Under The Mistletoe

Chapter 1

-ADDISON-

"I want a pony!"

"You and every other little girl on the planet. Do you know how many little girls there are versus ponies? It's not happening."

"But…"

"Aren't you too old to believe in Santa, anyway?"

"M-mommy!" The young girl screams and runs from Bucky's lap. I smile at the young boy next in line to stifle the urge to roll my eyes. I send Bucky a 'get your shit together' glare but instead of taking the hint, he waves me over to his red and white plush throne with an air of impatience.

"You reek." I wave a hand under my nose as the stench of sour liquor wafts from the worst Santa I've had the misfortune of pairing with in many years.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Then gimme a candy cane or something. I'm nor drunk, just a little hungover. Anyway, can we take five? I gotta piss somethin' awful."

"Oh my God. Fine… Just go."

"Hey! Where's he going? I've been in line for almost an hour already!" The young boy's father yells at me while pointing at Bucky's receding back.

"Santa heard Rudolph was feeling scared being so far away from the north pole so he's going to go check on him. You wouldn't want him to be scared and alone, would you?" I kneel down to the young boy and gaze into his pale blue eyes. His father's dull gray stare shoots daggers at me.

"Santa isn't real. My mom wants a picture of me sitting in that hobo's lap. I'm hungry! When is he gonna be back from the smoke break?"

Well then. I've had about enough of this. Every year it's the same. I put away my Halloween decorations, break out the silver and gold right before Thanksgiving, and I get that itch. The desire to be part of something bigger than myself, to give back, to be surrounded by the holiday cheer.

Every year I think it'll be different. This time children will line up, their eyes filled with excitement and wonder. The families will gather around, snap pictures, and swoon over the holiday display I spend hours perfecting. I'll go home every night feeling fulfilled and connected. And come the day of Christmas as I slip into my favorite tobe and slippers and trod down the stairs to open the presents I wrapped for myself, I won't feel so alone. I'll be filled with the Christmas spirit from this job.

But every year is the same. Some sad sack sits in the chair drunker than the last guy. The children are as fed up as the parents and the whole holiday is cheapened by the experience. These fake Santas have to be the kind of men who can't even hack a grocery store greeting gig. Otherwise, I can't fathom why these spoil sports would want to listen to children's wish lists all day if they all seem to hate children as much as they do Christmas.

I put up one of the many clever signs I'd painstakingly painted that give the bullshit excuses with a holiday flair dor the frequent disappearances of our various rent-a-drunk Santas. This one reads: "Back in five minutes, Mrs. Claus needs to talk to Santa."

The father at the front of the line mouths something foul at me then stomps away, dragging junior sourpuss behind him. After five minutes, half the line has wandered away. Ten minutes later and the line dropes to a small cluster of ten kids and their adults.

"Every year it's worse and worse."

"We should try another mall somewhere else. This mall Santa is always a joke."

"I wanna see Santa ! I never get to see Santa!"

A high pitched wail erupts from the back of the line. I catch a glimpse of the look of hurt and despair on a little girl's face and my heart twists in a knot. I spin on my heel to hide the tears as they form.

How could I be so stupid to put my holiday happiness in the hands of such a failed project? I took this seasonal job on a lonely whim five years ago and it's never once been the whimsical experience I'd hoped. When will I ever learn?

I swap the signs out from a 'be right background to 'try again tomorrow' message when Bucky never returns. He's lucky I don't find him in the employee break room or I'd have probably ripped the plastic wig and beard from his stupid face. My red velvet heels smack on the cracked linoleum with each stomp around the cramped break room.

This is such bullshit. We've only been here two hours and he couldn't handle it. He only had two more hours to go for today's shift. But then I'm sure he'd be even worse off come tomorrow. We've just gotten startedt his year and it's already a total disaster!

I sink into a metal chair as the tears I'd held back finally erupt in an angry gush. Damn him for making me this upset! Damn Bucky, and that Bonzo guy before him and Jacey last year and Tracey and especially Wyatt who couldn't be bothered to vet a single one of the guys before he hires them.

"Damn this whole thing to hell!" I yeall into my hands that have gone slick with my tears and streaked black from my mascara. A white curl sticks to my cheek and I throw it over my shoulder with a growl. I curled my hair for this. I hot glued holiday ribbons onto my favorite heels for this.

"Screw it! I'm done!" With an exaggerated growl of frustration, I leap from the chair and send it falling back with an ear-ringing clang. I wrench open my rented locker and dig through my coat pocket for my phone. "No more drunk deadbeat Santas. No more betting my happiness on this stupid job!"

A shadow tiptoes quietly into the breakroom behind me but I'm too angry to care. My fingers shake over the numbers as I punch in Wyatt's name to call him. If Bucky's behind me, good. All the better to hear me ranting and getting his ass fired. Whatever. I'm quitting once and for all. Never again will I get caught up in the stupid delusion that Santa could save my Christmas. It's time I stopped believing in Santa and started making merry all on my own.

Wyatt doesn't answer. His voice mail box hasn't been set up yet. An animalistic scream bubbles up my throat but dissolves into more sobs.

"Miss are…"

"This is bullshit, bullshit, bullshit!" I scream and throw my phone back into my coat pocket.

"Sorry, are you…"

I slam my locker shut and whirl around. Take this job and shove, it Wyatt! "Screw you, Bucky. Fuck you, Wyatt. And fuck you, Santa!"

"I mean, that can be arranged but I'll have to ask Mrs. Claus first." The shadow looming in the back of the break room takes shape in the form of another Santa. I growl and he throws his hands up in surrender.

"Back off, Kringle. I've had enough of your kind for a lifetime."

"Yeah, I bet. I'm the emergency stand-in. Bucky called and quit a little bit ago. Lucky for Wyatt, I happened to be doing a little shopping and well… looks like I'm the new Santa." He spread his arms wide, gesturing at his Santa getup.

I blink at the man. Wait, Bucky actually did the decent thing and called Wyatt to say he quit? It would've been nice if he'd said anything to me. But… at least Wyatt called in a replacement quickly. My eyes narrow at the new guy. The beard looks clean. The red outfit actually looks high end, thick and fluffy enough to brave a blizzard. Almost like the real thing. I step up to his face and breathe deep.

"Whoah, what are you…"

The spicy scent of man invaded my senses. Woah is right. He smells of wood smoke and peppermint and gignerbread. He smells like Santa with sexy aftershave. But no stink of rotten alcohol breath and no bloodshot hot-box eyes, either.

"Sorry." I clear my throat and sniffle, swiping the wetness of my lashes before spinning away with embarrassment. "All Wyatt hires is drunks. They always reek."

The new guy says nothing and lingers, likely waiting for me to tell him what to do. They always need to be trained on how to sit in a chair and ask the same flipping question. I throw my things back in the locker, fix my face up in my compact mirror, and straighten my shoulders.

"Okay. You are going to sit up, smile wide, and talk sweet. You will ask the same exact question every time and you will not lecture a child for wanting things." I hold open the door and stare pointedly at the new guy, waiting for him to follow me. "This is Christmas, not a time for life lessons about materialism. It is a time for magic and wonder. So go out there, sit down, shut up, and make it magical!"

"So should I shut up or ask what they want for Christmas? Which is it?" He stands too close to me in the small doorway with a smirk buried in the fake white of his beard.

I scowl back at him and lift my chin. Two hours and I'm done. Doesn't matter how well this guy does. Come tomorrow, he'll be as useless and humiliating as every guy before him. I'll finish this shift then I'll go home and call Wyatt to tell him I quit. I won't quit in the middle of the day like Bucky and leave other people hanging. And anyway, if Wyatt cam find a new Santa this quickly, he can find a new Santa's helper no problem. Just two more hours.

"Hey, I'm sorry about the bad hires. I'll talk to Wyatt, okay? You don't have to worry about me. I won't bail on you."

Yeah, right. That'd be a Christmas miracle.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry I've been MIA for a bit. I promise I will start to post new chapters of existing stories after Christmas! Until then, I hope you enjoy this Christmas story! I'll be posting Monday, Wednesday, and Friday of this week and next! Let me know what you think!