Chapter 27 #2
My eyes well up at the sight of a sign for a charity grotto and I point it out like it’s a signpost to Heaven. Seriously. Oh my fucking God.
Tiff’s cackle bursts out loud.
“What happened? Did you empty Santa’s sack for twenty grand?”
I keep grinning. “No, no. The client was Santa at the grotto, actually. But he wanted a plus-one for his work party. He said he was desperate for a companion. He didn’t want to go alone.”
Tiff raises an eyebrow.
“Right… a companion for Santa… that he could finger under the table, by any chance? Did you give him a desperation discount? You got suckered in there, Ells.”
Ebony gives Tiff a side eye, but she doesn’t need to. I know Tiff well enough by now to accept a bit of snarkiness from her.
“Sorry. I had a late one,” our scarlet haired bestie says. “I’m a bit yowchy.”
Eb’s eyes widen as she looks at me.
“Ah, yeah, I remember now,” she says and takes my hands. “This was the client who said he was desperate for a companion, but ended up giving you a lump of cash for charity instead? The guy who wanted to see who would help him if he sent out a load of requests?”
I nod. “I thought I was helping him out for thirty quid, I really did, but no. He gave me a shit ton of money! I handed it out, too. I took it out in handfuls from the ATM and gave it to people on the street outside.” My breath hitches. “He was amazing.”
Eb points to the grotto sign.
“Shall we go and see if Santa is playing Santa again this year?”
“We shouldn’t,” I say, the rules of The Agency especially strong in my mind given my current circumstances. “You know what the regulations state. I shouldn’t even be talking about him at all.”
Tiff rolls her eyes at me as though I’m crazy. She’s a lot more of a rule breaker than me. Eb simply smiles.
“You’re allowed to go to the grotto, just like everyone else,” she says, giving me a shrug but no side eye. “It’ll be fun. You don’t need to acknowledge his dick or the fact you’ve seen it.”
“I haven’t seen it,” I say, instantly defensive when it comes to such a charitable client. “He asked me to accompany him to a meal for thirty quid. I turned up because I thought he was lonely, and he gave me thirty grand because I came to help him. That’s all. No dick whatsoever.”
“He gave you thirty grand without even waving his dick? How rude.” Tiff laughs. “I’d want at least a glimpse of Santa’s sack if I’d trekked out on a job, charity payout or not.”
My tears are welling, emotions rising high. Thoughts of the lovely Santa figure rising up from the depths.
“Do you want to see him again?” Eb asks me. “If he’s such a great man and didn’t so much as pay you for a handjob, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you calling by and saying hello.”
“I’d love to see him again, if it’s the same Santa,” I say. “He might not remember me to be fair, even if he is.”
Tiff’s laugh is a massive cackle this time. “Who could ever forget you?! You’ll be stamped into his spank bank for all time. Come on,” she says, taking my hand. “Let’s get to the grotto. I’ll sit on his lap myself if my butt will fit.”
Tiff takes the lead, gripping my fingers as she marches us through the mall on a mission.
Damn, the queue for the grotto is heaving, full of kids desperate to see Santa.
But none of them are as desperate as me.
My heart is fluttering on overdrive at the memories.
I want to dance as Santa’s little cottage comes into view.
It has a cute path leading up to it with artificial grass and snow, and it hits me. Hard.
I have to fan my face as we get close to the grotto doorway, mouthing to Tiff and Eb how nervous I am as I step inside. My crazy excited O M G must be shining far brighter than the Christmas lights.
The grotto is small and cosy once the curtain drops behind me. Santa is sitting on his chair, giving a ‘ho, ho, ho’ as he welcomes me over with open arms.
He is literally going to have a ho, ho, ho on his lap over the next few minutes.
Jesus Christ, my heart is a mess. It’s him. It’s definitely him. I can see it in his kind eyes, dark mahogany under heavy brows, and there’s no doubt he recognises me because his warm eyes widen. His expression is one of shock, showing through his fluffy Santa beard.
I’m legit shaking when I perch myself on his padded suit lap. There is so much I want to say, but I can’t blurt it out with the photographer in here, so I take a deep breath and wait for him to guide the situation.
“Have you had a good year, you lovely girl?” he asks me.
I spin to the side, so we are up close and personal. My eyes well up afresh as I nod for him.
“I’ve had a crazy year. An amazing year. And I’m going to have one of the very best Christmases there could ever be.” I pause. “How about you, Santa? Have you had a good year? I hope so.”
I can see the genuine smile under his fluffy beard. He nods emphatically, squeezing me in his Santa suit arms.
“It’s been a very good one, thank you. I’ve been very busy, preparing for the festivities. Plenty of children to help and provide for. Plenty of families needing Santa’s support when the year has been tough.”
“I’ll bet. People are lucky that Santa is as generous as you.”
“People are lucky that there are kind hearts out there, as generous as Santa. It makes the world a much better place. Thank you for coming to so many people’s aid last year. That heartwarming effort says so much about a person’s soul, it’s astounding.”
I choke at the memories. My elation at having that kind of cash to dish out to people on the street, trying to survive a crazy winter in the freezing cold. It was an insanely stark contrast to my life then, but compared to now.
I struggle to speak, and he squeezes my knee. It’s kind, nothing sexual about it.
Words aren’t needed here. The way his eyes lock on mine say it all.
Santa is a lovely, lovely man. I’m honoured that I got the chance to be a lovely woman from the scale of his proposal payout. All at once I get a thump of aspiration. A longing to be as benevolent myself, no matter how wild life can be, and I’m in a position to do it on a much bigger scale now.
The payments that will be hitting my bank account will be like winning jackpot after jackpot. Sharing those jackpots and changing people’s lives for the better will be one of the most important things of all.
My shopping list just got a whole load longer.
I’m going to be giving out a massive splice to the people who need it. From my account this time, not from Santa’s generosity. I can help change people’s lives, just as I did last Christmas when The Agency changed my entire existence.
“I owe you so much,” I tell Santa. “Never stop being you, please. Never stop doing what you do. It’s so important to be such a character in people’s lives.” I pause, giving him a smile. “Seeing you again only reminds me to be the best version of myself I can possibly be.”
“And seeing you again gives me total reassurance that you will be. You’re a sweet soul. I can feel it in my Christmas bones. And I think other people will be recognising it all around you, since you’ve had such a busy year.”
His words have another layer of meaning. Fuck. He’s another one who knows me. As in knows me, knows me. He knows what I’ve been doing. Outside of the mall, and Santa’s grotto, and the crazy charity donation explosion last year.
Santa knows all that, and he’s smiling benevolently. Proud.
It means so much I get another pang in my stomach.
“Thank you, Santa Claus. That’s amazing to hear.”
“I hope so. You’re definitely a girl on the nice list, even if you have a bit of naughty in you.” He raises an eyebrow. “Or a large bit of naughty in you.”
I giggle. I grin. I want to squeeze him in my arms and tell him he’s the greatest Santa of them all. But I hold myself back, maintaining some kind of composure.
I don’t exactly want to be crying my eyes out after visiting Santas’s grotto in the middle of a mall. It wouldn’t exactly give the best impression for the cute little kiddos in the queue.
He gives another token ho ho ho, and we sit together in silence for a while, our eyes locked in meaning.
The money, and the success, and the recognition for it may change my world, but it will never change me. The core of the onion that is called my personality is the most important part of all.
I hear a wail from a kid outside, and it jolts me back to my senses. Santa isn’t here for a social, and meaningful silences have taken up more of my quota time than it should have.
“Sorry, Santa, you are a busy man,” I say. “I’d better go.”
“Shame you can’t stay a little longer, but yes, there are plenty of people waiting on Santa’s nice and naughty list.”
He gives me a wink, and I giggle.
If only he knew the full extent of my naughty list this year.
I hold him tight for the photograph, and take it outside with me, staring at Santa’s happy smile.
There is no way to truly recognise him from this picture, the beard almost covers his entire face.
That doesn’t matter, though. I’ll be putting this photo in a frame and keeping it up all year, to remind me how important it is to be on the nice list every single chance I get.
Eb isn’t in the grotto very long. She comes out with a photo and a smile, but there is no recognition on her face.
“Nice guy,” she says, and I laugh.
“He’s way more than that, he’s…”
“Amazing!” we say in unison.
“Yeah, he sure is,” she says. “I bet he’s an absolute heartstopper under that Santa costume.”
“Um, yeah, you could say that.”
“I’d better go re-join the queue then. Have myself another go on his lap and try to tempt him.”
God, how I love Eb. I grab her for a hug, because without her I’d never have met Santa in the first place. I wouldn’t be here at all.
“Thank you. All of this, everything I do, is all because of you,” I say to her, and she laughs.
“Oh, babe, you have nothing to say thank you for. You did all this for yourself. All I gave you was a referral. Nothing more.”
“Yeah, and look what it did for me.”
She pulls away.
“No, no, Ells. No way. You did it for you. You took advantage of the opportunity and gave it everything you had. That’s what matters.
That’s what makes you, you.” She holds out her arms. “The fantastic, fantabulous Ella Edwards. Highs and lows, babe, you had them all, and you came out on top of the mountain.”
I sure did.
We walk up to join Tiff when she leaves the grotto. I hope she didn’t give Santa too much of a hungover mouthful.
“Amazing, isn’t he?” I say. “You were right, Tiff, he remembered me. Thanked me again for coming to his rescue last year.”
Eb sighs. “Damnit. I wish he was an active client. I’d love him to empty his sack for me, even if he is in a pillow suit. Those eyes…”
“What do you mean if he was an active client?” Tiff asks.
“He signed up as a newbie last year,” I tell her, refreshing the memory.
His account is no huge secret. It was a charity donation and nothing more.
“He told me he might be using his client profile for bookings, but nah, nothing.” I call up my phone and log in to the app.
I can show her this one, I’m sure. Screw the rules, nothing happened.
User 5639. Male. 48.
“User 5639 hasn’t made any bookings since that one with Ells,” Eb groans. “I just searched on the forums. Not one peep about him. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.”
Tiff seems weird. Disoriented even. She looks like she’s about to barf or black out. Jeez, we need to hit brunch and get her sorted from this hangover. But there’s a hint of something deeper… something more…
“What is it?” I ask. “You alright, Tiff? You seem… weird?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, with another smile. “Like I said, I’ve got a pissing hangover, and my ass feels like I’ve been impaled by a battering ram. Cut me some slack, will you?”
Ebony laughs. “A battering ram, now that I’d like to see.”
“Actually, it was an enthusiastic three on one, but you get my gist.”
“Ouch,” she says, “That explains it, then.”
I’m not quite buying it like Eb is. Something seems off, churning under the surface.
I curse myself inside, because charity starts with those closest to you, and I haven’t been there nearly as much for Tiff as I should have been over the past few months.
Even though she’s in Belgravia along with me and Josh, we’ve been like passing ships in the night.
Hardly anything more than D&S messages, voice notes, and the occasional pizza night.
And I’ve been babied up of late. Massively.
Tiff doesn’t do so well with that kind of thing.
It’s me who takes her hand this time, giving it a squeeze.
“Girl time,” I say, drawing the Santa conversation to a close. “Let’s go have fun, ladies. Christmas is calling.”
Fuck, I’m one hell of a lucky girl. Tiff can he hungover and snarky, and loud mouthed, and Eb has the classic kind of sarcasm that raises eyebrows, and I love them both for all of it. I really do.
I have blessings longer than my shopping list, and the best kind of friends I could ever have.
Yet another thing to add to my Ella Edwards has it good list.
It’s far longer than my shopping list.
Hell, it might almost be even as long as my Naughty one.