DJ Snowflake and Scrooge
December 7
12:09 am
"Just because I call you in for a favor doesn't mean you have to work the midnight shift and make yourself a martyr." Mercedes stood at the door of the Town Records tapping her foot. The last time Santana had seen her friend, she had been dressed in a business jacket and skirt. Tonight, Mercedes's outfit was vastly different. Santana had a feeling her friend's visit to town hall had been unscheduled. Mercedes wore the same robe, slippers, and expression she had the first night Santana had arrived.
Santana looked her up and down with a crooked smirk. "Looking for a better bed partner? I told you trouty mouth would never measure up to me."
"I told you to stop calling him that. His ears might be smaller than his mouth, but he can still hear you." Mercedes's mouth did reveal the faintest hint of amusement at the nickname Santana had given her boyfriend. She supposed it was better than Santana continuing to call him Sara or Seth or whatever "S" name came to mind. "And no, I got a call about a possible robbery taking place at town hall."
"And so someone called you and not the cops?" Santana teased. "Is your town even big enough to have cops or is it a volunteer type thing?"
"Yes we have police." Mercedes tapped her foot as if waiting for Santana to stop her glib questions before answering. Her eyes settled over the scattered paperwork Santana had pulled out and she shook her head softly. Sure she had expected Santana to jump at the chance for some work, but Mercedes hadn't expected her plan to work out quite this well – or this late at night. "You don't have to work here in the middle of the night? You're invited to come when there's sun and people and normal work hours."
"It's fine. It's no big deal." Santana looked around the dusty old storeroom. "I prefer working the midnight shift. I don't have to share a table with whatever nasty old mummies you've got working here during the day."
"They aren't mummies."
"They're probably as old as some of these documents."
"Doris is very nice and she only just turned eighty-eight."
"Eighty-eight?" Santana rolled her eyes and flipped over some paperwork that Doris must have been working on. It had brocade patterns and mentioned needlepoint work. "You're right. She's definitely not a mummy. I can't wait to share a table, talk about quilting, and exchange shoofly pie recipes."
"Well she doesn't like to share and she's an avid bow hunter so I don't think you'll get a lot of quilting tips from her. And for your information, this is the wrong part of the state for shoofly pie."
"Whatever." Santana waved off Mercedes.
"Santana…"
"What?" Santana shrugged.
Mercedes's brow only darkened. It was an expression Santana recognized from years of friendship. Mercedes wanted a real answer and she wasn't going to leave until she got one. Santana rolled her eyes when she realized she wasn't going to shrug her way out of Mercedes's stare.
"Fine. I had a hard time falling asleep with all those Rachel Berry paintings staring at me. You know how dolls creep me out. This is a thousand times worse."
"Seriously?" The look on Santana's face must have been believable enough because Mercedes sighed. "Fine, but just remember to turn the lights off, okay?" Mercedes narrowed her expression once more, unsure if she believed Santana completely, but it was late and she had work in the morning. "Here." Mercedes reached over and hit the power switch for the radio on Doris's desk.
I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe last night
"Don't stay up all night."
"I won't, mom."
2:31 am
She didn't plan to spend all night at the town hall, but it was easy to get caught up with the sheer amount of information and unsorted papers. She certainly didn't plan to drive back to the bed and breakfast this late at night. Santana stifled a yawn into the back of her glove and blinked hard as she tried to stay awake.
Welcome back after another long set of Holiday Classics. You're jamming with Santa's favorite late night disc jockey, DJ Snowflake, on the only station bringing you all the hits from-
Santana slammed the radio button over and over again. Her fingers flipped through the stations with little regard for the way the buttons stuck and strained against the hurried pace. After thumbing through all of the reprogrammed stations on the dashboard, Santana took the dial and spun it in circles trying to find one station - any station that wasn't playing Christmas music. But after the tenth go around, the search proved fruitless. The best she had come to finding an alternative to the non-stop Christmas music was a Christian militant group broadcasting music and where the best deals for firearms were this holiday season. It took her about five minutes before she desperately changed the dial back to WMHS 97.3.
And now, one of my favorites, and I think it's one of yours. Santa Baby.
If she heard Santa Baby one more time, she'd probably run the rental car off the road. Tempted, she glanced around. No one. It had been empty for miles and miles. The last time she had seen a car had been during her commute in the middle of the day. It had been a tri-axle. The woman driving looked like she could have been a logger. Needless to say, not many people drove these backroads; not that she blamed them. They were icy and full of snow. She had yet to see a house and she was certain this particular area of the country had been used in Hollywood movies for the past forty years as the quintessential set to film the icy, creepy, death scenes.
With so many reasons to be worried about driving at night on these back roads, one would think there would at least be a decent radio station, but no. Santana's finger jammed the button over and over again. But no matter how hard or how many times she hit it, the song never changed. Unfortunately, she couldn't listen to music from her phone because like the bed and breakfast, she had discovered she had limited service. At the moment, her phone made a better paper weight. The only thing she had to keep her awake was DJ Snowflake's enthusiasm for the whole Christmas season. Personally, Santana would have gladly forgone the radio if she wasn't in peril of falling asleep. She had gotten distracted at the town hall archives, well if one could even call it that. An archives would imply some semblance of organization for the preservation of documents. This records room was a freeforall of paper, books, and ledgers. Santana had spent most of the night flipping through boxes and boxes of documents and had got nowhere.
And now, one of my favorites, and I think it's one of yours – Santa Baby.
"What the fuck?" Santana said aloud and glanced at the time on the clock.
She could have sworn DJ Snowflake played Santa Baby only a few minutes ago. Was she losing her mind? She checked the clock again. It was 1:51 am. What was this? The fucking X-Files or time loop holes or something? Her question drifted to the unanswering trees on either side of her rental car.
Fuck it. She picked up her phone. She still had the number to the radio station saved from when she couldn't sleep the other night and tried to request a not Christmas song. Maybe she could slow the Christmas songs by distracting the DJ and keep herself awake at the same time. The two minute conversation with Snowflake the other night had broken up intensity of the Rachel Berry portrait stares if only for a few minutes. Maybe she could convince the Christmas-adled Snowflake to play a different song tonight, at the very least, maybe she could get her to stop playing the same song in a ten minute time frame.
It took a couple of tries before she could get her call through the terrible reception.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
"Hello caller you're here with DJ Snowflake on WMHS 97.3."
"Yeah. Hi. I'm calling about your repeat policy on songs."
"You want me to repeat a song?"
"What? Please no! You played Santa Baby twice in the same hour. There has to be a policy on that."
"Well the first one was the classic Santa Baby by Eartha Kitt. The next one was Madonna's version. Totally different songs."
"You've got to be kidding me. They are the exact same song!" Santana wasn't finished. "By the way, I kept listening last night. You didn't have another caller. In fact, I've been listening to your program for the past six nights and I am the only person who's called in that entire time. As your only listener, I'm telling you to play something other than Santa Baby. Maybe-" Santana's voice pitched with sarcasm. "- you could try anything outside of the Christmas genre completely."
There was a slight pause and for a second Santana thought she might get her request.
"I'm sorry ma'am. I didn't catch that. Your connection is breaking up. CRRASSSHHAAFGHHH."
Santana glanced to the bars on her phone. This was the best it had been since she got to this frozen hell hole in the middle of nowhere.
"I can't hear you clearly, CRAGGGAHHHSSHH but it sounded like you wanted to hear Santa Baby one more time."
"What?" Santana yelled into the phone. "That's not what I said! No!"
The phone call clicked dead.
Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me
I've been an awful good girl
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Santana glanced down at the radio in disbelief. The lyrics to the Kylie Minogue version of the song started through the speakers of the car. DJ Snowflake was playing it again? This was the third time for the same song! How could anyone listen to same songs over and over again without going crazy? This time Santana didn't resist the urge to scream.
"Arhghghggg!"
She shook the wheel violently, but the song continued.