by Cathy Quinn
“Thanks for the ride,” Sylvie said as she opened her door. “Bye, girls.” She hesitated. “Nice to meet you all.”
“Bye,” the girls said, one loudly, the other in a tiny whisper. Nick put his hand on Sylvie’s shoulder, preventing her escape. “When can I call you?” he asked. “Her birthday is three days from now, so we don’t have much time.”
Sylvie hesitated. “Call me the day before her birthday. First check with the office and other clown agencies, and only if you find absolutely nothing, then call me. Okay?”
Nick nodded. He yanked his wallet out of his inner pocket and removed his own business card. He wrote his number on the back, both the cell phone and the home number, as well as his home address. The office number, fax number and his email were on the front, so that should just about cover it. “If you need to reach me...” Yeah, he was probably an infernal optimist.
She nodded dubiously. “Right. But well – good luck with everything if I don’t see you again.”
He refused to say a final goodbye. “I appreciate you doing this. So do my girls.”
Sylvie nodded again, shifting her weight. “Yeah. Gotta go now. Thanks for the ride. Bye!”
“Bye.” Nick said to the closed door. He turned back and winked at his daughters. “Our fate is in Iffy’s hands now, girls. We’ll have to hope for the best.”
Emily laughed, energetically waving out the window to Sylvie’s retreating back. Lana didn’t even crack a smile. She looked out the other window, into the street and he saw her thin chest lift in a silent sigh. She obviously wasn’t getting her hopes up.
Nick echoed her inaudible sigh. So much rode on Sylvie’s decision. She had to make the right one. She had to.
* * *
What a day.
Never, never again.
Sylvie shuddered as she pushed at the door to Clowns and Clauses. So many kids! Some parents were just suckers for punishment, weren’t they?
The door wasn’t budging. And behind the glass was darkness. She turned the handle and pushed harder, praying to the patron saint of clowns. She knocked hard on the window and hit the doorbell with a fist.
No response.
What a day.
She slumped against the door. Fine. Okay. So she’d have to wait a bit. Not the end of the world. Sooner or later, one of the regular clowns or Santas would return from duty, and she could get in there and reclaim her clothes, her purse, her keys, her cell phones and all the other vital objects of the 21st century. She’d cast of the clown costume and never wear polka dots again. In the meantime she’d just wait out here.
Stared at by passersby.
Poked by children.
Without even coins for a cup of coffee, unless she took up begging. Which, in recent days, hadn’t seemed all that far-fetched.
Unemployment sucked.
“You okay?”
She turned reluctantly around and saw Nick’s car, the window rolled down, her savior leaning out and looking at her concernedly.
Could he really be the patron saint of clowns?
Lana had his father’s eyes. Dark blue, lashes dark and silky. Only Nick’s eyes were filled with intensity and mystery while his daughter’s eyes reflected wariness and caution.
She told herself to get a grip. He was the father of two little girls. A widower, probably. He had no business making her stomach flutter like that, and she had no business wondering what he looked like asleep.
In the back seat, two faces were pressed against the window. Nick saw her looking that way and glanced backwards. “Emily! Back in your seat belt!” he growled, then opened the passenger door and gestured Sylvie over. “I take it you don’t have a key?”
Reluctantly she walked to the car, then sat in the front seat again, feeling trapped. “Right.”
“Can we drive you home then?”
“Can’t get in. My keys are in there.” She was feeling exhausted and helpless. She’d been so close to ending this entire nightmare, and then she’d come up against a closed door. It wasn’t fair.
Nick’s fingers drummed on the wheel, but he didn’t look too put out on being stuck with a homeless clown. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and handed it to her. “Someone you can call?”
She waved the cell phone away. “Actually, I’ll just have to wait.” She glanced at her watch. “It’ll be an hour at the most. Then the Sant.... uh...” She took a hurried glimpse in the back seat, but the girls hadn’t noticed her slip. Kids still believed in Santa at that age, didn’t they? “I mean, the... staff starts returning from the malls.”
Nick pulled away from the curb and she nearly shrieked. Was she being abducted? “No problem,” he said. “We’ll keep you company. How about we have an early dinner together? The girls need something to eat anyway, to counter all the sugar in their system.”
Emily whooped enthusiastically and even Lana cracked a tiny smile. Dinner? Sylvie cursed herself for not having carried at least a tiny amount of emergency money. She wasn’t quite destitute yet, thank God, but she didn’t have even a penny with her. “I’m not dressed for a restaurant...” she protested.
“No problem. We’ll go to a fast food place. One of those horrible places that serves crappy plastic toys with the meals.”
There were even wilder shouts of joy from the back seat.
“Nobody will even notice you this time of year.” He winked at her. “Of course, the restaurant may try to recruit you...”
“Actually, I don’t have any money on me,” she grumbled, feeling humiliated. “I told you. Everything’s back at the store. Keys, money, phone, lipstick, hairbrush. All the essentials. Yes, stupid, but all of this wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Nick glanced in a rearview mirror. “After what Emily did to you today, I think she owes you a meal or two. Consider it an advance payment on the clown job you’ll be doing for us.”
Sylvie bit her lip before the curse flew out of her mouth at the mention of that ‘clown job’. She’d promised to do her best, after all. If he couldn’t find an alternative. Wouldn’t do to negate on that now. “I’ll pay you back as soon as I reclaim my purse,” she said firmly.
“Sure,” Nick said diplomatically, probably knowing better than to object.
She was hungry. But...
Sylvie looked wretchedly down at herself. “I don’t know. I can’t possibly go anywhere in public looking like this.”
“Sure you can.” Nick turned to study her carefully, then reached out to touch her cheek. “It looks like we can’t do anything about the make-up without a blowtorch or that crowbar, but now your wig is off, it’s not too bad.”
She knew it was worse than bad and gave him a look that said so, loud and clear, but she appreciated his attempt at being a gentleman. “But the costume! It probably glows in the dark!” She pulled at the pink polka dots, but Nick just shook his head and herded his daughters out of the car. He opened the door for her, and as she stepped out, he put his coat over her shoulders. “There. Nary a polka dot in sight.”
The coat was heavy on her shoulders, and warm enough for her to feel she was doing something illicit. It smelled like him too, which didn’t help. She was pathetic. Not only pathetic, she was a pathetic clown. The man didn’t even have a clue as to what she looked like, and here she was, practically drooling over his damn coat.
“Put your arms in the sleeves,” he commanded, and started rolling up the heavy sleeves in anticipation of her obeying him. “That costume is ridiculously thin. I can’t believe you played outside wearing this.”
He caught her eye and dropped the sleeve, smiling embarrassed. “Sorry. I get carried away with the father role sometimes.”
“No problem.” Right on cue, she sneezed, and Nick’s handsome face turned worried. “God, please, don’t get sick,” he muttered, and she was quite pleased with his concern until she realized he wanted her alive and well to entertain in his daughters party. Damn it all!
The fast food place was crowded, but everybody was
in a hurry so a table was free after only a few minute’s wait. Emily was quick to finish her burger and wriggled in her seat, staring with longing towards the playroom. Lana was less impressed, but when her little sister scuttled off, she followed.
Sylvie took a bite of her burger, and noticed Nick’s mouth moving. The place was so loud, it was impossible to get heard without either shouting, or getting very very close.
Nick chose the second option. He leaned towards her, and she got a close-up view of his eyes. Very blue. Very sexy. Filled with warmth and humor and sending tickling heat up her spine.
Great. Just what she needed. The first man in years to wake up the butterflies in her stomach and she had to be dressed in a clown suit, and he had to be a widowed father of two. Not exactly a match made in heaven, and she viciously chewed on her French fry and swallowed with satisfaction. There. Let the cholesterol deal with the damn butterflies.
“You’ve got to tell me,” he said close to her ear, and she got goose bumps all over. “How in the world did you end up a clown?”
Sylvie speared a French fry with a plastic fork and dipped it in ketchup. Who cared about calories on a day like this? “It’s not an interesting story.”
Nick shook his head, grinning. “I don’t believe that. It has to be fascinating. Was it a dare or something? Or did you just badly need a job.”
She wiped her hands on a colorful napkin and pushed the plate with the remaining fries away. She looked up at him and grimaced. “Well, a bit of both, embarrassing as it is. I have this pact with two of my friends about doing things out of our comfort zone.” She took a long gulp of her soda. “And then I lost my job. Not nice, so close to Christmas. So, Susie tricked me into going with her. Of course, I didn’t realize it was a part of the plan.” She groaned. “God, I wished she’d dragged me to a karaoke bar. That was the kind of thing I was thinking with the out-of-comfort-zone thing. Embarrassing myself by singing disco songs off-key after a drink or three. Not this!”
Nick chuckled. “I see.”
Sylvie sighed. “Susie said I could make good money the holiday season if I did this. She made it sound so innocent and easy, and I was stupid enough to fall for it. And it was a big mistake. For her as well as for me,” she added darkly. Susie would rue the day...
Nick was looking interested. “So you need a job?”
“Well, yes, but I have my standards. I mean, I’d rather starve than wear this costume again.”
Nick leaned towards her and there was a new sparkle of determination in his eyes. She leaned away in self-defense. Nick and determination were proving to be a dangerous mix. “If you come to Lana’s birthday party,” he said slowly. “I can get you a job. A good job. Temporary or permanent, whichever you want. You can start whenever you want, too. Tomorrow, if you’d like to earn some money before Christmas.”
She peered at him suspiciously. “You don’t know anything about me. And, what’s even worse, I don’t know anything about you. What kind of a job are you talking about?”
Nick leaned back and shrugged. “There are several options. I own a store, so it could be retail or office work. The precise nature of the job would depend on your skills and interest. You’d come for an interview and we’d go over your CV and see what we can offer you.”
Hm.
If he was for real, was this an offer she could afford turning down?
Nick noticed her hesitation and pounced. “Good pay, good insurance.”
“This is sounding a bit too good to be true,” she said skeptically.
Nick shrugged. “It’s just a job. If you don’t take it, someone else will.”
“It sounds awfully convenient. Will someone be fired to make room for me?”
He chuckled. “No. We’re expanding. I need new people anyway.”
“How do you know I’m even capable of doing this job? You don’t know my record. You don’t know anything about me.”
Nick didn’t hesitate. “I’ll have to take the chance.” He smiled crookedly. “If it gets Lana Iffy the Clown for her birthday, it’s worth it even if you somehow manage to bankrupt one of my stores.”
The man truly was desperate.
But then, so was she. She wouldn’t be starving any time soon, but getting a job was a top priority right now. And she had already practically promised to do the birthday party anyway.
“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll do it.”
Chapter 3
By the time they returned to Clowns and Clauses, the lights were on. Someone was back. Thank God. Normality was just a few minutes away. Sylvie breathed a sigh of relief, said a very quick goodbye to Nick and his daughters and practically ran to the door in anticipation of repossessing herself. A scrawny half-dressed Santa opened the door when she banged on it. Worried, Sylvie glanced, back, but Nick had pulled away, sparing the girls a sight of a twenty-something Santa with no beard and no belly.
The young Santa was the only one there, and he quickly pulled off the rest of his costume and left. For a long time, Sylvie just stood in front of the mirror, staring at herself in horrified disbelief.
This was what she’d looked like all evening?
Nick was a brave man. He’d not only let her into his car, but actually taken her to a restaurant, with actual people there. And he’d never let on any embarrassment or even amusement at being in her company. She grimaced, and the mirror image looked even more tragic. People must have stared. Why hadn’t she noticed?
Had she been too busy at staring at him?
She flipped another light on, just to punish herself even further. The mirror gleefully gave her an even better look at herself. Her white make-up alternated between being caked and runny, her colorful costume looked bad by itself, but worse soaked with snow and grime, and even her hair, freed from the confines of the wigs, looked like a crow’s nest in need of restoration. She smoothed her hands over it, scowling. She’d probably have been better off keeping the wig on, horrible as it was.
And Nick had dismissed her protests. He’d said she looked fine. Fine!
Sylvie whimpered and looked around for a chair to fall into. God, she’d like to show him what she looked like at her best. Not that she had any particularly lofty ideas about her own appearance, but she did look presentable enough -- unlike that... that... creature in the mirror.
So what?
She did not need to prove anything to Nick, she chastised herself. She’d been doing a job. This look – most of it – was part of that job. She was not out to impress him. So what if he had the most gorgeous deep blue eyes she’d ever seen, and so what if the feel of his coat over her shoulders had almost hypnotized her with its warmth and his subtle scent?
His coat?
Oh, damn.
She stared dismayed at herself in the mirror. Nick’s coat. Clean and dry and still draped over her shoulders. She pulled it off and carefully hung it on a hook by the door so she’d remember to take it with her. This wasn’t a catastrophe. She’d just have to return the coat as quickly as possible. After all, she had his card. She had three phone numbers for the man, his pager number, two email addresses, his PA’s phone number and his home address as well as two work addresses. It probably wouldn’t be too difficult to track him down – if he didn’t beat her to it.
Sylvie started the process of removing the damp costume, shivering now that she’d lost the warm protection of Nick’s coat. The changing room looked brighter and larger without Susie and assorted partners-in-crime crowding her with paintbrushes and not-so-practical advice – all probably aimed at distracting her from what they’d planned for her.
Underneath, her t-shirt and underwear were soaked – and the white cotton was splotched with red and orange where the color from the wet costume had seeped through.
Charming.
Oh, God. Nick’s coat!
Sylvie grimaced as she glanced back at the coat hanging by the door. She was afraid to check the inner lining. The coat looked expensive, and if it was
now all stained in red on the inside, she’d have to offer to replace it.
All in all, it was probably lucky that she’d forgotten to return it. He’d have put it on without noticing the dye, and that warm heavy coat would have clung to those nice wide shoulders, transferring the red ink to that lovely gray sweater which had looked so soft her fingers had itched to touch it.
Damn. Those annoying butterflies were back. She clenched her pathetic abs in an effort to kill them, but it didn’t work. She should have consumed more cholesterol back at the fast-food place. Definitely.
So, was the coat ruined or not?
Only one way to find out.
She strode to the door and grabbed the lapels of Nick’s coat, opening it, eyes squeezed shut.
She opened one eye, then another one as her worst suspicions were confirmed. It was bad. It was horrible. The entire inside of the coat was splattered with red and pink blotches. And what about his car? Had she ruined his seat covers too?
She let go of the coat and shuffled back to the changing area. That better be a well-paid job he was getting her. At this rate she’d have to work several months just to pay him back for assorted damages.
She peeled all of the horrid costume off and threw it in the huge laundry basket, which was already overflowing with Santa costumes, equally grimy from the city snow. Their laundry bill had to be astronomical. Not that she cared. She was never coming in here again. She just wanted to go home and forget just about everything that had happened today. Home, to her tiny apartment on the fifth floor, overlooking brick walls and garbage cans. Home to a semi-hot shower, dry pajamas and a warm bed. Home to the cat she’d adopted the day after she moved in. She hoped he was in the mood for sharing. Lazarus made a wonderful toe-warmer, and now she needed one badly.
