4. The Tenth Day Before Christmas #2
“Sorry, but if you can, I think I need a little more information about… everything.” The second the words come out of my mouth, they feel weird—and not just because I’m saying them in my super creepy Santa voice.
Or maybe it is because of the voice. They’re meek words, entreaties I’d uttered a hundred times before.
Yet, in my big booming Santa voice, they feel strange.
Why am I apologizing for asking for clarification on something they’d brought up?
Duke half-smiles as he slips on a Santa jacket that was draped over a chair. “Santa pictures are largely considered the worst station to be assigned. They’re monotonous, the throne is uncomfortable, the parents can be a little… intense about how the pictures turn out—”
“You get peed on sometimes,” Captain offers.
They all nod in agreement, staunchly avoiding eye contact.
“Usually, we rotate through. But, with how busy the place has been this year, I guess Maria decided to stick us all on a station so there are fewer mix-ups.”
Valentine throws his hands in the air. “You lick one chocolate fountain…”
“So, we all left the Santa picture station for the new guy,” Duke finishes. At least he has the decency to look properly chagrined. He takes his jacket off, realizing it’s too small and tosses it to Captain.
“And the good part?” I ask.
They all freeze, mid-dressing. “Olivia,” they say in unison.
It is, without a doubt, the creepiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.
“Olivia?” I ask, fervently hoping this isn’t a street name for a drug or something like that.
‘She’s blonde.”
“And beautiful.”
“So beautiful.”
“And flips her hair.”
“Her smile.”
“Not that she ever smiles at us.”
“Mean hot. Definitely mean hot.”
“With really big—”
“Those lips!”
They continue chattering on about this mythical goddess-person, talking over each other and interrupting to heap more compliments onto her.
It’s perfect. Just lovely. Exactly what I need to hear when I’m so fresh off a breakup, sweating away in a Santa suit that I barely had to alter due to my frame.
Eventually, the chatter dies down and they look at me, expectantly.
I shrug. “Sounds like a lovely person, but it doesn’t sound like she’s my type.”
Valentine walks towards, pushing Duke out of the way. “Sometimes, it literally hurts my eyes to look at her, she’s so beautiful.”
Well, hard to argue with that.
“I just got out of a long-term relationship. Like a few days ago, so I’m not really looking for anything,” I hedge.
Curio, Valentine, and Captain groan.
“Great, another heart-sick moper,” Curio mutters.
Duke hits him on his bicep. “I feel that. While I don’t mope—” He glares at Curio. “I, too, just got out of a relationship before the season started.”
His face, that perfect, magazine-cover face, cracks. There’s such a profound sadness in the way his jaw barely contains the tremble. It’s a sadness I know all too well.
“Did she—” I clear my throat. I accidentally used my regular voice for a moment—which, while quite low for being a girl, is not nearly enough to fool someone. “Did she cheat on you? Sorry. I know that was forward of me.”
Duke shakes his head, rubbing at his jaw. “I was the guy she cheated with. Not that I knew that at the time. I thought we were…” He looks away, not finishing the sentence.
“And that’s why he, no, why we all , like Olivia,” Captain chimes in, slinging an arm around his friend.
“Hot as hell and completely honest,” Valentine finishes.
“Yes, completely honest about how much she loathes us,” Curio adds.
A small smile graces Duke’s face. I know it well. It’s the ‘ I’m alright’ smile. It’s the ‘don’t worry about me’ smile. It’s a lie.
“It is actually nice that she’s so forthright about her hating us. I really can’t do games or liars right now,” Duke says, still smiling that broken-hearted smile of his.
To me.
The liar.
If he’s mad at his ex for lying about her relationship status, I can only imagine what he’d think of me—lying about absolutely everything.
“I understand,” I say in my lying, ridiculous Santa voice.
The smile leaves his face as he looks up at me.
Something glimmers in his eyes, like part of him is recognizing part of me.
The room is filled with men and velvet and musk, but somehow, it’s just the two of us for a moment.
We share our loneliness and heartbreak, while smiling for the rest of the world.
The other guys chime in with similar platitudes of encouragement for us. Everyone except for Curio.
Curio doesn’t join in. He just looks me over. “Seriously, what’s with the voice?”
I shrug.
“Are you really going to judge him for staying in character?” Valentine asks.
“The dude who stayed in character for a month to do a spicy ketchup chip commercial?” Captain adds.
Duke, who still has his arm around me, squeezes a little and shoots me a sultry look. “I like it hot,” he says in a low voice that makes my body erupt in goosebumps.
“Pardon?” I ask in a weird combination of falsetto and Santa. Falsanta?
It throws Duke for a second, but he recovers quickly enough. “That was his line. For the commercial.”
He’s still looking at me when Captain adds, “He had one line for one commercial, and we heard it non-stop for a month.”
Curio throws up his hands. “Whatever. Use the voice. Just know, it’s a little creepy.”
“Creepy?” ribs Valentine as the three of them file out of the loft. “What about you answering that ‘you like it hot’ when my mom came to town and…”
As their chatter fades, I’m left alone with Duke and the sinking dread that is my new job.
I had mentally prepared myself for a lot of contingencies—hot Santas was not one of them.
Especially not one who gives me goosebumps and is constantly touching me.
One who looks at me and sees what I work so hard to hide.
One who’s been heartbroken by a liar—like me.
One who may or may not like it hot.
“Hey,” interrupts Duke, still keeping his arm around my shoulder as he moves to look at me. “Are you okay? Is this about being on picture duty for the next two weeks? Don’t let the guys scare you. It’s not really that bad.” He pauses. “I mean, it’s true that you do get peed on sometimes.”
Staring up into his dazzling smile, the pee comment barely registers.
When I don’t answer, Duke pulls his arm off me. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m touching you. Must be all the emotional wounds.” He laughs a little.
“Maybe you’re trying to distract me from all the inevitable pee?”
Duke really laughs now. Like I’m funny. “There are some good parts about Santa pictures.” He’s looking at me, really looking at me.
It makes me feel a little bit bubbly. Light.
Like my gravity, all that impossible weight that’s been on me, has been shifted towards him.
“You get to talk to the kids and really connect with them. Plus, a lot of them will wind up thinking you’re the real Santa. ”
“The real one?”
Duke frowns, as he finishes attaching his belt. “Rick really didn’t tell you anything?”
I shrug noncommittally.
“Since there are five of us, kids are pretty quick to point out that we can’t all be the real Santa. The line we give them is that we’re all just helpers to the true Santa, but the kids always wind up thinking one of us is the real deal anyways.” He smiles. “Kids can’t help but believe.”
“Duke,” I say, grabbing his hand. I shiver—I like the way his name sounds in my mouth.
I’m tempted to say it again, roll it around on my tongue and feel it in my mouth.
“Be honest for a second: do I make a good Santa? I don’t want to be the reason some kid stops believing or parents are disappointed with their pictures that are meant to be lasting memories or… ”
I trail off because Duke, once again, is looking at me. “Face me,” he says, slipping his hands to either side of my face, over my fake beard. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Can’t seem to stop touching you.”
Still, he looks at me, hands cupping my face, sending shivers up my spine. No jokes, no brushing off my feelings, just a serious attempt to assuage my nerves. Like my worries are valid. Like my feelings are valid. Even though I know I’m a chronic over-feeler, as Mal was always quick to point out.
“It helps that you got the bushiest beard and wig. They cover a lot of your face,” Duke says, leaning in even closer to examine my face.
“Your features are a little more delicate than the typical round-faced Santa. That’s okay, though.
Tomorrow me and the guys can show you how to contour your makeup to make your cheeks look apple-ier. Applier? More apple-y? Whatever.”
I clear my throat, growing hot at how close he is. Especially as his thumb sneaks out to brush a light line at the edge of my beard, tickling my cheek. “That’d be great. Thanks.”
He trails his thumb up, moving the mustache of my beard, and then past my beard to trace the faintest line under my eyes. With a shake of his head, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of spectacles. “Here. You’ll need these more than I do.”
“Oh,” I say, a little unsure. “I don’t need glasses. I can see—”
“No, not that.” He shifts a little. “Your eyes are just really pretty. I mean, the shape and your eyelashes.” He shakes his head a little bit. “Not something I thought I’d compliment a guy on, but whatever. I call it like I see it.”
I shrug. “It’s nice to hear.”
And I mean it. I really, really mean it.
“Yeah, I know guys aren’t supposed to care, but it’d be nice to get a couple compliments every now and then.”
“Well, I also think you have beautiful eyes,” I say, even though I probably shouldn’t say it. I shouldn’t say anything extra. I should be aloof and cold and distant—
Duke grins. “I think it’s really brave of you to jump into this position mid-season.”
My face flushes. I’ve never been called brave before. “I like how confident you are, without being cocky.”
His face looks serious, or perhaps just lighter than it was. “And I like how easy it is to talk to you. I’ve been a little off, distrustful since my breakup, but this is nice.”
My heart stutters. He’s said the words that I didn’t know that I was feeling. For the first time in days, I’m not on the verge of crying over my lost life. For the first time in years, I feel, well, maybe not quite myself, but at least like I can see her from afar.
The word ‘same’ is on my lips, but I don’t say it. I can’t. I shouldn’t. Not if I want to do aloof and cold and distant.
I’m the one to break our eye contact. I look and step away.
Aloof. Distant. Cold.
“Right,” he says, a little more uncertain than he was.
“Well, I guess we’re dressed now.”
Duke nods. “Guess so.”
I point my thumb to the loft door. “I’m just going to, you know, work.” I force myself to walk towards the door, away from the magnetism that is Duke.
“Hey, Sebastian,” he says.
“Yeah?” I answer, belatedly remembering that he means me.
“Usually after we change back at the loft at the end of the day, we go out to the pub down the road for a beer before heading home. I’d really love for you to join us.”
“Coolio,” I say, still in my Santa voice, throwing some finger guns his way.
Coolio? Really, Viola?
He shakes his head, laughing to himself. “See you later.”
“Not if I can help it,” I mutter to myself. Changing in front of the guys and then visiting a bar out of costume sound like two things I need to avoid at all costs.
And, I really do mean costs. I just need to put my head down and remember that this is about money—for both Sebastian and me. I need to get my own place. I need to move on.
Mal always said I’d be lost without him. I sincerely hope that isn’t true.
Even though it might be. I am, after all, wearing a Santa costume, lusting after a guy who’s also wearing a Santa costume.
Call me crazy, but I think that’s two too many Santas for me to consider myself in a healthy headspace right now.
Viola exits.
Duke watches her, smiling to himself before following her.