A Williamsville Inn Christmas Story
Will Johnson is traveling for work the weeks before Christmas and staying in a small hotel in upstate New York. It’s all pretty routine, until he discovers his window overlooks the courtyard patio of one of his favorite up and coming gay singers, Rex Garland. Even further outside of Will’s routine is overhearing Rex’s creative process as the singer struggles to write an original Christmas song.
When Will receives a flash of lyrical inspiration, he decides to share the lyrics with his idol in a secret note left on Rex’s patio table. This sets off a chain of events that include coincidental meetings, more inspired lyrics, and a tiny snowman that just might capture Rex’s heart and make this Christmas one neither of them will ever forget.
The Williamsville Inn had seen better days. Most likely sometime back in the 1960s. The early 1960s.
Will entered his room after a long first day on the job, and the heat nearly made him pass out in the entryway. It had to be ninety degrees! He desperately pulled off clothing as he searched for a thermostat, but by the time he was down to socks and his boxer briefs, he’d had no luck.
“So I’ve died and gone to Hell, and this is what I have to look forward to for eternity?” Will muttered.
The heating/air conditioning unit under the window—a long metal contraption with a number of vents set at an upward angle—made a thumping noise followed by a quiet hiss. Will sidestepped to the end of the bed and peered down at the thing. A stamp with the brand name Rest Easy was affixed to one corner, and warm air gusting out of the vents blew the sheer curtains away from the windowsill.READ MORE
Will approached the unit and discovered a small metal flap on a hinge at one end. Underneath was a small knob with a faded line painted on it. The knob was turned all the way over to COOL, and Will sighed. No more cool setting to try, apparently.
“So much for resting easy, I guess.”
He pulled the flimsy white curtains aside and inspected the window. Happiness filled him when he discovered the age of the hotel at last worked in his favor, and one side of the window was a slider he could open for some fresh air. The locking mechanism was old, however, and took some struggle before it finally released and allowed him to shove the window open with a squeal of the metal frames scraping together.
Will closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath of the fresh, cool air. He released it slowly and opened his eyes to look down into the courtyard. His room was on the top floor of the three-story building, and the first-floor rooms across from his all had small patios outside a sliding door. Metal café tables and chairs were provided for each room, and all of it was covered in snow. A quartet of lights in the style of old streetlamps, complete with large round frosted glass shades, provided gentle illumination to the area.
Just as he was wondering if the first-floor rooms cost more because of the tiny patios, one of the sliding doors almost directly across from his window opened, and a man stepped out.
He was tall, with dark hair and a matching full beard. A flannel shirt covered a white tee that hugged his broad chest and flat stomach. The cuffs of tight black jeans had been tucked into black Doc Martens. Something about the man seemed familiar, and Will guessed he’d seen him around the hotel. Someone like that would have definitely caught Will’s eye.
But then the man turned to call to someone still inside the room, and the sound of his voice tripped recognition in Will’s brain.
Will sucked in a breath and stared down into the courtyard, watching Rex pace around the cafe table, leaving a path in the snow. His hands were stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans, and he seemed to be muttering to himself.
A burning in his chest reminded Will to let out his breath and pull another one in.
Rex Garland was staying at his hotel. Would he be here for the entire run of his appearances at the Side-Eye? Will’s heart pounded, and a fresh sheen of sweat covered his body. Even the bottoms of his feet were damp!
A man joined Rex out on the patio, and the two of them spoke in low tones. Will watched, lips slightly parted as he absently rubbed a hand through the fine hair covering his chest. He couldn’t make out any words of their conversation until Rex threw his hands in the air and said, “I know I need to get it done, okay? Back the fuck off.”
The other man held his hands up in a sign of surrender and went back inside the room.
Rex’s paces around the small café table picked up speed, and Will could hear him talking to himself. He hated to see his favorite singer in such a state.
Suddenly, Rex stopped and stared across the courtyard. Will pressed his forehead to the glass in an effort to see straight down, but he wasn’t able to. When he looked back, he discovered Rex looking right up at his window. Realizing he must look pretty fucking creepy standing in front of his window in his underwear, Will dropped to the floor and lay there for a moment listening to the heating unit rattle and hiss.
Shit. Now what?
Will rolled onto his belly and did an Army crawl away from the window until he’d reached the far side of the bed. He got up and hurried into the bathroom where he sat on the lid of the toilet with his head in his hands.
Rex Garland was staying at his hotel.
Rex Garland was having a hard time with something and had shouted at one of his team.
Rex Garland had more than likely seen Will standing in his boxer briefs at the window and watching him.
His best friend Carter was going to love this story.COLLAPSE