Catering to His Holiday Needs by mernie99

“Shelly? Is that you?”

I turned around to see a familiar man standing behind me in the gourmet shop. Not knowing if I should embrace him or shake his hand, I opted for the former, giving him a warm bear hug. “Mr. Van Summerin!”

“Austin, please.”

Austin Van Summerin was a former neighbor, three houses down. Even though he had no kids of his own, the kids on the block always considered him to be the “cool guy.” On any given weekend day, you’d find Mr. Van Summerin either working out in the yard or tinkering in his garage. And yet he was never too busy to shop what he was doing and chat with a neighbor, adult or child. He watched our street games, providing encouragement and advice. And, by far, he had the coolest house on the block when it came time for Halloween and Christmas. He was a happy-go-lucky type of guy in his mid 20s, tall and lean, a bit nerdy but with a cute baby face and a slight gap between his front teeth. About five years ago he moved away; Mom said that the Van Summerins divorced.

He continued, “So, you must be in college by now.”

“Yep, I’m a sophomore at State.” I paused, “How have you been? We miss you around the neighborhood. The kids don’t know what to do when their bikes gets flat tires.”

Austin smiled and said, “I miss the old neighborhood, too. I moved into a condo on the golf course. Great view, but I miss my garage.” Austin looked me over and continued, “You’ve grown into quite a pretty young lady, Shelley.”

I smiled broadly. I thought of Austin as my favorite uncle, always supportive and encouraging. Admittedly, the last time I saw him I was flat-chested and sporting braces. I’m not exactly a knockout, but boys have noticed me. I’m 5-6, a bit on the boyish side, with narrow hips and smart breasts. I tan pretty well, and since I live in Florida, it’s pretty much a year-round look. My hair is thin, straight, and blonde, falling slightly below my shoulder blades. I’ve been told I have a cute face. Frankly, I’m not crazy about the slightly upturned nose, but most people like it.

“Are you doing some last minute Christmas shopping?” Austin enquired.

“Not really. I promised Mom I would take care of the Christmas Eve party this year, so I’m looking for some goat cheese. I guess that’s what happens when you major in Hospitality. Everyone expects you to plan the parties.”

“Hospitality?” Austin asked, looking puzzled. “That’s a major?”

“Yeah, sure. Hotel and restaurant management. There’s a great need for that sort of thing in Florida, you know. Actually, I wanted to go to a culinary school, but my parents said it had to be a four year college. But I’ve been taking lots of cooking courses, so I can’t complain too much.”

Austin got a twinkle in his eye and said, “Oh, Shelley, we need to talk. I’m kind of in a fix right now.”

I looked at Austin quizzically and asked, “What’s up?”

“I don’t know what you know about my work, but I’m branch manager for a computer company here in Orlando. It’s a nationwide company, with 12 branches, and I’ve got the southeast territory.”

I replied, “No, I didn’t know that. Not a surprise, really, as we knew you were a techie.”

“Exactly!” Austin continued, “I know computers, electronics. I can manage my staff. But I can’t deal with parties.”

Now I was curious. “Parties?”

“My branch is hosting a big negotiation with a new German supplier. It’s apparently huge. I’m not really involved with the deal, to be honest. Our all the big-wigs from corporate are down here. They like Central Florida much better than Chicago this time of year. For the last two weeks I’ve been nothing but the errand boy for the company brass. Apparently, the negotiations will be winding down tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s great!”

“You’d think,” Austin continued, “but this morning the CEO pulls me aside and suggests that we need to have a post-negotiation cocktail party. He wants it to be intimate, suggested that we meet over at my place.”

Sarcastically I noted, “Oh, great!”

“I called the maid service and they are cleaning the place now. But here’s the thing. I can’t find a caterer. Do you know how hard it is to find someone at the last minute, and for the Friday night before Christmas?”
“I can imagine!”
“It was suggested that gourmet shops might be able to help. The guys in this shop just handed me a menu and said, ‘Let me know what you want and we’ll see if we can get it to you. No promises.’ Shelley, I have no idea what to do.”

“Can I see the menu?” I enquired.

Austin handed me the flier. “They crossed out the ones that they know are not possible.”
“That’s two-thirds of the list. God, unless you like crab dip and crackers, you might have a problem.”

“The CEO said to spare no expense. He emphasized classy. As if I have time for this. I’m working on the year end numbers.”

“What can I do to help, Austin?”

“Can you figure this out for me? Maybe order the food and liquor? Maybe help prepare and serve, perhaps finding another friend to help you? I can pay you very well.”

“Actually, it sounds like fun. I’d probably do it for free, but I won’t complain about some extra Christmas cash.”

“That’s a yes, then?” Austin asked.

“Sure!”

Austin took me out to lunch, where we discussed the details. It turned out to be a bit more than I expected. He needed his condo decorated for the holidays. A well-stocked bar was expected, as was a wide selection of finger food. And the catering staff (that would be me and a friend) was to dress the part. And all this arranged in a day and a half.

By 3 pm I presented a menu to him, which he enthusiastically accepted.

He gave me $1,000 cash for supplies, asking me to keep all receipts. We exchanged cars, as I needed his SUV to haul decorations. When we met up at his apartment at 5:30, his vehicle was loaded down with a 12 foot Christmas tree, a dozen poinsettias, a large wreath, and boxes and boxes of decorations.

Austin went out to meet the car. Popping up the trunk I asked, “Can you give me a hand?”

With a smile, Austin said, “No problem. Where’s the bicycle tire?”

“Smart ass!” I replied.

Austin went right to work unloading the car, and then set the tree up and strung the lights. At the same time I was arranging the decorations on the wreath. Without looking up, I mentioned, “I called my friend Brianna, and she says she’s willing to help out. She said that she’d look for some sort of an outfit for us to wear tomorrow and would head over after she finds that. She’ll help decorate, too. Brie is much better at this artistic stuff than I am. Oh, yes, and she’s an experienced bartender.”

“Good find. I’m feeling much better about this party knowing that you are on the case.”
“It’s not over yet,” I admitted. “Say, as soon as Brie comes over, I’m going to have to bail to go shopping for food. Which reminds me, did you get the liquor?”

I wasn’t yet 21, so I couldn’t purchase the liquor.

“Not yet,” Austin responded. “I dropped your list off at my liquor store on the way home. They said they’d have it ready for me any time after six.” Austin paused and continued, “We might actually pull this one off.”

Brie arrived a bit after 6:15.

“So, what will we be wearing tomorrow?” I asked her.

“Well, you told me classy,” Brie began, “but since this is going to be a holiday party, I decided we should have Santa hats as well.”

Austin and I looked at each other and nodded our heads. “Sounds good,” accessed Austin.

Shelly emptied the contents of her shopping bags on the table. In a loud tone, I said, “Brie, that’s not classy. That’s trashy.” For each of us, she purchased a tight red top, showing the midriff, a low and obscenely short skirt, and “hooker” high heels. “This looks like something you’d find at Hooters,” I complained.

“It’s not that bad, Shell. The material is satin. And it’s going to look real cute with these matching Santa hats.”

I looked over at Austin to support my position. “Actually,” he started, “I think it could work. Besides, all of the guests will be men. Hell, I might even get a promotion by having two college hotties serving them.”

Brie playfully stuck out her tongue and gave me one of those, “See, I told you” looks.

A day later Austin’s house was spotless, decorated for the season, and the food trays were largely arranged.

Brie and I went into the spare bedroom and started to change into our outfits. With a sigh of disgust, I said, “Brie,” I’m a size 7, not a size 5.”

“Oh, sorry, Shell.”

“Have you seen my bra?” I asked.

“Your bra?” she aped innocently.

“Yeah, I brought one with me this morning,” I explained.

“You aren’t wearing one now?”

“You may not have noticed this, Brie, but I’m not exactly well stacked. I just slipped on a sweatshirt this morning. But I brought a bra and it was right here on this chair.”

I could tell by her smile that she was playing with me.

“Brie, this is serious. What did you do with my bra?”

“I thought it would be more fun if we didn’t wear them.”

“Brie. C’mon. Our guests will be here in less than a half hour. Where did you hide it?”

“It’s not here, Shell. Remember the guy who delivered the seafood?” I nodded. Brie continued, “I kind of gave it to him as a tip.”

“You WHAT?!” I was visibly upset. Things had been going rather well until now, and I didn’t need this. I paused and continued, “I know that you have always been a bit of a slut, and I don’t normally have a problem with that. And if this was our party, I’d be game. But it’s not. This is supposed to be a classy cocktail party. My friend could get in trouble for this.”

For the first time, I saw regret in Brie’s eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I wish I could fix this, but I really did give your bra away. Try it on, Shell. It may not be as bad as you think.”

Actually, Brie was right. Unless you were staring, you couldn’t really tell that I was braless. After getting dressed, both Brie and I stood in front of the mirror. We were an odd pair. Both blonde. Both about the same height. But she had thick bouncy hair and was amply endowed on top, with a full face and lips. I, on the other hand, was a stick.

“Oh, Shell, I wish I had your tan,” Brie remarked. “And your face is perfect. You don’t even need make-up.”