by Helen Allan
Of course, it’s a good thing she can paint, because the woman sure as hell can’t cook. Last night’s spaghetti was appalling, and although I do love a good bolognaise, with extra sugar, the maple syrup I poured on last night was most definitely necessary.
No wonder the child ordered pizza every night.
Thinking of the little girl I make up my mind to talk to the sprites about her. The kid could do with some magic in her life, especially given the circumstances surrounding her; parents divorcing, beloved grandmother suffering cancer, aunt too busy to spend time with her.
No wonder the poor kid is such a snarky little punk.
‘Yes, the sprites might work.’
I smile and nod as the woman enters the shop and indicates she needs a hand.
“I’ll go,” I murmur to Holly, placing my hammer down next to the rest of my tools.
“Of course, you will,” she smirks.
“It is why you hired me, isn’t it?” I tease, “unless it’s because you couldn’t resist my charm and good looks.”
“It’s the foot massage extras,” she grins.
A shiver runs down my spine at her mention of that, and I feel that stirring again, and quickly leave to help the customer.
9
HOLLY
I laugh out loud when I see his hair, and he smirks, throwing his hands into the air.
“She got me good,” he chuckles.
“How?” I walk around him, surveying his once dark locks, now blonde.
“I have to assume she switched the shampoo for something with bleach,” he smirks, “which means,” he wiggles his eyebrows up and down, “game on.”
“Oh, God,” I groan, “don’t tell me you’re actually planning on getting her back?”
“Oh, yes,” he rubs his hands together, grinning, “I most certainly am planning on getting her back.”
As if on cue, I hear a scream of anger and shrieks of horror from the office, and turn my head to the side as I stare at him, eyebrows raised.
‘What now?’
I don’t have long to wonder, as Sapphire runs from the room, barrelling into me, patting her clothes as though they are on fire.
“Make them stop, make them stop,” she shouts, not to me, but to Kris.
“Do you concede I win this round?” he laughs.
“Yes, yes, just make them stop.”
“And you will help me with the display today?”
“Yes!”
I stand, astounded, as I watch the pair – I can’t for the life of me see anything on her.
“Very well,” he snaps his fingers.
Instantly, she stops patting her clothes and, snarling, rounds on him.
“You don’t fight fair, Elf.”
“On the contrary,” he shrugs, “I simply use what is at my disposal. As did you when you successfully dyed my hair.”
“Magic is cheating!”
“Magic?” I look from one to the next and back again.
“He sent tiny green monsters to tickle me and nip me all over, even under my clothes!” she huffs.
“Sprites,” he shrugs, “they can be helpful, but also rude little creatures that often have a dirty sense of humour – I think that’s why I’ve always liked them. These particular little assholes followed me from the North Pole – I’m afraid I’m stuck with them.”
Sapphire chokes on a giggle, and I roll my eyes at the pair as I walk away.
“OK, I get it, gang up to play a trick on Aunty Holly. Whatever, you win,” I shake my head.
“It wasn’t a trick,” Sapphire splutters, “he really is an elf.”
“Sure, sure,” I smile. Whatever hoax he had pulled, it worked. She was out in the shop, she had agreed to help with the display – he’d won the bet.
“And I guess now I have to dress in whatever ridiculous thing you have in mind,” I groan at Kris where he stands, grinning, his eyes twinkling.
“I have just the thing,” he laughs, walking into the office.
“I’ll get you for this,” I frown at Sapphire.
“What?” she snipes, “I’m the one having to be his slave for the day. What could possibly be worse than that?”
When he hands me the tight, red elf suit I have to wear for the day, and I hold it up to her, she bursts into giggles.
I stand at the counter, praying I don’t need to get out from behind it at any point to help customers, as I adjust the tight, red spandex so that my panties stop crawling up my butt. There’s a red velvet cape with a hood, but it keeps catching on things as I stalk the aisles, so I’ve had to abandon it, much to my dismay.
“Of all the…” I grumble.
“Oh, Holly,” Kris calls in an innocent voice, “Sapphire and I need a hand with the display.”
“Like hell you do,” I mutter, not loud enough for them to hear.
Gritting my teeth, I skitter on high, very high, red heels, down the main aisle, looking left and right to ensure no one can see what I’m wearing as I reach the window display.
When I reach them, I see I’m not the only one in costume. Sapphire is wearing a bright Christmas-green skivvy and red overalls with little silver ladybug motifs down one leg.
“You look nice,” I smile.
“Blech!” she fake vomits, “the stupid elf bought it for me.”
“She wouldn’t wear the ribbons or tinsel in her hair,” he sighs heavily, “which would have looked so pretty.”
“You bought this for her?” I laugh. “You do know I’ve never seen her wear anything but black.”
“She’s not the only one who needed a little colour,” he smirks.
I blush as his eyes wander up my tights to my short, very short, little red velvet elf dress with its super tight bodice pushing my breasts up to my chin.
“You look wonderful,” he says, his voice deep and sexy.
“You have an elf fetish,” I scowl, “I get it now. But I can tell you, buddy, this is the one and only time you will ever see me in something like this.”
“A bet is a bet,” he smirks, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you out of it either.”
“Ewwww,” Sapphire groans, “stop flirting with my aunty, she has a boyfriend, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” he grins, winking at me as I roll my eyes, face aflame.
His cheeky banter is interrupted, thankfully by the bell on the door as a customer breezes in, accompanied by a flurry of snow.
“There you are,” a husky, six-pack-a-day voice croons.
I turn around to see a blonde wearing a tight, white woollen dress. Her breasts are so large they look like watermelons, dwarfing mine into lemons, and her hips look like a roller coaster ride.
‘Oh, Lord, Tracy Upshot.’
“Hello,” Kris smiles as she puts her arms around him and kisses him passionately.
I turn and grimace at Sapphire, who looks absolutely furious.
‘Oh kid, this elf is not the type to get a girl-crush on – something we both need tattooed on our foreheads.’
“I brought you a little sweet treat,” Tracy croons as she walks away with Kris, one hand pushed into the back pocket of his jeans, squeezing his rock-hard butt cheek. “I made it myself.”
I don’t hear what he replies, but turn to Sapphire as she throws down her little paintbrush in disgust.
“Let’s face it. He’s a total babe magnet,” I smirk at her, “and way too old for you.”
“I know that,” she scowls.
“And way out of my league too,” I push my shoulder up against hers and laugh. “Your mother phoned earlier,” I sit down and pick up the brush she discarded, offering it to her gingerly and saying nothing to indicate my surprise when she takes it, “she said the Monroe kids are staying with their grandparents.”
Her eyes light up momentarily.
“She said it’s OK for you to go and stay with your friend Jaz when they get here, but you just need to let me know where you
are and what you’re up to.”
“Like there’s anywhere in this stupid town to go, or anything I could do that you wouldn’t know about,” she pouts.
“Exactly,” I nod and smirk, “so, anyway, your friend from the city is staying a fortnight, and apparently her cousins are coming too, it’s some kind of big cousin-grandparent get together.”
“She’s not really my friend, I mean, I know her from school, and our Mothers are friends. I don’t know her cousins,” she frowns.
“Then here is the opportunity to get to know Jaz and her cousins - make some friends,” I shrug as I rise to head to the till, hearing the front doorbell go again.
“Hello,” a woman says when she sees me emerge from the display, “is Kris here?”
I tally up the day’s takings, preparing to bag the cash and head to the bank, when my phone rings.
Surprised, given the time, I answer as I briskly walk to the front door, peering out to give Sapphire a five-minute signal where she sits waiting in the car, before heading back to the counter.
“Louis, this is a surprise.”
“Listen,” he says, his voice all business, “I’ve had my father run a background check on your elf.”
“You what?” I lower my voice so that Kris, in the back room showering, can’t hear our conversation.
“Someone has to look out for you,” he growls, “and this guy has no footprint, none, nada. He’s a completely blank identity.”
“What does that mean?” I scowl, “your father obviously didn’t look very well. And how the hell could he even try? You don’t know what his last name is.”
“Do you?” he snipes.
“No. And I don’t need to. I trust him.”
“We used an image of him,” he says quietly, “don’t bother asking how I got it. Just accept what I am telling you. You need to get rid of him - fast.”
“Louis,” I scowl, my eye catching the day’s totals once more, a greater amount of money than I’ll bet my father had ever made in one day, or maybe a week for that matter. And all owing to the revolving door of women coming to buy here, because of Kris – “you sound like a jealous idiot. If this is because you think I’m cheating…”
“Don’t be a fool,” he growls, “I’m sitting in my room now, looking at the report on the computer, and it’s clear he's either on the run and had his identity wiped, or he’s a spy, or…” he leaves the rest hanging.
I bite my tongue.
“Louis,” I eventually grind out, “I’m not firing Kris, and I want you to stop talking to me like I’m a child.”
“Stop acting like one then,” he growls, “this guy obviously has some kind of hold on you – you know better than this.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I snarl, pressing disconnect and turning my phone off for good measure. But the moment I’ve done it, I feel terrible, and tears begin to prick the back of my eyes.
‘Why? Why can’t he trust my judgement? Why do I feel terrible after every time I talk to him lately?’
I rest my head in my hands momentarily, but raise my face as I hear soft footsteps on the hardwood floors.
“Everything alright?” Kris asks, coming out of the staff bathroom wearing his tight jeans, no shirt, and drying his, once more dark hair, briskly with a towel.
“Uh, yes,” I sigh, wiping my eyes hastily on the back of my costume’s arm.
Pausing in his drying, his hair all on end like a troll doll, he steps closer, lifts my chin carefully with his thumb and forefinger, and studies my eyes.
I don’t move, I’m holding my breath at his nearness, so unexpected and yet….
“I will be sad to see you out of that costume tomorrow,” he murmurs, “the colour brings out the blue in your eyes – I’m very partial to blue eyes.”
“I’m partial to brown,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
He glances down to the phone on the counter. “And what colour eyes does your Louis have?”
“Green,” I respond, before I can think through the ramifications of my answer.
He smiles and steps closer, his chest almost touching mine.
“Holly ..”
But whatever he is going to say is interrupted by the blare of the car horn as Sapphire indicates my five minutes is up.
“I have to go,” I frown, stepping back hastily, picking up the cash bag and shoving my phone into my coat pocket, “and for the love of God, can you start wearing more clothes?”
I spin and march angrily from the shop, angry at myself more than him. I feel guilty for almost falling into those muscular arms, for almost cheating on Louis, just as he had accused me.
“I’m not that girl,” I mutter to myself as I pull open my car door and slide into the driver’s seat. But as I drive, my thoughts are on his chocolate eyes as they had looked into mine, his breath, so close I could feel the warmth as he breathed out, the delicious scent of his skin.
10
HOLLY
“Oooh, I’m gonna get that elf!” I hear Sapphire shout from the bedroom as I serve up breakfast, a hasty meal of toast and coffee for me, and toast and hot chocolate for her, since we are running late, yet again.
“Sapphire stop buggerising around and get down here,” I shout for the third time.
She appears a few minutes later wearing the same overalls and skivvy as yesterday, and little red shoes with pointed, turned-up toes.
“What the?”
“Don’t even go there,” she groans, pulling up a chair and shoving the toast in her mouth, “he made all my clothes and shoes shrink,” she mumbles around a mouthful of toast.
“What?”
“The elf, he shrunk all my gear. This is the only outfit that will fit me now, and these,” she holds up her feet with the ridiculous little elf shoes, “are the only shoes that will fit.”
“Sapphire,” I growl, “if you guys don’t stop this magic bullshit, I swear, the joke is getting old. Enough is enough.”
I’m grumpy, and I know I sound grumpy. I couldn’t sleep last night, my dreams revolved around raunchy shenanigans with a certain elf in a whole range of different hardware isles – it was disturbing and had left me feeling edgy and unsatisfied.
“He is a real elf, and he has real magic,” she asserts.
“Oh, for the love of…”
“And he’s obviously worked his magic on you,” she sniggers, “cos I saw you kiss him in the shop yesterday.”
“You did not!” I gasp, dropping my toast back to the plate, “you take that back, Sapphire.”
“I won’t,” she raises her chin defiantly, “unless….”
“Don’t you dare try to blackmail me, young lady,” I shake my finger at her, “I’m not your mother.”
“She’s leaving me here you know,” she shrugs, dropping the blackmail attempt, her voice dejected.
“Who?”
“Mum.”
“What? What do you mean? She said she would pick you up before Christmas?”
“I dunno,” she shrugs, “she phoned yesterday and said something about grandma and an operation and Christmas. I just figure it’s more of the same.”
“More of the same what?” I frown.
“More of the same excuses to cover the fact neither of them wants me,” she murmurs, placing her hot chocolate down in front of her and keeping her eyes lowered.
“What are you talking about?” I throw my hands in the air, “they both want you. This whole fight is about custody of you.”
“No,” she sighs, “it’s really not. I heard them arguing one night. Dad said he will fight for custody if Mum doesn’t accept the house only – no beach house, no jeep, no cash, no shares, just the house. And she said,” her voice trails off, and she has to clear her throat before going on, “she said she would leave me with him just to curtail his screwing around – because single dads get way less sex than playboys.”
“Oh, Saph,” I walk around the table and lean down t
o put my arms around her. For once, she accepts my embrace. “Your mother said that in the heat of the moment – believe me, I know her, I know the kinds of things she says. But I can tell you now, she loves you more than anything else in the entire world, and if it came down to it, she would live in a cardboard box, so long as you were with her.”
She shakes her head wordlessly, and I look to the ceiling and take a deep breath. I wish what I had said was true, but I know my sister well, and she is a selfish cow. Leaving Sapphire with her father to hamper his future love life is just the kind of thing she would do.
“And anyway,” I add, trying to inject some happiness into my voice, “she doesn’t have to worry about your Dad taking you – she’s going to have to fight me for you since I’ve become so attached to having my little Emo sidekick.”
“Yeah, right,” she gives a half sob, half laugh.
“And of course,” I add in a conspiratorial tone, “there’s the elf. I mean, it seems you are becoming pretty tight friends – he might whisk you away to the North Pole where, you never know, he could have half a dozen gorgeous younger elf brothers.”
“Do you think he has any brothers?” she raises her teary face hopefully.
“Oh, God, what have I started?” I groan, smirking at her.
“I’m gonna ask him today,” she says as she rises and picks up a piece of toast to go, “right after I prank him bad for this shoe and clothes mess.”
The sound of his groans echoes throughout the shop, and I give Sapphire another ‘you have been very, very bad’ look, before walking to the staff bathroom and tapping lightly on the door.
“Can I get you anything, Kris? I’m so sorry about this.”
“No, I’m good,” he groans again.
I sigh and walk back to the counter.
“I didn’t think it would make him this sick,” Sapphire says for the third time.
“I know,” I shake my head at her, “but that doesn’t make it any better.”
“He’s just gonna poo for like, a few more hours, isn’t he?” she asks, her voice worried, “I mean, he’s not gonna die?”
“People don’t die from having their chocolates replaced with laxatives,” I smirk at her, “even if they eat a box and a half for breakfast.”
