Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Emery

I shifted in the uncomfortable metal chair, trying not to fall asleep as the training video droned on. The break room of Wrap It Up was about as exciting as watching paint dry, with its stark white walls and motivational posters that seemed more threatening than inspiring. One of them showed a perfectly wrapped present with the caption “Perfection isn’t optional.”

“Is anyone else wondering if this is actually a cult?” whispered the guy next to me, a lanky twenty-something named Tyler with more piercings than I could count. “Because I’m getting strong cult vibes.”

On my other side, Maria, a petite woman with purple hair, stifled a giggle. “Shh! They might hear you through the walls. I bet they have secret microphones in the paper rolls.”

“The first rule of Wrap Club is you don’t talk about Wrap Club,” I muttered, earning snickers from both of them.

The video continued its monotonous explanation of corner-folding techniques when the door suddenly opened. Ronan entered, followed by two equally gorgeous but distinctly different men.

“Fresh meat,” Tyler whispered, earning an elbow from Maria.

“Welcome to Wrap It Up,” said the shortest of the three, although that wasn’t saying much, seeing as they were all somewhere near six feet. “I’m Levi Taylor. This is Max Parker, and you’ve already met our resident cheerleader, Ronan Gray, during your interviews.”

Ronan’s glare could have melted steel. “This isn’t a comedy club, Levi.”

“No kidding,” I mumbled under my breath, but Max caught it, his lips twitching slightly as he ran a hand through his brown hair. There was something softer about him compared to the other two, despite the tattoos peeking out from under his rolled-up sleeves.

“We expect excellence,” Max said, his voice deep and measured. “Every package that leaves this building reflects our standards.”

“And our expectations reach the stratosphere,” Levi chimed in, drawing yet another murderous look from Ronan.

“Can we maintain some professionalism?” Ronan snapped.

I caught Max rolling his eyes behind Ronan’s back, and suddenly I felt a little better about my new workplace. At least not everyone here had a candy cane stuck where the sun didn’t shine.

“You’ll each be working with an experienced wrapper today,” Max continued, consulting a tablet. “Tyler, you’re with Mark. Maria, you’ll work with Barbara. And Emery...” His brown eyes met mine for a moment too long. “You’ll be with Blake.”

The puns at this place just kept on giving, and I was unable to help myself. “Should I create some fancy performance name? The Wrap Master? Doctor Package?”

Tyler and Maria burst out laughing, while Levi snorted. Even Max’s lips curved into a reluctant smile.

Ronan, however, looked like he was considering firing me on the spot. “Ms. Williams, this is a professional establishment.”

“Right, sorry.” I tried and failed to bite back another grin as I watched Ronan’s jaw twitch in barely contained frustration. My brain was already spinning with more ridiculous suggestions, but I forced myself to behave. Sort of. “So, Wrap Daddy is a no go. Got it. I’ll save that one for my memoir about my time in the gift-wrapping trenches.”

Levi actually laughed out loud this time, quickly turning it into a cough when Ronan turned his Arctic glare on him. Max stepped forward, clearly trying to defuse the situation.

“Blake is waiting for you at station twelve. He’s one of our best.” His voice was gentler than I expected considering I’d just made a fool of myself, and I swore I saw a glimmer of humor in his eyes. “Try not to drop any sick beats while you’re learning.”

As the three men left, Ronan muttered something about “maintaining standards” while Levi responded with what sounded suspiciously like “maintaining that stick up your...”

“Well…” Tyler stood and stretched. “That was interesting. Is it too early to start a betting pool on how long before one of us gets fired?”

“My money’s on me.” I sighed, gathering my things. “Apparently, my filter has taken an early holiday vacation.”

“Are you kidding?” Maria grinned. “You’re my hero. Did you see Levi trying not to laugh? And Max was totally into it.”

“Yeah, well, Ronan looked like he wanted to wrap me in paper and ship me to Antarctica,” I replied as we headed for our stations. “Though honestly, that might be his normal face.”

I approached station twelve, where a middle-aged man stood waiting. He looked like he’d been starched right along with his clothes. His black polo was tucked into khakis with military precision and there was not a hair on his head out of place.

“Hi! I’m Emery,” I said brightly, trying to mask my nerves with extra enthusiasm. My hands fidgeted with the hem of my shirt. “Ready to show me your wrapping secrets? And by secrets, I mean techniques, not like, deep dark confessions. Though if you have any gift-wrapping tea, I’m all ears.” I cringed at my rambling, but sometimes my mouth had a mind of its own when I was anxious.

Blake stared at me with the expression of someone who’d bitten into an unexpectedly sour lemon. “The first rule is silence. Concentration is key.”

“Right. Silence. Got it.” I mimicked zipping my lips, which earned exactly zero reaction from Blake’s perfectly composed face.

“Every morning you’ll get your wrap sheet from Sophia, and you’ll find your first cart of the day waiting at your station.” He gestured to a large gray bin on wheels that was filled with unwrapped gifts. “On the wrap sheet it will specify the wrapping paper and any extra details.”

He handed me the wrap sheet, and I resisted the urge to tell a joke. “Wow, all these go to the same person in New York City?” There were twenty presents under one name, all with matching paper.

“Yes. This is one of our biggest clients throughout the year. They ship the gifts to us, we store them in our warehouse until the time comes to wrap them all, then send them to her.” He gestured to a large rolling cart that had several section dividers. “You place the wrapped presents in here and then take the completed wrap sheet to shipping.”

I gave him a salute, which only made his frown deepen. This guy was probably Ronan’s dad.

Even though I’d sat through an hour-long video on how we were expected to wrap, Blake showed me the “proper” way to measure paper, cut straight lines, and fold corners. It was like watching a robot—precise, methodical, and completely devoid of joy.

Watching someone else wrap presents for almost half an hour was a bit overkill. “Do I get to wrap now? I’m pretty sure I have it down.”

With an assessing gaze, he slid a box toward me. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

I picked up the scissors, determined to prove I could be professional. The paper was gorgeous, with little golden reindeers that seemed to dance in the light. I wrapped the first box perfectly, with Blake giving me an approving nod once I slid it into place on the cart.

The next item wasn’t in a box, so I selected one for it and nestled it into matching tissue paper before the wrapping began. As I measured and cut, I couldn’t help but hum “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

“No humming,” Blake said sharply.

“Geez.” I gave him a sad look and a pout and that’s when tragedy struck. The thick paper sliced through my finger faster than my ex had unsheathed his turkey baster. “Mother of Santa!” I yelped, jumping back.

“Volume control,” Blake hissed, looking scandalized.

Blood welled up from the paper cut, and I stuck my finger in my mouth. “You know what would make this less painful?” I asked around my finger. “If we could sing while we work. Like Snow White’s dwarfs. Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to wrap we go...”

To my surprise, Tyler picked up the tune from his station. Then Maria joined in. Soon, others within hearing distance were humming, some even adding their own gift-wrapping-themed lyrics.

“Hi-ho, hi-ho, these corners need to show...” someone sang.

“With scissors sharp and paper bright...” another added.

“We’ll wrap these presents day and night...” I contributed, getting into the spirit.

Blake looked like he was having an aneurysm. “This is very unprofessional.”

But the impromptu musical number had already taken on a life of its own. I grabbed an empty wrapping paper tube from the garbage and held it like a microphone.

“Hi-ho, hi-ho...”

“Ms. Williams!”

The singing cut off like someone had hit the mute button. Everyone’s heads snapped up to the second-floor overlook where Ronan stood, hands gripping the railing, looking like a disapproving deity about to smite us all.

“My office. Now.” His deep voice echoed through the suddenly still room, making my stomach do an anxious flip-flop.

The silence was so complete you could have heard a bow drop. Even the rustling of wrapping paper had ceased, and I swear I could hear the collective held breath of every employee on the floor. My paper-cut finger throbbed in time with my racing pulse.

“Well,” I said to no one in particular, trying to mask my nerves with humor as I set down my makeshift microphone, “guess I better face the music. Though apparently, music is strictly forbidden here.” I shot Blake a pointed look, but he was suddenly very interested in straightening his already perfectly aligned scissors.

I made my way toward the stairs, feeling every eye in the place on me. The walk of shame was made slightly less dignified by the fact that I was sucking on my paper-cut finger again.

“Good luck,” Maria whispered as I passed.

I climbed the stairs, trying to channel my inner Disney princess facing the dragon. Though in this case, the dragon wore a perfectly tailored suit and probably had a spreadsheet detailing all the ways I’d violated company policy in the last hour and a half since stepping foot in the building.

Well, at least if I was going down, I was entertaining someone. I squared my shoulders and followed Ronan’s rigid back toward his office, mentally preparing for my defense. Though somehow, the holiday spirit made me do it probably wouldn’t cut it.