Burn Notice: I don't own it, I just like to play with it!
It's For the Kids
By WritePassion
The beard was scratchy, and filmy flyaways worked their way up into his nostrils, tickling his nose. If he sneezed too hard, the beard and mustache fell off, so he spent his time waiting in the wings grooming the mustache downward in a vain attempt to tame the strands. When that didn't work, he pinched his nose to avoid the torture.
"You look great, Santa, except you need a little more stuffing," the woman wearing the elf costume said with a sparkle in her eye. She reached for him, opened up the red velvet, fur-trimmed jacket, and shoved another pillow into the costume. "There, now you look like Santa!"
He remembered that she briefly introduced herself when he came breezing into the meeting hall. Paula, her name was. She worked as a nurse and volunteered her time to make Christmas a little brighter for kids whose parents were in the military on overseas duty. He wished that Fiona could have been there, but she said she wouldn't have been caught dead in the bright green and red costume with a short skirt, candy cane striped tights, and a pointy hat with a white ball of fur on top. Not even for the kids.
"Michael, there's a science to how the stuffing fits under the suit," Paula mumbled and shook her head, watching him try to rearrange it and only making things worse. "Here, let me do that." As she poked and fluffed, she added, "Sam never had any trouble with this thing."
"Well Sam is in bed with a serious bout of the flu. It was all I could do to keep him from coming anyway and risking infecting the kids," Michael responded, his voice on edge. He lowered it and spoke in a softer tone. "You don't know how disappointed he was that he couldn't play Sammy Claus this year."
Paula gave him a sad smile. "I know. And the kids just love him, too! I've been doing this for five years now, and Sam is the best Santa we've had." One more tug, and she nodded. "Okay, I think we've got it!"
As if it wasn't warm enough outside, in the confined space Michael felt as if he would pass out in the suit that didn't seem to breathe and was stuffed with more pillows than he had on his bed. "Are you sure this is how Sam dressed? Didn't his Santa wear a Tommy Bahama shirt or something?" At least then he would have short sleeves!
"No," Paula replied with a laugh. "He wore the traditional outfit." She scurried to the curtain and snuck a peek. "Now, they're almost ready for us, so give me a big 'ho, ho, ho'."
Michael glared at her and deepened his voice as he said, "Ho, ho, ho."
She rolled her eyes and folded her arms. "Oh, brother. You call yourself a Santa?"
"No, I don't, actually. I don't know what Sam told you about me, but..."
She interrupted him. "He said you were ex-Special Ops. So I would think you could come up with something heartier than 'ho, ho, ho.'" As she mocked him, she stood with one hand on her hip, a sour expression on her face. "Buck up, Ranger! Give me a HO, HO, HO!" She stomped her foot in emphasis.
Michael's eyes widened and he took a step back. For such a petite thing, she had quite a set of pipes on her, enough to intimidate him a little. "Okay, okay!" He cleared his throat, smoothed the mustache and beard, and worked up from his diaphragm. "Ho, Ho, HO!"
Paula clapped and grinned. "Perfect, Michael! Now, just remember that when you go out there and interact with the kids. You can tone it down a little for them, but when you're first going out on stage, you have to be loud. Understand?"
He nodded, butterflies crashing together in his stomach. This was something so lame, he thought, and maybe even laughed inside at Sam when he mentioned with pride that he performed this task every year. But now that he wore the suit and was seconds from breaking through the curtain, and he had to greet the kids with a deep, hearty, loud chuckle while carrying a sack over his shoulder and tossing candy canes out to the crowd, Michael realized that this wasn't the cake walk he thought it was. After everything Paula told him, he realized that he had some pretty big shoes to fill.
"Okay, you're on!" Paula pushed Michael toward the curtain and another helper handed him the sack. It was full of presents. Another smaller sack cinched around his waist held the candy canes.
He turned and looked back to see Paula grinning and hopping around with glee, following him onto the stage. He broke the curtain barrier and stared out at the sea of small faces. He said his line, but he could barely be heard above the excited screams and calls coming from the children.
"HO, HO, HO!" He tried it louder, and his voice carried beyond the buffer of the fake facial hair. He reached into the small bag, pulled out some candy canes, and tossed them into the air. He was amazed at how many kids caught them and screeched in delight. It was like a celebrity throwing something personal to a freaking female fan. He grinned. Tiny arms reached out for more, and he obliged. The sack of presents was heavy, but he hung on, not sure when he was supposed to let it go.
With his free hand Michael continued flinging candy out to the kids until the bag was empty. All the while, he said, "Ho, Ho, HO! Merry Christmas!" Losing himself completely in the role, he said it in Spanish, Russian, and every other language he knew. The kids ate it up.
Sounds of disappointment echoed around the large room when he tossed the last piece. Looking into the bag, he saw a lone little candy cane tucked into a corner. He pulled on it, and froze. At the foot of the stage stood a little girl with her elbows on the stage, her face set in a pout, bottom lip protruding forward enough for a little bird to land on it. Michael remembered his mom telling him that when he was a kid and stuck out his lip like that. The little girl's eyes were so full of sadness, the sight stabbed Michael in the heart. He stopped, set the large bag on the stage, and knelt on one knee before her. Holding out the candy cane, he smiled.
"Is that for me," she asked, her face lighting up brighter than a Christmas star. Her hand reached out with lightning speed, snatching it from him. "Thank you, Santa!"
Michael's chuckle was real as he answered. "Yes it is, Valerie," he replied with a smile, catching sight of her name tag. All the kids wore them for their benefit, and Santa's. "Merry Christmas!" He got up and turned, seeing a gold throne-like chair waiting for him with thick, red upholstery. He ho ho ho'ed his way over to it and sat, getting comfortable.
"Kids. Kids." Paula let out a shrill, loud whistle that rivaled anything Sam could muster on a good day. The children quieted and set their attention on the elf standing center stage. She announced over the whispers that still rushed around the room."Alright kids, now that Santa's here, I want everybody to line up and come one at a time up the stage steps to see him."
Parents who attended with their kids or volunteered to assist with the food and activities helped to put the kids into order. Paula rushed to Santa's side and dragged the bag around to where he could reach inside it. "Okay, this one has things for boys, and my assistant is coming with the one for the girls."
"Assistant?" Michael glanced toward stage left where Paula's eyes focused on the moving curtain.
Another elf came out dragging a bag backwards across the stage, the long red, fur-trimmed skirt showed off a nicely shaped backside that wiggled with each step. She arrived at the chair, set the bag in place, and it was only then that the mystery elf turned.
"Fi," Michael whispered. "What are you doing here? I thought you said..."
"I wouldn't be caught dead in that get-up," Fiona declared as she jerked her head toward the elf. "I never said I wouldn't play Mrs. Claus." Her eyes sparkled behind fake wire-rimmed glasses. Her cheeks were rosy and her lips a bright, kissable red. She wore a white wig with her usual long reddish brown tresses tucked away somewhere underneath.
"You look great, Mrs. Claus." Michael winked at her, turned, and prepared to greet the first kid.
Michael and Fiona trudged up the stairs to the loft, both of them spent from the afternoon's activity. "Who knew kids could be so rambunctious," Fiona said as she leaned against the rail, waiting for Michael to unlock the door. "I don't know how Sam does it year after year."
"I have to admit, I was less than thrilled about doing it. Once things really started rolling, I had fun." Michael opened the door and let her pass. "Yes, it was tiring, but I feel good." His smile was warm as he took Fiona into his arms. "How about you?"
She answered with her weary head resting against his chest. "I'm exhausted. I loved being around all the kids, but I don't know about next year. If Sam can't do it again, you're on your own, Michael." She glanced up at him. "Sorry."
He chuckled, "If Sam is up to playing Sammy Claus, I'm sure he'll have his own Mrs. Claus." Pressing Fiona close, he spoke in a soft voice. "This one is mine." He cradled her head in his hand and drew her to his hungry lips for a passionate kiss. When they parted, he heard her soft sigh and smiled. "So, Mrs. Claus, are you up for a little merry making?"
"I think I can be persuaded, Mr. Claus." She chuckled. "Is that a candy cane..."
"Nope, no more candy canes, but I've got something even better for you." Michael turned out the light over the bar, casting them into darkness, and he and Fiona tucked in for a long, comfortable evening.