With most of the employees present, and with the room being relatively small, there seemed to be a billion conversations going on at once. Thomas looked around, waiting for someone to come talk to him, and was mildly annoyed when someone didn’t immediately ditch their conversational partner and hurry over. Rather quickly, however, Vernon waddled over in his Santa suit and clamped Thomas’s hand in the well-known Oxendine handshake vice.
“Well, well, well,” Vernon boomed through his fluffy white beard. “Well met, young traveler. Mayst thou partake in the foodstuffs me and mine have prepared for this magnificent occasion?”
“I will,” Thomas replied. He was fairly confident this was the correct answer.
“Good! This’ll be a fun evening, don’tcha think, buddyrow? I’ve got my mistletoe ready, and I believe I can get Carly to give me a peck. What do you think?”
Thomas looked over at Carly. She was ravishing in a curve-hugging, low-backed blue dress. As Thomas should have expected, Noah was grovelling at her feet, and she was giggling in a way that was clearly boosting her admirer’s confidence to cruel and unrealistic levels. There were several other high schoolers (boys Thomas didn’t know very well, since they only worked a few night shifts) drifting around her and glancing at her ass every five seconds, but Noah was keeping them at bay by giving them dirty looks and by holding Carly’s attention with an endless stream of words. Thomas grinned at the scene, then turned back to Vernon.
“If you do get a peck from her,” he said, “looks like Noah will have something to say about it.”
“What! That little pissant!” Vernon hollered. “He’s still after her, ain’t he? Bet he thinks tonight’s the night, don’t he? They’ll get a little tipsy — of course, they’re not supposed to be drinking, but I know they will, nothing to be done about it, but don’t tell Yolanda I said that, she’ll get mad — and then he’ll drag her to the broom closet and have his way, isn’t that his plan? Ha! Never happen!”
“Looks like you’ve been drinking some yourself.”
“Of course, of course. About six or seven or eight beers. Nothin’ to it. Back in the day, I could down a twelve-pack in half a night. Oh son, we went hard back then. I remember scuffling with them Marines…”
“That was back then, Vernon. You’re not young anymore.”
“The hell I ain’t! I feel fit as a fiddle! I — hell, you’re right. Should pace myself. Look out for me, like Yolanda, and maybe the two of ya’ll can keep me straight.”
“Will do, boss.”
“Thanks, buddyrow. Now get to eating! Get to drinking! Ho ho ho!”
Vernon waddled out of the room, probably to go check on Yolanda. Thomas grabbed a plastic Dixie cup and filled it with sweet tea from a large flower-decorated jug. He didn’t want to start in on his beer until a little later, after certain tasks were completed. Namely: Cynthia and Orianna were munching pretzels and talking together in a corner, which was perfect. Knock out two apologies at once, and then later, if he could talk to Orianna by herself…
“Hey, ladies,” he gushed. “How are the both of you?”
Under normal circumstances, it would’ve been obvious to Thomas that he’d butted into a conversation. But his jolliness was rolling along like a choo-chooing amusement park train, and so he was oblivious. Even the two women, who at first scowled at him, had to smile when they saw how beatific he was. Cynthia had on a red sweater and Christmas-tree earrings, while Orianna was dressed in her usual tank-top, jeans, and bandanna outfit.
“Hey, Thomas,” Cynthia said.
“Hey,” Orianna said coolly.
“Listen, while I’ve got you two together, I’d just like to apologize for my behavior the other day. I’m sorry I snapped at you both after that… incident… with my… friend. It won’t happen again — any of it.”
Cynthia and Orianna looked at each other. It appeared they were impressed, or it could have been Thomas’s rose-colored glasses making them impressed.
“Well, thanks, Thomas,” Cynthia said, smiling. “I accept your apology. I didn’t mean to rile you up. I was just concerned.”
“Not your fault at all,” Thomas said. “And I appreciate your concern.”
He turned to Orianna, who was grinning at him.
“What about you?” he asked.
“I don’t accept your apology,” Orianna said.
“Oh, come on,” Cynthia pleaded. “He’s being nice…”
“I know. It’s not what you think. I embarrassed Thomas a few days before that incident, as he calls it, so he deserved to get a little payback.”
“How did you embarrass him?” Cynthia asked.
“Don’t worry about it. It was just some silliness. But I think we’re even now — right Thomas?”
Thomas flushed. This threatened to derail his jolliness. Why did she have to bring up “Are You Interested?” with Cynthia standing right here? Yes, he wanted to talk about it, but he wanted to talk about it alone. He coughed, and muttered: “Well, I wasn’t thinking about payback when I snapped at you, but if that’s how you want to look at it… as long as we’re cool.”
“We’re cool,” Orianna said, nodding.
“Alright then,” Cynthia said. “That’s that.”
“That is indeed that,” Orianna said, but her eyes and body seemed to be screaming “We need to have a real talk” to Thomas — but again, Thomas’s heightened mood could’ve distorted things.
Suddenly, an ear-splitting whistle cut through all the chatter. Everyone winced and turned towards the source, which was Vernon. Like many old-timers, he had a whistle that could shatter glass. He was standing at the front of the room, by the big-screen TV, his white-gloved hands held high, his white beard bristling.
“Friends and fellows,” he roared in his military-grade speaking voice, “I believe everyone is here — and if they ain’t, they’re a bunch of damn stragglers and don’t deserve any consideration!”
Laughter and mutters of agreement.
“Welcome to the annual Oxendine’s Grocery Christmas Party!”
Cheers from some, sardonic grins from a few youngsters, touching smiles from a few other youngsters who felt like Thomas had all those years ago.
“You’re all already drinking and eating, so I don’t need to tell you to begin. That’s the way it should be! We’re not a bunch of hoity-toity lords and ladies who need fifteen different forks laid out on the table before we can eat! We’re a bunch of rough and ready good ol’ folks, who know how to have a good time!”
More cheers, and a cry, possibly serious, of “Vernon for president!”
“No, I’m not going to tell you it’s OK to eat now, or say a prayer, or do much speechifying at all.” And now his voice lowered a bit and became more solemn, like a teacher reading a favorite passage to his students. “I just want to thank you all for working for me, for coming in day in and day out and doing your jobs. I want to thank you for being good people. I’m glad we can all be together and have fellowship tonight.” A long pause as he scanned the room. More than a few people felt the sincerity of that gaze and those words yanking out tears, which were embarrassingly suppressed. Thomas was certainly one of them. Vernon made basically the same speech every year, and each year Thomas was affected. “That’s all I have to say. Now — let’s be merry! Secret Santa time is in one hour!”