"Again,” she said, getting into the backseat, “this is not a problem. It's potluck so we can stop and pick up something on the way back from the El if you want to contribute. My uncle owns a car repair shop and he won't be fixing the car door for free. He'll charge you for parts and labor, although he won't charge for coming over here or Sunday rates. Now, come on. Park the car. We'll leave the keys with Momma and go have breakfast before we catch the El."
But when they stood outside her apartment, Candice took one sniff and turned to Leon. “I hope you like chorizo and eggs because it smells like Momma's started breakfast."
"Smells great, but how did she know we were coming?"
"Family grapevine. I called my uncle, he told my aunt, she called Momma. You watch.” she unlocked the door.
"Ah, good, Candy, Tia Yolanda called and said your cousin Raul will be here this afternoon to fix Leon's car.” Unlike Candice, her English held the intonations of the Spanish she learned to speak first. “And you must be Leon. I'm fixing your breakfast. No need to go to a restaurant."
It made Candice happy to see a sparkle in her mom's eyes and some color in her face. She'd even gone to the trouble to pop on a wig. “You didn't have to bother Momma, but thank you. Momma, this is Leon. Leon, this is my momma, Carmelita Hernandez."
"I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs. Hernandez. Thank you for making our breakfast. It smells wonderful."
"Take off your coats and come to the kitchen. Do you want coffee? Candy, hang up the man's coat and fix him some coffee."
"The Women's Movement skipped Momma and my aunts,” Candice said with a grin, watching her mom bustle back into the kitchen where the Mexican sausage sizzled and popped. No surprise, she also smelled flour tortillas cooking.
To her astonishment, Leon helped her out of her coat. “Missed my household, too. My dad taught me to hold open doors, pull out chairs, and,” he hung up her coat on the rack nailed to the wall beside the door, “hang up coats.” He added his jacket and muffler to the rack, stuffing his cap into a coat pocket.
"Thanks. Coffee, then while I help Momma finish breakfast?"
"Sure, thanks. Candy, is it?” he added with a grin.
"Only to Momma,” she told him in the same tone she used with rambunctious children in the library.
"Yes, ma'am. This is none of my business, but is your mother ill?"
"Cancer,” she answered briskly, having learned to hide her grief and worry. “We're buying time with some of the experimental drugs."
"I'm sorry,” he said quietly. “I thought you were joking about needing money to help your ‘poor sick momma.’”
"Unfortunately, the medical insurance only goes so far. We're getting along. With my job and two part-time jobs plus help from the family and a couple of fund-raisers they've sponsored, we're getting along. It's tight, but the medications are keeping her with us. And, as you can see, she has some really good days. Like today.” Candice threaded her hand under Leon's upper arm and tugged his bicep, enjoying the warmth of his arm radiating through his sweater and the flex of the muscle. Just the little bit she'd seen of him made her aware he worked out and hid a really great body under that fat suit and now with his sweater over a shirt.
Too bad she didn't have time to pursue more than an acquaintance and pleasant working relationship with him. Besides not having the time, she didn't dare let him get close enough to her to realize what her second part-time job was—the job paid so much more than playing Mrs. Claus.
Automatically, she touched the statue of St. Jude, patron saint of lost causes, on the small altar her mom kept and then the icon of Mary Magdalene. Despite her assurance to Leon, they desperately needed all the money she earned. And she'd do anything to add days to her only remaining parent's life.
"Sit, sit, Leon. Candy, fix the man some coffee.” Her mom told her while the old wooden rolling pin clunked on the cabinet as she rolled out another tortilla.
Candice poured coffee for all three of them, then she nudged her momma away from the stove. “I'll finish this up. You go sit and drink your coffee."
She flipped the cooked tortilla off the griddle and tossed on the one her mother had rolled out. Checking the pork sausage pungent with the Mexican spices that were the comfort food of her childhood, Candice decided it was cooked enough to add the already scrambled. She flipped the flour tortilla on the griddle, then added the beaten eggs into the chorizo. She added the finished tortilla to the stack and finished scrambling the eggs and sausage together. With that cooked and the pan off the burner, she rolled out and cooked a few more tortillas.
Throughout the meal preparation, she kept an ear on the idle conversation at the kitchen table, occasionally trying to redirect the conversation if she thought her mom was probing too near Leon's personal business. So far they learned he was the only son with four sisters, one of whom was his twin. His twin sister was engaged, but “It's still pretty much a secret for now. They're going to have an official announcement party after Christmas."
Then she heard, “That's a very old car you drive Leon. Is the Christmas company your family owns not making enough money that they can't afford to pay you enough for a good car?"
"Momma! That's none of your business.” Plus Candice had no intention of letting her know Leon normally drove one of the most costly motorcycles around. She'd get the aunts busy with wedding plans. Heck, just having him to breakfast, getting her uncle to arrange repairs on the car he drove, and then bringing him back here for dinner with the family was going to have everyone planning the wedding. And they hadn't even had a date yet. Breakfast in the family kitchen wasn't exactly an intimate meeting.
Leon laughed. “It's a pile of junk, isn't it? It's not mine. I have a motorcycle, but it doesn't have a passenger seat. That's my sister's fiancé's car. He and I are roommates right now. Actually, he has a better car and truck at his home in Montana. The problem is for two years in a row, he had cars stolen and stripped while he was doing the mall Santa Claus job for the family company. Last year he bought that piece of junk because he figured no one would steal it."
"Steal it? It may get towed away by the city as abandoned if he's not careful,” Candice told Leon who just laughed.
"That's his problem then, isn't it?"
They ate the meal in companionable conversation. After washing the few dishes, Candice and Leon caught the El.
In the relatively quiet of the Sunday morning El, Leon said again, “I really do appreciate you getting your uncle and cousin to take care of that door latch for me."
"You're welcome."
"And I will take you out to breakfast or maybe supper some night before you start your evening shift."
"Thanks. I'll look forward to it."
"So, what is your second part-time job?"
Candice clucked her tongue at him, “Tsk, tsk, Santa's only son, I keep telling you I'm an exotic dancer at a classy gentlemen's club."
"I'm a classy gentlemen. Maybe I'll catch your show some day,” his pale blue eyes lit with laughter. “If I knew the name of the club."
"You discovered where I live. You can try to figure that out yourself also."
"I'll track you down. Some night when you're twisting around a pole, you'll look into the audience and see me watching you."
"In your dreams,” Candice joined in his laughter at her “joke” while her mind screamed Oh, God, over my dead body you'll see me in next-to-nothing with money stuffed into my g-string and string bra while men yell nasty comments. The money, she reminded herself as she did during every performance, helped keep her momma alive and out of pain. What the money paid for made up for the humiliation.
Abruptly, she changed the conversation. “Why do you dye your hair black? What color is naturally? Blond?"
Leon stared at her. “I like it black. Why do you ask? And how do you know"
She shrugged. “I grew up with brunets. I noticed your arms when you changed costumes yesterday. What little hair you have on your arms is blond. Plus your coloring isn't right
for a brunet."
"Let me guess. You think my skin looks sallow and sickly."
"I wouldn't go that far,” Candice said, taken aback by his irritation. “It's just a little pale for a brunet. Usually brunets have a more ruddy complexion. Yours is as fair as a red-head's. I didn't mean to get you upset. I was just curious why you wear it black."
"I guess I just wanted a change in my life,” Leon muttered, barely audible above the moving train. “I don't suppose you like my name either."
"Your name? It's not like you have a lot of choice on what your parents name you. Or did you change it also?"
"Yeah, I changed it, too. You don't like it?"
"To be truthful, Leon's never been a favorite name of mine. I grew up in a neighborhood where Leon was a pimp who drove a red El Dorado. So, no. My associated memories with the name Leon are not good.” Candice had no idea where this conversation was headed. “Actually, I did wonder a bit about the way you signed N.N. Claus on the dry cleaner's paperwork yesterday. I couldn't figure out how Leon came from N.N."
"The name is actually Noel Nicholas. My sister who's engaged to the man who owns the junk pile car is my twin, Joyeux.” his mouth snapped shut as though he said too much.
Candice bit back her laughter. “Joyeux Noel? Your parents are really into Christmas, aren't they?"
"You have no idea just how much. When I decided to change my life, I flipped my name backwards and Noel became Leon."
"Get teased a lot when you were a kid?"
"That has nothing to do with wanting a life change,” he snapped out with a frown at her.
"Well, the teasing is why I won't allow anyone but my momma to call me Candy. I got tired of being called by every brand of candy there is in the market. Or being told how sweet I was.” She frowned with her tongue out like she was gagging. To her pleasure, Leon chuckled. “And this time of year, I got called Candy Cane all the time.” And still use the name at the second dreaded part-time job. The money. Keep focused on how much the money helps Momma's life, she reminded herself yet again.
"Yeah. I get tired of people singing ‘No-el, No-el’ at me."
"Wouldn't it be easier to just change the pronunciation rather than your entire name?"
"Huh?"
"I use my full Candice, rather than let people call me Candy. If you don't want people calling you ‘No-el’ then introduce yourself as ‘Noll.’ After all Joel isn't pronounced ‘Jo-el,’ but Joll with the long ‘o’ and the long ‘ell.’ The only difference between Noel and Joel is the first letter. Why shouldn't you pronounce it ‘Noll?’”
"That never occurred to me.” His pale blue eyes looked thoughtful, then he smiled at her and her entire body flushed with heat that had nothing to do with the inadequate heating system on the El. “Yeah, that'll work. It'll make my family happier, too. Thanks, Candice."
"Quite welcome,” she tried to answer casually even though her mouth had dried completely. She watched his mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss those smiling lips.
He touched her hair, then her cheek, and moved closer to her. His voice lowered, making it seem as though they were the only two people on the train or even in the world. “Would it leave me open to be slapped with a sexual harassment suit as your supervisor if I kissed you?"
"I think Santa kisses Mrs. Claus a lot, don't you?” she whispered
"I know they do. I'm their only son."
He moved closer, then took her lips with his. At first his mouth just pressed against hers, moving as though he weren't sure of his welcome. But she'd made it through two performances last night with the vision of him as his only audience. She'd gone to sleep hungering to kiss him. For the first time since she'd been widowed, her hot, erotic dreams had featured someone other than her late husband. And now her dream lover was kissing her as though he were nervous she was going to reject him. Not a chance.
She lightly outlined the seam of his nibbling mouth, then welcomed his invasion. He probed and twisted throughout her mouth as though he were trying to decipher all her secrets with the touch of his tongue. He invited her to into him and she took her own time finding his sweetness. His hand tunneled through her hair and he tilted her head back to delve deeper. She held him closer to her regretting the heavy jackets and thick clothing separating their bodies. Their mouths continued to enjoy the joining she knew they both wanted for their entire beings.
Even in the first flush of love for her late husband, she hadn't wanted to give everything about herself to him. She had love him tremendously, but not with the intensity she'd had for this man whom she'd met a bit more than twenty-four hours earlier. She never thought she believed in love at first sight. Lust at first sight, yes. But love, she always thought, had to grow. But with Noel—she no longer thought of him as a ‘Leon,’ but with the sound of Noll—she knew deep down inside her this was more than lust.
If this was love as she thought, did she have the nerve to tell him about her second part-time job? If she did, would he accept what she had to do to keep her momma alive? Or would he despise her as she detested herself for getting nearly naked in front of strange men in two shows every Friday and Saturday and playing up to their sexual fantasies? Would she hate herself more if she kept it a secret from him?
She ended the kiss, knowing the answer to the last question. She let her head rest on his shoulder. He stroked her hair and she enjoyed the thought of this closeness continuing for the rest of her life.
But truth had a nasty habit of coming out and the truth about her secret job was nastier than most truths. She needed to tell him now before they went any farther in this relationship. She cringed at the thought of trying to convince him, but knew unless they had truth between them, this tenuous connection would never blossom to its fullest possibilities but would grow twisted and be ruined.
"You're a bit quiet. Public displays of affection bother you?"
"Not with you,” Candice said. She sat up and looked into his eyes. “I have a confession."
"You've already told me you're an exotic dancer. I'm cool with that.” His blue eyes sparkled like a sunlight on water. He moved closer to kiss her again, but she put her hand on his chest.
"That's not a joke,” she told him. “I need you to know it because I can't bring myself to let you continue to think the exotic dancer job is a joke."
"Hey,” he lifted her hair off her coat and smoothed it behind her shoulder, “I'm not taking it as a joke. I think you're a hot exotic dancer. You probably pack the joint."
"Noel—"
"You know. I like that. Noll,” he nodded. “I can definitely get used to my name being pronounced Noll."
She took both his hands in hers. “Listen to me, Noel. I'm very serious here. I need the money to pay for Momma's cancer. I am an exotic dancer on Friday and Saturday nights."
His eyes and face showed his puzzlement, but she continued talking.
"I do two shows. I pole dance at The Gentlemen's Hot Club. I dance under the name of ‘Candy Cane.’”
She saw the growing dismay take the place of his confusion. She dropped her eyes, unable to bear the hurt disillusionment in those ice blue eyes.
"I strip my costume down to a string brassiere and a g-string. I don't lap dance and I don't go topless or bottomless."
She let go of his hands and wasn't surprised he didn't take hers in his or that he moved slightly away from her.
"I make several hundred dollars each night. The money all goes to Momma's care. I have to help her. I have to.” She searched his face, praying he understood.
Instead, his face looked like it was carved from stone.
"I'm sorry you're disappointed in me, but I'm not going to continue to lie to you. I don't want to quit the job as Mrs. Claus, but I will if you want me to. I'm begging you here. Please don't tell my family or the school district. My family won't understand. The school district will fire me. Please promise you won't tell."
"I promise,” he said, his voice no longer lifting with warmt
h and humor. “I won't tell anyone that might affect your main job or your family. You don't have to quit the Mrs. Claus job. But you will understand if I don't join your family for dinner tonight? I need some time to think about this. If you'll have your uncle or your cousin take the car to the repair shop, I'll pick it up there tomorrow."
Candice nodded. She didn't know how she was going to be able to continue to work with Noel, but she brought this on herself. She had to live with her actions and her decisions.
Chapter Five
"Hi, Dad."
"Hi, Leon."
"Noll, Dad. I've gone back to my own name, but pronouncing it Noll instead of No-el."
"Works for me, Noel,” his dad promptly said, using the new pronunciation. “Frankly, just between the two of us, the No-el bit was your mom's idea. I've always like your Uncle Noel and think he and Charlie are a great couple, but—and don't tell your mom—I've always thought No-el is a little girly sounding for a boy."
For the first time in nearly a week, Noel laughed. “That's what I tried to tell Mom. She said I almost ended up a Junior."
"So you would have, but your mom had her heart set on Joyeux Noel for you two."
"I can deal with Noll a lot better than No-el."
"I'll pass the word around here, Noel. How are things? I'm getting some great data for the Naughty and Nice list. Thanks for doing such a good job setting the computer program up and running and for helping fill in there in Chicago to release some of our operatives. I've also gotten reports people are feeling better from the flu, although it's still pretty bad here in Christmas Town. You'll be able to come home soon. That'll make your mom happy. She's worried I'm working too hard and am going to catch that flu myself. She's such a worry wart."
"Okay, just let me know when you need me back there. If they're still having problems down here, I can ask the Transportation elf to make arrangements for me to commute,” Noel said. He hesitated, but his dad had always been there to help him in the past. This was a bit more complicated than learning how to throw a football properly or confronting a teacher who graded unjustly. “Dad, I've got a problem. Personal, not having to do with work."
Tales From Christmas Town Page 5