CHAPTER EIGHT:  the beach

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CALLUM HADN'T ALLOWED FOR MAX TO RETURN TO THE STORE TO GET A DIFFERENT CAR. Apparently, the two minutes it would take him to find a car with more seats, was two minutes they couldn't spare. Jack and Max entered up having to share the seat.

Max didn't get how Callum said they didn't have time for them to go back for a different car, but, apparently had the time to watch as Max and Jack struggled to find a way to for them both to fit into the seat. It had ended up with Callum almost yelling at them before Max was seat, and Jack had sat on top of him.

"So, you're like the bodyguard for Santa Claus," Jack speaks up, looking over at Callum. During the ride, they hadn't spoke to Callum.

Max and Jack had been speaking.

"I'm the commander of the E.L.F," Callum answered.

"What's the stand for?" Jack asked.

"Enforcement, Logistics and Fortifications. But as far as you're concerned it stand for Extremely Large and Formidable."

"More like Extremely Lifeless and-" Max began.

Callum glared at him, annoyed.

"And...that's all you do all year?" Max ended, Callum seemed like the type to go in an hour long lecture. And Max would rather get into a fight with four other mercenaries, than receive a lecture. "Just protect Santa?"

"It's a big job," Callum replied.

"Sure. Sure," Jake sarcastically agreed.  For a second, it was silent. "it's one day, though, right? Like, it's a big job for one day."

"We work three hundred in sixty four days a year because on that one day we deliver presents to several billion individuals domiciles across thirty-seven time zones without vet being detected by a single human being. We prep, we rehearse every moment, every stop done to the last chimney. So yeah, it's a lot of work."

"Three hundred and sixty-four days?" Jack asked.

"We have Boxing Day off."

"Wouldn't it be easier if you broke it up? You know, like send different teams out different places, just more efficient?"

Callum shakes his head. "No, it doesn't work like that."

"He's got to do it all himself?"

"He doesn't have to. It's his purpose. He's a singular force in the universe."

"Okay, so worst-case scenario-is there someone that can steal in for him, like a vise Santa Claus?"

"Would that be you or Mrs. Claus?" Max asked.

"Are you listening to me?  No. No one can do what he does. He knows when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake, and he knows that about every single person on this planet. He had a list the size of Rhode Island, and he check it twice. If you tried to read that late just once, it would take you a decade, but he does it twice. And the reason why he'd able to do any of it is because he is Santa Claus, the one and only, and no one else can execute his mission."

"Which is?"

"To speed cheer, asshole. Good feeling."

"Oh, I don't think elves as supposed to curse, isn't that naughty?" Max teased.

"It's E.L.F!"

Max laughs.
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They had pulled up to a beach resort, getting out of the car, Jack stepping out and turning around to offer a hand to Max, who smiled at him before taking his hand, and got out of the car.

They walked onto the beach. As the approach, pausing at the pool.

"All right, now we're talking," Jack says. His eyes flicker to Max, who pushed back his hair. "Something wrong, Max?"

"No?" He questioned, looking confused.

Callum huffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"You know, if it's too hot, you can just take off the shirt." Jack began, speaking to Max.  Then turned to Callum. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Cal. Good luck with everything." He then caught sight of a waiter, extending a tray. "Thank you so much," he removed two drinks, having one over to Max.  "We're just gonna live here now."

"And what? Marry her?" Max joked, as a woman with blond hair in a teal bath suit, a bikini, walked by.

"I was thinking of marrying you, Max," Jack smiled.

Max flushed, face turning red. He knew that Jack didn't mean it. He was always making jokes like that. He joked with a few people like that. He knew that Jack had no clue of how Max felt about him. That Max has been in love with him for years now.

"Why don't you focus?" Callum asked Jack. "Well got to find your guy."

"Not a lot of fun, are you, Cal?" Jack asked the taller one.

Callum turned to him, face set. "Oh, I'm  fun." He says in a serious tone. "As a matter of fact, I won the prize for the most fun gift wrapper for a hundred in eighty-three head in a row." He smiled.

"Wel, I take it back," Jack nods sarcastically, then takes a sip from his drink, he walks off.  "Want me to show you how to do this?"

"I suggest you give it a shot," Callum replied.

"I see the worst in everyone, Cal. It's my gift. And it's the key to my work. I can see a person's worst qualities just by looking at 'em. See look at this guy," Jack pointed to a man who sat next to a blond-haired woman. "He's married but not to her. That's why he has a tan line where his wedding ring should be."

Jack pointed to another man. "This guy's about to screw over that guy." He pointed to a blond-haired man laughing, next to a dark haired man, whose hair was buzzed. "That's why he's laughing too loud."

"And this guy..." he emailed a man who had just walked up to get a drink. "Now he's interesting. Why, you ask?"

"I didn't ask," Callum replied.

"Well, I'll tell you. Shoes. Look around. Anyone else at the beach wearing shoes besides you, Max, me and him?  And we're all working something." They filled to where the man went.

"He's a Karmanian Death Merc," Max says.  "All of them. They all got the tattoo on thier hand."

"This is all fascinating. How about we find the guy we're actually looking for?" Callum asked, irritated.

"That's the guy we're looking for," Jack pointed to a man who wore maroon colored pants, a white shirt underneath a red striped button up.  "The Karmanians are his security detail."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Callum began to walk up to them, making both Jake and Max rush forward to pull him back. "Hey, wait. Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing?"

"Going to talk to him." Callum answered.

"No. No. We got to go in sideways here," Jack begins. "Remember when I said they're called Death Mercs?"

"We'll be fine," Callum says as he walked up to them.

Max crossed his arms, as both he and Jack didn't move from their place. "Should we let him get beat up a little before jumping in? He's an asshole."

Four men began to surround Callum.

"Keep walking," one of the men tell Callum.

"I need to talk to him now."

"Keep walking."

"I'm gonna count to five."

The death merc chuckled, unamused. "Then what?"

"Then you're gonna get hurt."

Max had continued to drink the Pina-colada, the glass was practically empty.   The Merc in front of Callum had out in a pair of brass knuckles,  the one to the right of him pulled out a collapsible baton, another pulled out a knife.

"Listen, dickhead. It's Christmas.  So in the Yuletide spirit, I'm gonna say it one more time."

The man behind Callum put him into a headlock.
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