Not good. He’d expected word to leak out that he was in town. His sports car had become a novelty, but he’d hoped his stint as Santa would slide under the town’s radar. Apparently it hadn’t.
The Rogues’ publicist would cringe to see his name linked to a speeding ticket should the story hit syndication. He was the man of the hour, having caught the final out in the World Series that October. He’d become a household name. He was Alex-friggin’-Boxer.
Sports Illustrated and GQ had cornered him for photo shoots and interviews. The last thing he needed was his picture plastered in the newspaper in the ill-fitting Santa suit. Tight red velvet was not an image he wanted to promote.
“What are you doing in line, Jerry Petree?” The nutcracker came to stand beside the teen seeking Alex’s autograph. Holly lowered her jaw. “You’re over ten—that’s the cutoff age for visiting Santa.”
Jerry dipped his head, looked sheepish. “I wanted Boxer’s autograph,” he confessed.
“Alex Boxer is Santa for the next three hours,” she said, laying down the law. “He turns back into a jock at three o’clock.”
“Catch you on the sidewalk.” And Jerry turned away.
She leveled her gaze on Alex. “Small smile? Little cheer? The kids believe you’re real.”
He looked down his body, from the pizza sauce stain on the tip of his beard to his too-tight suit. “Yeah, I’m definitely the real deal.”
She nodded toward the line that swelled with children anxious to sit on his lap. “Fake it, Boxer. Impress me, and I’ll put in a good word on your behalf with the judge.”
“Think Hathaway would cut my community-service hours by two days?” He could be in Miami by Christmas Eve, knocking back Jack and celebrating his ass off.
“I’ve seen the judge show leniency.”
Not an outright promise, but it gave him hope.
“Ho-ho-ho!” His voice echoed off the walls, loud and jovial. Everyone stared, surprised by his merriment.
His enthusiasm scared the next two girls in line. The sisters broke into tears.
Holly took both their hands and led them forward.
Alex hauled them up on his lap, stiff and sniffling. He could barely get their bodies to bend.
With Holly’s nudging, he learned that Amy was three and Allison five. When the girls finally started talking, they went on and on. Alex got the rundown on their four older and very evil brothers.
Typical boys, he thought, they teased and played pranks on their sisters. They’d grow out of it.
He knew he’d zoned-out when Allison tugged on his beard. “Do we have a deal?”
“I’ll do my Santa best.”
The girls bounced off his lap, all bright-eyed and giggling. “I can’t wait to have sisters,” Allison sighed. “You can give our brothers to any parents you like.”
Holly shuffled to his side. She’d released the lever on her jaw, her face visible, her expression pained. “Not smart, Santa. Did you hear a word those girls said? You just agreed to switch out family members.”
“I’ll pay more attention,” he said to pacify her.
“And you didn’t give them any store coupons,” she accused. “The mall merchants need the holiday business.”
Damn. “I forgot.”
“Try to do better.”
His lip curled. “I need to shine in your report to the judge.”
“Sarcasm is beneath Santa.” She stepped back, motioned the next child forward.
“I’m Louie,” the boy announced as he stepped on Alex’s tennis shoe in his attempt to climb on his lap. He looked six, stick thin, and quite serious. “I want ten pounds for Christmas.”
Alex lifted a white brow, asked, “Ten pounds of what?”
“Weight.” Embarrassment pressed Louie’s chin to his chest. “I’m skinny and get picked on a lot.”
Bullies. Santa could fix this. “I have a friend, Alex Boxer, who’s a Major League baseball player. He’ll be in town later this week. Maybe I could introduce you to him.”
Louie looked up. “Never heard of him.”
Major punch to his ego. “He’s famous,” Alex assured Louie. “I could send him by your school. He’d impress a lot of kids, especially those who like sports.”
“It’s the kickball kids who never let me play.”
“If Alex was team captain, I’m sure he’d pick you first,” Santa said.
“You think?” Hope shone in his deep-set eyes.
“Get with the nutcracker.” Alex pointed toward Holly. “She’ll set up a day for Alex to visit.”
“What’s the guy’s last name again?”
Kid had a short memory. “Boxer, Alex Boxer.”
Louie nodded. “A baseball player for show and tell. Can he wear his uniform?”
“Good possibility.” He’d have one FedExed. “Alex might even autograph a few baseballs.”
“Alex will be better than Mary Murphy’s rabbit.” Louie was excited now. “It hopped and pooped all over the classroom.”
“We can only hope so.”
Louie threw himself against Santa, hugged him with his skinny arms. “You look different from last year’s Santa,” he said against Alex’s red velvet chest. “Mommy said Santa Claus has a good heart. You’re not scary up close.”
Alex surprised himself by patting Louie on the back. He didn’t do kids or comfort. Louie slid off his lap, all bouncy and happy.
The boy’s smile faded with his first step, and the air turned foul. Louie pinched his nose with clothespin fingers. “Stinks,” he choked out.
“Not me, dude,” Alex was quick to say.
Then who? A snort and the swish of a white tail clued them into the culprit. Randolph the Reindeer had cut the cheese.
Chapter Two
All the elves scattered and the people in line backed up several steps. Alex could barely catch his breath.
It was Holly who sprayed the area with Crystal Frost air freshener. She then took Randolph by the halter and led him from Santa’s Workshop. Alex watched the crowd part like the Red Sea for the nutcracker and her reindeer. No one seemed sad to see Randolph leave the building.
Holly returned in a matter of minutes. “The custodian has the reindeer until his owner can pick him up. Apparently Henry Hanson figured he could earn extra money by renting Randolph to the mall. I’d told him twice we weren’t interested. Especially after the reindeer tried to hump our moose last year.”