Dust of Snow (8 page)

At six o’ clock I laid critical eyes on my
closet. I didn’t want to show up in a suit again, because I knew
from experience hardly anyone ever did. Slacks and sweaters were so
boring though, and I’d been boring for too long. David had told me
that often enough.

I owned one pair of crisp black designer
jeans I hardly ever wore because they looked painted over my ass
when I did. While tight, they weren’t skinny jeans, so I figured
why the hell not? Where groin met thigh they’d been artistically
faded, and after more indecision, I opted for a simple white shirt
under a soft, dark-green cashmere zip-up sweater. It was still cold
as a polar bear’s balls out there, but my woolen peacoat would have
to do.

At seven sharp I pulled up in front of
Ashley’s house, and before I could go ring his doorbell the
passenger door opened, and he appeared in a flurry of black
wool.

“Fuck, it’s cold.” The words almost
solidified in a cloud of breath before he pulled the door shut.
“Thanks for picking me up.”

I’d put the seat warmers on when I left my
house, and he began to unwrap himself like a big, life-size
present, starting with his black gloves.

“You ready for this?” I asked as I pulled
away from the curb.

“Will there be strippers? I heard last year’s
party was a little wild.”

“God, I hope not. Boobs make me uncomfortable
from afar, never mind in my face.”

Ashley laughed, and I went all warm inside
because it didn’t sound like he was laughing at me. I had the
feeling tonight was going to be a good night.

I parked where I always did, and we hurried
inside. I’d charged the co-ops with cleaning out a storage room and
setting it up with coat racks the day before, so we hung our
outerwear away. When I turned around, I caught Ashley staring, and
he had to lift his eyes to meet mine.

He wore a thick, dark-gray cardigan with huge
buttons and a hood, with a lighter gray shirt underneath. It made
me want to unbutton the whole thing and slide inside too, that’s
how soft and warm it looked. His faded, well-fitting dark jeans
were obviously expensive, but what drew my eyes the most was the
heavy leather watch on his arm. I already knew I’d be staring at
the bones of his surprisingly thick wrist all night.

“You look, um, nice,” I said, before the
silence could turn any more awkward. “Shall we?”

“Sure.” He held out a hand to let me pass
through the door first, and I aimed for the cafeteria where the
party was taking place. The muffled strains of “Jingle Bell Rock”
got louder as we reached the door, and just then I remembered my
gift voucher for Amal.

“Crap, I forgot my Secret Santa gift. It’s in
my coat. You go on ahead, and I’ll find you later.”

Ashley hesitated, and then nodded and
disappeared inside. I quickly found the card and hurried back,
nearly colliding with Carl, who was on his way out.

“Gregory!” His face lit up. “There you are.”
I could smell the sweet punch on his breath. “The catering is
magnifique
. You did a wonderful job this year.” He leaned
closer, his mouth nearly touching my ear when he murmured, “We are
standing beneath mistletoe, but I’m coming down with a cold, so how
about a hug instead?”

“Uh.” I glanced up, and above us in the
doorway hung a single, rather pathetic little branch of mistletoe.
“Okay?” I went for the manly sort of half-hug, half-pat-on-the-back
move, but Carl wrapped both his arms around me, rubbed his hands
over my back, and pressed his face into my neck for a good long
fifteen seconds. Had someone spiked the punch?

Oh boy. He smelled like heaven, but I could
also feel just about everyone’s eyes on us. I mechanically patted
him on the back. “That’s—that’s great,” I croaked. “You give good,
uh… hug.” I gently pushed him away. Carl stared down at me.

“You,” he said huskily, “are one of the best
men I have ever met. Sometimes I am sorry I’m your boss.”

And with that cryptic line, he was gone. I
searched the cafeteria while everyone pretended as one they hadn’t
been staring. I couldn’t see Ashley anywhere.

“What was
that
?” Patricia squealed
gleefully in my ear. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Oh, that’s just how the French do
mistletoe,” I said vaguely.

“Is it really?” Patricia eyed the door with
the green little sprig. “Think he’ll be long?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Listen, have you seen
Amal?”

“Over by the dessert table, I think.” Without
a backward glance, Patricia made a beeline for the door and set up
camp.

Amal had brought his wife and their fresh
little human to the party, and so I went over to offer my gift.
“Merry Christmas!” I cried before biting my lip. Did they celebrate
Christmas? Did they do Santa? Oh God, way to put your foot in it
again, Greg.

Amal’s wife smiled while bouncing the baby on
her arm. “Merry Christmas to you too.”

Amal was holding two plates and had been
staring at the desserts, but he turned to face me. “Aisha, you
remember Gregory, Mr. Bourdon’s PA.”

“Of course.”

“Lovely to see you again. Would you like me
to give you a hand?”

I had meant hold a plate and pile up some
dessert or something like that, but Aisha heaved a sigh of relief
and said, “Yes, gosh, my arm is getting really tired.” And next
thing I knew I had a towel draped over my shoulder and a baby
resting its chubby cheek on it. The little girl made a gurgling
noise, grabbed a handful of shirt collar, and blew a raspberry or
two.

“Aw, she likes you,” Amal said.

“Great.” I handed over my gift card. “It’s
riding lessons. I thought you might—”

Amal’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Really? Gregory, that’s amazing. Thank you so much! But I think
that’s too expensive.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I know someone who
got me a deal,” I lied. “I’m glad you like it.” I carefully patted
Amelia on the back. No biggie, I could do this. “You guys have your
desserts. I’ll go make the rounds and bring her back in ten minutes
or so, all right?”

“Sure. We’ll keep an eye on you.”

“
Burp
,” Amelia said, and off we went.
Soon I found Ashley leaning against the wall with a glass of punch
in his hand.

“I thought the set amount was twenty-five
dollars,” Ashley said, eyeing Amelia. “Riding lessons are more than
that.”

“Well, yes.” I shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“I hope your Secret Santa present won’t
disappoint.”

I stepped closer, and Ashley’s mouth quirked
in amusement as he leaned in a little to hear what I had to say.
“Actually, I left my name out of the Secret Santa jar.”

His face fell as he leaned back. “Why?”

Ah damn, now I had to explain. “Someone was…
leaving me things. Presents. Silly things, you know? But I didn’t
like it, so I… I don’t know. I didn’t want anyone to get me
anything else.”

“Right.” Ashley’s jaw flexed. He seemed…
something. Angry? Upset?

“What’s it matter to you?”

“I guess it doesn’t.” He drained his punch
and pushed away from the wall. “Excuse me,” he said, and left me
standing there with the baby, wondering what I’d done wrong.

SIX

I WOULD NEVER in a million years understand how a
baby as small as Amelia could puke up
so much milk
.

One minute she was fine, making small cooing
noises in my ear as I tried to digest what had just happened.
Apparently, I was digesting better than she was, because she
startled me with a little wail, and the next minute there was
sour-smelling milk
everywhere
.

Aisha came rushing over, apologizing
profusely, baby wipes, towels, and diaper bag at the ready, with
Amal close on her heels. He grabbed Amelia, and Aisha began to pat
me dry. I flinched, and one of her rings scratched my cheek. She
gasped.

“Really, it’s fine,” I croaked. Oh God, the
smell
. “It’s okay. I’ll just go to the bathroom and clean up
a little.”

“Here.” She pressed wet wipes and a few clean
towels into my hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it,” I said, although sweat was
exactly what I’d begun to do as soon as she turned to take care of
Amelia. Without checking who was gawking at me, I pushed through a
side door and aimed straight for the men’s room. My green sweater
was a loss, but thankfully it was pretty thick, and at first I
thought it had saved the shirt underneath. Until I noticed the
collar, soaked through. There was a red mark on my cheek, but at
least Aisha’s ring hadn’t drawn blood.

I wanted to go home.

In fact, that was exactly what I planned on
doing. Ashley had apparently decided somewhere along the way I
wasn’t worth his time—and he had his own car here to drive home—and
Amal had received his gift. I wouldn’t be missed by anyone. I did
feel like I should make my apologies to Carl, but only if I could
pin him down on the sidelines.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, he was
striding down the hall toward me. “Gregory, I was just looking for
you. I heard what happened.”

“I’m sure,” I mumbled, my cheeks burning.
“Listen, I’m just going to go home and—”

“Nonsense. You need a shirt? I have one in my
office.
Suivez-moi
.”

“Really, Carl, I’d rather—”

“No.” Simple as that. Carl crooked his finger
at me, and I had no choice but to follow.

I always found the office a strange place to
be on nights like this, empty and a little foreboding in the bad
lighting. Carl unlocked his door and let me in. I decided to try
one last time.

“There’s no need for this, Carl, and besides,
your clothes would be too big for me.”

“It’s just a shirt,” he said, opening one of
the built-in closets behind the door. “You can roll up the
sleeves.” He held out a light blue shirt I’d seen him wear before.
“In fact, I think I have a V-neck in here too. I know how you hate
the cold.”

“Um.” I held the shirt gingerly, afraid of
creasing it, as Carl turned to me, holding a lovely blue and purple
striped sweater. I glanced around. Nowhere to hide.

“Go on. Take off that shirt. It smells
terrible.”

“Right.” I began to unbutton the shirt,
extremely conscious of Carl’s eyes on me. He didn’t look away once
as I pushed the buttons through their holes with trembling fingers.
When I slipped it off my shoulders, he took it from me and waited
as I put on his shirt. The sleeves were too long, and I fumbled
with trying to roll them up.

“Let me.” Carl tossed my smelly shirt to the
side and stepped closer. He neatly folded back the shirtsleeves,
first one, and then the other. His eyes locked on mine. “What
happened?” he murmured as he stroked my cheekbone with his thumb,
right beneath the new red mark. I opened my mouth to respond when I
caught movement behind him. Ashley was standing in the doorway.

“Oh no,” I said, and Carl’s head whipped up.
He took in my expression, followed my gaze over his shoulder, and
watched Ashley stalk away.

“I’ll explain to him,” Carl said. “You finish
getting dressed and return to the party.”

“Explain what?” I asked hoarsely, feeling
like the world had tumbled away beneath my feet. Anything Carl
could say would only sound like an excuse, wouldn’t it? Trying to
hide what we were doing, even though there was nothing wrong with
it. But Carl had already left me standing there like an oaf. I
pulled the sweater over my head, pushing those sleeves back too. I
decided to quickly dump the sour-smelling clothes in my trunk
before returning to the party.

I didn’t bother putting on my coat, but when
I stepped outside I saw a huddled figure leaning against my SUV.
What the hell?
I slowed my gait, even though it was
freezing. His breath puffed in great big clouds, just like mine,
and every few seconds he shuddered. Was this a homeless guy? When I
neared the car he looked up, and even though I could only see a
pair of eyes peeking out between a hat and a scarf, I instantly
knew him.

“David?”

“Greg, finally. What took you so long?”

“Huh? What do you mean? Were you waiting for
me?”

“Yes, I sent you a text twenty minutes ago.”
He stamped his feet and stuffed his hands in his armpits. “Can we
go inside?”

“Inside? What for?”

I thought he rolled his eyes but I couldn’t
tell in the dark. “Because I need to tell you something and I’ve
been freezing my ass off long enough.”

I glanced behind me. Faint Christmas music
spilled from the cafeteria and I could see shapes moving against
the brightly lit windows. “Um, yeah, I guess. I just need to get
rid of these.” I popped my trunk and tossed the clothes inside.

“What happened? That sweater is too big for
you.”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on in.” I turned and
pressed my wallet against the lock. The door beeped and unlocked
and I held it for him, but I stopped right inside the hallway. I
didn’t want him anywhere near the party. “What were you going to do
if I didn’t show up?”