The Rudolph in Mrazek’s Hardware window had a blinking red nose.
It reminded Chuck Connally of an old game show when a contestant answered wrong.
Rudolph was mocking him.
Chuck’s hands were shoved into his pockets so aggressively it might have looked like he had two guns in them, but he didn’t, and the snowy streets were basically deserted.
The big box stores were open out on 71, but the Mom and Pops were locked up.
The Hart and Cask was dark too.
Shit.
Chuck thought for sure they’d be open.
He walked, mumbling.
What he was saying were real words, he supposed, they were mostly words that he had heard dozens of times but never said out loud until 24 hours prior.
Chuck thought of his family growing up. They always opened gifts Christmas morning.
But Leslie demanded Christmas Eve. Ethan was used to it.
Last Christmas he was alone. Then January Leslie walked into the soccerdome and…
Chuck mumbled again.
He saw a flashing blue light, looked up.
The Rhino was open.
Gay hangout.
He wanted a drink. Bartenders got paid to talk.
He walked up confidently.
Hesitated. Felt stupid.
How weird could it be?
Chuck swung the door open, got his bearings, saw some empty seats at the bar.
The dance floor was kind of crowded.
He hoped no one had a seat saved, waiting for them.
Chuck glanced at a row of beers, ordered a St. Pauli Girl.
Bartender put the beer down, and a crimson shot.
“Merry Christmas. You look sad. No sad at my bar.”
The bartender clinked a crimson shot against Chuck’s shot and waited for him to lift it.
Chuck hesitated. The bartender started to look impatient. Chuck drank.
The bartender smiled.
“Better?”
“Yeah…thanks,” Chuck said but his face betrayed him.
“I see sad, “ the bartender said. “No good. If you’re lonely we can probably fix that, might wanna lose the wedding band, just sayin’ …if you just need to get a little polluted I can help with that.”
“I fucked up my stepson’s Christmas gift,” Chuck said. “And he’s super pissed.”
The bartender leaned in. “We just adopted. But let me tell you, if that beautiful little menace ever makes me feel bad about a Christmas gift…”
Chuck smiled.
“Pro tip. If your kid likes Deep Legion, the Cormotigan Ion Blasters go on the inside of the HyperWave Station.”
“You lost me,” the bartender said.
Chuck tried to apologize with his eyes, his mouth full of beer.
“But, Hank is the Rhino’s resident nerd.”
The bartender spun.
“Hanko, come help my friend out here with a Courtorican Izod Blast or something.”
Chuck turned.
It was Hank Ostrowski. In a wave of memory that made the red shot feel a little like a hallucinogen, Chuck remembered fighting Hank over Mindy Lettereau. A real fight, at a keg party at State. They had seen each other on the street a few times in a decade. Not so much as a wave.
“Hi Charley,” Hank said. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Hank was big. Chuck wondered if there was still a grudge. The temporary discomfort he felt at the door of the Rhino was now a scratchy wool blanket of discomfort.
Hank read it.
“Sorry about the silly fight, Charley. I struggled with stuff in college. No excuse. I’m sorry.”
He put a large but gentle hand on Chuck’s shoulder.
“What was Stevie talking about?”
“I got my stepson a Deep Legion toy…The Dillian Rendezvous Cruiser with the Cormotigan Ion Blasters. The big one, with the attached Hyperwave Station…”
Chuck slammed half the beer.
“He’s seven, it’s our first Christmas together, and he’s mad and disappointed because I snapped the Cormotigan Ion Blasters on the outside of the wings where they aren’t supposed to go. Sorry…It’s petty…stupid. But…”
“But you’re upset enough that you came into the Rhino for a drink.”
Chuck blushed.
“Not a bad little joint. Bartender is cool.”
“He’s a nice guy. Kind of a slut,” Hank smiled.
Stevie walked up and put a green drink in front of Hank.
“I heard that.”
Hank smiled broadly. “You know it even if I don’t say it out loud.”
Hank turned back to Chuck.
“Ok, you’re an idiot..”
Chuck went pale.
“...Everyone knows the blasters go on the inside of the Hyperwave.”
Hank smiled again. “I’m kidding. I’ve put together probably 70 or 80 Deep Legion vessels.”
“You never struck me as a nerd,” Chuck said.
“I probably didn’t strike you as a couple things…” Hank said and Chuck realized that the smile was pretty much Hank’s default setting.
“...But I’m a huge nerd. I’m a card carrying Deep Legionnaire. How old is your stepson again?”
“He’s seven. His dad got a job in Switzerland. I think he hates me. I know he does, because I put the Ion Blasters in the wrong place.”
“Did you get him the Trumallian Transport Orb?”
Chuck shook his head, almost angrily.
“See what those things were going for on EBay? Gawd he wanted one so badly but…”
Hank slammed the green drink and turned to Chuck.
“Order another beer. I have two TTO’s at home, I prodrdered ‘em last year, all built, blasters in the right place. Your kid will be thrilled. I’ll be right back. I live over on Crawford. You’ll be a hero, Charley.”
“That’s not necessary, Hank. I appreciate it but…”
Hank froze.
“I want you to have it, your stepson to have it, Charley, really. It’s… it’s important to me. I’ll be right back.”
Chuck shook his head, wishing he had talked to Hank when he saw him on the street. In the bar mirror he could see a small Christmas tree on a shelf behind him.
When Stevie brought him another St. Pauli Girl Chuck said “Hank is about to make my stepson’s Christmas.”
Stevie smiled.
“Hanko loves kids. Loves ‘em. He’s got one, but his ex-wife took him to Oregon. Barely sees him.”
“His ex-wife?” Chuck said.
“Everyone makes mistakes,” Stevie said.
“What’s her name?” Chuck asked.
Stevie stopped, looked kind of annoyed.
“Oh hell, I don’t know, it was forever ago. Hank’s been out ever since I’ve known him.”
Chuck hung his head.
“Sorry, I…”
Stevie waved him off. No big deal, and began cashing out a customer.
Then he turned toward Chuck.
“She’s a bitch, that’s all I know.”
Stevie paused, bit his lip. “I think it starts with an M…”
***
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A pyrrhic victory (fighting over the girl)
Hank’s the hero. I’m glad Charlie found him. Merry Christmas Jimmy.