Xmas Carole by Gardner Layce & Bennett Saxon

Author:Gardner, Layce & Bennett, Saxon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Square Pegs Ink
Published: 2019-11-18T16:00:00+00:00

***

It wasn’t really parties that Carole hated. It was the people. She had never been a people person. Even when she was younger she preferred to be on the sidelines watching others. She drank. She would talk. Sometimes she would dance. But usually, she lurked in the shadows.

As Carole left her office to go out and make her obligatory appearance at her own company’s Christmas party, she felt out of place, like an imposter. She felt like a third wheel at her own party.

She scooped up a cup of orange liquid from the punch bowl. She tasted it. It was mouth-puckering awful. A gallon of vodka was the only thing that could save that concoction. Unfortunately, nobody had the foresight to spike the punch. What kind of lame party was this?

Carole dumped her cup back into the punch bowl.

“My mom says that you shouldn’t do that,” a tiny voice said.

Carole looked down. It was Emma, Gayle’s daughter. “Who are you and why are you here?” Carole asked.

“My name is Emma. I know who you are.”

“Is that right?”

“Uh huh. You’re the dragon lady.”

“I’m what?” Carole asked.

“You’re the dragon lady,” Emma said.

“I heard you the first time. I can’t believe you said that to me,” Carole said.

Emma giggled. “I didn’t say it. I heard those people saying it.” She pointed across the room at a table with several drunk employees gathered around, laughing loudly. They looked as if they were having the time of their lives.

“Oh, they said that, did they?” Carole snarled.

Emma nodded enthusiastically. “They said you made them pay for this party. You make tons of money, but won’t even buy Christmas cookies or give them a bonus.”

“I see,” Carole said through gritted teeth.

“What’s a bonus?” Emma asked. “And how come you won’t give them one? Can you breathe fire like real dragons?”

“Why don’t you go bother somebody else?” Carole said, dismissing Emma. She stalked across the office, weaving her way around desks and cubicles. She was heading straight for the table where the drunken laughter was coming from.

The five people at the table saw Carole heading toward them like a runaway steam engine and stopped laughing. They sat frozen, mouths open, eyes wide. They looked as if they were awaiting their own execution.

Carole stopped before their table, put her hands on her hips, and asked, “Where did you get the alcohol?”

Nobody said anything.

“I am not asking again,” Carole said. She enunciated each word sharply, “Where did you get the alcohol?”

A man looked up at her. “I brought it. It’s my fault. They had nothing to do with it.”

“Where is it?” Carole demanded.

“Where is it?” the man sputtered.

“Do I hear an echo?” Carole sneered. She held out her hand and made the ‘gimme’ gesture with her fingers.

The man sighed and pulled a half-empty bottle of vodka out from under the table. He held it out to Carole.

Carole took the bottle from him and tucked it under her arm. She held out her other hand and made another ‘gimme’ gesture. The man brought another bottle out from under the table and handed it over.

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