If the stores can do it...

Look at me, Ma, I'm blogging.  About what exactly, I don't know, but hey, that never stopped me before.

As we don't celebrate Halloween as a rule, three weeks ago the stores had decided it was time to decorate - for Christmas.  I find that depressing.  I don't catch the Christmas spirit until around noon on 24 December.  This year I've decided to change that and started working on a Christmas fic (because having four unfinished fic's is not stressful enough).  Anyway, I’ve been writing bits of it, so we’ll see how it goes.  What I can tell you is that it’s inspired by my favorite Christmas movie, not exactly a classic, but I thought it was cute.  More explanation will follow when I actually start updating on FF.  That version will be beta'd as well.

So if the stores can do it…  I can give you a little preview.  More after the jump.

Chuck had no idea when the Buy More had installed a wind machine, or why, but when his attention moved from the leggy redhead gliding through the doors to her gorgeous blonde companion, he didn’t really care.  His eyes ran down her body, from her golden hair hanging loose around her shoulders to the well fitted black jacket, matching skirt that ended mid-thigh, over her shapely legs to her impossibly high heels. 

A clang snapped him from his stupor.  He had dropped the screwdriver he’d been holding.  Flustered, he stooped down to retrieve it and hit the back of his head under the desk on the way up.

“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath, partly because it hurt but mostly because he was disgusted with himself.  He was usually more respectful of women, not eyeing them like a horse on show.  But damn.  Deciding to stay hidden to avoid making a fool of himself, he remained crouched on the floor, listening for when they passed.  He heard Big Mike say something, but was cut off with a curt, “Not now, Mark.” 

Chuck’s eyebrows shot up.  He should have expected that.  He’d been around enough pretty girls at Stanford to know how bitchy most of them acted.

The store went quiet again and Chuck reckoned the coast was clear.  He straightened.  His gaze lifted and met a pair of clear blue eyes.  It startled him and he let out a girlish scream, jumping backwards. 

“I…uh…” he stammered, raising the hand that held onto the screwdriver for dear life.  “Do you need something fixed?” he spoke the first words that popped into his mind, waiving the tool in the blonde’s direction.

“Actually we just need some privacy for a meeting,” the redhead answered.  She tilted her head in the direction of Big Mike’s office.  “Somewhere out of the public eye.”

“Yeah,” Chuck’s voice was a pitch higher than normal and he cleared his throat, “Of course.”  He noticed the screwdriver was now pointed at them like a dangerous weapon and quickly lowered his hand, aiming for his back pocket.  He misjudged the angle and nicked himself in the butt with the sharp end.  He grimaced as a pair of green eyes glared at him when he didn’t immediately assist. 

“Uhm, you could use the cage, nobody ever goes there.”  He pointed to the doors behind him.  “Through there, make a left after the break room and it’s at the end of the hallway.  You can’t miss it.”

Without further acknowledgement the redhead turned, but the blonde paused. 

“Thank you,” she leaned slightly forward to read his pocket protector, “Chuck.”  She raised an amused eyebrow, but before she could say anything more, the redhead called from the door.

“C’mon, Sarah, we don’t have all day.”

The blonde, Sarah, shot Chuck a small appreciative smile before disappearing through the double green doors.

“What did she say?” Big Mike asked anxiously from behind Chuck, causing him to jump for a second time in as many minutes.

“Nothing.  She just…” he trailed off absentmindedly.  Finally able to tear his eyes away from the door, he turned to Big Mike.  “Who was that?”

Big Mike snorted.  “It seems Mr. Walker has retired.  That was his daughter,” he paused and shook his head in disbelief.  “Our new boss.”