Page 13 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
“What?” I gasp. “Sweetie, that’s terrible! Are you sure?”
She nods and wipes her nose on a tissue that Dottie hands her. “I’ve been suspecting it for a while now, and I got confirmation last week. From the woman herself.”
“Who is it?” Dottie says. “Do I know her? Because I’ll smack a bitch.”
“You’ll smack a bitch?” I question.
“Isn’t that what you kids say today?”
“It’s this woman he works with.” Keira chokes back another sob. “I actually don’t think I can handle talking about it right now. I’m fine, I promise. These lying, dick-swinging Santa Clauses just got to me, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I’m sorry. I’ll keep it together from now on.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” I peek at the wall clock. “You sure you don’t want to go home and relax? Dottie and I can handle the dick-swinging Santas. Though I’m hoping after your speech just now, they’ll know better than to swing anything in our direction.”
She manages a small laugh. “No, please. Let me stay. Tagg’s home with the kids, and he doesn’t know that I know yet. I need to be here with you two right now.”
“Okay. Well, why don’t you take a seat at the table? I’ll take the lead and welcome our next contestant.”
Dottie puts an arm around Keira and ushers her toward the casting table while I make my way to the door.
When I swing it open, the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life is standing inches away from me.
And he’s wearing a spandex Santa suit.
Chapter 4
Matt
Before I can even say hello, the gorgeous woman on the other side of the door slams it in my face.
“What happened? Did we bomb the audition already?” Eugene says from beside me.
“Impossible. I’m guessing they just weren’t ready for us, which is totally fine. Now we have more time to limber up and review the plan.”
I throw a leg up on the wall and give my hamstrings another stretch, while Eugene paces beside me in all his elfin glory. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s even more nervous than I am. He totally looks the part, though. We both do.
The thrift stores in Brooklyn are some of the best in the country, I swear. I’m no costume designer, but I was able to deck Eugene out in an epic evergreen velour suit perfect for a buff elf assistant, and I found myself a red spandex leotard that—after a few DIY adjustments—is ideal for a World’s Fittest Santa contestant.
Eugene sighs. “We’ve rehearsed this thing to death. I promise I will remember all my cues. I have your back, buddy.”
What would I do without this guy?
“Hey, have I thanked you enough for doing this with me?” I ask as I switch legs to target my other hammy.
“Probably not,” he says. “You do realize calling me your elf is bringing back horrible childhood memories for me, right?”
“How so?
“I wasn’t always the confident Eugene you know now. Up until I was sixteen, everyone on my soccer team called me Chip.”
“Why ‘Chip?’”
“Because I was small and fast. Like a chipmunk.” Eugene’s face twists in a grimace. “Anyway, thank god the summer before junior year, I shot up five inches and put on some muscle, so the nickname finally died. But the humiliation lasts forever.”
I try to hold back my laughter. “Sorry to dredge up painful memories for you. Would it help if I nixed the Elf Assistant title and called you my North Pole Troll instead?”
“No, it would not.” He slaps my leg down from the wall. “And you’re scuffing the paint with your sneakers. Have some respect, will ya?”
“Just trying to keep things flexy.” I scrub the scuff on the wall with the heel of my hand, then drop into a squat. “I gotta be prepped for that move during verse seven. It isn’t exactly in my wheelhouse.”
