Page 106 of The Holidays with Mr. Mitchell
Neither of them answered, just smiled wider.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered, settling back into the seat. “If anyone can fake a cancellation and recruit two idiots with a replica RV, it’s my wife.”
Jake laughed. “Hey, at least she knows how to follow our lead with pranking spouses, unlike your sorry ass.”
“The best part?” Collin grinned. “You’re about to make the best speech of your life, Frank Shirley.”
I leaned back, finally laughing. The ridiculousness of it all—the RV, the ropes, the kidnapping on Christmas Eve, my Christmas Eve pajamas—all of it was so absurd I couldn’t even be mad. I was actually impressed that Avery pulled this off.
My wife was the only one who would keep things moving since the moment she called me out for trying to get away with giving cheese boards and champagne as company Christmas cheer this year. She must have had her response ready from day one.
I couldn’t help but love her for it. At least it was a fun reminder of what a greedy and selfish dick I’d been at the start of the holidays this year. Of course, I didn’t see it that way then. But after last night’s party, seeing how happy and joyful everyone was? Hell, I deserved to walk into my company party looking like the ass I’d been.
The freeway lights streaked across the cracked windshield, catching in the tinsel garland duct-taped to the rearview mirror. Every bump made the RV rattle, as if it were held together by prayer and duct tape.
I had no clue how they’d even gotten this thing past security, but I’d stopped asking questions from the moment it hit fifty on the freeway and didn’t explode into pieces.
We hit downtown, and the skyline shimmered ahead. I viewed Paramount’s arches glowing gold against the night sky.
“Tell me this thing has seatbelts,” I muttered.
Jake laughed. “Seatbelts? You think Cousin Eddie’s RV has seatbelts?”
“I think this entire trip qualifies as reckless endangerment,” I shot back.
Collin just grinned in the mirror. “Relax, Jimmy boy. You’re about to have the night of your life. This is only the beginning of what your lovely wife has planned for you while you redeem yourself with everyone in your company.”
I glanced out the window. The studio gates were getting closer, and then I saw it.
A massive banner stretched across the archway, lit in soft white bulbs:
Welcome to A Christmas Redemption — Hosted by Avery Mitchell.
My mouth curved. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
A guard at the gate waved us through, as if this kind of chaos happened every day. The RV rattled into the lot, and as we turned the corner, the sight hit me square in the chest.
The entire backlot had been transformed into Victorian London.
Snow dusted cobblestone streets, shop windows glowed amber through frosted glass, and carolers sang near lampposts wrapped in garland. The air shimmered with stage fog and laughter.
And there, in the middle of it all, stood Avery—my brilliant, impossible, show-stopping wife.
Her crimson gown glittered beneath the lights, the fabric catching gold every time she moved. How she managed to look regal and composed when I knew she was coming apart with laughter on the inside was beyond me.
Jake clapped me on the shoulder, pulling my eyes off her and back to the shithole I was still sitting in. “Showtime, Jimmy.”
The RV door swung open, and an assistant with a headset appeared. “We’ve got him! Bring Mr. Mitchell to wardrobe!”
“Wardrobe?” I repeated.
“Yup,” Jake said, grinning. “This was just the introduction. The next scene is the part you’ll be playing for the rest of the evening.”
“Now that you’re on video and pictures have been taken,” Collin said, “you’re due on set in fifteen minutes, Ebenezer.”
“Huh?”
Before I could even question my wife—who was currently doubled over with laughter—I was whisked away again. This time, two assistants flanked me, guiding me through a maze of back corridors strung with lights and garland. Every corner smelled of pine and stage powder, and every extra we passed looked as if they’d just stepped out of A Christmas Carol.
