Chapter 4
Matt
Before I can even say hello, the gorgeous woman on the other side of the door slams it in my face.
“What happened? Did we bomb the audition already?” Eugene says from beside me.
“Impossible. I’m guessing they just weren’t ready for us, which is totally fine. Now we have more time to limber up and review the plan.”
I throw a leg up on the wall and give my hamstrings another stretch, while Eugene paces beside me in all his elfin glory. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s even more nervous than I am. He totally looks the part, though. We both do.
The thrift stores in Brooklyn are some of the best in the country, I swear.
I’m no costume designer, but I was able to deck Eugene out in an epic evergreen velour suit perfect for a buff elf assistant, and I found myself a red spandex leotard that—after a few DIY adjustments—is ideal for a World’s Fittest Santa contestant.
Eugene sighs. “We’ve rehearsed this thing to death. I promise I will remember all my cues. I have your back, buddy.”
What would I do without this guy?
“Hey, have I thanked you enough for doing this with me?” I ask as I switch legs to target my other hammy.
“Probably not,” he says. “You do realize calling me your elf is bringing back horrible childhood memories for me, right?”
“How so?
“I wasn’t always the confident Eugene you know now. Up until I was sixteen, everyone on my soccer team called me Chip.”
“Why ‘Chip?’”
“Because I was small and fast. Like a chipmunk.” Eugene’s face twists in a grimace. “Anyway, thank god the summer before junior year, I shot up five inches and put on some muscle, so the nickname finally died. But the humiliation lasts forever.”
I try to hold back my laughter. “Sorry to dredge up painful memories for you. Would it help if I nixed the Elf Assistant title and called you my North Pole Troll instead?”
“No, it would not.” He slaps my leg down from the wall. “And you’re scuffing the paint with your sneakers. Have some respect, will ya?”
“Just trying to keep things flexy.” I scrub the scuff on the wall with the heel of my hand, then drop into a squat. “I gotta be prepped for that move during verse seven. It isn’t exactly in my wheelhouse.”
Eugene scoffs. “There’s no way they’re letting you get to verse seven.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dude. Have you completely blocked out your auditioning days? They always cut people off when they’ve ‘seen enough.’”
“There’s no way they’ll ever ‘see enough’ of this!
” I launch into a series of squat thrusts right there in the hallway, a series of thrusts that send my cottonball-covered crotch directly into the gorgeous woman now standing in front of me.
The same woman who slammed the door in my face a moment ago.
“Oh, hi!” I take a few steps back and smooth my costume.
“Hello.” She stands in the doorway, staring down at the crotch that just assaulted her, looking less than pleased.
I clear my throat. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to thrust directly into you.”
“I see,” she says flatly. “You wanted to thrust into me at an angle?”
I snort laugh. “Whoa! Hahaha! You’re funny, that’s really—”
But all it takes is one look into her soulful brown eyes to see she’s not laughing.
Eugene steps in front of me. “What my friend meant to say was, ‘Sorry if we were a bit too eager. We will happily wait until the casting team is ready to see us.’” He pulls me onto a bench across from the audition room.
Sitting at a slight distance now, I can take her in fully.
This is who I’m auditioning for?
My nerves go through the proverbial roof. Because this woman is an absolute knockout. She has these long, loose brown curls cascading down her back. She stands like a ballerina. And she’s looking at me like I’m a dumbass.
“Dude.” Eugene nudges me and speaks out of the corner of his mouth. “You’re staring.”
“Shit. I am?” I say way louder than I mean to.
“You are.” She smiles, and it lights up her beautiful face for a moment. Her eyes crinkle in the corners, and it’s the cutest fucking thing. But just as quickly as the smile appeared, it’s gone, and she’s back in business mode.
“You’re”—she checks her clipboard—“Matt Barbera, I gather?”
“Matt Barbera, yup! That’s me. And you are?” I hop back to my feet and eagerly reach out my hand for her to shake.
“Penny Whitaker. We’re ready for you now.” She leaves my hand hovering in midair and disappears into the audition room, the door wide open behind her.
I whip my head around and whisper to Eugene. “You got the prop cart? Get the prop cart!”
“Yes, I have the prop cart!” He wheels it toward me. “Hey. Word to the wise? Stop checking out the casting director. No one wants to hire a harasser.”
“I did not harass her,” I say. “And I’m sorry, but did you see that woman? ‘Word to the wise…’” I mock his words from a moment ago. “When you stumble upon a freaking goddess, you look!”
“You look and pump your cotton-ball crotch at her?” Eugene smirks.
When I was a kid, I always wished I had a sibling. Now I have Eugene. We may not be related by blood, but we support each other like brothers. We’re also known for fighting like brothers, like we’re doing right now in the doorway of our audition.
“I did not pump at her, ya douche! And I think the cotton balls provide a nice, respectful touch!” I gesture toward the oversized cotton-ball belt I handcrafted last night.
“You know this thing screams ‘Santa.’ What did you want me to do? I couldn’t exactly come in here rocking pure spandex with my bulge fully on display, could I? ”
“No, I suppose you couldn’t.” He slaps a hand on my shoulder. “Good job with your arts and crafts, Barbs. I’m sorry I called you cotton-ball crotch.”
“Thank you. Let’s keep things classy, shall we?”
“Alright, classy men!” an older female voice I don’t recognize shouts from inside the room. “How about you get in here before you forfeit your spot, sweethearts?”
We enter the room to find three women patiently sitting behind a long table. On the left is Penny, the goddess I just met. In the middle is a woman with silver hair, presumably the one who just shouted at us. She introduces herself as Dottie. And on the right is…
“Keira, hi!” I say.
Eugene stands at attention when he sees her.
“You know this guy?” Penny leans toward her colleague for an explanation.
“I teach phys ed at her kids’ school,” I answer before Keira can.
“Oh,” Penny says.
I gesture to Eugene. “Ladies, allow me to introduce you to my North Pole Troll, Eugene.”
“Call me a troll again, and I’m reintroducing cotton-ball crotch,” Eugene says under his breath. Then, in a full voice, he says, “Dottie, Penny… it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He nods toward Keira. “And nice to see you again.”
“Likewise.” Keira shifts uncomfortably in her seat.
Eugene continues, “Did you… want to talk after the audition?”
Penny’s eyebrows furrow. “Wait. You know the troll, too?”
Keira squeezes her eyes shut. That’s when I notice the pile of used tissues on the table in front of her.
I don’t know why she came looking for Eugene last week or why I feel this urge to protect her, but I interject again, giving her the temporary save I think she needs.
“Eugene and I run a gym together in Williamsburg. Keira stopped in to let us know about the auditions. That’s all! ”
“Yup, that was all,” Keira says. “No need for further discussion. Shall we begin?”
“Sure! Yes. Let’s begin.” I assume my position—the position of a Santa Claus about to kick some serious fitness ass.
I nod to Eugene.
Ever the supportive friend, he gets his head back in the game and presses play on his phone.
The simple beat I recorded on my old Casio keyboard sounds throughout the room.
That beat pulses through my body.
It fills me with confidence from the top of my fluffy red-capped head to the tip of my black booted toes.
I reach down to the floor.
Eugene slides a barbell in front of me, right on cue.
What a pal.
Just like we rehearsed, I grab the bar and prepare for my first lift.
As I hoist the weights to the sky, I take a deep breath, open my mouth, and unleash my rap lyrics, lifting and lowering the barbell to the rhythm of my verse.
He’s the Santa you want!
He’s the Santa you need!
He can take things real slow,
Or deliver with speed!
Holiday heroes come
In all shapes and sizes,
But this Santa here?
Is a guy who exercises!
He can do a burpee, a squat,
A killer jumping jack!
It’s probably no surprise that…
Eugene runs over and unzips the top of my spandex suit.
I sing from the top of my lungs:
THIS SANTA HAS A SIX-PACK!
I stand triumphant, the barbell overhead, my exposed abdominals glistening in the fluorescent lights. I know they’re glistening because I applied plenty of baby oil to them while waiting in the hallway.
Dottie claps.
Keira gasps.
Penny… sneers? Yeah, the look on her face could definitely be categorized as a sneer. But hey, I have lots of verses left in me. Plenty of time to win her over.
I release the barbell to the ground. Eugene whisks it away and hands me a jump rope. I perform a series of double-unders throughout the next verses.
He’s checking your list, babe.
He’s checking it twice.
He loves it when you’re naughty.
’Cause naughty IS nice.
Those things on your list?
Consider them done.
Sit on his lap, babe.
Get ready for fun!
When he comes down your chimney
With his great big sack,
You can claw your nails down…
HIS SANTA SIX-PACK!
I lasso my jump rope and throw it to Eugene, nearly decapitating him.
He gives me the look of death, but recovers quickly and ups the volume on our beat, signaling it’s time for the chorus.
The only equipment the chorus requires is the depth of my squat and the explosivity of my hips. Both of which I have in spades.
This is the move I botched in the hallway when I pumped into Penny. With her at a safe distance now, I pump the air with everything I have.
Santa has a six-pack. Unh-unh!
Santa has a six-pack!
Let yourself scream, babe,
Don’t ever hold back,
’Cause Santa! Has! A six-pack!
Eugene told me during our earlier rehearsal that the chorus makes no sense, but it just feels right to me. And I firmly believe you shouldn’t argue with your art.
As I prepare to enter a series of handstand walks, I glance at Penny again. Shockingly, she still doesn’t seem sold, so I rise into my handstand and make a game-time decision to improvise the next verse.
?Feliz Navidad, yo!
Joyeux Noel!
Cozy up to Santa!
’Cause he’ll really ring your bell!
Dottie oohs and aahs as I walk on my hands. It’s just the encouragement I need to bring this thing home.
He’s flexible and funny.
He’ll make you swoon and make you laugh.
And this Santa’s so strong…
He’ll break your ass in half!”
Penny leaps to her feet. “I THINK WE’VE SEEN ENOUGH!”
I’m still in my handstand, but with my legs spread wide.
Shit.
Probably should’ve stayed on script.
It’s also possible I took things too far when I opened my legs in a straddle on the ‘break your ass in half’ line. Yeah, in hindsight, I have some immediate regrets about that.
I lower my legs to the floor and stand right side up again, the blood draining from my face.
Eugene presses stop on our beats.
The room falls silent, except for the sound of my labored breaths. I’m in shape, but it’s not every day I rap and exercise at the same time.
I open my mouth, fully prepared to apologize for taking things too far, when Dottie rises and starts a slow clap.
Keira rises to her feet as well and joins the clap.
Well, I’ll be damned. It’s a standing ovation. It’s a two-person standing ovation. Penny stays firmly in her seat, her jaw dropped open in disbelief—but still, it’s something.
Then Dottie gifts me with a Christmas miracle.
“Congratulations, Matt,” she says. “You’ve got the job.”