Working as a mall elf is Chloe Mitchell’s worst nightmare, but when her best friend calls in a favor, she’s forced to face her Claustrophobia—of the Santa variety—head on. Unbeknownst to her, Santa Claus has her in his sights, and he’s determined to make sure she finally has the happy holidays he believes she deserves.
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From Chapter One…
Strings of lights dangled from the mall’s skylight, twinkling overhead and heralding in the holidays. The Thanksgiving turkeys hadn’t even been given time to cool before the mall transformed into a winter wonderland for the herds of children joining their parents for frenzied Black Friday shopping.
What sort of idiot thought opening the yearly sessions with Santa on Black Friday, the busiest damned day of the bloody year, was a good idea? What I truly didn’t understand was how Kristine had roped me into taking her place as a red and white clad ‘elf’ decked out for a night on the town. She’d obviously taken advantage of the holidays; the legal firm where I worked had an extra day off, something I hadn’t seen happen since I’d been hired.
Had I been thinking straight, I would’ve told Kristine she’d lost her damned mind and stayed home.
I should’ve asked what I’d be wearing. I should’ve made certain I’d gotten a dress in my size rather than hers. I should’ve done a lot of things. But no, I hadn’t.
I deserved my fate, and I’d do my best to be a good sport about it rather than act like my usual yearly scrooge. I could handle being a good sport for one day, even on Black Friday.
I’d just have to make sure I didn’t sneeze until I could get changed. If I sneezed wrong, I’d be giving the entire mall a show they wouldn’t forget anytime soon. I’d lucked out on the dress’s length; it almost reached my knees, so I could bend over and crouch as needed without revealing all my secrets.
But if I sneezed, my life would be over. Someone would inevitably catch a picture of me wearing the only damned bra that worked with the strapless monstrosity trimmed in fluffy, white fake fur. It had more lace than anything else, including support, but no one would notice; the elf dress clung to my chest to a smothering degree. I suspected the designer had forgotten breathing was mandatory.
I needed to remind Kristine we weren’t the same size, and realistically, I couldn’t wiggle into her clothes without a lot of effort and running a high risk of flashing someone if my breasts bounced the wrong way.
Or I sneezed.
Whatever. Maybe I disliked the holidays and wanted to escape from the noise, the bustle, and the hustle, but I liked kids, and I had eight whole hours of handling them ahead of me. Fortunately for me and my Claustrophobic tendencies, of the Santa sort, I worked the entrance to the Christmas Village, thus sparing myself from having to interact with my adulthood nightmare.
Next time, I’d definitely tell Kristine I couldn’t deal with Santa-anything. Ever.
With Jolly Old Saint Nick’s cheerful bellowing drowning out the carols and the kids chattering, screaming, and otherwise driving their parents to the brink of insanity, I’d have a migraine within an hour, need an intervention by lunch, and would lose my will to live by the end of Kristine’s shift.
I liked giving to charity. I liked doing charitable things. I liked kids.
Maybe if I told myself that enough times, I’d believe I’d made the right choice. Maybe I’d even enjoy it.
As long as I pretended I wasn’t dressed up like a slutty elf waiting for a bra malfunction, everything would be okay. I could go eight hours without sneezing. Who needed to breathe, anyway?
Armed with a basket of candy canes and my best smile, I did my job, such as it was. I smiled for lawyers and their clients nine hours a day. I could handle an endless stream of kids, no problem.
How bad could it be?