Chapter 5
Penny
“I still can’t believe you two.” It’s Monday morning, and I’m riding the escalator down to the sporting goods department with Dottie and Keira.
We had to remedy an inventory snafu, so we’re running a few minutes late for Matt’s first product demonstration.
We’re considering this our World’s Fittest Santa’s test run with shoppers before his big unveiling at the Thanksgiving Day Parade later this month.
Dottie sighs. “Sweetheart, it’s been over a week since the audition. It’s time to drop it. You know he was the best person for the job.”
“But you offered it to him on the spot! We were supposed to confer. And we still had twenty other Santas left to audition! That was a little unfair if you ask me.”
“We still saw everyone who signed up,” Keira says reasonably. “Besides, the rule was that two out of the three of us must agree, and Dot and I were immediately and completely onboard. Also, be real, Penn. Can you honestly say that any of those twenty Santas we saw after him were better than Matt?”
“Define better,” I grumble as we reach the second floor and step off the escalator.
Keira starts listing Matt’s qualities. “He was charming, funny, handsome—”
I cut her off. “Crass, cocky, uncultured—”
“Come on now, honey bun,” Dottie interrupts. “Matt was a delight, and you know it.”
I don’t know how delightful this guy is, but I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t handsome.
I would never admit this to anyone—not even Keira and Dottie—but something sparked in me the moment I saw him standing in that hallway.
Was it hatred? Arousal? Haterousal? Whatever the feeling was, I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I made the split-second decision to slam the door until I could face him again.
Really mature, I know.
“Trust me, friends. I know guys like this.” I adjust a crooked clearance sign as we breeze past. My high heels click into the floor, stabbing extra hard today with my annoyance.
“Guys like what?” Keira says.
“These intense fitness bros. I was surrounded by them constantly when I was a dancer. None of them wants a real relationship. All they care about is having a hot woman on their arm for parties, someone who will stroke their ego until the end of time.”
“Why do you care about Matt’s dating life?” Keira smiles.
“I don’t! Obviously, I don’t! I just—I mean, do we really want someone like that working for Herald’s?”
“Someone like what?” Dottie presses.
“Someone who is clearly self-obsessed.”
“I don’t see why taking excellent care of his body automatically makes him self-obsessed,” Dottie says.
“You haven’t even gotten to know the guy.
Look, I had character assessment phone calls with his last three employers.
They all sang his praises. Especially the principal of the school where he currently teaches.
” Dottie hangs back and quickly rearranges a display of New York sports team caps before catching up beside me.
“Yes!” Keira says. “My kids adore him, too. They can’t say enough good things about Mr. Barbera.”
“And did you tell Sutton, Sloane, and Sylvan about his erotic rapping skills?” I ask Keira with no small amount of sarcasm.
“No, Penelope…” she starts.
“Don’t call me Penelope.”
“I did not tell them about that. Though I have to say erotic is a surprising term for you to use, considering you find him so repellent. So what is he, Penn? Is he uncultured? Or is he erotic?”
I don’t get a chance to answer her because a perfectly timed male moan sounds from the sports equipment display area around the corner. “Uhhhhhhh.”
“What the hell was that?” I say.
Dottie, Keira, and I pick up our pace and turn the corner to see a huge crowd of shoppers—mostly women—obscuring our view of the machines.
A series of heavy rhythmic breaths, most commonly associated with adult activities, emanates from the center of the crowd. “Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!”
“Where did all these people come from?” I ask. We’re used to hordes of shoppers once December hits, but not in mid-November, and certainly never in the sporting goods department.
A series of heavy pants and another moan sounds.
A shopper to my left purrs, “Merry Christmas to me.”
Another is breathless when she says, “This is the best Tuesday morning of my life.”
I stand on my tiptoes, trying to get a better look just as Matt reveals himself, rising to his full height in the center of the crowd of women.
“Ah!” he says jovially. “My bosses have arrived! Ladies, would you mind creating some space for these lovely women to come through?”
A jolt of excitement surges through me when he refers to me as his “boss,” but I squash that feeling as quickly as it came.
The crowd parts like the Red Sea, allowing Dottie, Keira, and me to join Matt in the display area where Herald’s showcases our array of treadmills, ellipticals, and stair-steppers. Usually, this part of the department is devoid of energy. Today, it’s apparently a lively performance space.
Today, our World’s Fittest Santa winner is wearing a form-fitting red tank top and little black shorts that leave very little to the imagination. He’s smiling and glistening with sweat.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“I’m doing a GHD demonstration,” he whispers back, standing a little too close for my comfort. He smells like pine needles and fresh sweat.
It should gross me out, but somehow it doesn’t. I inch a tiny bit closer.
“A GH what?” I say, hoping Matt doesn’t notice me inhaling his scent.
He smiles at me, darts his gaze down to my lips, then quickly back up.
Oh God, he noticed, didn’t he?
He raises his voice so the crowd can hear. “For those of you who’ve just arrived, this bad boy here…”
He slaps the contraption beside him. It reminds me of a mechanical horse you’d find in a kitschy western bar.
“…is called the GHD. Short for glute ham developer. It’s how my glutes!” He smacks his own ass for emphasis. “And my hams!” He slides his hands down the backs of his legs. “Got so damn developed.”
The shoppers go wild.
“Oh, you like that, huh?” Matt says. “Let’s give that another go then. The GHD will target your glutes!” He smacks his ass again. “And those sweet, sweet hammies!” He shimmies his palms down the backs of his legs with extra flourish this time.
The crowd cheers again.
He blows them kisses like he’s goddamn Miss America.
“Alright. You’re making a scene now,” I say under my breath, doing my best to keep smiling at our shoppers, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult.
“Isn’t that sort of the point?” He leans even closer to me. “I was told to do demonstrations on the new Kingpin Fitness equipment and drum up interest in sales. Look around, Pennywise. It’s already working.”
Pennywise?
He raises his voice and points at a primly dressed woman standing front and center. Her eyes are locked on his every move. “Harriet, my new friend! Didn’t you say you and your crew want to buy GHDs for your husbands for Christmas?”
Harriet nods and whips out her credit card. Her three friends do the same.
Dottie jumps into action. “Wonderful! I’d be happy to get you all set up with your purchases, ladies. I’ll meet you at the register.” Dottie winks over her shoulder and follows the women to the counter.
I peer over the crowd. It’s growing by the minute.
This guy may not be my cup of tea, but his involvement clearly brings much-needed attention to our sporting goods department. I glance toward the register. A long line is forming for this weird butt developer thing. A team of our stocking clerks is bringing out more boxes labeled Kingpin Fitness.
I guess I should let him do his schtick—however irritating that schtick may be.
Taking a step away from Matt, I gesture for him to continue.
“Oh, may I?” he says playfully.
“Yes.” My eyes narrow at him. “You may.”
I didn’t realize Keira had disappeared until she jogs up to us with her lighting tripod and camera setup. “Cool if I film, Matt? This will be great for our socials.”
“Absolutely!” he says. “Film away. Though I could use a volunteer to join me for this particular demo.”
A flurry of hands shoots to the sky in the crowd.
But Matt’s eyes are only on me.
“Penny.” He reaches a hand in my direction. “Would you do me the honor of mounting my equipment?”