A Gigolo for Christmas (5 page)

The next item was a small space
heater and extension cord, which he plugged into an outlet at the corner of the
shelter. Anders placed the heater on the ground and pointed it at Sheila’s feet
before turning it on full-blast. She could feel the heat soaking through her
jeans almost immediately.

Anders then moved the box to the
seat on the far side of the table, and sat down next to it, across the table
from her. Reaching into the box, he produced two boxes of Hamburger Helper.

“I didn’t know what flavor you
might like, so I brought stroganoff and lasagna.”

Sheila burst out laughing.
“Hamburger Helper? At the park? How are you going to cook it?”

“You’ll see,” Anders said. “So; stroganoff
or lasagna?”

“Stroganoff. This I have got to
see.”

He put the lasagna back into the
box and opened the stroganoff . He produced a camping pan from the box and
poured the contents of the flavoring packet into it. A bottle of water
appeared, and Anders slowly added it to the powder as he stirred it into a
paste, then finally a soupy mass as the amount of water grew.

Sheila watched with growing
disbelief. “You’re doing that backwards. You’re supposed to cook the hamburger
first, then add the water and the flavor mix.”

Anders grinned up at her. “Trust
me.”

He brought out a small container
of pre-cooked hamburger and stirred it into the pot, as well as a small amount
of dehydrated onions and carrots. He unfolded a piece of paper and dusted some
powder into the mix.

“What’s that?”

“A few extra spices I like to use
to enhance the flavor; my secret recipe.”

“What’s in this secret recipe of
yours?”

“Ahhh, now that secret is one I’m
going to keep.”

He set two metal camping plates
side by side on the table. In the center of each plate, he put what looked like
a squashed soda can. He opened a small bottle full of what looked like water
and poured some into the depression at the top of one of the cans. Actually,
now that she looked closer, it looked like the bottom half of two cans had been
smushed together. There were some holes poked around the upper rim, and one
larger hole in the middle.

The liquid ran down the hole into
the can, and Anders dropped a burnt penny over the center hole. He pulled out a
box of matches and got one ready. Then he added some more of the liquid to the
top of the can. The penny kept it from running down inside, and he quickly set
the bottle of liquid down and lit a match, holding it near the liquid in the
can.

There was a small popping sound,
but nothing else happened. Anders shook the match out and set it on the metal
plate. A moment later there was a whooshing that reminded Sheila of her
mother’s gas stove in the moment when the burner caught fire.

Anders held his hand several
inches above the can and smiled. He reached into the box beside him and
produced a metal tube that looked like it had once been a fat can of tomatoes.
He set the tube over the burning soda can, and suddenly Sheila could see
slightly visible flames sprouting from the soda can.

Anders picked up the pan of
stroganoff and balanced it on top of the tomato can. A couple of orange flames
made a brief appearance through the holes punched in the top and bottom of the
tomato can, but otherwise, there was very little evidence that the soda can was
burning.

“That’s a handy little device,”
she remarked. “Where do you get them and what are you burning in them?”

“It’s called a soda-can stove, or
a penny stove, and I made them. Long-distance hikers like them because they’re
small, don’t weigh much in their pack, and are easy to replace if they break.
You burn denatured alcohol in them. A full stove will burn for about 20 minutes
or so, just about long enough to make Hamburger Helper or Rice-a-Roni.”

“That’s one seriously cool
stove.”

“I like it.”

Anders reached into his box and
pulled out a can of green beans, which he opened and put into a second, smaller
cooking pot. Within a few minutes the second stove had been lit and the beans
were heating up.

Sheila held her hands near the
tomato can, warming her fingers, while Anders busied himself getting out plates
and utensils. He poured water into cups for their beverage, and they chatted
about their lives while they waited for the food to cook.

Anders was remarkably easy to
talk to, and Sheila found herself telling him about the fire which had
destroyed her life last January and her struggles to deal with grieving for her
parents while she tried to build a life for herself.

The dinner was delicious, and Sheila
made a note to ask Anders how to make the little stoves. Clean-up was easy,
almost everything went into the trash can, except for the cooking pots, which
Anders tucked into his box and announced that he would clean them later at
home. Shortly everything had been returned to the box, and the box had been
returned to the trunk of the car.

“If it wasn’t the middle of
winter,” Anders remarked, “we could finish the evening off with a game of
Frisbee, or go play on the playground, but this time of year it’s just too cold
once the sun goes down.”

“Agreed, but at least we aren’t
neck deep in snow like some parts of the country are.”

They climbed into Anders’ car and
he drove her home in an agreeable silence, then walked her all the way to her
third-story door. They stood for a few moments, looking at each other. Sheila
felt almost like they were teenagers on a first date, knowing that there needed
to be something to bring their date to a close, but completely unsure about what
they should say or do next. Finally, Anders shrugged slightly, then held his
arms out in a silent invitation to hug.

Sheila smiled and stepped close
to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and feeling the warmth of his body
as he pulled her close. She tipped her face up toward his, and he ducked sideways
to kiss her cheek. This time she was ready for him, and turned at the last
minute, catching his kiss full on her lips.

What she wasn’t ready for was the
blazing sensations that overloaded every nerve in her body. She couldn’t move.
She couldn’t breathe. She could only cling desperately to Anders as his gentle
kiss became hungry. She hoped he wouldn’t ask to come in, because she wasn’t
ready for an intimate relationship, but she also knew that whatever this man
asked of her, she would give him.

When he set her away from him a
few minutes later, she was both relieved and a little disappointed. He wouldn’t
be coming in tonight. She kept trying to remind herself that it was a good
thing. She also had to keep reminding herself to breathe.

Anders’ breathing was ragged as
he whispered hoarsely, “I’ll call you.” Then he turned and all but leapt down
the stairs. Was her kissing that bad? Or was he as frightened of their bodies’
responses as she had been?

Sheila walked slowly home from
the bus stop. Her day of job hunting had not gone well. She’d had four
interviews. At three of the places, it had been made subtly clear that they had
only been conducting the interviews as a matter of form, as they intended to
promote from within and already had their candidate for the position chosen.

The fourth interviewer was curt
and rude to her, and although she had left the place with him swearing that he
would seriously consider her application, she was certain that she would not
accept the job, based on his rudeness during the interview. She didn’t want to
get into another situation like the one she’d had with Miss Jacobson.

Even though it involved a lot of
walking and more energy used, she’d taken the bus today to conserve what
gasoline was in her car’s tank. When she got a job, there would still be at
least a week-long gap, more likely two, before she got her first paycheck.

She was grateful she hadn’t
bought a lot of furniture, but had stashed the money in a savings account
instead. That saving account was all the gas and grocery money she had until
she got a job and money coming in. Yesterday she had spent some of her
job-hunting time applying for unemployment, and looking into filing a wrongful
termination suit against her old company. It wasn’t legal for Miss Jacobson to
have fired her because of how badly the party had turned out.

She didn’t really want the job
back, but she had found she could ask the court to make them give her a
severance package. If she did file the suit, she would ask for three months of
wages. She wanted Miss Jacobson to sweat a little about the way she treated her
underlings. After all, Sheila was suffering a pending eviction and loss of her
job mostly because of Miss Jacobson’s actions. In the end, she’d decided not to
begin any legal action until after she got her last pay check.

Sheila stopped at the large
communal mail box center and opened her small box. There was a handful of mail
inside, and she grabbed it out without looking at it. She tiredly trudged
across the complex and up her stairs. Inside her apartment, she draped her coat
over the half-wall, tossed the mail onto the low counter, and quickly made up
her favorite comfort food; a box of macaroni and cheese, with diagonally sliced
hot dogs mixed in. She’d found if she tossed the hot dog slices in while she
cooked the macaroni, they got plenty hot enough, and also added just enough
oils to the water to keep the macaroni from sticking together. A can of peas
heated on the other burner completed her meal.

She put half the food on a plate,
and the other half in containers in the refrigerator for tomorrow night’s
dinner. Then she gathered up her mail and dropped into her bean-bag chair. With
her plate balanced on her knees, she went through the mail. Most of it was
junk. Her electric bill had arrived, and she set that aside. She would pay it
on Friday when she collected her final pay check.

She opened the last envelope and
discovered it contained her official eviction notice. She now had only thirty
days to find not only a job, but another place to live. The anger built up in
her chest until she thought she would explode. It wasn’t fair! This was all Miss
Jacobson’s fault! If she hadn’t forced Sheila to host the Christmas party, she
wouldn’t be unemployed and facing homelessness! Tears dripped onto her blouse
and soaked through, wetting the skin beneath.

Sheila flung the paper as hard as
she could. In her mind she pictured it flying across the room and making a
splatting noise against the newly painted wall. Instead, as soon as the page
had left her hand, it fluttered gently down to rest on the pristinely white carpet.

Sheila sneaked another glance at
the clock on the wall. It was nearly noon. She’d been sitting in the reception
area for a full two hours. Her appointment had been at ten. She’d arrived ten
minutes early, as she usually tried to do. She’d announced herself to the
receptionist, who had picked up the phone and apparently passed that message to
the individual sequestered within the office. At the conclusion of the call,
the receptionist had requested that she have a seat, and Mr. Kessington would
be with her shortly. She had then turned back to her computer.

In the last two hours the
receptionist had kept busy with incoming phone calls, computer work, and a
little filing, but had very pointedly ignored Sheila’s presence in her office.
No one had come into the office or left it in the time she’d been sitting here.
What a waste of time. The snooty executive might feel his time was valuable,
but so was hers. Sheila had another appointment set up in an hour, and she
would need half of that time to get there.

She silently got up and left the
office. The receptionist didn’t try to stop her.

Sheila sat at the bus stop,
waiting for the conveyance to appear. While she waited, she pulled the peanut
butter sandwich she’d made that morning out of her purse and devoured it. A
small bag of chips completed her repast, and was washed down with a long drink
of water.

Her purse was large, and the
lunch had fit nicely. She saved the last bits of the water in the bottle.
Quickly looking around to see if anyone was watching her, she pulled a
toothbrush from her purse. She used it dry to brush the remains of her lunch
from her teeth, and slid it back into its holder before returning it to her
purse. The last of the bottle of water served to rinse her teeth, then she
swallowed it. She popped a peppermint Life Saver into her mouth, and knew that
the next interviewer would never know she’d had a PB and J at the bus stop for
lunch.

The vagaries of the bus service
brought her to her interview fifteen minutes early, but no one was ahead of
her, and she was ushered right in. The gentleman interviewing her was pleasant,
though very formal in demeanor. She had answered all of his questions
succinctly and felt the interview was going well.

Suddenly, rock music poured out
of her purse. Her cell phone was apparently not on vibrate, though she would
have sworn she had muted it before setting out on her day’s hunting expedition.
The interviewer developed an immediate crease between his eyebrows. Sheila
grabbed her purse, reached inside, and without even looking at the device, shut
the music off, then turned her attention back to the interviewer.