Good Monday morning Story Orgy readers! Today your Story Orgy writers start counting down to Christmas by posting a series of Holiday themed flash fiction stories, inspired by prompts sent in by you, our adoring readers, way, way back in July. Oh, how time flies, eh?

Before we get to the first installment of my first of three stories, we have a few announcements.

Em Woods has joined forces with another author to bring you a lovely, romantic tale of a man who redeems himself after a life spent pushing away those around him. Who’s this other author? None other than Charles Dickens! Click HERE to check out the blurb for Em’s re-imagined A Christmas Carol, available 12/3 from Total E-Bound, and find out some things about Ebenezer Scrooge Dickens never mentioned!

Speaking of Em Woods, she and Lee Brazil are embarking on a blog tour this week in support of their recent releases from Breathless Press. Don’t know what those books are? Click HERE to get Em’s excellent Choices and click HERE to grab Lee’s Willow, both contemporary romances perfect for a cozy night by the fireplace or, if you’re like me, the heat vent. Ha! Follow their tour, which includes DC Juris, who will be promoting his Bad Moon Rising, and Dilo Keith, who will be posting about Make Mine to Go, at the following sites:

November 26: The Menagerie Authors
November 27: Reviews by Molly
November 28: Wicked Readings By Tawania
November 29: Wickedly Wanton Tales
November 30: Wickedly Sexy Writers

Speaking of blog tours, you can act like a Grateful Dead or Phish fan and follow Lee Brazil, Havan Fellows, and myself as we hop around the blog world in support of the Freaky Flashes Anthology, which features stories by each of us, including my story “The Sum of His Parts.” Click HERE to get your hands on a copy of your own, and stop by and leave a comment or two for us!

November 26:  The Divas of Desire
November 26:  Reviews by Molly
November 27:  Queen of the Night Reviews
November 27:  Christine Young Romance Writer
November 28:  SnifferWalk
November 29:  Wicked Readings By Tawania
November 30:  My Reading Obsession
November 30:  Tamaria Soana

I hope to see you there!

One more update – wow, lots of news this week! Our Holiday collection from last year, And the Prompt Is… Holiday Edition, has been discounted! You can stuff your stocking with some Story Orgy sweet, steamy romances for just $2.99! Click on over to grab a copy from AMAZON or ARe.

Okay! On with the story!! This is the first of two chapters I wrote based on prompts sent in by Andrea Speed: Pizza delivery guy, Abandoned house, Snowman. Thanks Andrea! I hope you enjoy the story you helped me create.

A Gift For Greg

by

Hank Edwards (c) 2012

 

Fucking economy.

Greg Marwell pulled into the parking lot behind Sal’s Pizzeria and twisted the key of his old Fiesta. The engine chugged, coughed, sputtered, chortled, and, finally, gasped before shutting off. Greg sighed and leaned forward to rest his forehead against the steering wheel. His breath plumed around his face as the cold settled into the car and wrapped chill arms around him.

“Marwell!”

The ragged, wet voice of Sal, the owner of Sal’s Pizzeria, made Greg snap upright. He squinted through the frosted windshield to find the man waving him in the back door.

“Not even a minute to catch my breath,” Greg grumbled. The car door squealed in protest as he shoved it open. With the empty insulated carrier dangling from one hand, he stomped into the back room of the pizza shop.

“Got another delivery,” Sal said. He didn’t look at Greg, his attention was on the pizza he was slicing.

“It’s after one in the morning,” Greg noted, trying not to whine. He hated whiners. Every member of his team back at General Motors had whined and moaned and carried on, even more than usual on the day they had all been walked out three years ago. But not Greg. He had been hopeful, optimistic, eager for a change.

And he was still waiting for that optimism to pay off. This job couldn’t have been that life change he had been waiting for. Delivering pizzas for Sal’s Pizzeria wasn’t exactly a step up from his $90,000 a year job as an automotive engineer. But it had been close to home and he worked at night while he hit the interview trail during the day. So many interviews, more than 450 over the last three years, and only a handful of call backs. Always the same response: either he was over qualified, or he just didn’t have the right skill set.

“Marwell?”

Greg blinked and looked up to find Sal standing right in front of him. The man held the pizza box in both hands and had raised his eyebrows. “You awake?”

“Barely,” Greg muttered. He took the pizza, slid it into the insulated carrier, grabbed the printed order with the house address, and shoved out the back door of the building, Sal’s sarcastic, “Oh, yeah, Merry Christmas,” trailing behind him.

The Fiesta’s engine was reluctant to turn over, but the spark finally caught and Greg let out a relieved breath. He didn’t have the money for car repairs. Ramen noodles and day old bread were keeping him alive. That and any pizzas made with the wrong toppings.

As Greg navigated the icy, deserted city streets, the smell of the fresh pizza tempted him. His stomach rumbled and his mouth watered. Christmas Eve, well, technically, Christmas Day, and here he was hungry for pizza.

“Focus,” he scolded himself. “You can have Ramen noodles and instant oatmeal when you get home.”

He checked the address on the slip again and frowned. What road was this place on? He pulled over to the side of the road, coming to a stop beneath a swaying light up wreath bound to a street lamp. Flicking on the dome light, Greg squinted down at the address as he tried to think of where he could find the street to get to this house. Why couldn’t he think of where this street was?

Then a mental wall tumbled down and a memory, blurred with age, floated to the surface of his mind. Windswept Lane, the street where Jerry Golling had lived back in high school. Jerry Golling, nerd hunk of his high school, and someone Greg had wanted badly during all four years. He had followed Jerry home on more than one occasion, keeping back a respectable distance to be able to watch his ass shift inside his corduroy pants as Jerry had lugged with him the text book for every one of his classes.

When Greg had heard Jerry had joined the debate team, he had signed up as well. And it had been amazing to sit and watch, breathless and hard, as Jerry stripped away the arguments of each opponent. Jerry’s voice had been steady and confident in debate, so different from when Greg had managed those few times to greet him in the hallway and Jerry had stammered and stuttered and hurried off to his next class.

Jerry Golling. After all these years, Greg was going to be driving down Jerry Golling’s street once again. And this time, he was delivering pizzas.

A cold, hard stone of shame dropped into the pit of his gut, and Greg rested his forehead against the steering wheel a moment. Well, nothing to do but drive on and see which house he was going to. He let out his breath, watched it plume before him, then eased away from the curb.

It didn’t take long for him to find Windswept Lane. Somewhere in the back of his mind or subconscious, Greg may have kept this route mapped out to satisfy that young version of himself, the one that had never shared more than three sentences with Jerry Golling and, most likely, still yearned for him.

Snow crunched under the tires and a sudden gust of wind rocked his tiny car. Houses, dark and closed up tight, seemingly hunkered down against the frigid night, were more spaced out in this part of the city. Light up figures of snowmen, Santa, and reindeer decorated lawns and rooftops, painful reminders that this was Christmas morning and Greg would have no gifts of his own to open back home.

The address came up faster than Greg anticipated and he had to back up because he had missed the driveway. He sat a moment, his car idling in the driveway as he surveyed the house before him. Was this the same house where Jerry Golling had lived back in high school? What kind of fucked up coincidence would that be?

Greg started to notice more details about the house once his surprise at the address had worn off. Things like the dark windows lacking any window coverings, the paper taped in the window that looked like a foreclosure notice, and the mailbox stuffed full of circulars and junk mail.

“Fuck,” Greg mumbled. “Pranked on Christmas Eve, of all nights. Twisted little fuckers.”

Movement from the corner of his eye made Greg turn his head to look out the passenger side window. A snowman stood in the middle of the lawn, coal eyes, carrot nose, top hat, the whole cliche. That couldn’t have been the movement he’d seen… could it?

“Time to head home,” Greg muttered to himself. At least now he’d have a pizza to eat, though it would cost him some of his paycheck.

He had just shifted into Reverse when a shadowy figured stepped out from behind the snowman and waved to him. It was a man, tall and thin, his face mostly hidden in shadow, and the glow from a streetlight reflecting off the lenses of his glasses.

“Hey!” the man said. “Wait!”

Greg hesitated. He’d heard about pizza delivery guys being robbed, but had never had it happen to him. This was a pretty safe city, but still, people were desperate. Should he stay and talk to this guy? What if he had a gun? Greg only had about twenty dollars in small bills on him, but the guy might take his car and, shitty piece of junk that it was, Greg still needed it to get his job done.

He was too slow. The man circled the front of his car and approached Greg’s door. Greg looked up at the man, wondered briefly if he had locked his doors after getting in, then gasped in surprise as recognition, embarrassment, and excitement all collided within him. He cranked down the window and said, “Jerry Golling? Is that you?”

~~ * ~~

Well, that’s a fine ho-ho-ho, isn’t it? Come on back next week and wallow some more in the spirit of the season by indulging yourself in the final chapter of my flash fiction. Until then, be good and be good to each other. For now, however, hop on over to the other Story Orgy blogs with me for more hot, smexy reads.

Lee Brazil     Havan Fellows     Em Woods      Jade Baiser

Follow our tweets during the week:

Jade Baiser: @jadebaiser

J.R. Boyd: @JR__Boyd

Lee Brazil: @leebrazil

Hank Edwards: @hanksbooks

Havan Fellows: @HavanFellows

Em Woods: @EmWoodsAuthor