Page 8 of Make You Mine This Christmas
“Mr. Santa. Mr. Austin.” He nods at both of us. “I’m Jimmy. Ms. Blaire sent me, said you were looking for someone to head up the cookie and picture station.” My eyebrows rise. Jimmy rolls his eyes and keeps talking. “I know, I look fifteen, but I’m actually twenty-two. I’m finishing up my last semester at the community college, getting my non-profit management certificate. Ms. Blaire said you have a foundation that funds gifts for some of the kids who come through? She thought I’d be the perfect fit.”
I stick out my hand to shake his. “It’ll be great to have you, Jimmy. I prefer to have the same person running the stand when we can, to be sure the right information is being exchanged without the kids catching wind of anything. Come on over. I’ll show you how it works.”
Austin looks at me quizzically for a beat before shaking his head and heading off to check the bathroom is ready for the public. As Jimmy and I walk past the open bathroom door, I hear something that sounds a lot like a muttered, “I’m over it, goddamnit.”
Chapter 5
Austin
I’m not over it.
Day three of playing elf to Brody’s Santa dawns like most other days in New England this time of year: cold with low, grey clouds threatening snow. Yesterday’s approach of pretending we have no history backfired on me. Brody’s piercing blue eyes saw right through my bullshit. Fortunately, once we got into the workshop, the crowds Blaire predicted kept us too busy to have much interaction outside of the kids visiting the North Pole. Afterward, Brody and Jimmy posted up near the cookie station to talk more about his foundation’s work. While they were distracted, I slipped out the back door and made it back to my car without encountering Brody again.
My shift is scheduled to start right before the workshop opens today. After I hang up my coat and make my way around the false wall, I’m struck still by the energy of my fellow North Pole-ers. The photographer is fluffing the snow around Brody’s throne. Two of the elves on crowd control duty are hanging yet another strand of lights. And Brody and Jimmy are back at the stand again, hunched together looking at the screen.
A quick glance around tells me everything’s under control. I find myself drifting toward the pair and their computer. The way Jimmy looks at Brody—that’s hero worship, right? Brody has almost fifteen years on Jimmy, but who am I to judge? The last woman I picked up at Peppers outside of the Ridge was probably at least that much older than me, but I’d never ask a lady her age outright.
“But if you migrate everything into an Airtable here, you’re able to join the records and filter for different views, which will make tracking a lot easier. Plus, automations will save time with follow-ups and communication.” Jimmy is demonstrating some sort of database on the screen while Brody looks on.
“That’s a really great idea, Jimmy. Would you have time to migrate us over in the next week or so? I can pay you outside of the festival’s rate, too.” Brody looks impressed.
“For sure. I can probably even get it done before we’re back on Thursday with the day off tomorrow.” Santa’s Workshop closes every Wednesday to help ensure the staff actually get a day off. “Oh hey, Mr. Austin,” Jimmy says, spotting me from where I lurk next to a lamppost wrapped in garland and surrounded by boxes of presents.
“Austin, hi,” Brody says, turning to face me, his eyes lighting up as they land on me. It starts to warm my insides. I need to shut that shit down real fast.
“Hi,” I say, trying to shove my hands in my pockets before I remember I’m wearing skin-tight leggings. I settle for crossing them instead. They both look at me, expecting me to continue, but I stay silent. The awkwardness grows.
“Well,” Brody clears his throat and looks at his watch, “going to hit the head once more before we open. We’ll talk more about your rate when we’re done?” He looks at Jimmy, who nods, before walking past us, getting stopped by the photographer wanting his feedback on something.
I look back at Jimmy to find him watching me. “So, what’s the deal there?”
“What? What deal? There’s no deal.” I sputter, making it so much worse.
Jimmy rolls his eyes at me. “Part of being good at fundraising is being able to read people and suss out connections and relationships. There’s a deal there. Plus, you looked like you wanted to squeeze my head like a gumdrop when you walked over.”
I gaze at him, assessing. The kid’s young, but I see the truth in his eyes as he continues to stare at me.
“Well, if you’re not going to tell me, I’ll guess. You guys have ahistory, right?” He holds up his fingers to tick off his points. “Brody’s in the third year of his Santa business, and he graduatedsumma cum laudefrom NYU four years before that, so it must have been a decade ago.” My mouth drops open, and he shrugs. “What? I googled him. Needed to make sure all this do-goodedness is legit before I get too invested. I’ve been tricked before.” His eyes stray to the screen as he switches back to grilling me about my relationship with Brody. “Must be pretty awkward, working this closely with an ex? Or did you guys part on good terms, you’re just still horny for him?”
“Why did Brody start his Santa business?” I decide to answer his question with a question, not particularly interested in revealing any private parts of myself to this relative stranger.
Jimmy’s eyes shoot up to mine. “So not good terms, then. But still horny for him. I don’t know. Even if I did... I think that’s something you should ask him yourself. But maybe not right now.” He nods at something behind me, and I whirl around to find Brody walking back to us, coat fully buckled, black shoes shining, and hat jauntily sat on his head.
Brody’s face is contemplative, like he wants to ask me something that might upset me. A quick glance at his watch seems to tell him we don’t have time.
“Ready for another day?” he asks instead.
“I was born ready,” I say, wincing at my weak response.
Brody smirks, his eyes gaining an extra sparkle, telling me he agrees it’s not my best work. “Well then, Mr. Elf. Let’s make some days.”
I want to roll my eyes at his self-assuredness, but it’s always been a big part of what attracted me to Brody. Never uncertain about his path or his future. Maybe the possibility of stability and steadiness is what really appealed to me. He knew what he wanted and wouldn’t let anything get in the way of those goals. It turns out, not even someone he claimed to love.
The smile I flash at the first child off Brody’s lap turns forced as my thoughts go to a dark place. The beginning of an eight-hour shift is not the time to think about how easily Brody cast me aside. I need to be projecting joy and Christmas cheer, not despair and loneliness.
I force myself to push away those thoughts, instead brainstorming what other presents I should get for the twins. But as time passes, I find myself needing less distraction and instead listening to the conversations Brody’s having with the kids.
The festival attracts people from all over the tri-state area, but even locally, Holly Ridge and Winterberry Glen have diverse socioeconomic populations. This means the requests made to Santa vary just as widely. I know how hard my mom worked to hide any hardships from me. But when Santa brought some kids mp3 players and brought me a lot of socks and underwear, plus a toy or two, it wasn’t hard to pick up on something being different.
