“Does anyone know where I can find some mints at this hour?” I ask in their general direction, ignoring them.
“I have some,” Amanda offers––good girl––and later, I leave with the whole tin, cursing under my breath all the way to the hospital exit.
4
SCARLETT
This isthe third time I’ve used the bathroom to make sure I don’t have armpit stains or stink.
Luckily, everything is good.
Perfect.
Except Santa is a no show again, and this time, he doesn’t answer his phone.
What are the odds of screwing this twice?
He can’t be breaking the law. It would be statistically impossible.
Two men playing Santa getting in trouble with the law on the same day?
No.
It’s not possible.
Honestly, I don’t even want to think about it.
Hands propped on the smooth edge of the sink, I talk myself into breathing slowly and, basically, not losing my marbles.
There is so much at play tonight. So much to lose.
And so much to gain if everything goes right.
A successful party can make me the perfect candidate for a promotion next year.
On the other hand, if this goes bust, I’ll need to start looking for a new job and live off what exactly in the meantime?
The five side hustles I’ve been shuffling around?
The firm knock on the bathroom door startles me.
“I’m coming,” I bark, convinced another crisis awaits me.
I hope it’s not yet another anxious parent making an inquiry about our absentee Santa.
I can’t wait for all this to end and go home, toss my heels into my closet, take a hot shower, put my bathrobe on, and crash onto the bed with a big glass of wine in hand.
All I want is to pass out from the wine and exhaustion and forget about tonight.
The person behind the door knocks again, more slowly this time, but still firmly.
I glance in the mirror, tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and spin on my heels, a sense of dread settling in the pit of my stomach.
I expect bad news.
Something happened with our new Santa.
Maybe he had an accident, bailed on us, or there’s a blizzard outside, and he got snowed in.