He gives me a wink, and I giggle.
If only he knew the full extent of my naughty list this year.
I hold him tight for the photograph, and take it outside with me, staring at Santa’s happy smile. There is no way to truly recognise him from this picture, the beard almost covers his entire face. That doesn’t matter, though. I’ll be putting this photo in a frame and keeping it up all year, to remind me how important it is to be on the nice list every single chance I get.
Eb isn’t in the grotto very long. She comes out with a photo and a smile, but there is no recognition on her face.
“Nice guy,” she says, and I laugh.
“He’s way more than that, he’s…”
“Amazing!” we say in unison.
“Yeah, he sure is,” she says. “I bet he’s an absolute heartstopper under that Santa costume.”
“Um, yeah, you could say that.”
“I’d better go re-join the queue then. Have myself another go on his lap and try to tempt him.”
God, how I love Eb. I grab her for a hug, because without her I’d never have met Santa in the first place. I wouldn’t be here at all.
“Thank you. All of this, everything I do, is all because of you,” I say to her, and she laughs.
“Oh, babe, you have nothing to say thank you for. You did all this for yourself. All I gave you was a referral. Nothing more.”
“Yeah, and look what it did for me.”
She pulls away.
“No, no, Ells. No way.Youdid it for you. You took advantage of the opportunity and gave it everything you had.That’swhat matters.That’swhat makes you, you.” She holds out her arms. “The fantastic, fantabulous Ella Edwards. Highs and lows, babe, you had them all, and you came out on top of the mountain.”
I sure did.
We walk up to join Tiff when she leaves the grotto. I hope she didn’t give Santa too much of a hungover mouthful.
“Amazing, isn’t he?” I say. “You were right, Tiff, he remembered me. Thanked me again for coming to his rescue last year.”
Eb sighs. “Damnit. I wish he was an active client. I’d love him to empty his sack for me, even if he is in a pillow suit. Those eyes…”
“What do you meanifhe was an active client?” Tiff asks.
“He signed up as a newbie last year,” I tell her, refreshing the memory. His account is no huge secret. It was a charity donation and nothing more. “He told me he might be using his client profile for bookings, but nah, nothing.” I call up my phone and log in to the app. I can show her this one, I’m sure. Screw the rules, nothing happened.
User 5639. Male. 48.
“User 5639 hasn’t made any bookings since that one with Ells,” Eb groans. “I just searched on the forums. Not one peep about him. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.”
Tiff seems weird. Disoriented even. She looks like she’s about to barf or black out. Jeez, we need to hit brunch and get her sorted from this hangover. But there’s a hint of something deeper… something more…
“What is it?” I ask. “You alright, Tiff? You seem… weird?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, with another smile. “Like I said, I’ve got a pissing hangover, and my ass feels like I’ve been impaled by a battering ram. Cut me some slack, will you?”
Ebony laughs. “A battering ram, now that I’d like to see.”
“Actually, it was an enthusiastic three on one, but you get my gist.”
“Ouch,” she says, “That explains it, then.”
