Page 26 of Ashes of Sin and Stardust

I passed Mark and Reuben as I jogged back out to the Christmas tree. They looked funny next to each other; Mark wore a pair of ratty jeans and a stained t-shirt, and Reuben wore his normal black dress pants, white shirt, and a jacket. Did the man live in formal wear?

Mark and Reuben were looking at the diagram of the tables and the buffet line I’d drawn up. Jake was fiddling with the giant TV in the fellowship hall, trying to get the Macy’s parade playing, since The Murphy’s and their family band were singing. And of course, the local university’s marching band was once again leading the parade. So it was kind of a big deal for the locals.

I loved a good party, and I loved hosting and coordinating one. As exhausting as it was, I was totally in my element making sure the food was set up, the music was playing, and the whole thing ran smoothly. And the past week of planning had been enough to keep me busy to the point where I hadn’t completely lost my mind at every mood swing that came my way. So that was nice.

The tables were full. People ate and laughed and watched the parade. Brad spent five minutes giving a very short, encouraging mini-sermon on friendship and community, Jake explained how the gifts would work, and then Alex surprised everyone by coming in dressed in her old Sugar Plum Fairy tutu and pointe shoes, bringing a rolling cart by each table with sparkling cider, hot cocoa, and a variety of alcoholic drinks for those inclined to partake.

While Alex was serving drinks, I caught Reuben sneaking away from his table. I knew where he was going and I was looking forward to messing with him.

I’d purposefully worn a kind-of naughty elf costume today. It was a little short, but hey, I wore shorts underneath just in case! My hair was curled, my makeup was done, and I put on a pair of red heels to match my eye makeup. I looked like a Christmassnack. And Mister Weston was Santa Clause.

Sophie had talked him into it when our other Santa had bailed last minute. I’d learned that Reuben was physically incapable of saying “no” to Sophie, and I’d asked her to tell me her secret. Her answer? “You have to be a good girl.”

Boring!

After putting on his costume, Reuben made his way to the nursery where the kids would come to see him. The big red gift bag was already stuffed with presents and hidden behind the Santa chair. The perks to having a clairvoyant mind-reader on site was we knew what each kid wanted, and could orchestrate getting them something they’d like. It was a fun trick, and I couldn’t wait to watch the shock on their faces.

Reuben sighed and settled down in the big red and gold chair that Mister Greenwood had made and painted, waiting for Cat and Sophie to lead the kids in to come see Santa, and I snuck in the side door with my own gift for him.

He was sitting in the chair and rifling through the giant red bag when I slid onto his lap, putting my legs over his. “I’ve been a really bad girl, Santa,” I purred, giving him my naughtiest bad-girl look.

He stared down at me with the most unimpressed expression I’d ever seen.

I shifted my hips a little, hoping that would do the trick. No dice.

“Can I tell you what I want for Christmas?”

“Did you finish cleaning my shirt?”

“Patience, grasshopper,” I said, raising a finger and putting on a bad accent.

“Alice.”

“Santa.”

“Alice.”

I held up the gift-wrapped shirt. He snatched it out of my hands, tore it open to make sure I hadn’t sabotaged it worse, and nodded in satisfaction before setting it aside.

“Now, about my present.”

“No presents for bad girls,” he said, completely deadpan. “Just coal. Now please get off me.”

“It’s not even awantat this point,” I said. “It’s more like aneed.”

God this man’s face never changed, did it? How was I ever going to get him to laugh?

“I think... I really need a spanking.” I bit my lip in anticipation.

His eyes darkened. “Yes, I think I’d agree with you on that point.”

I blushed at the idea. “A good smack in the face... or, you know...wherever...”

He continued, dashing my hopes. “Unfortunately, you’re probably a masochist, so that would be a reward, not a punishment.”

“Oh come on!” I shouted. “You said I had toask! What more do you want from me!You’re tearing me apart!”

“I respect that reference but refuse to cave to your manipulation.”

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