Read Online A Cliché Christmas by Nicole Deese - Free Book Online Page A

permanent migraine, and though my actors were proving to be decent at memorizing, they spoke their lines with as much emotion as roadkill. Plus, Kevin, the boy with the ever-showing boxers, simply would not stop taunting the wise men, no matter what kind of threats I hurled his way.
    I rubbed my temples and did another countdown in my head. Twenty-five days.
    I was on edge, testy, and annoyed, but worst of all, I couldn’t get a certain set of dimples out of my mind.
    “Miss Cole?”
    I snapped out of my mental torment.
    “Yeah, Josie?”
    “Is it true we have to practice every Saturday?”
    I tried my best to smile sweetly. “Yes, we need to practice every day we can.” And about ninety more than that.
    “Well, I have a Christmas party I have to attend on the fourteenth. It’s out of town. We go every year.”
    “Yeah, I have something going on that day, too,” Kevin said.
    “Me, too,” another kid piped up.
    I stood with my hands on my hips. “ All of you have a Christmas party to attend that Saturday? You guys, that is just a week before the show. That is a crucial Saturday practice.”
    “Please, Miss Cole. We will work extra hard,” Josie said.
    Suddenly, I got an idea.
    “Extra hard?” I asked.
    The stage was filled with bobbleheads.
    “Okay, a Saturday off means that you have to start taking your roles seriously. No more hawking loogies in the middle of your lines. I want to feel the emotion and humor and voice of each of your characters.”
    “So, all we have to do is become better actors, and we can have that Saturday off?”
    “Yep. And Miss Peach—I mean, Mrs. Aarons—and I will be the judge of that.”
    Misty nodded, impressed that I finally remembered her married name.
    Perfect.

    So, as it turns out, teenagers are the spawn of the purest kind of evil.
    On Friday evening, Weston arrived at the theater, trailing behind a pack of devilish hoodlums—a.k.a. my actors.
    “What are you doing here?” The hiss of my voice caused several glances to shoot our way.
    “I’m their secret weapon, apparently.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “They want a Saturday off.” He shrugged. “I’m gonna help them get one.”
    “No one cleared this with me.”
    “Well, Ms. Tinseltown, consider yourself informed.” He hopped up on the stage with one bicep-straining motion. “All right guys, get in your places. We have a show to put on.” He clapped once and shot me a not-so-innocent grin.
    No way. I turned to Misty, looking for her to confirm my outrage.
    “I say let him help us. He does know the kids, Georgia.”
    I closed my eyes and exhaled. Fine. I can do this. Weston was just one more obstacle to tackle.
    A bridge to cross. A gap to jump. A mouth to kiss.
    Strike that last one.
    “What do you think, Miss Cole?” Weston asked.
    Everyone stared at me.
    I blinked. “U m . . . what was that?”
    “Can the wise men add a swagger to their walks?”
    The boys demonstrated this, and I nearly choked with laughter. Misty giggled uncontrollably.
    “Ye s . . . yes, I think that’s great.”
    Weston winked at me and continued with his observations and ideas. Despite the sudden urge to join him up there, I remained on the floor.
    “Okay, then, let’s take it from the top.”
    As the kids took their places, Weston dropped himself into the seat next to me in the front row. And I heard Misty’s snicker on my other side as he did so.
    Weston leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Amazing, isn’t it?”
    “What is?”
    “That people still know how to ask for help when they need it.”
    I stared straight ahead, refusing to look at the smirk on his face, although his proximity made it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything but him. Shifting in my seat, I tried to create an extra pocket of space between us.
    “Shh. I’m trying to listen to my actors.”
    The low rumble of amusement in his chest caused my pulse to tap dance.
    “If you would stop trying so hard to hate me, you might just