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“No way.” Juliette gawked.
“It’s true,” Duke said with a nod. “But it had to be the right Santa, you know what I mean?” he asked, but didn’t give Juliette a chance to reply. “I mean, that Santa I saw setting up down at the mall looks like a total fake. Did you see his beard?”
A sinking feeling washed over Macy at that very moment. She pushed herself off the wall. “Okay, kids, let’s finish getting ready...”
“Wait!” Gia exclaimed.
“...to this day, I’m almost tempted to sit on a Santa’s lap if he’s got a real beard.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Juliette said.
“Well, maybe not now. I mean, I tried to let every Santa I saw know what I wanted for Christmas until I was about thirteen. And at that point my mom had to smack me on the head and tell me that Santa isn’t...”
The scene before Macy felt as if it moved in slow motion. Macy and Gia both tried to get to the television to turn it off before that damn Duke ruined everything. Gia was singing “Fa la la la la” loudly and running toward MJ to distract him. Macy ran in front of the television, tripping over MJ’s shoes in the process before she could turn it off. But it was too late.
“...real.”
MJ stood there as his large round brown eyes glistened with the threat of tears. “Did he just say Santa wasn’t real?”
* * *
When you out Santa as a fraud on public television, there are bound to be some repercussions.
Duke Rodriguez found this out the hard way, especially when the woman whose attention he’d been trying to get wouldn’t reciprocate any smile he offered each time their eyes met. The caramel beauty in the cream-colored dress stood under the mistletoe, refusing to return his notorious dimpled grin. Fortunately, his invitation to his boss’s annual Thanksgiving dinner had not been rescinded. And he owed that to his mother, Janet Rodriguez, for teaching him to own up to his mistakes and hold his head high.
By coming to the party, he hoped to show the rest of the news team at WKSS, who were present at the studio to drop their children off at the daycare, how sorry he was for outing Santa. He brushed off being subjected to juvenile hostility from his colleagues. He hadn’t been pushed out of a food line since kindergarten, yet today one person purposely cut in front of him. Another person had swiped the last fork before he could reach it, and then just as he’d reached for a ladle of eggnog, the woman before him let it slip into the creamy punch bowl, slopping the beverage all over the front of his shirt and suit jacket. He handled it with ease and a tight-lipped smile. The story of him revealing Santa Claus as a fraud would blow over soon enough.
“I feel responsible for not fully explaining how family-oriented our staffers are at Tune In, Tallahassee. The station likes to go all out for the children at our day care and some of the children we’ve had on our spotlight segments. We host a party, trim a tree and I even dress up like Santa. Send me the bill for your dry cleaning.”
Duke glanced up from his poor attempt to clean the stain off his white button-down shirt. The autumn-colored napkin he used had begun to shred, leaving orange, yellow, and red paper streaks. “I’m going to hold you to it, Pablo.”
Chuckling, Pablo nodded his head. With each bob, Duke caught a glimpse of the beginning signs of the horseshoe-patterned baldness of his thinning hair but decided not to tease him right now. Pablo kept his hair curly and low. Duke usually kept his hair as short as Caesar himself. A lot of people often thought he and Pablo were brothers. They were close to the same height, but Pablo had him by maybe a half an inch. Had Pablo not spent the summer back in the Dominican Republic, they both would have been the same hazelnut shade of brown. While Duke liked to dress in finer clothes, Pablo had always been comfortable in a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. Today he wore a red pullover. Duke guessed it was to announce the upcoming Christmas holiday.
“Whatever,” Pablo said. “This is the least I can do for inviting you into the lion’s den. I never would have guessed—” Pablo handed Duke another napkin, a white one “—considering what a rock star you were two weeks ago, that you’d go down in flames.”
“Thanks,” Duke grumbled, taking the napkin from his overdramatic friend. As one of the highest-rated news anchors for Multi-Ethnic Television, someone who never took time away from work, Duke knew his career in journalism was far from endangered. Duke enjoyed working for the Orlando, Florida–based company. Multi-Ethnic Television, with affiliate stations all over the nation, prided themselves on diversity, not only in the news anchors but in their shows, as well. Every sitcom, cooking show, or drama or reality series showcased different nationalities from the Caribbean, Africa, India and everywhere else that made up America’s cultural melting pot.
With his contract renewal set to be signed at the beginning of the year, MET checked in with him every other week to verify his happiness. He also figured they wanted to know if their DC Nightly News anchor planned on returning to the news desk after he finished covering t
he morning anchorwoman’s period of maternity leave.
But they might be getting their journalist back sooner rather than later. His time in Tallahassee might be limited, thanks to the hordes of soccer moms threatening to change morning shows and local business owners flooding Pablo’s email inbox, warning they might remove their holiday ads as long as Duke was on the air. Duke’s arrival in Tallahassee earlier this month seemed so long ago.
Just because his best friend was his current station manager didn’t mean Duke had gotten off any easier. After shouting at him all morning long, Pablo suggested Duke do some serious investing in PR work if he wanted to help save the ratings. Despite his limited time in town, Duke prided himself on maintaining a positive image.
The anchorwoman he was subbing in for was Pablo’s wife and the mother of Duke’s three—now four—godchildren, so he was really here more so as a favor. He’d leaped from being a baseball star to being in front of the camera in DC, filling people’s homes with current events for the past fifteen years, without missing a beat. Being down here with Pablo and his family, however, made him wonder what things he had missed out on in life. After the New Year, Duke had some serious decisions to make.
Somewhat, a little voice nagged him.
“Oh, and her name is Macy Cuomo,” Pablo leaned in and whispered, “in case you were wondering. She’s single and a very good friend to Monique and me.”
He was wondering. He’d been staring at the petite beauty since she walked in the front doors of the Baez family’s home two hours ago. There were no obvious signs of her flirting with anyone else, either. Once she’d laid her manicured hand on a man’s chest as she tossed her head back and laughed at something that was said, but that was it. At that moment, Duke would have given anything to be that man.
“What?” Duke tried to shake off his gaze, realizing Pablo was speaking to him.
“Yeah, you look like you need to cool off,” Pablo said, pushing something into Duke’s hand. “You’re sweating from staring at her. Take this.”
He looked down to his left and spied the green bottle of beer in Pablo’s hands. Frost billowed off the beverage.
