Simon’s face registered discomfort. “Don’t be that way, Rae,” he said gently. He slid his fingers against hers, a caress that sent a thrill through her frame. “It’s been over two years now. We’re not exactly the same people we were after the breakup.”
She tried not to listen, but the sound of his voice was so warm, so persuasive. She let her hand linger against his for a second.
“I wouldn’t call what we had a breakup, considering you pretty much called it quits on me without warning.” She glanced sideways at him, with a cool stare she hoped would chill his advances.
“I’ve been meaning to talk about that. Ever since the last time we saw each other,” he added. “But we kind of avoided each other after that, and it seemed like a wall that I just couldn’t climb. You know what I mean?” He glanced at her hopefully, as if trying to read the answer in her face before she spoke.
“You sound like you had plenty of time to practice this speech,” said Rae. Her voice trembled slightly. “I guess I haven’t wasted the last couple of years hoping you’d call and say you were sorry.”
His face grew dark as he listened. Before he could reply, she laid a hand on his arm.
“Let’s just forget about it for today, okay?” she said. “We’ve got a job to do, so it doesn’t matter how we feel personally. It’s just a smile for the camera, and then we can go back to being ourselves.”
She made her features relax and withdrew her hand from its close proximity with his own. No surrender today, she reminded herself; just a truce for the good of the town parade.
Simon sighed. “I guess you’re right,” he said, after a moment’s silence. He reached for the paintbrush again, giving her a camera-worthy smile in the process. “Why waste time catching up when there’s a worthy cause in need of attention?”
She pretended he was sincere, so they could move past this awkward moment. With an equally false smile, she turned her attention back to the elaborate carpet design.
He cleared his throat. “After all, why would you listen to me? You obviously have your mind made up about what happened two years ago.” He whistled under his breath as he popped open a second can of paint.
If he had been trying to make her angry, he couldn’t have chosen better words. Rae sprang to her feet as if the platform beneath her was a trampoline.
“Are you actually suggesting that I’m to blame for what happened?” Her voice rose to a high-pitched squeal before she remembered to lower it. “After practically humiliating me in front of the whole station?”
“Calm down,” Simon snapped, glancing around at the volunteers who were staring at them. “I didn’t accuse you of anything, Rae.” He scrambled to rescue a paint can which her foot nearly upset.
“You only made us equal partners in your treachery,” she said. As Simon climbed to his feet, she turned and jumped off the platform.
“Forget what I said,” he pleaded, grabbing her arm.
Rae yanked it away. “Just leave me alone.”
Pulling out of his grip threw her off-balance; she stumbled over a pile of cardboard boxes and fell into a group of volunteers assembled around Santa’s rooftop float.
“Watch it!” The volunteer she bumped into lost his grip on a rope. It snaked frantically through the ceiling pulley, its load suspended for a brief second before spiraling below. With a sickening crash, Santa’s chimney plunged through the roof, sending splinters of wood and roof tiles flying.
A low wail escaped Rae’s lips in the midst of the chaos. A few volunteers screamed, the ones closest dodging the shower of debris. The crewman struggled frantically to hoist his chimney out of the rooftop, slipping on a glittery roof tile and falling again.
Rae stared in shock, her eyes welling with tears. Santa’s rooftop ruined. All her fault that a cherished parade tradition was in shambles–all because she was stuck doing this assignment with the man she despised the most.
Simon leaped from the platform and disappeared in a tangle of volunteers crowding around the float. Rae felt Mrs. Micholetti at her side, trying to restore order.
“It’s all right, Miss Randall. Please, don’t worry about it, these accidents happen.” The woman’s hands flapped anxiously as she motioned towards the volunteers trying to scale the broken roof. “Wait a minute, everyone, we don’t want to collapse the rest of it.” She offered Rae a brave smile before moving on.
Before her tears blinded her, Rae caught Simon’s approach. Shaking her head, she turned and stumbled towards the door, the float, the charity, and the newspaper photographer forgotten. Nothing could possibly make this day worthwhile. Except never seeing Simon Harte again.
*****
A skill saw sliced through the frame of Santa’s roof, spraying the float with a layer of sawdust. Simon ducked beneath the new support being hoisted into place and pushed his way towards the exit. It didn’t matter that Aladdin’s Palace was neglected, nor that he was on the verge of stumbling into the plaster mixed for the new chimney. This day was over has far as he was concerned.
“Mr. Harte,” called a voice. He turned to spot a man in khakis and a polo shirt, sporting a camera around his neck. “I’m from the Silver Star Gazette, here to photograph you guys with your float.” His fingers toyed with the camera button as if threatening to snap pictures at any moment.
“Yeah, well...” Simon trailed off. He couldn’t think of a good excuse for abandoning the man. “I’m afraid there’s been a little delay. Ms. Randall had to leave.” His tone was vague, his eyes peering past the photographer to see if Rae was possibly still in the building.
“What time will she be back? I could snap some photos around two, maybe.” The photographer sounded disappointed. Simon shook his head and patted the man on the shoulder. “Just forget about the photos. Trust me, it’s not going to work out.”
Before the photographer could ask any more questions, Simon slipped past him and threaded his way through the busy crowd of workers.
How could he be so stupid? He wanted to kick himself for that snide little remark. Sure, Rae had been Frosty the Snowman for most of this experience, but he was the one who pushed things over the edge.
“Rae!” he called, scanning the break area for signs of his co-host. She must have left the building already. A group of girl volunteers gathered around the donut table giggled and stared as he pushed open the door. Exposing a parking lot occupied only by cars.
He slammed his hand against the side of the building in frustration. Rae’s clunker was nowhere to be seen. Muttering under his breath, he cursed this whole experience, from the moment the mayor bestowed the so-called honor of hosting the parade.
All it did was land him in the same trap he escaped before. The compelling attraction that drew him to Rae Randall.
*****
Cold leftover pizza and Love Story. That’s how Rae spent the evening following the parade float disaster. As soon as she hung up the phone with Tippy–who issued a general statement saying Rae Randall was “unwell” and forced to leave early–Rae submerged herself in self-pity and a bubble bath for the rest of the afternoon.
She phoned the parade organizers first to apologize for her absence, and the little mishap involving Santa’s rooftop. They were relatively understanding, especially since Rae volunteered to cover the cost with a donation. At least she wouldn’t have Santa’s float on her conscience for the rest of the holiday season.
Simon Harte was another matter, however. Sinking into the tub, she tried to block all thoughts of him from her mind. She couldn’t keep his words from pounding through her head: words that proved Simon was still the same career driven, insensitive jerk she’d always known.
The worst part was, she let it get to her. She let his words control her in ways she promised she never would, not after their partnership crumbled. He pushed all of her buttons and she responded by giving him exactly what he wanted: a solo spotlight.
Scowling, she buried her face in her hands and let the day’s disaster march through
her thoughts unchecked. Reliving every moment, right up to the last glimpse she had of Simon’s face. Except the mocking smile she expected to see wasn’t there.
When her pizza arrived, she barely touched it. She stared dully at the TV screen as another classic romance unfolded. Reaching every few minutes for a new Kleenex, she told herself that crying was cathartic, the best way to free herself to face what was coming next.
A knock on the door roused her from her thoughts. Muting the television, she crawled from beneath her blanket. No doubt Tippy had arrived in person for all the juicy details about today. As if Rae really wanted to think about the parade looming in her future.
She cracked the door open. Revealing Simon Harte instead.
Before she could slam it shut, he laid his hand on the frame, pushing back gently. “Rae, wait,” he said. “Please, just hear me out.” He looked at her pleadingly.
“Don’t, Simon,” she threatened. What possible reason could he have for showing up at her apartment, other than to make her angry? Pushing her buttons in person was more fun than doing it over the phone.
“Just listen to me,” he insisted. “I want to talk about what happened between us so we can get past this.” His eyes were locked with hers, forcing her to read those dark depths. “Let me in, Rae. Please.”
“Which occasion do you want to talk about?” she answered coolly. “The one where you broke up our partnership, or the time you laid all the blame on me?” Despite her bitter tone, there was a tremor in her voice she couldn’t control.
“That’s not what happened and you know it, Rae,” he answered. He leaned closer to the opening, the scent of his aftershave making her knees weak. “There were bigger issues at stake when I left. There was something between us that wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard we pretended otherwise.” He paused and drew a deep breath. “I think you know what I mean.”
The look in his eyes was almost as compelling as physical touch. Despite herself, Rae shivered. “There’s nothing there but your imagination, Simon,” she answered. Her eyes broke away from his, looking anywhere but at his face. “All that happened was your ego boarding a runaway train.”
“You think that was all about my ego, Rae?” he snapped. “Let’s talk about your ego for a change. Let’s talk about the way you treated our partnership like a competition. Like I was a threat to your career the whole time I was there.” Emotion crackled in his voice with each word.
“Maybe it’s because you spent the whole time jockeying for first place,” she shot back. “You kept pushing closer, pushing me out of the picture.” There was no escape from the flames she felt consuming her cheeks as she remembered the tension in their partnership. She hoped Simon would read contempt into her blush instead of something deeper. Something she was afraid to admit.
Simon was silent for a moment. “Did you ever think that maybe I pushed because I wanted to be near you?”
His words shocked her. Her heart fluttered in her chest like a bird desperate to escape its cage. His fingers gripped the frame of her door as if clinging for life as he waited for her response.
Taking a moment to control her emotions, she answered quietly. “I think you should go before we both say something we regret.”
He opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut. With a final glance, he turned away. She shut the door and leaned against it, eyes closed. Listening to the sound of his footsteps echoing in the stairwell as he walked away.
She didn’t know what hurt more: finally closing the book on their relationship or knowing that she had just burned the last bridge behind her. Perhaps what hurt the most was the look in his eyes just before he walked away. As if she had crushed his heart between her fingers.
*****
“Thanks for joining us, folks, for the Early Bird Special.”
Simon faced the camera with what he hoped was a smooth persona that never hinted at last night’s conflict. “For a copy of today’s cherry surprise recipe, drop us an email using our special link on the station’s website.” He shuffled and restacked his notes, his personal signal that he was finished.
“Ooops, looks like you’re forgetting something, Simon.” Andrea’s toothpaste smile was spread evenly across her face. “Don’t forget, everyone, tune in tonight at six o’ clock to see Simon in his first-ever appearance as parade host for the Silver Star Christmas Parade!”
She purred as she flashed Simon a wicked smile. “He’ll be co-hosting with Morning Star Radio’s own Rae Randall, so tune in to see a reunion between Silver Star’s two favorite celebrities.”
Simon resisted the urge to strangle her as the broadcast drew to a close. Tossing his notes into the wastebasket, he marched offstage towards his dressing room. He could hear the sound of Andrea snickering behind him.
“...then he shoved her right into Santa’s roof!” A high-pitched nasal laugh followed these words, a sign that Andrea’s listener was the station makeup artist. Simon slammed the door of his dressing room to cover the sound.
Burying his face in his hands, he exhaled a deep breath. How could he be so stupid last night? Showing up at Rae’s apartment like that, trying to explain something that happened over two years ago. As if he could explain that relationship in ten minutes or less.
It was obvious that Rae didn’t believe he felt an attraction to her. She thought he was just an egotistical snake bent on escaping a two-bit town for something bigger. Until now, he had convinced himself she knew the real reason for their breakup.
Not only did she not realize the reason, she was obviously offended by the whole idea. He had fooled himself into believing that there was a mutual spark between them, causing the tension and strife that drove them both crazy. Turns out it was only my problem.
He glanced at the clock. Only eight hours until he was due at the parade site. The place he would be forced to face Rae one last time. Then it would be over and they could go their separate ways.
Squaring his jaw, he grabbed his coat and practiced a quick smile in front of the mirror. Lunch with the mayor was on the schedule, along with a local charity drive. No time for dwelling on memories of what might have been.
*****
No matter what anyone told Rae, she knew the worst was yet to come. As much as she’d like to think that it would all be over in a few hours–and Simon Harte would be out of her life forever–she knew a terrible price had to be paid to make it possible.
“Stop making it sound like the guillotine,” Tippy scolded. “And stop moving around so much or I’ll never finish fixing your hair.” She jabbed a hairpin impatiently into Rae’s updo.
“It’s two hours trapped with him, Tippy. Can’t you just lock me in a closet somewhere and tell them I’ve been kidnapped?” Rae moaned. “It was humiliating enough what happened at the float warehouse. And that was before he came to my apartment.”
“Maybe if you’d let him explain, he’d leave it alone.”
Rae was silent on this point. She wasn’t eager to share the idea Simon hinted at. Her feelings were her personal business and Simon had no right suggesting he could read her emotions like a book. Suggesting that’s what drove him away was even worse.
She yanked the hairbrush away from Tippy and swept up the second half of curls. “Simon is just a bigger jerk than I care to spend my evening with,” she answered. “And definitely a bigger jerk than I would want to host a parade with. Got it?”
The parade route began in front of the school basketball gym, which was where the hosts were supposed to meet and review the script. There would be a quick photography session shaking hands with the mayor and members of the city council. Then she and Simon would be left alone together. Trapped at a desk the size of a ping-pong table, with a camera trained on them every second of the hour.
Rae mentally reviewed her plan for staying sane as she trotted past rows of elaborate floats and performers in costume waiting for the start. The school marching band blared out a few half-hearted trombone notes in deafening practice as
she squeezed between the Alice in Wonderland float and the classic car for the spelling bee winner.
“Rae Randall! Over here!” A man she recognized as Jerry Illis, the manager of KTRP, beckoned her over. Behind him was Simon, in a dark grey suit and brown trench coat. His five o’ clock shadow caught her eye, along with the cocky smile that dissolved the moment he spotted her.
“Miss Randall, I’m sure you’ve met Mayor Douglas a time or two...” As Jerry’s voice droned on, she found herself pressing hands with the mayor. All the while, her gaze was trained on Simon with a painful awareness that she should look away. Something in his face kept her attention–was it the lack of arrogance, perhaps?
“I’m sure you two have been over the script a million times, but if you want to run through it once more we can postpone the photos until afterwards.” The mayor’s words snapped Rae back to the present.
“No, let’s take them now,” she answered, giving the mayor a brilliant smile. Deliberately turning her back on Simon, she waved at the cluster of businessmen who helped finance the parade.
“Smile, people,” the photographer droned as he squinted through the lens. He had posed them in front of the school’s float, a giant paper mache reindeer constructed by the junior high and high school students.
To Rae’s fury, Simon had insisted upon assuming the pose they shared for the promotional photos. His body was pressed against hers, one hand intertwined with her fingers while the other rested on her shoulder. Close enough that she could smell the scent of soap and shaving cream.
“You could give me a little space,” she hissed.
She heard him stifle a cough; or was it a laugh? “If that’s what you really want, why don’t you just run away, like you did the other day?”
Without thinking, she brought the point of her high-heeled shoe down on his foot. He let out a stifled howl of pain just as the photo snapped.
Parade Banter: A Christmas Romance Page 3
