Page 66 of Fa-La La-La Land
Her eyes widen as I nudge her out of the way and say, “Move aside, Stella. This is a man’s job.”
She lets out a giggle. I send her a warning look. With my back to Grandpa, I mouth, “Just do it.”
With a smug grin, she steps back and spreads her arms wide. “Be my guest.”
I pull off my gloves to get a better grip, but when I grab the cold metal rung, I have to swallow a yelp.
“Now, listen to my instructions, and you won’t get hurt,” Mr. Sparks says, and I turn to face him. “Tread on your boots looks good, but if you’re not walking one foot on each side in a valley—that’s where the two roof angles join—or the hip—that’s the peak looking part—you walk at an angle.”
I nod as he gives me more tips on how not to die—a good chunk of which I don’t understand. I hold back a salute when he finishes, even though he deserves it. Then my eyes climb to the top of the ladder, and I pause to consider all my life’s choices and whether I’m ready to meet my Maker.
I’m not the kind of bloke who will let a lady risk her life to save his own skin, but Stella’s done this before. Her gender doesn’t make her any less capable than I am of climbing a ladder and scaling a roof in the name of Christmas cheer. In fact, her experience makes hermorecapable.
But I’m not saying any of that to Grandpa Sparks.
Stella steps back another foot, and I sling the rope over my shoulders, then scale my Mount Everest, one rickety rung at a time.
“We’ll be here all day if you don’t pick up the pace, son. Ladder’s hooked to the roof. It’s not coming down,” Mr. Sparks calls up to me.
I pretend not to hear him and stay at the same slow, careful pace. When I reach the top, I take a deep breath, then step into the roof valley thing. I toss one end of the rope down to Stella and Mr. Sparks, then climb at an angle to the far upper corner of the roof. By the time I reach it, they’ve secured Santa and his eight tiny reindeer to the other end of the rope.
I sit down on the steep, pitched roof to let my breath normalize. The view is amazing. Gia’s house is surrounded by tall trees. Some have lost their leaves, and they reach toward the roof with outstretched arms, offering a friendly handshake. If I look over my shoulder—which I do very, very carefully—Lake Smuk greets me. A ribbon of wind riffles the reflection of a pale winter sun on its blue surface.
It’s not my worst day ever.
A tug on the rope signals Santa’s journey has begun—this one by way of winch and pulley instead of flying reindeer. Luckily, inflatable Santa is a lot lighter than real Santa, and he’s on the roof in the blink of an eye. The snow, unfortunately, is quicker and comes down in swirling flurries.
Considering I’m used to wearing a guide wire andharness when I’m this far above the ground, I make quick work of unrolling Santa and his reindeer mates across the roof hip. I secure them at regular intervals until I reach the chimney, where the main tether will go.
Despite the snow coming down harder now, as long as I don’t look down, I’m okay. Feeling more manly by the second, to be honest. Doesn’t mean I’m not eager to be done with this job. I move slowly, tethering Santa around the chimney, then give Stella the signal to plug him in and let the inflating begin.
As the first reindeer fills, a high-pitched, music-box version of “Up on the Housetop” begins to play from the inflatable. I suppose one of my jobs is making sure Santa doesn’t have any leaks and inflates all the way. I could yell down to Stella to ask, but if she could hear me over the music, I reckon I could also hear Jim Sparks muttering something about me being an idiot city boy.
Roof seems safer than her grandpa’s ire, but not while I’m standing, so with my back against the chimney for balance, I slide to my arse. The air travels at a snail’s pace from one reindeer pair to the next, making its way to Santa. Stella yells something to me, but I can’t make out what she’s said over the music and the sound of the fans forcing the air through the blow-up.
“What’s that?” I call back, but I don’t hear a reply, so I stay put.
The larger Santa and his reindeer keep growing, taking over the roof like they own the place, leaving me less and less room to move. The wind’s blowing hard now, turning the snow into icy snakes slithering over the shingles, making every foothold a slip hazard. While I’m trying to figure out how to get back to the ladder without dying, Santa finishes inflating, and I realize I’m about to be squeezed right off my little patch of roof.
I edge my back up against the chimney and risk a glancedown it. Too narrow, and I’m fresh out of Santa’s magic dust or whatever it is he uses to squeeze through.
A squirrel chatters nearby. I look around the chimney to see a tree stretching toward me, its branches close enough to almost count as an invitation. Maybe the squirrel’s offering me a hand…or laughing already. Hard to tell.
The roof behind me is a mess of tethers, and the sleet’s only making it worse. I haven’t climbed a tree since I was a kid, but that still makes me more qualified for it than this rooftop nonsense.
“Careful,” I mutter to myself, inching around the chimney and gripping the edge until I’m close enough to grab a branch. I swing one leg over and hug it tight, shimmying toward the trunk. The bark bites into my palms, and twigs scratch my jeans. One catches my coat, ripping at the fabric as the wind picks up and shakes the branch like it’s trying to throw me off.
I freeze, holding on for dear life. Snow drifts down from the upper branches, dusting my jacket and clinging there.
Then—a sharp snap. Something slaps my calf. I squeeze my eyes shut, certain the branch has cracked and I’m about to plummet. When nothing happens, I breathe again and glance back. A tether cord is flapping around my ankle, knotted tight around a twig.
“Brilliant,” I mutter, tugging my leg. The cord only tightens, throwing me off balance. I flail for a second before the branch slows its shaking. No luck freeing myself, though. I give my leg one more yank and nearly pitch myself out of the tree.
“Rhys, where are you?” Stella calls.
“I’m in the tree!” I look down to see her far, far below and squeeze my eyes shut again.
“How’d you get up there?” she calls.
