Page 14 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
Eugene scoffs. “There’s no way they’re letting you get to verse seven.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dude. Have you completely blocked out your auditioning days? They always cut people off when they’ve ‘seen enough.’”
“There’s no way they’ll ever ‘see enough’ of this!” I launch into a series of squat thrusts right there in the hallway, a series of thrusts that send my cottonball-covered crotch directly into the gorgeous woman now standing in front of me. The same woman who slammed the door in my face a moment ago.
“Oh, hi!” I take a few steps back and smooth my costume.
“Hello.” She stands in the doorway, staring down at the crotch that just assaulted her, looking less than pleased.
I clear my throat. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to thrust directly into you.”
“I see,” she says flatly. “You wanted to thrust into me at an angle?”
I snort laugh. “Whoa! Hahaha! You’re funny, that’s really?—”
But all it takes is one look into her soulful brown eyes to see she’s not laughing.
Eugene steps in front of me. “What my friend meant to say was, ‘Sorry if we were a bit too eager. We will happily wait until the casting team is ready to see us.’” He pulls me onto a bench across from the audition room.
Sitting at a slight distance now, I can take her in fully.
This is who I’m auditioning for?
My nerves go through the proverbial roof. Because this woman is an absolute knockout. She has these long, loose brown curls cascading down her back. She stands like a ballerina. And she’s looking at me like I’m a dumbass.
“Dude.” Eugene nudges me and speaks out of the corner of his mouth. “You’re staring.”
“Shit. I am?” I say way louder than I mean to.
“You are.” She smiles, and it lights up her beautiful face for a moment. Her eyes crinkle in the corners, and it’s the cutest fucking thing. But just as quickly as the smile appeared, it’s gone, and she’s back in business mode.
“You’re”—she checks her clipboard—“Matt Barbera, I gather?”
“Matt Barbera, yup! That’s me. And you are?” I hop back to my feet and eagerly reach out my hand for her to shake.
“Penny Whitaker. We’re ready for you now.” She leaves my hand hovering in midair and disappears into the audition room, the door wide open behind her.
I whip my head around and whisper to Eugene. “You got the prop cart? Get the prop cart!”
“Yes, I have the prop cart!” He wheels it toward me. “Hey. Word to the wise? Stop checking out the casting director. No one wants to hire a harasser.”
“I did not harass her,” I say. “And I’m sorry, but did you see that woman? ‘Word to the wise…’” I mock his words from a moment ago. “When you stumble upon a freaking goddess, you look!”
“You look and pump your cotton-ball crotch at her?” Eugene smirks.
When I was a kid, I always wished I had a sibling. Now I have Eugene. We may not be related by blood, but we support each other like brothers. We’re also known for fighting like brothers, like we’re doing right now in the doorway of our audition.
“I did not pump at her, ya douche! And I think the cotton balls provide a nice, respectful touch!” I gesture toward the oversized cotton-ball belt I handcrafted last night. “You know this thing screams ‘Santa.’ What did you want me to do? I couldn’t exactly come in here rocking pure spandex with my bulge fully on display, could I?”
“No, I suppose you couldn’t.” He slaps a hand on my shoulder. “Good job with your arts and crafts, Barbs. I’m sorry I called you cotton-ball crotch.”
“Thank you. Let’s keep things classy, shall we?”
“Alright, classy men!” an older female voice I don’t recognize shouts from inside the room. “How about you get in here before you forfeit your spot, sweethearts?”
We enter the room to find three women patiently sitting behind a long table. On the left is Penny, the goddess I just met. In the middle is a woman with silver hair, presumably the one who just shouted at us. She introduces herself as Dottie. And on the right is…
