Page 10 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
Keira takes a small sip. “Caffeine is a drug, Dottie. Didn’t your mother ever tell you? Don’t do drugs.”
Keira has an unusual edge to her today. Now that I think about it, her energy has been off all week.
“I gave up actual drugs in the late seventies, dear. I’ll be damned if I give up coffee, too!” Dottie chugs her caffeine and lets out an “aah” sound at the end like she’s a little kid. “Should we get this party started? It’s been decades since I got to ogle an array of man meat!”
“Dottie. I meant it when I said I want us to treat our auditioners with respect. They are not meat,” I correct. “They are men.”
Dottie salutes me. “I stand corrected. Bring on the men.”
“Thank you. Alright!” I clap my hands together. “We have five minutes until our first auditioner comes in. Keira? Let’s review the plan.”
Keira rises from her chair, clipboard in hand. “Each auditioner has a ten-minute slot. They’ve been instructed to arrive dressed in a Santa style that accentuates their fitness.”
“Accentuates their fitness?” My brows draw together. “Is that how we phrased it?”
Keira huffs out a breath. “Yes. Dottie wanted to say ‘shirtless-ness is recommended.’ You nixed that idea in favor of ‘please dress in a Santa style that accentuates your fitness.’ May I continue, please?”
Gosh, what is up with her?
I lift my hands in a defensive position. “By all means.”
Keira continues, all business. “Each auditioner will do a three-to-five-minute physical fitness demonstration of their choice, followed by a short Q&A with the casting team, which is, of course, us.”
Dottie looks my way. “Pen, you have all the Qs for our As, correct?”
I pull a notebook from my oversized purse and hold it in the air. “Yes. Our Qs are locked and loaded.”
“Excellent.” Keira moves toward the door. “At the end of the day, we three will deliberate, hopefully come to a unanimous decision, and crown our winner. If we can’t reach unanimity for some reason, two out of three in agreement will suffice.”
“My, my, this all feels so serious all of a sudden.” Dottie laughs.
“It is serious,” Keira says. “Whoever we select today as ‘World’s Fittest Santa’ will receive ten-thousand dollars, a lucrative sponsorship deal, and they will represent Herald’s Department Store during our busiest sales period. It’s imperative that we pick a worthy man.”
“A worthy man?” Dottie cocks her head to the side at her odd choice of words.
“I know, right?” Keira’s eyes well with tears. “Do worthy men even exist anymore?”
“Keira, are you okay?” I ask softly, and only then do I realize she’s not wearing her wedding ring.
She catches me staring at her hand and promptly stuffs it in her pocket. “I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with, alright?”
Dottie and I give each other a look. Before we can say anything further, Keira flings open the door and shouts into the hall.
“Jimmy Farrington! You’re up!”
We all take our seats behind the table as a young man—a very young man—enters the room. He’s dressed predictably in full Santa gear with a realistic sack of presents slung over one shoulder.
“Hello, ladies, I’m Jimmy Farrington,” he says, a crack in his voice.
“Hi Jim Farrington!” Dottie says kindly, but she tips her head to the side, confused.
This kid doesn’t look old enough to drive a car.
Dottie opens her mouth to speak again, but nothing comes out.
“I got this,” I whisper, then clear my throat and smile. “Nice to meet you, Jimmy. I appreciate you coming to see us today, but I need to clarify something before we start the audition.”
“Clarify away!” he says, voice cracking again.
