The Angel of Black Friday Read online

  The

  Angel

  Of

  Black Friday

  Shawn Keys

  For more information about the Author

  Visit:

  https://authorshawnkeys.wixsite.com/website

  Cover Art by:

  Andreas “Arrtman”

  Freelance Concept Artist/Illustrator

  To view his portfolio, visit:

  https://www.arrtman.com

  Elements of Cover Title sourced at:

  http://www.textures4photoshop.com/

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  Harem Lit Facebook Discussion Group

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  Originally Published by Shawn Keys

  Copyright © November 2019

  ISBN: 978-1-9992853-5-7

  Quick Links to Chapters:

  Thanksgiving Thursday

  Chapter 1: A Non-Traditional Thanksgiving

  Black Friday

  Chapter 2: The Grayson Stampede

  Chapter 3: To Catch a Thief

  Chapter 4: Park it Through the Woods

  Chapter 5: The Show Must Go On

  And then… came Saturday

  Chapter 6: Over Brunch

  Chapter 7: Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

  Chapter 8: Giving Thanks

  Thanksgiving Thursday

  Chapter 1:

  A Non-Traditional Thanksgiving

  Richard Angelo considered the three flopped cards on the table intently. He knew that professional card players could calculate odds using on-the-fly statistics calculations. He played poker once a year. He wasn’t on that level, and he never pretended to be. But he also wasn’t totally stupid or unaware. With only a Nine, Six and Five showing, his pair of pocket Kings looked pretty decent.

  The Texas Hold’Em craze had been around for his entire adult life. He still remembered its surge in popularity. He had to admit it was a fascinating game. One of his friends, Trevor, had even gone to a World Series event and done well enough to walk away with even money. Not bad for a first timer, though it had terrified him so much he had never tried again.

  Fortunately, Trevor had already folded this hand on his first bet after the deal. His other two friends around the table, Greg and Mike, were both still in and looking fairly confident.

  Doing his best to keep a blank face and probably failing miserably, Rick (as his friends called him) spoke with casual confidence, “I’ll see your two yum-yums and raise you a Snickers.”

  Mike cursed under his breath, “Crap. He caught something.” He slapped his cards on the table. “Meet the almighty Fold-atron.”

  Rick smirked at the mild joke. One of the best parts about hanging out with these guys was how long they had known each other. They might be business professionals in one field or another, going to work in suits and doing their best to serve the company image. But they had all known each other since before high school. Here in the apartment, they could let their inner geeks show without fear of mockery. Everyone had their thing to ‘geek out’ about, and they all knew each other’s. No secrets.

  As such, when Greg made fun of Mike, it wasn’t for his reference to huge anime robots. Instead, it was for having chickened out. “What? He’s got nothing! Look at that honest face. The flop didn’t give him anything! I can read Rick like a book!”

  Given that Greg was totally right about missing the flop, Rick clenched down on his emotions, trying not to give away that he was packing a couple of hole cards with a whollop!

  Mike shook his head. “I’m not buying it.”

  Greg humphed, shrugged, and tossed a couple candies into the middle. “Call with two lollipops.”

  Trevor snorted. “What? Are you serious? In what world does two lollipops equal a Snickers? Do I have to pull out the chart again?”

  Rick grinned. I can’t believe he actually made a chart. He’s been threatening to do it for three years. This Thanksgiving tradition of a friendly poker match had been going on since College, when none of them could afford the trip home. After eight years, Trevor had finally had enough of the equivalency arguments they had every year. He had come with a chart showing direct correlation of one candy to another in relative value.

  Greg pointed an accusing finger across the table at him, “That chart hasn’t been ratified by a clear majority yet.”

  “What are you talking about? It was yeas over the nays three to one!”

  “You were holding the wine hostage to force the vote before proper due consideration. I demand a recount.”

  Rick weighed in, “Well, if in your version two lollipops equals a Snickers, then I vote for the chart.”

  Mike piped up, “Seconded.”

  Greg dropped his forehead to the table. “You all suck.”

  Trevor laughed. “No, I’m just defending Rick because he’s too nice to tell you to go pound sand with that weak-ass bid.”

  Frowning, Greg objected, “I’m just stretching this short stack of mine!” He gestured to the rather miserable pile of candy gathered near his elbow, suspiciously light on any chocolate or chips of any quality.

  Rick sympathized without giving any ground, “Hey, you know the rules. Your stake is the candy you save from Halloween, whether from office parties, what you didn’t give out to trick-or-treaters, or cast-offs from your kids. What the hell, Greg? You have two of the little rascals. You should be swimming in it.”

  Greg rolled his eyes, “Spoken like a guy who doesn’t have any. They cleaned me out like locusts.”

  Rick grinned. “Probably worth it for the cuteness factor. Joshua made a bad-ass ninja, and Haley looked like she was actually glowing in that unicorn costume.”

  Greg looked ready to gush over his kids when his scowl returned. “Nice try, Rick-my-boy! But you aren’t getting away with using my kids to change the subject.”

  Trevor shrugged. “You should have let him. He might have forgot you still owe him at least a Rolo to even the pot.”

  Scowling, Greg tossed one of the cylindrical caramels on the table. “Fine.”

  Mike grabbed the cards, acting as the dealer. “Fourth card, gentlemen.” He flipped it, showing off a King.

  Rick strangled his emotions again while Greg’s eye bored into him, trying to ‘read’ him. Rick wanted to roll his eyes. It wasn’t like any of them were actually all that good at this, except maybe Trevor. Wasn’t like Greg was going to read his mind or anything.

  The proof of that came soon, as Greg misread him and chortled, “Didn’t do you any good, did it? Bet you wish you had that Snickers back now, don’t you? Well, I’m not going to let you get away from this so easily! I raise you a Coffee Crisp, and don’t be trying to cheap out on me!”

  Mike barked a laugh. “Talking pretty strong for the one who is going to be doing the dishes.”

  Rick glanced around at the stacked plates around them. None of them could cook very well, but they’d made a wonderful mess pretending. Thanksgiving Dinner had been made up of some turkey and gravy from a can, some store-bought, pre-mashed potatoes and some microwaved corn to pretend they were eating some vegetables. Mike’s mother had dropped off some stuffing, so at least that was home-made. They’d stuffed themselves like royalty and capped it off with a cherry pie from the bakery. But none of the food (high quality or not) could be credited to their skills in the kitchen.

  That didn’t stop the fact that there were a few dozen plates, glasses and other things to wash. Rick’s apartment was small, and he didn’t need a dishwashing machine as he lived alone. So, the mess needed to be hand-washed. Standard deal was that as soon as you were eliminated, you started to clean while the others closed out the game.

  G
reg shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere. Night’s still young and Rick is about to double-up my stack.”

  Rick groaned. “You know I have to be up before the dawn, right?”

  Mike squinted, “Why? You’re a computer tech, not a sales rep. They shouldn’t be dragging you in for any early Black Friday nonsense.”

  Rick nodded, “That’s true. In fact, they told me not to come in until around nine and they’re cutting me loose at noon. They don’t want to pay me all that triple time my contract gives me for special day hours. I’m just in for a couple hours to iron out any small glitches that crop up. Then I’m on call for the rest of the day.” He smiled. “Suits me just fine. This way, I get to show up at my golf tournament. Last round of the season, I’d bet. Snow can’t be more than a month off.”

  Trevor nodded. “Then why are you getting up so early?”

  Shrugging away the question as if it wasn’t all that important, he answered, “Grayson’s Wholesale has three IAGEE V6s on sale tomorrow.”

  The other three around the table laughed at his expense. Mike pointed over at the second bedroom in Rick’s apartment. “What, like that monstrosity isn’t enough for you?”

  What he was referring to was Rick’s current golf practice equipment. He’d bought a motion capture camera and some off-the-shelf golf analysis software and cobbled together those electronics with a physical capture net. Working together, the system was a decent trade-off for going to a driving range to practice his swing. He rented a two-bedroom place instead of a one-bedroom place just so he could have his ‘golf room’. His version of a man cave.

  The Icarus Advanced Golf Experience Emulator (IAGEE) was on another level. He’d been raving about it for years, and recently his savings had been getting close to being enough to buy one. All the overtime he could get was being dumped into a bank account to afford the $20,000 machine. He had watched the technology advance, year after year, each version getting more and more realistic. A video screen that showed hundreds of courses from around the world. An adjustable hitting platform that would simulate everything from a tee-shot to rough terrain and even a sand-trap shot. Diagnostics that would give advice on your swing, with an optional ‘Online Tutor’ who would walk you around a course while he watched. It was the Cadillac of golf simulations, and the next best thing to playing a real round. All you were missing was the fresh air and the walking through the woods.

  Which was why going to play a real round of golf was still worthwhile. That would never change. But, damn, this machine would let him play every night! He didn’t care about X-Boxes and Playstations – this was his video game addiction, and this was his chance to take it to the next level.

  Finally, he laughed helplessly. “I want it so bad! I am getting up at five to make sure I’m near the front of the line. Grayson’s is always packed. The damn place carries everything, so you get all kinds of people showing up there.”

  Mike shook his head. “You’re crazy, man. How many other people are going to want this thing?”

  Rick insisted, “More than three. I’m not missing out! It’s on for half price! That’s inside the budget. If I don’t get it tomorrow, it might be another four or five months before I can pick it up at full price!”

  Greg took pity on him, “Sure, sure, sure. We get it. You’re crazy, but we get it. Stop stalling and let me crush you so we can get the game done at a reasonable hour.”

  Rick laughed to cover his sense of superiority. I have to have him beat, right? I mean, he can’t beat this three-of-a-kind with what’s on the board, can he? He looked over at Greg, and had this vague impression that his buddy could use a win right about then. Certainly, he didn’t need to get crushed. This was a friendly game anyway. Nothing cutthroat in it for Rick. He knew the right move. Trevor had taught them well enough; Rick knew he should bet hard right now. Don’t give him any other chances. Push him to go ‘all in’, and let Rick’s three Kings roll right over him.

  Instead, he shrugged as if Greg had a point, and said, “Call.” He tossed a Coconut Cream bar onto the pile to offset Greg’s bet.

  Mike called out, “Fifth Street, coming at ya!” He flipped it down, revealing a Seven.

  Greg looked thrilled; his poker face had vanished. “All in, amigo! Come at me, ‘cause I got the nuts!”

  Not having any idea what he was talking about, Rick shrugged. “You probably got nuts alright. Or you are nuts, one of the two.” He pushed in half his remaining candy, enough to cover the pot, then tossed his Kings down. “Three of them.”

  Greg let out a ‘hah!’, and then tossed down his two Eights. “Straight Five to Nine, my friend! Read ‘em and weep!” Snickering the whole way, he dragged the pot back into his arms.

  Trevor was outraged, seeing right away where Rick had gone wrong. “What the hell, man? I’ve told you a million times, you can’t let a guy dribble his way into the river! You got to head that shit off! Make him run while he’s still on the draw!”

  Rick sighed. “Yeah, I know.” Alright, so sometimes I’m made of syrup. But Greg’s had a horrible month as a whole. No need to make a fun game into a throat-slashing contest, right? It would be his secret, and he could live with that.

  Greg didn’t gloat or rub it in too hard. Celebrating, he unwrapped the Coffee Crisp and ate it right there. He gave Rick a smile and said, “Thanks for the snack!”

  Mike was the one who teased Rick further. “See, you need to get a little more killer instinct, Mr. Richard Angelo. You just picked the wrong Richard-based nickname. You need to be a little less ‘Rick’ and a little more ‘Dick’.”

  The other two snorted up their drinks.

  Rick rolled his eyes, guessing they had to be a little drunk. “It wasn’t that funny.” That only brought out more laughter. He protested, “Look, if I get to redo the nickname and have it come true, why wouldn’t I go with ‘Rich’?”

  Mike shook his head. “Because miracles don’t come true.”

  “Ouch. Cynical much?”

  Trevor smiled across the table. “Alright, enough. We all know Rick here ain’t ever gonna change. And we wouldn’t want him to. Because if he started to be more of a jerk, he might realize how we use his apartment way too much as a hang-out when we want to escape our various responsibilities.”

  Rick smiled, knowing they all loved their families. Trevor was married, Greg was also with a couple kids, and Mike was recently separated but with his own two kids to look after. But each one of them had managed to convince their loved ones to honor the yearly Thanksgiving poker tradition. He didn’t mind offering up his space as ‘neutral ground’. “My pleasure, guys.”

  “See?” Trevor chuckled. “Why would we want to mess with that? So, stop bugging him and ante-up. I’m the dealer. We’re upping the blinds so we can get out of here before midnight. Pony up a cherry blossom and let’s get this train back on the rails!”

  Black Friday

  Chapter 2:

  The Grayson Stampede

  According to the old proverb, there were ‘lots of ways to skin a cat’. Now, that had always confused Rick, since he didn’t know why anyone would need to do such a morbid task. Perhaps something more his speed would be ‘more than one way to shine a penny’ or ‘more than one way to bake a cake.’ Then again, I’m not a banker or a chef, so…

  He shook himself out of that death-spiral of thought and focused on the matter at hand.

  There is more than one way to shop a Black Friday sale.

  Ask ten people, and you’d get ten different answers. To Rick, it all depended on what your priorities were. Obviously, there was the need to be early enough, especially when the item in question was in very limited numbers or very high demand. For him, the first one was true. He didn’t think many people would normally be willing to shell out ten grand for a golf simulator, but this was half price. A full ten thousand dollars off! Hard to ignore that. The company must be trying to get its name noticed to pull a stunt like this, because they had to be losing money. Or at l
east, selling it at cost.

  But then, there was the question of getting out of the parking lot. Sure, as he pulled into the lot at just after 6 a.m., the whole place was practically empty. He could park anywhere he wanted. But he had no wish to be stuck for three hours nudging his way out of the lot past frantic shoppers once he had captured his own prize.

  Instead, Rick chose a spot only a couple spaces in from the road, then backed in so he could pull out directly and be gone in seconds. The walk to the front of the store was about the length of a football field; Grayson’s Wholesale was a massive conglomerate chain with warehouse stores in every major city. They pulled in massive crowds every day. But the distance didn’t bother him, even though the morning was a little chilly. Rick was in good shape, and he was running about fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. By the look of the parking lot, there couldn’t be more than twenty people already gathered in front of the store. Chances that they were all golfing enthusiasts with $10,000 to spare? He liked those odds.

  It was a little chilly out, this late in November, though there wasn’t any threat of snow in the air. Even on the odd years when they got a little snow, the white stuff usually didn’t start flying till after Christmas and was gone by the end of January. Still, it was brisk enough to make him shiver inside his blue dress shirt, black trousers and the light fall coat he wore on top.

  As he drew near the doors, he found out his guess wasn’t far off. Thirty people were milling about. The store doors were wide enough that four people could huddle right up against the electronically activated, sliding-glass entranceway. When the store employees activated it for the first time, that quartet would be off to the races. They looked like they were camped out, and had probably gotten there around midnight. I would call them crazy, but I’m here, too. They might call me lazy.