Tales From Christmas Town

by Betty Hanawa, Roni Adams, Allie Standifer

  "Yeah, and we've all got to help our parents, don't we?"

  "Why else would you be here being Santa Claus?” she pointed out as they approached the Santa house again with its patiently, and some not so patiently, waiting children and parents.

  "Good point. How about supper tomorrow night?"

  "Already have plans for supper with my sick momma and a bunch of relatives. Smile, Santa. It's show time."

  "Ho ... ho ... ho...."

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a more normal routine of fairly well-behaved children smiling for their pictures. At one point, a boy took the sucker Candice handed him and said, “Thank you, Mrs. Craig."

  Candice winked at him, “At this job, it's Mrs. Claus. Don't let on to the other kids in school, okay, Jim?"

  "Sure thing, Mrs. Cra—, Mrs. Claus. See you Monday."

  Mrs. Craig? Mrs.? Oh, damn, damn, damn, ran the regret in Leon's mind.

  "You know, Mrs. Craig,” he said when she passed his throne to fetch another child. “If you'd mentioned there was a Mr. Craig, I wouldn't have been trying to ask you out."

  "He died three years ago,” she said smoothly. “That's when I moved back to Chicago."

  She brought the next child and waited while the picture was taken and the child submitted her request.

  On Candice's next trip in front of him, Leon managed to get out, “I'm sorry for your loss.” He thought that sounded pretty sincere considering he was still trying to extradite his foot from his mouth but at least he did managed something other than whooping “hot damn, still got a chance."

  "Thank you. He was a good man. I still miss him, but time passes. Life continues."

  Every time she passed his spot, he tried probing for a bit more information.

  "You told that one boy—Jim? not to let on in school about being Mrs. Claus. Is he in your class?"

  "No, he's not."

  Kid, picture, request, then he had another chance. “What grade do you teach?"

  Her mouth quirked with a smile. “I don't."

  Once again Leon had to feign interest in a child's Christmas wish and smile for the camera before she came by his chair alone again.

  "Are you one of the school secretaries?"

  She shook her head, “No.” Did he see a strand of brunette hair trail from underneath the white, curly wig she wore?

  When she delivered the next child back to the parent, the photographer's assistant must have mentioned the hair because Leon saw Candice immediate tuck the errant strand away.

  "Are you the school principal?” he asked when she came by him. Leon found himself getting a kick out the game of Twenty Questions with the mystery Mrs. Craig aka Mrs. Claus.

  "No, I'm not.” Her laugh made Leon want to hear it more.

  He liked the pink blooming under golden brown skin covering her high cheek bones.

  She left for a few minutes when the dry cleaner's rep came to pick up the soiled costumes. With relief, Leon saw the rep carried several opaque bags CTF supplied to all the dry cleaners for delivery of their cleaned costumes to help maintain children's illusions—at least those from who still had illusions about Santa. While the photographer and the assistant pitch hit adequately during the time Candice was gone with the cleaning rep, Leon missed her rosy lips lifted in a smile, missed the laughing joy of life in her voice.

  Leon knew he could just wait until their shift ended to talk with her, but he didn't know how fast she'd be cutting out to go to whatever she had planned for tonight. He broke into a cold sweat at his sudden thought.

  Candice came back with the cleaning rep who hauled the bags of soiled costumes and Leon signed the authorization for the rush job. As soon as the rep left, Candice brought another child.

  In the few moment after the child was finished and before the next one came, Leon asked the question that was making his stomach burn.

  "Have you got a date tonight?"

  "No,” the rosy color Leon had been enjoying all afternoon drained away. “I told you I've got two performances tonight."

  "Oh, right,” he agreed. “It's your gig as an exotic dancer at the classy gentlemen's club."

  "That's right."

  She came back with a little boy and an even smaller girl. “This is José and his sister Marta.” In Spanish, she added, “Sit on Santa Claus’ lap and we'll take your picture. I'll translate so he'll know what you want for Christmas."

  Leon promptly answered in Spanish, “Thank you, Mrs. Claus, but I can talk to José and Marta myself."

  "Muy bueño, Señor Claus, esta bien.” Candice said with a smile that lit up Leon's heart.

  After returning José and Marta to their parents, Leon asked, “Are you the bi-lingual coordinator for the school?"

  "No, I'm second generation. My grandparents were Mexican immigrants. I grew up speaking Spanish at home and English everywhere else. How did you learn Spanish? You don't sound like you learned it from a textbook."

  "My parents are both linguists,” Leon used the standard family storyline they used to cover the magic that enabled Santa to speak with anyone who believed in him, magic easily accessible by the entire family and everyone in Christmas Town when needed. “They started us kids young. I speak English, Spanish, French, German, Portuguese, Russian, and am learning Japanese."

  "Regular United Nations there."

  "Just part of Christmas magic,” Leon said with a chuckle, knowing the laugh would make her think he was making a joke.

  After the last child for this shift had her photo taken, Leon was more than ready to head for a bar and a stiff drink. As soon as they got in the changing room, they exchanged greetings with the new Santa and Mrs. who headed out to start their shifts.

  Behind his own changing screen, he heard the rustle and slither of Candice changing into street clothes and hanging up the Mrs. Claus outfit. He hung up his own costume and took off the belly and wondered what color her panties and bra were and if she wore a thong and barely there cups or something more conservative. With all her silly talk about being a stripper, he had visions of her honey-gold skin on full display while she wrapped herself around a pole as an exotic dancer. His favorite body part let him know a lap dance would be really nice. Maybe some day soon they'd be able to get together and he'd get her to pretend to be a stripper for him. In the meantime, he carried his boots, helmet, leather jacket out to the couch in the common area.

  "How about one quick drink before we go our separate ways tonight?” Leon pulled on one boot while Candice walked out of the women's changing area, carrying a heavy coat and her own boots.

  He knew she had a great body underneath Mrs. Claus’ fat suit. Gray wool slacks caressed slim legs and a round bottom, a thick dark pink sweater covered the mounds of breasts perfectly shaped for a man's hands. Long black hair spilled over her shoulders and was pushed behind her ears.

  "I really don't have time. I need to catch the El.” She pulled a black boot over a small foot covered with a thick sock. “What kind of motorcycle do you ride?” She nodded at his helmet.

  "A Ducati."

  "Nice. Your dad give it to you for Christmas?” she said with a laugh.

  "Yeah. One of the perks of being Santa's only son,” he agreed. He reminded himself again to send that groveling apology to Krista and the Old Man. He'd find something a bit more selfless for his Christmas wish than the new model Ducati. “You know motorcycles?"

  "I have a Harley."

  "A Harley?” Definitely his kind of woman. “Belong to the local Harley club?"

  "Yes, my husband and I joined when he bought me my bike. I've put it in storage for the winter. I don't have enough confidence to drive it when the weather is icy."

  "I can handle ice and snow easily. It's not my skill I worry about, it's the other drivers on the roads with ice and snow.

  "I'm so with you on that. That's why I take the El. Even when I had my car, I still felt safer riding it on icy days than driving."

  "Well, if you won't join me for a drink,
how about we get a couple of cups of coffee and I'll walk you to the El station?” Leon found his heart stuck in his throat the way it had the first time he'd asked a girl to a dance when he was a teenager.

  Candice smiled at him, her eyes peeking at him from under her lashes. She wore no make-up and looked like a golden-rosy, fresh, ripe apricot ready to pick from the tree.

  His mouth watered at the thought of tasting her.

  "Sure, that sounds nice."

  Leon managed, just barely, from jumping up and clicking his heels together in excitement. Stay cool, he reminded himself. Suave, debonair, sophisticated.

  "Great,” Leon stamped on his second boot. They picked up coffees, then at the exit door to the mall, bundled up in their coats, gloves, and scarves, took one last deep breath of the warm mall air, then stepped out into the biting wind.

  "So what are you doing tonight?” he asked while they fought the wind.

  "I keep telling you."

  "Right. Exotic dancer. I give up. Keep your secret."

  Sipping on the coffee while they walked through the blowing wind, Leon hunted for topics. Somehow he didn't think “How about a hotel and strip naked for me later after you finish whatever secret thing you're doing tonight?” was exactly suave, debonair, or sophisticated.

  "Hey, what do you do at the school?"

  "If you guess,” Candice's eyes sparkled like black diamonds, “I might consider having breakfast with you in the morning."

  "All right! Let me think. Not a teacher, not the bi-lingual coordinated, not the principal. Secretary? Custodian? Cafeteria lady?"

  She laughed and shook her head at each guess. “Here comes my train. One last guess."

  "Can I have a hint?"

  Her lips, still rosy despite the freezing wind, smiled. “Marian."

  "Marian. Marian.” An old musical his mom liked to watch slid into his brain. “Marian the Librarian! You're the school librarian!"

  Candice laughed while she went through the turn-style to go to the train. He grabbed her hand.

  "Hey, where I can I pick you up for breakfast in the morning?"

  "A Ducati doesn't have a bitch seat, Leon. Why don't you meet me here at 9:30 and we'll find someplace nearby?” She pulled her hand from his and ran to the train doors.

  He yelled, “I can borrow a car!"

  "Okay. Pick me up at my apartment."

  "What's your address?"

  "You're Santa's only son. Santa knows where everyone lives. Figure it out."

  The doors slid shut on her smiling face and the train headed down the track.

  Chapter Three

  Leon pulled more yarn from the skein and crocheted a few more rows on the latest blanket. There had to be a way to hack into the Old Man's private files to get Candice's address. His problem was, he realized with disgust, he was too damn good at his job. He developed the Naughty and Nice software. Surely he could figure out a damn back door without having to run a spy program to break the Old Man's password.

  "You know, for someone who professes to be a bad-ass,” Sarah, one of the Santa operatives said as she worked to input her data into the computer for the Naughty and Nice list, “that constant crocheting really blows the image."

  "Bite me. This happens to be my one hundredth blanket for The Linus Project. There's been a lot of little kids comforted by the blankets I've made. My goal is five hundred. Did you finish your homework?” he smirked at the curly-haired toddler-appearing elf who happened to be older than he. Her current assignment had her undercover at an elementary school as a kindergarten student, not a teacher. “You don't want to have to do it all on Sunday night."

  "Oh, please. Like I can't do that in my sleep, brat,” she snapped back at him. “At least I managed to wrangle my way out of playing Rudolph in the kindergarten Christmas play."

  "Now that I would have paid money to see,” he crocheted another row, then took a swig of his beer while he studied the guts of his Naughty and Nice software program on his laptop.

  "As my daddy in this scheme, you still have to be there."

  Leon groaned. “Off key kindergartens massacring Christmas songs. Oh, what fun. I thought Clay was playing your father in this scenario. Damn it, there has to be a back door.” He scowled at the laptop's screen and drained his beer.

  "Our other roommate has been designated to be my dad,” said Barney, also an elf, looked about six years-old and had been married for Leon's entire life to Sarah. Barney at spent his weekdays at a different elementary school posing as a First Grader and, like Sarah, weekends at different malls and stores checking out the kids and the level of toys in stock.

  Barney gave a bowl of ice cream to Sarah along with a juicy kiss that made Leon flat out jealous because he already wanted to kiss Candice that way and didn't even know her address. Damnation.

  Barney sat down on the couch beside Leon and began scooping up his ice cream with oatmeal cookies. He propped his sock clad feet on the coffee table next to Leon's laptop. “What are you looking at, Leon?"

  "Studying this damn program. Between Joseph, Lorena, and me, we made it hacker proof."

  "Which program is that?"

  "The Naughty and Nice list,” said Sarah around a mouthful of ice cream and cookies.

  "We all input data into it every evening, what's so hard about finding out some information from it?"

  "Have you ever gone looking for someone's name?” Leon challenged.

  "Nope, never had any need."

  "Try.” Leon closed the software guts and opened the Naughty and Nice regular program.

  Barney logged in under his own name and password. When the Search screen came up, he asked, “Who are you looking for?"

  "Candice Craig."

  Barney typed it in and hit Enter. Immediately the screen went blank. Up popped Santa Claus’ frowning face and a swinging index finger.

  "Uh, uh, uh. Only bad little boys and girls try to peek at someone else's information. Don't make me have to add you to the Naughty List."

  Sarah came running over from the computer she'd been using and clasped Barney's hand.

  Barney's face paled. “Is that linked straight to Santa along with my password and name?"

  "No,” Leon assured them. “It's just a warning. I programmed it. Don't worry about it. It's just a deterrent."

  "Your jokes are sick, Leon,” Sarah said. “Makes me wish Joshua had aimed an inch or so higher.” She gave a huff, kissed Barney, and went back to her computer. “Why don't you show Barney your bruise?” she added sweetly.

  Leon shifted the ice pack against his thigh. “No."

  "Aw, come on, show me the bruise,” Barney said with a laugh. “Poor Leon.” He ducked away from the cushion Leon threw at him.

  "Poor Leon what?” Clay, the fourth apartment mate, walked in from his shift as Santa at a different mall accompanied by the aroma of pizza from the box he carried with him along with a brown bag.

  "Please tell me that's another six pack,” Leon said. “This is the last one from the ‘frig and I don't want to have to drag out into the cold again to get more."

  "What else goes with pizza? So, what happened?"

  "Leon got kicked by a kid,” Barney said, finishing his ice cream and standing up to carry his bowl to the kitchen.

  "Almost did damage to his favorite body part,” Sarah added, handing her empty bowl to him to take back to the kitchen.

  "I thought you had more practice at this Santa Claus job, old boy.” Clay dropped down to the Barney's vacant space on the couch, popped opened a beer and handed it to Leon. “Here, you need this more than I do."

  "Thanks,” Leon took a swig, pulled up his software program again, and picked up his crocheting.

  "Always reminds me of that old Sylvester Stallone, Sandra Bullock movie when you do that. The one where Stallone was a cop who'd been iced—literally—and came out of it knowing how to knit while Wesley Snipes came out knowing how to make a bomb from a gum wrapper."

  "Yeah, yeah, you all can ju
st stop making fun of my hobby now or—."

  "Or you'll tell your daddy on us?” snickered Clay.

  "Oooh, we're gonna end up on the Naughty List."

  "Right along with Leon and the kid who kicked him."

  "So, how'd this kid manage to get the drop on you?” Clay asked around a mouthful of pizza.

  "Blinded by love,” sang Sarah, logging off the program. “All yours, lover."

  "Thanks, gorgeous.” They exchanged another juicy kiss while Leon exchanged an eye roll with Clay.

  "Get a room, you two."

  "They've got one. I don't know about you, but they keep me awake half the night."

  "I'll get you both some earplugs tomorrow while I scout the stores for the Naughty and Nice list,” Sarah said when she came up for air. “Hurry up, lover. I'm going to change into something more comfortable."

  Leon watched her leave the room. She wore a pair of pink overalls with a Disney princess shirt under it and Disney princess tennis shoes. “You know, we're damn lucky CPS doesn't have a clue what happens in this apartment. They'd think we're a bunch of perverts."

  "So, you got distracted by a woman, huh? About damn time. Want a beer, Barney?"

  "Yeah, thanks, Clay."

  Clay strolled across the room and handed him one while Barney continued his data input still talking, “Ain't that the truth about Leon? Between this sudden urge to look like a punk and the crocheting, I'd begun to worry about his orientation. The black leather clothes and dying his hair and eyebrows black just scream of ‘I am a man!’ as if anyone might have a doubt."

  "Yeah,” Clay agreed, sitting back down on the couch, “kind of wondering myself if he were taking after his Aunt Noel."

  "Ha, ha,” Leon drank some beer and scowled at Clay and Barney laughing like a couple of loons. “I've had lots of girlfriends. And what the hell's wrong with a change of appearance?"

  "You're just going overboard, Leon,” Sarah stood in the doorway in quilted robe. “You've got that hotshot motorcycle, changed your name, dyed your hair. The length doesn't bother me. I know you're growing it out again for Locks of Love, but still. You didn't have to dye it."

  "I like it black."

  "From a female's point of view, let me tell you, you look better as a blond."