She waved an impatient hand at me. “Yes, it will cover your tits and ass!” But she didn’t seem too sure. Her voice wavered with doubt.
I chalked it up to her pending holiday striptease. I did that because I didn’t want to think about my T and A popping out. That wouldn’t happen, would it?Would it?
Later, Logan wandered up to me as I ducked into the staff lounge to find more fairy lights.
“It’s incredible out there,” I told him. “Thank you for all you’ve done.”
“Bellini,” he said, wrapping an arm around me. “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done.”
He held mistletoe over my head…Wait. Was that mistletoe?
“It’s not exactly mistletoe,” he said.
I squinted. “That’s part of a fake Christmas tree.”
“It’ll work.” He smiled at me, and I smiled back, then he dipped his head and kissed me. I put my arms around his neck and leaned on him. He held me close, and he was snuggly warm.
“Mr. and Mrs. Claus, get a room!” Jaxi called out.
We turned down the lights, ready to invite the guests in. The loft had been transformed. It was no longer a modern place of business. It was a Christmas wonderland. The tiny lights on the tables and the stage and across the ceiling glowed. The candles flickered. The huge white snowflakes covered in silver glitter sparkled and twirled. The tables along the side covered in white tablecloths were all ready to hold the immense amounts of food that would soon make the tables groan.
“Here we go, everyone!” I stood on top of a chair so everyone could hear me. “Thank you again for all your help. Remember tonight is for the kids of Kalulell. We’re here to make Christmas fun and happy for them. Every minute that you spent getting ready for the burlesque show, whether it was preparing for your performance, or making decorations, or building a stage, or creating these incredible, artful snowflakes, or rolling in tables, or cooking for our potluck, you contributed to all the presents we’re going to buy the kids. Thank you, truly. From me and, especially, from my mother.”
Everyone clapped and cheered. “Here we go, everyone. Have a happy night!”
Logan and I opened the doors, and people streamed in, hugging, laughing, greeting one another, their arms laden with platters of food. The Christmas cheer grew louder as people got their beer and wine, and dinner began.
Oh, my dear mother. She always has to make a grand entrance.
Dinner had been cleared, and everyone was awaiting the grand T and A (tinselandAllI Want for Christmas Is Santa) event. I nodded at the tech, lighting, and music people, and the lights and music suddenly snapped off, encasing the room in darkness except for the thousands of tiny white lights. Everyone went wild. Then, so dramatically, one white spotlight popped on, and there, magically, in the middle of the stage, stood my mother, dressed in the most outlandish, feathery, sparkling, sequined red dress anyone had ever seen, complete with a long train. She raised her arms, her smile beaming, her enormous white feathered angel wings popping out behind her.
She wore a glittery golden halo, which was hilarious and ironic, given my mother’s “salty” language, her loving but tough demeanor, her generosity, and her bawdy humor. She flappedher wings, twirled around, her white hair shining, and fluttered her spiky fake eyelashes as everyone stood and cheered at the tops of their lungs.
“Merry Christmas!” Mom yelled. “Merry Christmas from your Whiskey angel!”
More laughter.Whiskey is so funny!
When people settled down, she grabbed the microphone. “Thank you so much everyone for being here. My heart is happy knowing the kids of Kalulell will all have a Santa-blessed Christmas.”
We all clapped and hooted for my mother, a dear friend, a caring sister, a loving aunt, and the best mom in the world.
She pointed at me. “That’s my girl, Bellini O’Donnell. Now she’s one ball-busting elf, isn’t she? Did y’all thank her for the work she did?”
It appeared that people there agreed with my mother—I was a ball-busting elf.
“Come on up here, Bellini.”
I did because she insisted.
“Every year, since Bellini was five years old, she has helped me with this show. She works harder than I do, but this year, I couldn’t do anything because Dr. Brenda over here…” She pointed accusingly to Dr. Brenda, who was sitting with her husband and five children. “She stole my uterus!”
Dr. Brenda stood, holding a baby, and bowed as we cheered and mock-booed her.
“But Dr. Brenda and Brad are going to do a routine to remind all of you of the importance of checkups and colonoscopies and mammograms!”
The crowd booed again, good-naturedly, and Gertrude Lenger, a college professor, said something about not liking having “a snake up her butt,” and one of my cousins, Lilann,said she did not like having her boobs “squished like pancakes” during her mammogram.
The funny show had begun! Whiskey was at her best, even without her uterus!
