Off the List
Sandra Sookoo
Published by Purple Sword Publications, LLC at Smashwords
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
OFF THE LIST
Copyright © 2011 SANDRA SOOKOO
ISBN 978-1-61292-024-5
Cover Art Designed By Taria Reed
Chapter One
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in the hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
“Oh, hell no.” Jack Claus shook paper confetti out of his hair as the celebration raged around him. Countless elves and the few humans allowed into the North Pole compound congratulated his pudgy cousin Kris Claus on his recent promotion—the one Jack wanted. “The bastard did it to me again.”
From his vantage point at the back of the dining hall, he watched with narrowed eyes as his red-haired relative stood on one of the dinner tables and began an impromptu speech.
God, he’d rather be anywhere except stuck here at Christmas headquarters on the eve of the ’big flight’. Now, apparently when all eyes would be on Kris’s famous father, Jack would be employed as clean up boy, making sure the folks on the Naughty List didn’t accidentally come into possession of Christmas bounty.
“I can’t watch this.” Slipping through the crowds, he exited the dining hall. His chest heaved with all the rage he’d ever felt while around his cousin. “Passed over again.” Jack kicked the closed door then cursed when it opened minutes later to admit Kris. “You just had to show me up one more time, didn’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Yet a wide smile wreathed Kris’s cherubic face. “I’ve worked toward this promotion for years.” He walked along the hall, weaving in between several worker elves and singing out greetings as he went.
Kris was the conservative of them, always assessing the risk in every situation, never doing anything remotely exciting and always had his nose to the grindstone—the perfect prince of Christmas. Hell, the man wore suits every freaking day, tucked shirt, belted pants, always starched and pressed. Jack snorted. He doubted the guy had lost his virginity even though he’d recently passed his thirtieth birthday—a day before Jack's, of course.
“Don’t walk away from me like I don’t matter.” I’m the same age as Starchy Pants yet I’ve had more fun than he’ll ever experience.
His gut clenched. No way would he admit the ‘fun’ only filled him up so far. At the end of the day, he had no one waiting for him, nothing substantial to look forward to after the last high, and nothing that would leave a legacy.
Who needs it?
“I’m not having this conversation if you’re going to bully me about the job.”
Not nearly done, Jack chased after his relative as a hot wave of anger crashed over him. “You knew I wanted that promotion but you marched in, charmed the merit board, and bingo! You got my job.” His whole life he’d been butting heads with his cousin, competing for everything from jobs, girls and the attention of the one Klaus who ran the gig at the North Pole.
“No, I made every benchmark at my last job, showed up to every function here at the Pole and took the time to remember each and every name of all the elves in the workshop. I showed an interest, Jack.” Kris yanked open a carved wooden door at the end of the hall and slipped into the workshop. "What have you done?"
Jack followed. He had zero interest in the flurry of activity at the work tables or the carefully orchestrated packing in preparation for the night’s flight. “I have other interests.” A cute intern passed him, and he couldn’t resist taking a second peek at her tight ass in the short, green-velvet skirt. “Still, I made no secret of wanting that position. The least you could have done was put in a good word.”
“Actually, I did the least. I said and did nothing; let you wallow in your own merit.” Kris’s chuckle was an exact copy of his father’s deep, booming laugh. “Just admit it. You don’t care about the franchise like I do. I’m a junior Sleigh Maker now. It’s one step from Toy Designer, two from Workshop Manager and three from Christmas Eve Navigator. Give me ten years, and I’ll convince Dad to let me fly solo.”
“Well, at least you’re a consistent prick.” They went through another door and stepped onto the front lawn of the sprawling Klaus compound. Snow frosted the lawn and pine trees. It covered the Swiss-chalet styled rooftops and gave everything that picture-postcard feel of Christmas especially in the fading light of the pre-sunset. Bah-freaking-humbug. He shaded his eyes against the glare. “I’m not thrilled with maintaining the Naughty List, cousin. Why does everyone assume that because I’m not filled with your brand of perpetual happiness and goodwill, this particular job is a good fit?”
“Because you’re good at it.” Kris stalked over the walkway that led to the sleigh barn. “If you’d actually stick with doing the job and not visiting women’s beds like a sick, demented worker bee, maybe the powers-that-be would take another look and give you a new position.”
Jack snorted at the image. “Listen, Cous’, the only position I want tonight is under, on top of, or behind a warm, willing female. I don’t care about anything else for the moment.” He followed his cousin, more determined than ever to get the hell out of the Pole early tonight.
“Then you’ve already reaped your reward. Hope it makes you happy in the years to come.” Kris touched an illuminated panel built into the brick front of a hulking building. Carved wooden panels slid open—the gateway to the sleigh barn where every vehicle for the Pole was housed.
“Don’t know about years, but it sure as hell makes me happy now.” He frowned at the frantic activity as they entered.
“Let me give you some advice.” Kris turned and held Jack’s gaze. He dropped a hand on Jack's shoulder. “Tonight while you’re doing the job—or the women—give your life a good, hard look. You’re unhappy. I’ve seen it. I’d hoped somewhere along the way you’d find whatever it is you’re searching for.”
Jack didn’t comment. Something in Kris’s intense hazel eyes compelled him to listen.
“You know that old ‘he sees you when you’re sleeping and awake’ bit? Well, Dad does that. He's got hidden cameras everywhere. Remember that. Maybe one of these Christmases, he’ll give you exactly what you want.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Jack wrenched away from his cousin and headed toward the section of the barn where his own ride was stored.
“Better watch out, Cous’. Santa always delivers.” Kris’s jovial laughter swirled through the barn and raked over Jack’s skin.