The next morning, Winnie and I sat on opposite ends of an endlessly long velvet sofa across from Jack Hart on the second floor of the old Victorian house–turned–production office.
Jack took a huge sip from his cup of steaming hot water, gargled it, and then swallowed. “Sorry... I just have this awful taste in my mouth I can’t get rid of.”
Winnie made a sympathetic sound. “I understand completely.”
Jack walked over to the coffee station and refilled his cup of hot water before sitting back down on the hearth of the large brick fireplace. “Okay, you’ve seen the rewrite from Pearl?”
We both nodded. The original script was interesting enough, but this new version... well, things had taken a turn.
“So we’ve got to stage this blow job scene. And Winnie, we’re going to have to make it clear that you swallowed,” Jack said as his dusty, Swiffer-looking dog searched for the perfect patch of sunlight to lay in.
“Because of the magical peppermint semen?” Winnie asked.
“Exactly. Which is how we’ll discover that Santa’s semen is the blah, blah secret sauce that can fuel Santa’s sled for an entire Christmas night,” Jack continues.
“Wait,” I said, “so it’s not the belief in Santa Claus that fuels the sled?”
“Well, yes, it was that.” Jack looked to be doing mental gymnastics in his head as he flipped through the new pages. “But not enough people believe in Santa and part of you taking overthe role of Santa Senior is finding a way to power the sled when belief is at an all-time low.”
“So that’s why we added a sex marathon to the end?” I asked.
Jack nodded. “I mean, the only reason anyone is watching this thing is to see you two bone all over this winter wonderland, so if peppermint semen is how we get there, then that’s how we get there.”
“Sounds good to me,” Winnie squeaked.
“It does?” I asked. The new script had gone so far off the rails that I was fully prepared to push back on anything Winnie wasn’t comfortable with.
“And Winnie,” Jack said, “I hear we need to work around—”
“I’m good,” she said briskly.
Jack paused for a moment. “Okay, then. Now, I brought a kneeling pad for you, Winnie, which you’ll also have on set and—”
“Knock, knock,” a voice called from the doorway.
I turned to find Sunny Palmer hovering over the entry into the room. We’d only met a few times, but she was funny and stunning and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t enjoyed her content from time to time.
“Sunny!” Winnie and I both said in unison.
“How do you two know each other?” I asked, confused.
The color vanished from Winnie’s cheeks.
“We go way back,” Sunny said, and Winnie nodded.
Huh.
“Out,” Jack demanded before swallowing back more scalding water. “This is my place of business.”
“Your place of business?” Sunny asked from the hallway. “You’re not, like, some mom-and-pop intimacy coordinator. Andneed I remind you that this is also my place of business for the next four weeks? Besides, we should talk about last night. Well, technically, this morning.”
Winnie and I shared a quick glance. She shrugged, so I was guessing we were both in the dark here.
“Um, we can wait,” Winnie offered.
Sunny curtsied. “Thank you, Winnie.”
Jack threw back the rest of his hot water and then made a gagging sound as he stood up and stomped his fancy, pointed-toe boots right out the door.
