Read Online Up on the Rooftop by Kristine Grayson - Free Book Online
Authors: Kristine Grayson
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life-changing.”
“I know,” she said. And she did. That was why the secrets never got out. They made sensible men kiss women like her. They made sensible men deny their belief in science for a grasp at the hope of Christmas magic. They made—
“No,” Marshall said. “You don’t know. You think I’m talking about Santa. I’m talking about you.”
She froze, just for a moment. What had he said? Her? Really? He found her life-changing like she had found him life-changing?
“I can’t forget you,” he said. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I mean ever. Even if I never see you again, I can’t forget you.”
“They won’t let that happen,” she said, resisting the urge to look at her watch. She wanted to know how much time was left before the goon squad arrived, but she didn’t want to know at the same time. “You can’t remember me. Only insiders know this stuff. I should’ve thought it through.”
“Insiders,” he said, kneeling in front of her and taking her shoulders in his hands. His hands were warm, strong. She liked his hands. “You mean people who work at the North Pole—your North Pole.”
“Yes,” she said.
He kissed her. “Julka, you’re brilliant.”
He let go of her and bounded over to that countertop where the red button still glowed. He slapped his hand on the button and nothing happened. Then he kept pounding.
“I don’t know how to make you hear me,” he shouted at the screens, “but give me a job. Surely you have use for a mathematician who understands business and statistics and real money management. I can streamline your business. I can make it more efficient. I know how to save money without changing personnel or making you lose any of your goodwill. I can—”
His voice cut out first. And then he shimmered. And finally, he disappeared.
Julka ran to the countertop. The button was gone. Delbert was gone. Marshall was gone.
Something had happened, and she didn’t entirely understand it.
Correction: she didn’t understand it at all.
14
ONE MINUTE HE WAS STANDING in that weird 1950s RV sleigh, the next he was inside a badly decorated 1950s office, complete with single-pane windows frosting up against the cold outside, a humidifier trying to keep moisture in the dry air, a blond desk and matching chair, and a square console television set in the corner, its bulging screen showing the inside of that 1950s RV sleigh, with Julka frantically pressing the countertop he had just been touching.
The room smelled of coffee and cookies. The walls were covered in flocked candy cane wallpaper, and someone had wrapped a green ribbon around the back of the couch. A poinsettia sat on the blond wood end table, and the happy faces of cartoon carolers decorated the window above the door.
The transition made Marshall feel dizzy, but he felt weirdly comfortable too, for the first time in years. It took only a moment for him to understand why: this was a corporate environment—a corporate environment decorated for Christmas (on the day before Halloween), but a corporate environment all the same.
He turned toward the desk. A woman of indeterminate age sat behind it. She had a beehive hairdo dyed so black that it looked like the color would smear on her fingers if she touched it. She wore a lot of make-up, also making it impossible to determine her age, including bright red lipstick that matched her bright red fingernails. A cigarette that he couldn’t smell smoldered in a red and green ashtray that said, “Keep the Happy in Christmas!”
The combination of the words “happy” and “Christmas” collided in his head, and therefore, he wasn’t surprised when the woman spoke to him in a working class English accent.
“So,” she said, “you think you have something to offer Claus & Company.”
Apparently, she wasn’t at all surprised by his appearance. Apparently, she had something to do with it.
He bowed his head
“I know,” she said. And she did. That was why the secrets never got out. They made sensible men kiss women like her. They made sensible men deny their belief in science for a grasp at the hope of Christmas magic. They made—
“No,” Marshall said. “You don’t know. You think I’m talking about Santa. I’m talking about you.”
She froze, just for a moment. What had he said? Her? Really? He found her life-changing like she had found him life-changing?
“I can’t forget you,” he said. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I mean ever. Even if I never see you again, I can’t forget you.”
“They won’t let that happen,” she said, resisting the urge to look at her watch. She wanted to know how much time was left before the goon squad arrived, but she didn’t want to know at the same time. “You can’t remember me. Only insiders know this stuff. I should’ve thought it through.”
“Insiders,” he said, kneeling in front of her and taking her shoulders in his hands. His hands were warm, strong. She liked his hands. “You mean people who work at the North Pole—your North Pole.”
“Yes,” she said.
He kissed her. “Julka, you’re brilliant.”
He let go of her and bounded over to that countertop where the red button still glowed. He slapped his hand on the button and nothing happened. Then he kept pounding.
“I don’t know how to make you hear me,” he shouted at the screens, “but give me a job. Surely you have use for a mathematician who understands business and statistics and real money management. I can streamline your business. I can make it more efficient. I know how to save money without changing personnel or making you lose any of your goodwill. I can—”
His voice cut out first. And then he shimmered. And finally, he disappeared.
Julka ran to the countertop. The button was gone. Delbert was gone. Marshall was gone.
Something had happened, and she didn’t entirely understand it.
Correction: she didn’t understand it at all.
14
ONE MINUTE HE WAS STANDING in that weird 1950s RV sleigh, the next he was inside a badly decorated 1950s office, complete with single-pane windows frosting up against the cold outside, a humidifier trying to keep moisture in the dry air, a blond desk and matching chair, and a square console television set in the corner, its bulging screen showing the inside of that 1950s RV sleigh, with Julka frantically pressing the countertop he had just been touching.
The room smelled of coffee and cookies. The walls were covered in flocked candy cane wallpaper, and someone had wrapped a green ribbon around the back of the couch. A poinsettia sat on the blond wood end table, and the happy faces of cartoon carolers decorated the window above the door.
The transition made Marshall feel dizzy, but he felt weirdly comfortable too, for the first time in years. It took only a moment for him to understand why: this was a corporate environment—a corporate environment decorated for Christmas (on the day before Halloween), but a corporate environment all the same.
He turned toward the desk. A woman of indeterminate age sat behind it. She had a beehive hairdo dyed so black that it looked like the color would smear on her fingers if she touched it. She wore a lot of make-up, also making it impossible to determine her age, including bright red lipstick that matched her bright red fingernails. A cigarette that he couldn’t smell smoldered in a red and green ashtray that said, “Keep the Happy in Christmas!”
The combination of the words “happy” and “Christmas” collided in his head, and therefore, he wasn’t surprised when the woman spoke to him in a working class English accent.
“So,” she said, “you think you have something to offer Claus & Company.”
Apparently, she wasn’t at all surprised by his appearance. Apparently, she had something to do with it.
He bowed his head
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