Read Online All Fixed Up by Linda Grimes - Free Book Online Page B

summer spying on Chrissy next door with binoculars. Chrissy was sunbathing.” Molly lowered her voice to whisper, lacing it with giggles. “Topless.”
    Ha! Chrissy was a newly minted teenager who’d recently started filling out a bikini. “You really think being forbidden will keep him from trying for another peek? Isn’t Chrissy’s bedroom window right across from the tree house? As I recall, he’s a persistent little bugger.”
    â€œNah, we’re good. If he gets caught again, his parents will take away all his electronic privileges for a month. He won’t risk losing access to his video games. Not even for boobies.”
    One of Santa’s elves—a short, middle-aged lady with bright red lips stretched wide, bleached hair, and way too much jingle in her bells—handed us each a candy cane. We were getting close to the front of the line, thank God.
    â€œSo, how big should I smile?” I asked Molly out of the side of my mouth.
    Molly weighed the matter. “You know how you look when Auntie Ro makes you go shopping and you don’t want to hurt her feelings? Like that.”
    â€œGotcha. Martyred it is,” I said with a wink. The look came naturally to me, perfected during the many times during my adolescence Mom had decided my wardrobe needed updating. Shouldn’t be a problem transferring it to Olivia’s face.
    As soon as the kid in front of us was off Santa’s lap, Molly shoved me toward the chair. “I’ll wait for you in the shoe department,” she said, fleeing.
    â€œBut it’s almost your turn,” I hollered after her.
    â€œMe? No way. Santa is for babies!” And then she was gone.
    Great. I took a deep breath, plastered on my martyred half-smile, and climbed onto the red velvet pants. Santa looked at me, glassy-eyed, and let loose with a fragrant “Ho! Ho! Ho!” Whew. As I suspected. Whiskey fumes.
    â€œSo, little girl, what do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?”
    â€œNothing. Really, I already have everything I want. Let’s get the picture, okay?”
    He joggled his leg, bouncing me up and down until my teeth rattled. “Come now, there must be something you have a hankering for. A great big package , maybe? Heh-heh-heh.”
    What the hell?
    I looked up at the jolly face. Was there a leer hidden behind those gold-frame spectacles? There was. Why, the old perv! But I was determined to go through with it. A job is a job, paid or not. Besides, if I didn’t get the picture here, we’d have to hunt down another Santa, and I’d already wasted too much of my day in line.
    â€œThe picture, fat guy,” I said through gritted teeth. “Now. Or you’ll lose your package before you can give it away.”
    His eyes sparkled like a naughty boy. “Somebody might be getting a lump of coal in her stocking this year,” he said. But at least he signaled the photographer. The camera flashed at the same time I yanked—hard—on his very real beard. That should provide an interesting addition to the family Christmas album.
    Before I slipped off his lap I said, “Just so you know, I’ll be reporting your disgusting comments to security. I expect you’ll be unemployed by the end of your shift.”
    Santa leaned forward, rubbing his jaw, and whispered, “Jesus, cuz, can’t you take a joke?”
    *   *   *
    Billy met us in front of girls’ shoes, back in his own clothes and projecting his own mischievous self. The real fake Santa was back on duty after his unexpected—and, according to Billy, very welcome—break, which he’d spent knocking back a few tall ones at the Cellar Bar. Guess he really was a self-medicator. But apparently not a pedophile, so I didn’t feel obligated to get him fired. He’d been under the impression Santaland had been temporarily closed due to a behind-the-scenes problem with a