Page 18 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
Chapter 5
Penny
“I still can’t believe you two.” It’s Monday morning, and I’m riding the escalator down to the sporting goods department with Dottie and Keira. We had to remedy an inventory snafu, so we’re running a few minutes late for Matt’s first product demonstration. We’re considering this our World’s Fittest Santa’s test run with shoppers before his big unveiling at the Thanksgiving Day Parade later this month.
Dottie sighs. “Sweetheart, it’s been over a week since the audition. It’s time to drop it. You know he was the best person for the job.”
“But you offered it to him on the spot! We were supposed to confer. And we still had twenty other Santas left to audition! That was a little unfair if you ask me.”
“We still saw everyone who signed up,” Keira says reasonably. “Besides, the rule was that two out of the three of us must agree, and Dot and I were immediately and completely onboard. Also, be real, Penn. Can you honestly say that any of those twenty Santas we saw after him were better than Matt?”
“Define better,” I grumble as we reach the second floor and step off the escalator.
Keira starts listing Matt’s qualities. “He was charming, funny, handsome?—”
I cut her off. “Crass, cocky, uncultured?—”
“Come on now, honey bun,” Dottie interrupts. “Matt was a delight, and you know it.”
I don’t know how delightful this guy is, but I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t handsome. I would never admit this to anyone—not even Keira and Dottie—but something sparked in me the moment I saw him standing in that hallway. Was it hatred? Arousal? Haterousal? Whatever the feeling was, I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I made the split-second decision to slam the door until I could face him again.
Really mature, I know.
“Trust me, friends. I know guys like this.” I adjust a crooked clearance sign as we breeze past. My high heels click into the floor, stabbing extra hard today with my annoyance.
“Guys like what?” Keira says.
“These intense fitness bros. I was surrounded by them constantly when I was a dancer. None of them wants a real relationship. All they care about is having a hot woman on their arm for parties, someone who will stroke their ego until the end of time.”
“Why do you care about Matt’s dating life?” Keira smiles.
“I don’t! Obviously, I don’t! I just—I mean, do we really want someone like that working for Herald’s?”
“Someone like what?” Dottie presses.
“Someone who is clearly self-obsessed.”
“I don’t see why taking excellent care of his body automatically makes him self-obsessed,” Dottie says. “You haven’t even gotten to know the guy. Look, I had character assessment phone calls with his last three employers. They all sang his praises. Especially the principal of the school where he currently teaches.” Dottie hangs back and quickly rearranges a display of New York sports team caps before catching up beside me.
“Yes!” Keira says. “My kids adore him, too. They can’t say enough good things about Mr. Barbera.”
“And did you tell Sutton, Sloane, and Sylvan about his erotic rapping skills?” I ask Keira with no small amount of sarcasm.
“No, Penelope…” she starts.
“Don’t call me Penelope.”
“I did not tell them about that. Though I have to say erotic is a surprising term for you to use, considering you find him so repellent. So what is he, Penn? Is he uncultured? Or is he erotic?”
I don’t get a chance to answer her because a perfectly timed male moan sounds from the sports equipment display area around the corner. “Uhhhhhhh.”
“What the hell was that?” I say.
Dottie, Keira, and I pick up our pace and turn the corner to see a huge crowd of shoppers—mostly women—obscuring our view of the machines.
A series of heavy rhythmic breaths, most commonly associated with adult activities, emanates from the center of the crowd. “Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!”
“Where did all these people come from?” I ask. We’re used to hordes of shoppers once December hits, but not in mid-November, and certainly never in the sporting goods department.
