Page 424 of The Parkers' Handsome Holiday
CHAPTER 7
TINSELY
“Chadwick Bamford made his appearance last night at the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony, and I have to say, Robert, he looked like a tall drink of water in that velvet suit. I just might have to write a list for Santa this year.”
I rolled my eyes mid-mascara application. The wand poked me right in the pupil, and the rapid painful blinking that followed left my eyelashes clumped together and my upper and lower lids stained with black smudges.
“Shoot.” I plunged the wand back into the mascara tube and walked away from my phone propped up on my makeup vanity in my bathroom. Wanda Wayans, my favorite morning talk show host on New York, New Morning, had sabotaged my getting-ready ritual with all her fangirl talk about Chadwick.
Her co-host’s laughter followed me to the other side of my bathroom, where I rummaged through cupboards for cotton wipes. They were on my shopping list of things I needed, but I prayed a stray one was lying around here somewhere. I didn’t have time to take all my makeup off and start over. I needed to be at the office in thirty-four minutes. The subway ride itself was twenty, and that didn’t account for walking time to the station and then to the Bamford building.
I couldn’t be late.
When no makeup wipes materialized out of nowhere, I settled for using several Q-Tips to get the job done and clean up the smudges. The wasted time meant I couldn’t diligently sit and apply my signature red lipstick, so I threw my lip stain in my purse after swiping a glittery gloss over my lips. It would do the trick for now, and if I had time this afternoon I’d sneak into the bathroom and apply the red.
Something about a red lip made me feel like I had my life together and like I was powerful. Ask any girl and tell me she doesn’t feel the same way.
Wanda Wayans continued gushing about Chadwick to her co-host. “Listen, Robert, I know sitting around and talking about New York’s sexiest bachelor isn’t your favorite pastime, but you’re going to have to indulge me for a minute because I know I’m not the only person in New York who was thinking naughty thoughts when they saw that man on stage in that velvet suit. Yummy.”
I snatched my phone from the vanity and spoke to Wanda like she was in my bedroom as I sucked in and did a little shimmy to pull my black nylons up. “Oh but Wanda, if only you knew him personally. You’d change your tune.”
Robert Halloway had a deep and friendly voice, perfect for morning television. “Listen, Wanda, we’ve done this show together for fourteen years. Listening to you talk about how handsome other men are is nothing new to me. It would be nice if you talked about me that way every now and then though.”
I smiled and slipped into my skirt. I’d always found Robert kind of charming but in a fatherly way.
“I can’t talk about you like that, Robert,” Wanda said matter-of-factly. “Human Resources would come down the line and tell me I’m walking a fine line between appropriateness and workplace harassment.”
“Touché,” Robert said.
I put my earbuds in and listened to the rest of the show as I finished getting dressed, threw on my coat and scarf, and stepped out into the cold New York morning. The sidewalks had been salted but I minded my steps as I hurried down the block and descended into the subway.
Twenty-one minutes later, I stepped off the elevator into the Bamford Office Towers, out of breath and overheating. I shed my jacket as the talk show wrapped up, but not before Wanda shared one last thought about Chadwick.
“You know, I’ve never seen such a sexy Santa before,” she said. “I almost think Chadwick makes the beloved jolly fat man deserve a rebranding.”
“Here we go,” Robert muttered.
“Naughty Santa seems much more fitting.”
I tore my headphones out of my ears. “Oh spare me, Wanda.”
“Who are you talking to?”
I turned to find Aleena sitting at her own desk right behind mine, nursing a cup of Earl Gray tea. She looked cute in a sparkly gold sweater and white pants.
I slumped down in my chair and swiveled around so I could face her. “Wanda Wayans has taken to calling Chadwick Naughty Santa after last night’s announcements.”
“I mean, it’s pretty accurate.”
“It’s inappropriate. Santa is a children’s figure.”
“Santa is subjective,” Aleena said. “Do you really think Chadwick is the first person to sex up jolly old Saint Nick? Didn’t you ever go to college parties?”
Actually, I never went to college. I shook my head. “No.”
“Well, I assure you, Chadwick is a very PG Santa compared to what frat boys will try to get away with. Not to mention, this whole Naughty Santa thing screams good branding. Look, this picture is already all over the place online.” She swept her phone off her desk, unlocked the main screen, clicked a couple pages, and handed the phone to me.
On the screen was a photo of me and Chadwick standing on the stage in front of the tree just as it lit up. Chadwick’s arms were spread wide, as if he had been the conductor of the evening, and my head was tilted back as I stared up in awe at the tree. If I looked closely, I could almost see the reflection of the fifty thousand lights in the reflection of our eyes.
