Page 12 of Her Secret Santa

It would have been great to get here earlier than I did, but the traffic was even worse than I expected. The mall manager was just thrilled I actually showed up, but she’s up to her ears in preparations for today, so she passed me off to one of the other elves for training after introductions were made.

“The camera automatically uploads to the printing booth over there,” Natalise says, pointing over to a separate station. “You don’t have to worry about that, that’s my job, just bring the kiddos back to their parents and Jack, the other elf, will sendthem my way. It’s nothing too crazy, just bring them up to Santa, take the picture, bring them back to mom and dad.”

She speaks fast, wandering around the display and fixing decorations and checking the ropes that form the lines. Her face is round and her cheeks are rosy, but the way she talks is all business.

I’m sure trying to train someone new the morning of isn’t the easiest, but the job really isn’t all that involved. I’m good with kids, even when they’re crying and overwhelmed, which I’m sure several of them will be. Black Friday is a lot to deal with, even as an adult.

I follow her around as she explains a few more things, occasionally passing me bits of Christmas decor to hold while she rearranges. An oversized candy cane here, plastic reindeer there, empty presents scattered throughout the fake snow. It really does look magical. The line at the entrance to the display is starting to look more like a mob, but there are plenty of smiling kids mixed in with the adults. Today will probably be the busiest day of this job, save for the few days surrounding Christmas, but I’m hoping that it won’t betoocrazy.

The elf costumes aren’t as bad as I expected, either. We can wear khakis and plain white shirts, but we all have sparkly green jackets with candy cane patterned sleeves, along with clip-on elf ears and pointy hats. The shoe covers are pretty cute, too, bright red fabric slips that curl up at the toe with bells around the ankle.

“I don’t see Santa,” I say curiously as we wrap up the preparations. “Does he come in later than us?”

“This guy’s new, I actually haven’t met him yet,” Natalise says, glancing at the big clock on the wall. “He should already be here. Alexis, the mall manager, said she’d brief him, so hopefully he’s here before doors open. If not, we improvise.”

This job is probably mostly improvisation—dealing with kids usually is. A thump sounds behind us, and I turn to see what hasto be the grumpiest looking Santa in the whole world. His fake beard is lopsided, his hat perched haphazardly atop his head. His wig is only barely thick enough to hide his hair, and when he looks to the side, I can see the edge of dark hair beneath it. I blink at him in surprise, having expected a kind looking older man, not someone with a chiseled jawline and an attitude problem I can smell from here.

I paste on a smile and march right up to him anyway, holding my hand out.

“Hi, I’m Clara,” I say. “I’ll be your head elf, so please let me know if you need anything.”

He glances at my hand in disinterest, his dark eyes raking over me coldly. I refuse to allow myself to be intimidated. Or attracted. He’s my coworker, even if he’s a much more hunky Santa than I’ve ever seen.

“All I need is to not be here,” he drawls, not taking my hand or bothering to introduce himself.

My smile wavers, my brows furrowing in confusion. What kind of answer is that?

I don’t get a chance to ask what that’s supposed to mean before the doors open and I hear the rushing footsteps of what has to be thousands of people. Jack and the other elves guide families to form a line, passing out candy canes and pieces of chocolate from the pouches on their belts. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to wait or go ahead, but Natalise looks like she’s ready in the photo booth, so as soon as the first boy comes up with his parents, I make my way over. I unclip the rope with a flourish and kneel down with a big, beaming smile on my face.

“Hello there! Are you ready to meet Santa Claus?”

The boy nods enthusiastically, and his parents pat his shoulders to encourage him to join me. I hold out my hand and he takes it, practically bouncing out of his skin as I lead him up to Santa.

Santa himself looks entirely unenthused.

“Whatcha want?” he asks as soon as the kid is settled in his lap.

I look up at him sharply, disbelief written plainly across my features. He just stares off to the side, uncaring and disinterested. I do my best to keep too much irritation from flashing in my eyes, raising a brow and nodding toward the boy in his lap.

“For Christmas,” he adds, the words a bored drawl. “What do you want for Christmas?”

It’s noho ho ho, but I guess it’s a little better. I walk back to the camera as the boy launches into a speech about action figures, keeping a bounce in my step and a smile on my face.

Things turn into a whirl of action for a while, some kids excited, some shy, some too young yet to talk.

I hardly have a moment to breathe until we’re more than halfway through the day, but the pace is steady, and Natalise and Jack have a good handle on things. It’s fun, and I think if Santa wasn’t so busy being an ass, I’d really be enjoying myself. He’s grumpy and brusque, hardly smiling for the photos even when I remind him to. He’d make a better Grinch than he does Santa.

I do my best not to focus on it, but my frustration with him grows steadily throughout the day. Natalise and Jack seem confused and annoyed by his attitude, too, doing their best to offer encouragement to get this guy to crack a smile.

A group of teenagers decked out in full goth regalia come up the line as the afternoon drags on, and I laugh in glee as they arrange themselves around Santa, huge smiles on their faces. Santa seems even more annoyed about them than the actual kids, not even bothering to ask them what they want before I take the picture.

“I’d like world peace, by the way,” one of the girls says snarkily as the rest of the group makes their way to the photo booth.

“You and the rest of the world,” Santa snarks right back.

I don’t know what the hell this guy’s problem is, but I’m done putting up with it. Maybe he’s had a bad day, but he signed on for this. Even if he only sees this as a job, he should try his best to do well. The holidays are a time for joy and companionship, and I’m about ready to shove the true meaning of both right up his ass if he doesn’t start acting right.

I force my smile to stay bright and wide even as I march my way up to him, pretending to fix the fake snow around his seat. The sparkly green vest and silicone ears probably don’t help to make me any more intimidating than I usually am, and I know the shoe covers only serve to make me look more ridiculous.

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