Page 40 of Fake It 'Til You Sleigh It

The manager appears at my side. “They’re ready for your introduction,” he says discreetly.

“It’s go time, sunshine!” I say.

The way her face panics? It’s priceless. If I could capture that look of sheer terror—memeify and sell it—I’d be richer than Jeff Bezos on Prime Day.

I bound up to the little stage, grabbing the mic. “Good evening, beautiful people of Naples! I’m Ethan Barrett, your friendly neighborhood Christmas hunk.”

The small crowd erupts in cheers and applause. One woman shouts, “I love you, Ethan!”

“I love you too!” I reply automatically. It’s become a reflex at this point. “But tonight, it’s not about me. Ladies and gentlemen, get ready to jingle and mingle for the most festive, fun-filled event of the season. Our Holiday Drag Show features the glitter-tastic, tinsel-terrific, absolutely fa-la-la-bulous… KRINGLE KWEENS!”

Mom and Dad cheer from our table, “Woo! Kringle Kweens!”

The lights dim. The room transforms. It’s like a disco ball having intercourse with a Christmas tree. Three stunning drag queens sashay onto the stage, dressed as candy canes so sexy they’d make a dentist weep.

The queen in the red dress takes the mic, her voice sultry and playful. “I’m Candy Cane Couture, and honey, I’m about to make your holidays very merry indeed.”

The crowd roars.

“But first, we need a volunteer. Can the lovely Chase Pemberton please come to the stage?”

I dash over to her, whipping out a pair of light-up antlers and planting them firmly on her head.

“No, absolutely not. Hell fucking no.”

I pull out my phone and hitGo Live. “Hey Ethan Addicts! Here’s your special treat. My sugar plum is performing, tonight only, with The Kringle Kweens!”

The crowd cheers. Chase downs her eggnog margarita in one gulp—accepting defeat. She reluctantly allows me to guide her to the stage.

I tilt my head in her direction. “Don’t worry. I promise you’ll be safe. Nolan will take good care of you.”

Her eyes snap to the drag queen in front. “That’sNOLAN?!”

Candy Cane Couture winks at Chase. “Don’t be shy, sweetie. I promise I won’t bite… unless you ask nicely.”

The thumping bass kicks in, vibrating the tacky decorations on the walls. Chase stands on stage, stiff as a board, while Nolan-as-Candy leads her through a series of increasingly ridiculous dance moves. She’s like a mannequin trying to do theMacarena—always one step behind.

“Come on, sugar!” Candy coos. “Shake your snow globes like they’re full of glitter!”

I’m laughing so hard I can’t hold the phone steady. Chase’s dancing is a crime against rhythm. I give her credit, though. She’s flailing those long legs like she’s a soulless Rockette robot, with grim determination on her face that’s usually reserved for yelling “CUT!” on set.

And then, as if by some sort of Christmas miracle, it happens. She starts to smile. Not her usual “I’m imagining your slow, painful death” smile, but a real, honest-to-God grin. Her whole face lights up.

For a moment, I forget I’m filming. I’m lost in this version of her—letting loose and having a blast. She can’t dance for shit, but God, it’s endearing watching her try.

As the song reaches its climax, Chase attempts a spin that sends her careening toward the Christmas tree. Nolan catches her just in time, dipping her low as the crowd goes wild.

She catches my eye. I smile at her, and—

Time stops.

Suspended in this infinite heartbeat, I take in every detail. Her cheeks are flushed—her eyes sparkle with laughter—her hair is a glorious mess.

It’s a part of her I’ve never witnessed.

I’m struck with the urge to make her smile like that again.

She’s never been more gorgeous.

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