but I do still need to swipe your membership card.”
James furrowed his brow. “What?”
“Your membership card.” I motioned to the locked door. “So I can buzz you in.”
“Brian, I didn’t come here to get into the bathhouse.”
My heart leapt in hope. At least that’s what it felt like the second before I smashed it down. “You didn’t?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Although”—James cocked his head, and his crooked smile came back—“if you wanted to join me, I could be persuaded.”
Join him? “Uhm, I can’t. I’m working.”
“Well, then, I for sure don’t want in.” He leaned closer to the window, the mischievous look vanishing, and he suddenly sounded nervous again. “I actually came here to ask you out on a date.”
I froze. Though it took me several tries, I finally found my voice, though not many words. “A date?”
“Yeah. You know, like where I take you to dinner. Or a movie or something. Then we end up at one of our places.”
And the hope came back so strong I couldn’t push it down, even if I’d wanted to. And I didn’t want to. I also didn’t want to get teary either, but I felt very much in danger of that happening.
“You wanna take me on date?”
“Yes. I do. Tomorrow night.” He tapped a finger on the safety glass between us. I’d forgotten it was there. “What do you say, Brian? Do you want to go on a date with me tomorrow night?”
“Yes!” The word burst from me like an explosion of dynamite. And it blew away any chance of me playing it cool. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Yes. I’d love to go on a date with you tomorrow night.”
His smile looked happy and a bit relieved. Did he actually think I might say no? “Great. So tomorrow I’ll—”
“Oh shit. No. I can’t go on a date.”
He flinched. “You can’t?”
“No. At least not tomorrow. I work the evening shift again tomorrow.”
He looked relieved again. “Oh. Well—”
“Yes, you idiot, go on the date!”
Startled, I turned around and saw Philip in the window between the office and bathhouse. He shrugged. “So I was eavesdropping. Sue me.”
I heard James chuckle through the safety glass.
Philip pointed at me like he was scolding a child, then pointed at James. “When a man like that asks you on a date, you say yes, you moron. And if you’re working, then you quit your damned job and go on the date.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “I can’t quit my job, moron. I kinda need the money.”
He rolled his eyes right back at me. “Of course you don’t need to quit your job, moron. I work in the morning. I’ll switch shifts with you.”
“You will?” Yep. The tears were threatening again.
“Oh my God, Brian. Of course I will. Now turn back around and tell that hot, hairy daddy that you’ll go on a date before he realizes what a freak you are and changes his mind.”
I turned back around, and James was grinning from ear to ear. “I like that one.”
“Yeah, he’s not all bad.”
He leaned closer once more and lowered his voice to that low, rumbling level. “So dinner tomorrow night? I’ll pick you up at your place at six?”
Four
Picking out what to wear was a nightmare. I didn’t have nice work clothes and for sure didn’t have date clothes. I decided to wear my Buffy the Vampire Slayer T-shirt. It was a collector’s item, and I’d only worn it once. One look in the mirror changed my mind. It was also fifteen years old. Apparently I was a bit smaller the one time I wore it. Instead I opted for a black T-shirt and corduroy pants.
I’d barely changed when a knock sounded on my door. As I unlocked the deadbolt, I suddenly wondered if I should have put on a Christmas outfit. It was Christmas in four days.
I didn’t have a Christmas outfit.
The thought brought the visual of Philip and Bathhouse Santa back in vivid detail as I opened the door.
“Hi, Brian. It’s—” James cut off his own words with a burst of laughter. “Are you okay? You had the worst expression on your face