Santa's Pet

by Rachelle Ayala

  It’s Ben, of course. And this time, his Santa suit fits perfectly. His shoulders are as broad as the door is wide, and he swaggers toward his throne, throwing candy at the cheering children.

  Everyone who comes in has to bring an unwrapped toy, and because Ben’s the main attraction, a horde of women descend like the Huns lead by Attila. They squeal and shriek with their cell phones raised to get a picture of Big Ben.

  If he sees me, he’s pretending not to notice. And why should he? He’s got all the female attention he’s used to as the bins fill up with toys, and women, young and old, pile into the line, cutting in front of the children.

  “Brittney! Get the line in order.” My father waves from behind the camera. He’s doing the pictures now that Sean the Pits is in jail.

  “Harumph.” I clear my throat. It’s my job to make sure the Santa line is orderly, well, at least now it is. Besides, if they think I’m going to pick up each female and sit her in Ben’s lap, they have another thing coming.

  I turn to see if Ben’s ready. There’s still no nod of recognition from him. Guess it’s only fair. I was the one who let him go, and from the looks of it, he’s not coming back.

  Numbly, I position myself between the femme fatale brigade and Ben, stopping in front of a scantily dressed woman who’s first in line. “Everyone listen up. We have one hour reserved for children, which means those under ten go first.”

  “What? Where’s the sign that says this?” the first woman complains.

  “Who told you to make the rules?” Another one sneers at me. “Go back to heaven and bake a cake.”

  “Oh, right, you just want to sit on Santa’s boner all by yourself. You’re no angel.” The first one juts her chin at me.

  “Rules are rules,” I retort. “Santa’s here for the children.”

  “Well, hell. I’m taking my gift back.”

  “Me too.”

  I glance at the bins, guarded by a burly police officer. “Sure. I dare you to try and get through the hunk with the night stick.”

  “Did someone say night stick?” a female voice squeals. “Hey, girls, who wants a fat old Santa when I can get a nice big night stick?”

  In one mob, the horde of giggling, jiggling women stalk toward the policeman, who I’m glad to note is the one who arrested me and Ben.

  “Arck!” Big Blizzard takes off and soars after the horde. He always wants to be in on the action, and as far as he can see, all that flapping and jiggling means something fun.

  Meanwhile Treat is on his best behavior, wagging his tail and panting in his friendly doglike manner. We’ve decided that the dog will sit at Ben’s feet to avoid hyperextending his back, or having him expose his boy doggy parts.

  “You must be uncomfortable in that hot, sticky getup,” I address Treat who’s wearing his Santa tube with the strap-on hat that is falling lopsided. Stopping in front of Ben, I bend over to pet Treat and rub his loose skin. Too bad I’m wearing a modest angel outfit, and can’t flash Ben my awesome cleavage to let him know what he’s passing up.

  Ben’s body language is stiff as he sits at the throne, almost not daring to move. I know my perfume has to be affecting him, or I hope, so I spend more time giving Treat a loving massage.

  “Woohoooowoo,” he moans and pants, then lies on his back and spreads his leg.

  “You sweet puppy. So, adorable you are. I love a big dog like you, so affectionate and handsome, aren’t you?” I hold my breath, since Treat’s doggy breath isn’t the least bit appealing, and then as Ben starts tapping his Santa boots, I let Treat lick and slobber over my face. Ewww, but anything’s worth getting in Ben’s face.

  “Hey, Britt!” my father yells from behind the camera. “People are leaving, can you stop all the doggy love and get the first kid on Santa’s lap?”

  “Sure thing.” I sway my hips and let my angel wings bounce as I walk away from the throne. Behind me, I hear Ben groan, like he’s tired of my antics already. Too bad. He wants the charges dropped, he’s going to have to put up with me for the rest of the day.

  I fetch child after child, picking them up and arranging them on Ben’s lap. He’s determined to pretend we don’t know each other, and I’m not going to let him know how he still affects me. Instead, he saves his charm for the children, letting them hug him, giving high fives, low fives and every five in between.

  “Ho, ho, ho,” spills from his lips like pesticides from a crop duster. I had no idea he could be so jolly. Humpf.

  I, too, turn on the charm and ask each child what they want for Christmas before they get on Ben’s lap. I clap my hands and whisper in their ears: “You must tell me if his beard’s real or not.” “Make sure you kiss him on the tip of his nose. Then you’ll be sure to get what you want.” “Bounce on his lap as hard as you can to see if he breaks.”

  I watch, amused, as Ben pretends he doesn’t mind the slobber smeared on his nose, discreetly wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve and enduring the beard tugs while pressing on the glue in between each hard-bouncing child.

  My pièce de résistance is reserved for the last kid in line. “Five bucks if you bring Santa’s hat to me. You think you can do that?”

  He’s a big bruiser, large for his size and believe me, it takes all my muscles to heft him onto Ben’s lap. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that Santa Ben hasn’t helped me at all. I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.

  I arrange the kid for the photograph and “accidentally” kick Santa’s boot. Because this is the last kid, I pick up Treat and place him belly-up on Ben’s other leg.

  Giving the kid a wink, I back off the platform. He turns and whispers his wishes in Ben’s ear, and then Ben whispers something in the kid’s ear.

  While they’re doing that, I sneak my cell phone from a pocket under my angel wings, flapping them to distract Ben from the video I’m going to make of Santa losing his hat.

  “Aawwk!” A flutter of large wings heads my way. It’s Big Blizzard and he probably thinks my wing flapping is an invitation to fun and frolic.

  “One, two, three,” my father says, and all pandemonium breaks loose.

  The kid grabs for Ben’s hat at the same time Big Blizzard lunges for it, his talons extended. Treat whines, rolls and scrambles, getting his front paws caught in Ben’s beard.

  Rriiip! The big dog drags the beard, glue and all, from Ben’s face.

  “Ow!” Ben howls.

  “Bree-ney love Ben.” Big Blizzard says as he flies away with the Santa’s hat.

  “Oh, shit. That stupid bird.” I stumble over Treat whose paws are tangled in the yak’s hair beard.

  My phone falls from my hands and I’m tumbling off the platform, when suddenly, my girdle tightens and I can’t freaking breathe.

  Ben’s grabbed my wings.

  “Help!” I yell as he lifts me by my wings with one hand, grabs me around the waist with the other and swings me around. My hands and feet are off the ground and he’s turning me around and around in circles. Oh, crap. What if he lets go? I can’t really fly. I’m not really an angel.

  “Ahhhhh!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

  Big Blizzard chases me, thinking this is a game. “Arck, arck, arck. Santa’s pet. Santa’s pet. Arck, arhhhhhhkk.”

  I can’t breathe. The torture ties are so tight, I might as well be wearing a whalebone corset. Somebody help. Dad, Mom! Why is everyone laughing?

  I’m still turning, dizzy, but somehow it’s different, slower, or I’m about to lose consciousness. The pressure eases from the corset and an arm wraps around me while another one holds onto my legs.

  I grab for dear life, and my arms go around Ben’s thick, strong neck. I can’t take this anymore, being so close to him, looking into those deep, dark smoldering eyes, and kissing his sweet, sensuous lips.

  Time slows, then stops, and there’s only Ben, kissing me, devouring me, and stealing my heart all over again.

  ~ Ben ~

  Ben didn’t want to let go of Brittney, but everythi
ng was out of order. He hadn’t meant to manhandle her or steal a kiss in front of her father, of all people. But she felt so good and natural in his arms and he couldn’t let go.

  Not until he felt a billy club tap his shoulder. “Not you two again. Break it up, or get a room.”

  It was one of the officers who’d arrested him and Brittney for indecent exposure, the more reasonable one.

  Ben set Brittney on her feet, but kept one hand on the small of her back.

  “Have you ever kissed an angel?” he asked the policeman. “This here is a real life angel who’s given me my life back.”

  “I have?” Brittney gaped at him, then turned to the officer. “Please don’t arrest us. I almost lost Ben, er Santa, and I don’t want to lose him again.”

  At that moment, Grandpa walked toward them. “That’s my Angel Face and Benny Boy. I have someone here who wants to talk to you.”

  Actress Amy Suzuki waved to the crowd as she mounted the steps to the platform. Brittney gave a small gasp and leaned closer to Ben, as if needing protection.

  “Thanks for coming.” Ben shook Amy’s hand.

  She turned to Brittney. “I’m glad to meet you. I’m Amy.”

  “I’m Brittney, pleased to meet you too.”

  “Thank you for supporting my favorite charity, the Police Dog Toy Drive of Sonoma County,” Amy said. “I’m also grateful that Ben here has invited me to speak at his brother’s benefit concert against slut-shaming. I’ve thought long and hard about my reaction to having my purchases made public, and my anger at the situation was based on the slut-shaming thrown my way. I directed it toward you and your company, because I blamed you for the security hole that allowed hackers to expose my privacy. After you resigned from ScrapCloud, I followed the news on you and realize you hadn’t fared any better, that you were also being slut-shamed and degraded across the internet.”

  Brittney trembled in Ben’s arm, so he held her tighter and rubbed her back. What Amy was saying had to be hard for Brittney to hear, given the lawsuit and all the bad press thrown at both of them.

  Amy clasped Brittney’s hand and continued, “Because Ben came to me and explained what you were going through and all you did to expose the real hackers, I’m dropping the lawsuit against you. I’m still going on with the petition to hold companies accountable for damages caused by data breaches, but I’m going to let this one go.”

  “Thank you, thank you so much.” Tears streamed down Brittney’s face. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me, and I’m truly sorry this data breach happened. I’ll support your petition. It’ll force companies to run better security audits and to be more accountable to the public with the way they handle data that should remain private.”

  Amy opened her arms and hugged Brittney. “I’m so glad we got to meet.”

  “Hello!!!” Big Blizzard landed on Brittney’s shoulder, breathing hard from all his flying. He shook his tail and fluffed up his crest, rolling his saucer shaped eyes like a clown. “Juicy shit happens.”

  Everyone laughed and someone turned on a rapping Christmas carol. Big Blizzard flew onto the back of Santa’s throne and danced, shaking his head back and forth to the beat while bouncing wildly and whistling an out of tune “fa-la-la-la-la.”

  That bird was a real ham, and at that moment, Ben couldn’t be happier. He’d helped Brittney more than anyone else. Hopefully, it had softened her up and she would be ready to accept his abject apology.

  Chapter Forty

  ~ Ben ~

  After speeches by the Mayor, Police Commissioner, and Amy Suzuki, who took the stage to accept twenty bins of toys on behalf of the children of Sonoma County, Brittney’s father blasted Christmas rock music and told his employees to clean up the barn to prepare for Nash’s Anti-Slut-Shaming Benefit Concert.

  Ben scratched the remnants of glue off his face and removed bits of yak’s hair from his jaw. He still held onto Brittney’s hand, but wasn’t sure if she was truly okay. For now, everything was going great since the police commissioner had gotten the judge to drop the charges against both of them for indecent exposure and lewd conduct caused by their wardrobe malfunctions at the last event.

  Ben’s eyes were full of flash explosions from having his and Brittney’s pictures taken with Amy, the Mayor, and Brittney’s parents, as news crews reported what a rousing success the toy drive had been.

  “You’re free! Now I can’t tell the baby her aunt is an ex-con.” Lacy swarmed over Brittney with a baby bump A-frame hug.

  “I never was guilty,” Brittney replied as she loosened the ties on the angel wings. Her halo had already fallen to the floor when Ben had swung her around, saving her from face planting on the platform. She wagged the hand she was holding. “As for Ben here, he has guilt written all over his face.”

  He turned in time to see her wink. Whew. She seemed to be going with the flow. Was she truly okay with him right now? Or was she being polite in front of everyone?

  Even though he’d done his good deed and gotten Amy to drop the charges, he wasn’t sure if Brittney would truly forgive him for being a jealous dumbass.

  The thing with Nash would always grate, but not having Brittney in his life was unbearable. The pain and suffering he’d endured apart from her was worse than losing his mother and baby sister.

  Yes, he felt guilty over the comparison, but somehow, he figured his mother and Colleen would be okay with it. After all, they’d want him to have the perfect angel they picked out for him that night at the Christmas cottage.

  “Where are you two having dinner before the big concert?” Lacy asked, her eyes darting from Brittney to Ben.

  “Uh, I wanted to—” A movement attracted his attention and his jaw fell to the ground. Nash had the entire Powers clan with him, except for his eldest brother, Braden.

  Ben blinked hard and swallowed, clearing his dry as bone throat. Once again, Nash came off as the good one, and Ben would be blamed for not telling anyone about Grandpa’s two heart attacks.

  “Hey, Bro, glad you got off scot free,” Nash said. “That was a surprise with Amy Suzuki. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

  As usual, Nash’s remarks carried a double-edged dig. His stepsisters beamed at Nash as if he were the second coming of country rock stars, and of course, his stepmother clapped a hand on Nash’s shoulder and gave him a loving pat.

  “Why didn’t you call me back?” Susanna said, rushing forward for a hug. She was the eldest of the Brant bunch, the one who’d texted him when he and Brittney were waiting in the parking garage.

  “Son, it’s good to see you.” Ben’s father stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder. “Why’d you keep it secret? Why didn’t you tell us about the heart attacks?”

  “I, uh, well, was going to call once he was all better. I didn’t want you to worry.” Ben scrambled for a semi-reasonable explanation. His father had to have known that Grandpa wasn’t up to speaking to him, even after all these years.

  “Ben, we missed you,” his stepmother, Jolene, said from behind his father. “We’re so glad to see Grandpa up and around. We were so worried when Nash told us.”

  “He’s doing fine with his recovery,” Ben said. He dutifully gave her a hug. She’d been a fairly decent stepmother, certainly nothing evil about her, and while she was obviously closer to her own brood, she’d taken in three teenage boys without too much drama.

  “Thank the Lord,” his father said. “We came too close to losing him. This year, we’re putting all our differences aside. All I want is for us to be a family together. We figure, if you two can’t come up to Wyoming for an honest to goodness white Christmas, we’d head down here for a foggy, Californian one.”

  “That’s what I want too,” Ben managed to stammer. “Does Grandpa know you’re here?”

  Grandpa had gone back to the house after the toy drive to rest so that he could come back later for the benefit concert.

  “Not yet, we just got here and missed your toy drive,” Dad replied.
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  “That’s because we had to stop at the toy store and fill up the RV,” one of the twins, Macy, chimed in.

  “I’m sure they’ll be glad to take the extra toys,” Ben said. He could feel his sisters’ eyes on Brittney, wondering who she was. Women were always so perceptive.

  “I’m Susanna,” his eldest sister introduced herself to Brittney. “And these are my sisters, Macy and Riley.”

  “Uh, hi …” Brittney gave a half wave at the same time Ben said, “This is my girlfriend, Brittney Reed.”

  He cringed when he felt her stiffen. She gave him the look, the one that meant she wasn’t through with him, but pasted on a smile. “It’s nice to meet all of you. I didn’t know—”

  “Lacy Reed Cole,” Lacy said, presenting her hand to his family. Whatever Brittney was about to say was cut off by her super-perceptive sister.

  “Oh, how rude of me,” Ben’s stepmother said, stepping forward. “I’m Jolene Powers. It’s so wonderful to meet all of you, especially Ben’s girlfriend.”

  “I’m Wes Powers,” Ben’s father tipped his ten-gallon hat at the Reed sisters.

  “Enchanted,” Lacy grinned, all her marketing skills at work. “You and Ben look like twins.”

  His father blushed visibly at her compliment. “They say that about all my sons. Where’s Damon?”

  He scanned the barn looking for him.

  “He’s with Grandpa,” Riley hollered, pointing at Damon who walked over with Grandpa and Treat.

  Grandpa approached slowly, and a hush fell upon everyone in the barn. Ben eyed his father and grandfather as knots formed in his stomach. Would the two men truly bury the hatchet, or was this a showdown worthy of an old western ghost town?

  “Son,” Grandpa said to Dad. “Welcome home. We each said some harsh words, and I hope this is all behind us now. When I had that second heart attack and worried I wouldn’t make it, I realized that no matter what our differences, there’s power in family. Forgive me for being unaccepting of this wonderful brood of yours—both Brant and Powers.”