by Lizz Lund
Miriam pouted. “But the grill!”
“What’s at the mall?” K. asked, then patted my arm. “I mean, besides you.”
“Ha, ha.”
“I got Vito this top notch grill. It just didn’t figure to me I couldn’t have it delivered.”
Vito turned to her. “They do deliver.”
“For seventy-five bucks! I could buy a half another grill for that!”
Wow. Were they romantic or what?
We reached my driveway and found Trixie parked at the top.
“This is worse than I thought,” K. whispered.
I nodded.
We hopped out and stood by Trixie’s Jeep. The back seat was loaded stem to stern with laundry baskets heaped on top of each other. The front seat was loaded with Trixie, puffing vehemently on a cigarette.
I tapped on the window. Trixie rolled it down, and billows of smoke wafted out, along with the sound of a man’s sonorous voice.
“Whatcha listening to?” I asked, waving the smoke away.
“Cease Smoking Forever.”
K. waved his hand in front of his face. “When do you get to the ‘cease’ part?”
Trixie shot him a look. “He says to get it all out of your system before you start. I have almost a whole pack left.”
Vito nodded. “Stands to reason.”
“I’ll say. Cigarettes are so expensive nowadays. I don’t know how anyone with any sense affords it,” Miriam chorused.
Trixie shook her head.
“Oh! I mean – unless you get a deal! You probably get a discount, working for the hospital and all!”
K. looked at her. “Of course, that makes perfect sense. Wholesale carcinogens. Keeps the hospital’s volume up.”
Vito took hold of Miriam’s elbow and quickly led her into his house.
K. and I helped unload Trixie’s laundry while she unloaded on us.
We loaded up the first batch while Trixie sat on the sofa next to Vinnie, and spun her tale of woe. Vinnie snored.
“Sweetie, I’m sorry. They say these things happen for a reason, you know,” K.patted Trixie’s shoulder.
“I know. It’s just that it’s right before Christmas.” Trixie blew her nose again.
“Maybe you’ll make up?” I suggested. “You never know.”
K. and Trixie stared at me. My statement hovered in the air like toxic fumes.
The phone rang, and I found myself wishing it was Chef. An afternoon pouring over recipe books with tall, dark and handsome would sure beat pouring unappreciated tea and sympathy.
“We’re on! How soon can you get here? I’m flying solo!” Barry rattled into the phone. Screams and crying and things being broken sounded in the background.
“Barry?”
“Who else? No, you cannot do that little girl! Santa won’t be happy…” A man’s shouting bellowed in the background as a child wailed. Clearly, the little girl had discovered that Santa wasn’t happy with her.
“Is the power back on?”
“No. Just some temporary generators. But we’re all hooked up. Ow!”
I sighed. I wondered when they would finally come up with Santa sanctioned shin guards. “When do you need me?”
“Yesterday!”
I made another promise I was sure I’d regret, and hung up.
Vito poked his head inside the front door.
“Sorry, Toots. But Miriam’s pretty set on picking up the grill today. Mind if I borrow your van?”
“I wish I could. But I just picked up another shift.”
“For the chef?”
“Santa.”
“Hey, that works out great! We could drop you off at the mall, and pick you up after we get the grill.”
“The mall! We’re going to the mall! Woot!” K. loves Christmas. And the mall. Nirvana. Mecca. Whatever.
Trixie pouted. “I guess you can just leave me a key, to lock up.”
We glanced at one another guiltily.
“Oh, no you don’t, missy! You’re going to have a load in the dryer, and another in the washer. Vito, how long will it take to pick up your grill?”
“Only about an hour!” Miriam piped up, pouncing on the tail end of the conversation.
“You and I will shop while Vito and Miriam pick up their grill. We’ll drop Mina off to play with Santa. Mina, what time will your shift end?”
I shrugged. “Maybe six? Dunno.”
“Right! I’ll check in with Mina. When she’s ready to call it quits, I’ll call Trixie’s cell phone and she’ll let Vito and Miriam know. Then we’ll all meet back at Chi-Chi’s.
“This is terrific! I love shopping!” Miriam pounced at the chance.
Vito sighed. “Okay.”
“After we come back with the gang, you’ll finish your final round of duds!”
Trixie blew her nose a bit. “It sure sounds better than sitting here waiting for the spin cycle.”
“Precisely.”
“Sure! Nothing cheers me up better than a little shopping! Especially if you find a good sale!” Miriam enthused.
“It’s too bad I don’t have Mike’s presents with me. I could return them. I wouldn’t have to waste a trip,” Trixie blew again.
We rolled our collective eyes. K. patted her some more. Miriam offered her a Tums. Vito examined the ceiling.
“Well, I hate to break up a good time, but Barry sounded kind of desperate.”
We launched into our winter gear and out the door. I glanced back to see Vinnie, still snoring on the sofa. Clearly, he wasn’t worried about any laundry, or his love life.
CHAPTER 6
Saturday afternoon
Vito and Miriam dropped us off in front of the Mall Entrance North. I stared guiltily at my employee counterparts as we drove past, plodding their way across the vast parking lot the way I normally did. Had no one thought of employee shuttles?
K. led Trixie gently by the arm. “You see, it’s Christmas. And you’re a grownup. That means, even if you’re happy, you’re blue. It’s nostalgic.”
“So, even if I were still with Mike, I’d be miserable?”
“Precisely.”
Trixie took K.‘s arm, and they trotted together down the lane toward tandem holiday budget destruction.
That is, after we squeezed past a line that stretched into the parking lot. Apparently, ‘Mail-It-2’ was doing a brisk business. As I reached the kiosk, I saw Buddy’s forehead slick with sweat, as he hefted package after package across the counter. I wondered if he wasn’t a little too long in the tooth for that. I looked around for Myron but didn’t see him. I figured he was probably doing all the easy work like rolling coins and counting bills in the back. It looked like Buddy was definitely ready for a break. Either that or a stroke.
I turned around and a guy with a handcart barreled into me – boxes flew everywhere.
“Hey, watch it lady!”
“Ouch!”
“What the hell you do think you’re doing?”
“Walking?”
“Yeah? Walk someplace else, would ya?” The rude guy leaned over me to grab his boxes.
I scrambled out of the way, then recognized the tattoo. Its owner recognized me, too.
“You! Again!”
“Small world?”
“You have any idea how much damage you did to my bike?”
“Well, at least your hand truck’s no worse for wear.”
He muttered under his breath, shoving the last packages back onto the cart, “Stay outta my way.” He dodged out the door, ferrying his burden toward a waiting white cargo van.
I counted to ten, and tried to get my blood pressure under control before I went on shift. I was going to face a lot of angry, insulting parents and their kids for the next few hours. I might as well consider this a warm up.
As I worked my way through the crowds toward Santa’s station, I consoled myself with the idea that the tattoo guy might actually have a worse job than mine. He must have been late for his deliveries. At this time of year, there would
be heck to pay.
I reached the stand and pulled on my Sidekick wear behind a clump of aqua tinseled Christmas trees. Barry was waving at me wildly from behind the computer monitor.
“Did Sheree break it again?”
“Worse!”
“What?”
“She quit.” Barry mopped his brow, then zipped past me to pop the next little tike onto Santa’s knee. He ran back to snap the pix, then ring them out. He scuttled back to me just as I was pinning on a Sparkle button.
“Where’s all your Sparkle? Are you nuts?”
“I’m putting it on. See?” I held up my buttoned lapel.
“You better add more than that pronto! I can’t afford to have you sent home again! I cannot do this all by myself!”
“I’m pinning! I’m pinning! Who would send me home, anyway? I’ve got it all here.” I waved the baggie at him.
“Jane.”
“She’s never here. She wouldn’t know anyway.” Jane is the HR manager in charge of ensuring the proper behavior of Sidekicks – including the wearing of Sparkle. She’s also the fascist who sent me home for forgetting my hat the one time she did visit. I hoped Santa would bring her a large lump of something.
Barry’s eyes popped at me. “Jane…”
“I know, I know. ‘Wear the Sparkle!’ ‘Shine like Sparkle!’ ‘Sparkle is as Sparkle does!’ Where does she come up with this crap?”
Barry clapped his hand over his eyes.
“Actually, the marketing department comes up with this crap.”
“Jane!”
“Kitchen.”
“Wow! You finally found time to visit us here with Santa! Great!” I should have tossed my baggie and ran out the door. As it was, I just felt like tossing my cookies.
“I see you’re still willfully disobeying our Sparkle statute?”
“No! No! See? Got it all here!” I held up the plastic bag. It looked a little soggy now from my nervous sweaty hands.
“It’s supposed to be on your vest, Kitchen. Your entire vest has to have all the participating store buttons. See… Kitchen, what happened to your vest?” she pointed directly at the large orange splotch on the pocket. It glowed back at us like a psychedelic version of the Japanese flag.
“I had it dry cleaned.”
“This does not conform. You are out of uniform!”
Barry groaned softly in the background.
“No! I’m not! Honest! See?” I hurriedly plastered some more buttons over the orange circle.
Jane shook her head. “You are not up to code, Kitchen. It will have to be replaced before you go on shift.”
“You mean I have to buy another one?”
“Of course.”
“But they’re thirty bucks!”
Jane smiled sweetly at me. “Not to worry. I certainly wouldn’t expect you to have the cash on you. We’ll just deduct it from your next paycheck. Luckily for you, I have an extra vest with me. Otherwise, I’d have to send you home.”
Barry groaned again.
“Good thing I came to see how you were doing, Barry. I was worried when I got Sheree’s notice. We weren’t sure you’d reached anyone to help you.”
“Thanks.”
“And Kitchen, make sure you have all your Sparkle on your new vest right away.”
She tossed the vest in its wrapper to me, and clicked away on high heels.
“I can’t believe I have to buy another one of these freakin’ vests!”
“I can’t believe she almost wouldn’t let you work today! I would have bought you the vest!”
“Wanna buy me a Christmas present?”
“No.”
A few bruised limbs and egos later, Barry and I came up for air and took a short break. He offered me a root beer. I removed and folded my vest and sat on it, then carefully sipped the soda.
“Excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you, but do you work here?”
I considered the rest of my outfit– Santa hat and fake booties – and wondered how the rest of Lancaster must dress for me to be mistaken for a civilian.
“Yes, we do, ma’am,” Barry replied, gesturing to the “Santa’s Cookie Break” sign standing next to us. “We’ll go back to doing pictures in just a few minutes.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! I was afraid you’d stopped for the day.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.”
“Pardon?”
“Wishing you a lovely New Year’s,” Barry fudged, then directed the young mommy and her little boy toward the end of the line.
We guzzled the rest of our sodas. Then Barry flipped the cookie break sign around, and we arose to accept our fate. We no sooner had the four-year old (Charles) settled onto Santa’s lap, when his mommy (Latisha) screamed and pointed at an enormous bull mastiff careening toward us.
Charles pointed and giggled. “Look, Mommy! Kwe-o!”
“Kwe-o?” I asked, looking around for the interpreter.
“Cleo! Cleo!” the mommy snapped, speed dialing her phone in a frenzy.
“Who’s Cleo?” Santa asked.
“Him’s my biggest puppy dawggie!” Charles answered happily.
“You might think you have him, but you do not!” Latisha spat into her phone. “No, he is not getting his nails clipped! He’s just sped past me and looks like he’s racing into Chi-Chi’s. You know what’s right next to Chi-Chi’s, right? Damn straight, it’s Cluck ‘n Claw. Uh-huh, you heard me. He eats that stuff, we’re done for.”
“What’s wrong with Cluck ‘n Claw?” Barry asked. He had to— he ate there three or more times a day. It was his disaster food place of choice.
“Nothing for you or me. But we got a dog with dietary issues. Expensive dietary issues. You understand what I’m saying?”
“Kwe-o go poo-poo on the caw-pet.” Charles giggled the explanation. Barry and I stood aghast.
Latisha bobbed her head up and down. “We can’t even give him dinner scraps. He’s got a digestive disorder. His food costs almost more than ours.”
Barry attempted to calm the waters. “Well, sometimes our furry kids have accidents. I’m sure it will be all right.”
She stared at him. “You have any idea how much diarrhea a mastiff makes? We already replaced our wall-to-wall – twice.”
I briefly considered the wisdom of suggesting linoleum, when a flock of parakeets flew past. Which made sense, since they were being chased by a half dozen puppies.
Barry threw up his arms. “What is this? Jumanji?”
“Look, Mommy! Puppies!”
Latisha returned to speed dialing. “Why aren’t you chasing him? I don’t see you yet. Where are you?”
“I wanna get down!”
Latisha snapped her phone shut and shushed Charles. Santa bobbed his knee a lot.
“I want puppies!”
Latisha swung around and grabbed me by my vest. “I need your help.”
“Hey, careful! This isn’t paid for yet!”
“I can’t leave him here alone!”
“You want me to watch your kid? Umm…” I nodded toward the line of parents and children snaked behind her, backed up toward the parking lot.
“No! No! I need you to get my dog!”
“What?”
“He’s real friendly! He’s just big!”
“How am I supposed to find him?”
“He’ll be the only mastiff in the store.”
“Mina…” Barry pointed to his watch then Charles, fast on the brink of a meltdown.
Latisha thought fast. “I’ll give you fifty bucks.”
That was one vest plus some non-taxable gas income. I could bribe Barry later.
I looked at him He sighed. “Fine, go. I’m used to working solo. Get back quick.”
I dashed toward Chi-Chi’s.
I found Cleo right outside of the Cluck ‘n Claw, like her human mommy figured. Some kids were petting the hound, a couple shared their milkshakes. They may have been stalling. Surely there were others looking for a saddle.
>
“Hey, great job guys! Thanks for holding onto the dog!” I panted.
“Is this your dog?”
I shook my head. “No, she’s… a friend’s.”
“What her name?”
“Cleo.”
“That’s a weird name for a dude.”
Cleo sat pretty and demonstrated that he was, quite definitely, a dude.
“It’s spelled with a K.” I fibbed. Can I think quick, or what?
“Where’s your leash?”
“Good point. I umm…forgot it. Hey, can I borrow a belt?”
The boy looked at me oddly. Once I saw his pants were around his knees, I realized he didn’t know what a belt was. He certainly was in more need of one than Cleo. Kleo. Whoever.
“You can have my scarf,” the girl standing next to him offered.
“Thanks. Lots. I’ll get it back to you.” Although I had a fleeting urge to suggest she give it to her boyfriend for Christmas.
“It’s okay. It’s from my ex. It makes Jacob jealous, anyway.”
“Does not!”
“Does too!”
I felt like I was back home with Vito and Miriam.
I led the dog away from his non-canine cuisine at the end of a glittery purple scarf, and hoped he wouldn’t pull my arm out of its socket. As luck would have it, he was a very complacent, obedient dog. I wondered how he got loose. He didn’t seem like a bolt and run kind of pooch.
Just as we ambled past Barney’s Books, someone yelled my name.
I swung the Titanic dog around and saw Ida Rose waving wildly at me from just outside the bookstore.
“You’re just the person we need!”
“We?”
“Walter’s book signing! Did you forget?”
In fact, I had. “Sorry. How’s it going?”
She made a face. “It was a complete and utter bore until a few moments ago!”
“What happened?”
“A big bird flew in and sat on Walter’s shoulder!”
“That must have drawn a crowd!”
Ida nodded “It did. But it’s making Walter a nervous wreck. He’s trying to be good about it, but he’s terrified of birds.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Wow. I’ve known Walter for a long time, and never knew he had an avian aversion. I met him through Ida Rose, and he somewhat ran with our crowd when he could tear himself away from his virtual crowd. So I had no idea about this phobia.