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I get to the employee’s entrance with a few minutes to spare.
A door opens down the corridor, and I see a relieved Clara who motions me over.
“There you are! I thought we’d lost you,” she says as she checks her watch.
“Or did you think I wouldn’t come back?” I retort but she ignores my comment.
I’m really asking myself though. Asking if I can do another five hours of the fake smile and crabby people for twenty-five bucks?
The thought darkens my mood because a part of me knows the answer is no.
Clara leads me to the changing room and tells me to change as quickly as I can as I duck inside.
I know the way from here, but damn. If the smell of Lucian’s cologne isn’t as strong as it ever was in here, even the next day.
I make a mental note to be careful if I ever dab myself with any, the stuff is mighty potent. Like the man himself, I guess.
I unfold Lucian’s note. He’s the only reason I’m here. If he’d said wait in bed all day until I get home, I would’ve done that.
But for some reason, he wants me here, so I’ll do it.
Not for Clara or all those people, and certainly not for twenty-five bucks.
“I’ll do it for Lucian,” I hear myself saying out loud, kissing his note before tucking it back into my bra and pulling on the Mrs. Claus suit, which today seems to fit better than ever.
Snug in all the right places, but at least this one’s not cutting me in half.
My keys, phone, and everything I left behind yesterday are still in the broken locker, so I figure they’ll be safe for another few hours.
With a final sigh of resignation, I slip back out into the corridor, almost bumping into somebody passing with a janitor’s cart.
“Oh, careful! Hiya Carol,” The man says, his voice is familiar but I don’t recognize him, and I don’t really have time to either.
I make my way to what I hope is the same door from yesterday, nervously opening it in time to see the huge curtains being pulled back, revealing twice as many shoppers, and kids then there was yesterday.
Clara glares at me for a second, giving me a second to get to my place before she unhooks the chain barrier and pushes the clipboard with all the names on it into my chest.
“Enjoy your shift,” she says acidly. A wry smile on her lips as she slips past the crowd, only looking back with some hurt in her eyes at Santa.
Old Bill, I dunno what he could’ve done to-
Taking my place next to Santa, I can’t take my eyes off him either.
This isn’t Bill.
This is somebody else.
Then it clicks. The janitor just now, that was Bill.
So this must be…?
“Santa,” he says in a put-on, but deep and smoky voice, holding out his white gloved hand.
“Come now, Mrs. Claus, we have people waiting,” he adds cheerfully, his dark eyes twinkling as he nods towards the crowd, letting out a few over the top but well-rehearsed ‘Ho-ho-ho’s’.
I feel a moment of shock. Shame.
Disgust.
The last time I looked, Santa wasn’t built like a pro football player, nor did he have eyes I could get lost in.
Eyes that make me want to tell him things, all of them naughty and none of them nice.
I’d be his Ho.
But I can’t. I mustn’t think that. I’m promised to Lucian. I told him I was his, and I am.
Of course, I freaking am!
So who’s this new guy? Could even pass for Lucian, but nah. It can’t be him, he wouldn’t.
Sure he is a close fit for size, I reckon, even under that suit.
Maybe he has a brother.
Or maybe I just have Lucian on the brain, seeing him everywhere and in everything. I’ve read about people experiencing that, once they get fixed on an idea or person, they suddenly see, hear, and yes, even smell them everywhere.
Hmmm.
For the next five hours, I try and stay focused on the job. Just like yesterday, in no time there’s such a blur of people, noise and so much happening at once that I could be anywhere with anyone.
But a couple of times it does feel like Santa’s eyes are on me, almost giving me that feeling again, but as soon I feel it it’s gone again.
Whenever I look up, the new guy, whoever he might be is always looking someplace else, handing out a gift or posing for a photo.
Just when I can’t feel my legs anymore, just when I couldn’t care less about new Santa or the never ending crowds of people and their screaming kids.
It’s done. It’s finally over.
I can see why they only have Christmas once a year. Nobody could do this sort of thing full time.
It’s madness.
Carla reappears, handing me my check, which I notice is still showing a deduction for the costume.
