Lizz Lund - Mina Kitchen 02 - Christmas Bizarre (6 page)

Yikes! Vito was
setting me up? Did he actually blow up his car to find me a date? Stranger things have happened. It was too bad. The Towncar was the only vehicle I had access to with AC. And heat. And didn’t have a weird religious radio compulsion. Although it preferred Polkas.

I raced around my bedroom like an idiot, donning my Sparkle at the last minute
. Vinnie raced toward me as I slid out the back door. The engine finally turned over after I was forced to sit through the first chorus of that horrible Country Western song about the Christmas shoes, yada-yada. Excellent – very uplifting.

I started down the driveway and got stopped by the cop.
“Whoa, Missy, where are you headed in that outfit?”

Missy?
I haven’t been called Missy since kindergarten. “Countryside Mall.”

“What for?”

“Santa’s Sidekick.”

“Come again?”

I explained about the merits of a part-time job with full-time injuries.

He shook his head.
“Too bad you can’t carry a gun.”

“Yes.”

“Hey, since you work at the mall, you wouldn’t have a lead on tape, would you?”

I sighed and explained about duct tape Noel.

“Hey, that’s great! Think they still have some?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Thanks a lot! Hey you’re late, right? Follow me!” He took off like a shot, lights and sirens wailing, and me in tow. For once, I might actually get to work on time.

The patrol car cut its lights as it turned into the parking lot, parking in a rock star space just
next to the main entrance. I parked in East Jabib and hoofed it back across several counties. The sky had changed back to being bleak as dishwater, and threatened to dump something else down on us. It did not promise a White Christmas.

Inside the mall it was very Christmas
-y — that is, if you like hot pink and turquoise. Apparently the mall execs had taken a cue from a competing mall in south Florida. I walked past the new ‘Mail-It-2’ kiosk, which was doing a brisk business: the line stretched back to Blue Ball. I trudged toward Santa’s Station with all the enthusiasm of a condemned prisoner.

“I can do whatever I want!”

“I’m sorry ma’am, but you have to buy the package first.”

“But she’s already on his lap!”

The little girl on Santa’s lap immediately began to bawl.

“See! Look what you did!
Now she’s crying! We haven’t had a picture of her not crying on Santa’s lap for four years now!”

The
six-year old concurred and immediately whipped up a fresh batch of tears, along with a side of screams.

I pulled off my coat and shoved it under the table.
“What’s the problem?” I had to ask. I was wearing official Sparkle, right?

The red
-faced woman fumed at me. “This idiot won’t let me take a picture of my own kid, with my own phone!”

I looked at the woman blankly and sighed.
“Yes, I’m afraid that’s one of Santa’s rules.”

“Where? Where does it say that? What rules?”

I pointed to the enormous sign on which she was leaning.

She stared.
“Oh. You mean you have to buy a package for a picture with Santa?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Oh, all right. What’s the cheapest one?”

I handed her a pamphlet with the various descriptions of how to part easily with one’s hard earned
cash.

“$29.99?! That’s the cheapest one?”

I nodded and repeated the jargon we were instructed to relay. “Yes, it’s quite a bargain for the memory of a lifetime.”

The little girl now escalated from sobbing to an all-out
conniption fit, complete with stomping of feet. Groups of shoppers turned to stare but once they saw it was just a kid with Santa, they continued on their way.

“Fine! Here, do you take plastic?”

Barry stepped in. “Indeed we do. Please step right over here…” Barry led the malicious mommy to the register, mouthing
thank you
at me.

You owe me
, I mouthed back.

Soon the little girl’s screams were drowned out by her mother’s
—Genetics work. She was begrudgingly seated on Santa’s lap. Santa was rubbing his temples vigorously as the kid mugged a cherubic smile for the camera. Sheree clicked away.

Then the lights went out.

Barry threw his hands up in the air.
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes, what did you do this time?”

“I didn’t do anything! I just snapped the pictures!”

Everyone in line groaned.

I looked around.
All the stores were dark, with the exception of Chi-Chi’s and another big box store. Since they were anchors, they probably had their own backup generators.

Barry shook his head.
“I can’t bear the thought of calling Nelson again.” He sighed and reached for the mall walkie talky.

“Me neither.”
Nelson whirred from behind, squealing to a stop.

Sheree
flinched. “I’m really sorry Nelson, I really didn’t do anything wrong this time, honest.”

Nelson smirked.
“I’d love to blame you, but this time you’re right.”

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Power outage.”

“When will the lights come back on? Have we lost our pictures?” The maniacal mommy had a point.

Nelson shrugged.
“Dunno. Could be a few hours.”

Another chorus of groans spewed forth from the line.

“Oh no! Not again! Here – Petunia, smile again for Mommy!”

“I want a Santa Snack!”

Mommy gritted her teeth. “After you smile for Mommy, precious!”

Petunia complied and did a repeat mugging as Mommy snapped away with her
smartphone.

“Hey, you can’t do that! It says so right there!”
Barry pointed at the billboard like sign.

“Listen pal, I paid thirty bucks for a picture of my kid smiling with Santa, and that’s what I’m gonna get.”

“Yes, I know, we just took them. If you’ll just be a little patient, we’ll have them to you as soon as we get power back.”

The woman snorted.
“How do I even know you still got them and they’re not whacked? Did you save them?”

Sheree stared down at the floor.

Nelson chewed on a candy bar. “She’s got a point.”

The kid pointed at Nelson and wailed.
“I’m hungry! I want a Santa Snack!”

“Are you kidding? $7.50 for a cookie? C’mon,” she grabbed her kid by the armpit and led her screaming down the aisle.

“I WANT A SANTA SNACK!”

“Shhh! I’ll take you to Buddy Burgers for
a Buddy Pie.”

“AAAAHHH!!”

I looked after the kid and completely agreed. Fried frozen pie wasn’t my idea of a treat, either.

A harassed
-looking father stepped out of line, clutching his toddler. “Excuse me, but how much longer do you think we’re going to have to wait?”

Nelson’s walky talkie jumped to life.
He held up a hand, and grunted into it. Then he hung up.

“Well, that’s it.”

Barry looked nervously at the line that stretched back toward the dawn of time. “Oh, you mean we’ll be up and running in no time?”

Nelson smiled.
“Nope, we’ve got a snow day. The mall’s shutting down.”

A collective wail crashed over us from the masses.

Barry looked like he was about to lose his Santa Snack. “You’re joking, right? Aren’t there any backup generators?”

Nelson nodded.
“Sure. They’re just not working. They gotta have the power company come out here and everything.”

The nervous father piped up again.
“I’m sorry, but isn’t there anything you can do? My wife told me I had to get this done today, or else!”

We all looked at the man sympathetically.
“We’ll put a notice on the mall’s website, once we’re up and running again,” Barry said nicely.

The man shook his head vehemently.
“No! You don’t understand! I completely botched last year! I put it off until the last minute, and then Caesar here came down with strep – and bam! No picture with Santy! My mother-in-law hasn’t let me hear the end of it!”

Barry looked beaten.
“I’m sorry, there’s really not much we can do.”

“Oh, yes there is!”
A formidable grandma marched out of line with a pair of wriggling twins. “We’re gonna do what that gal just did! We’ll take our own pictures!”

Barry looked pale again.
“I’m sorry, you really can’t do that. Besides, we have no way to process your payments now.”

“Payment? You think I’m gonna pay you to take my own pictures?”

Barry gulped. “Well, you see, Santa is also one of Santa’s Sidekicks, and Santa cannot pose without being reimbursed for being a special helper.”

The grandma waved him off, and shouted at Santa.
“How’s cash?”

“How much?”

“I’ll give you twenty bucks.”

“Done!”

The frightened father brightened a bit. “Me, too!”

In a matter of moments
, Santa had made a few hundred dollars. The rest of us were without a shift.

“Well, that’s that,” Sheree said, grabbing her coat and wrestling away from the mob.

Barry nodded
sadly. “Next year, I’m applying to be Santa.”

“You’ll get a wet lap.”

“But I’ll get cold cash.”

Nelson snorted.
“I wouldn’t count on this happening again in your lifetime. I’ve been here for eight years, and the longest outage we ever had before this one was two hours. This is really something.”

I imagined shoppers and store owners alike were none too happy about a missed morning of
material gain. Judging by the orange that sailed out of the crowd and into Nelson’s back, I was correct.

“What the?” Nelson grabbed the orange
off the floor and hurled it back.

Someone yelped
. “Ow!”

“Oh, great.” Nelson
jumped back and sped off on his scooter.

Sheree and Barry looked at me.
“This would be a good time to not be here.”

We turned to leave
just as Myron Stumpfs strode angrily toward us. I mean, me. Which made good sense. I also used to work with Myron during my EEJIT days. Or, to Myron’s way of thinking, I worked for him. At least, that’s what his daily dose of verbal vomit intimated. That was, until he got arrested for stealing company data and re-selling it through a hacking outfit dealing somewhere outside of Bangladesh. Miracles of the internet, yes? He’d been picked up easily after leaving a boat load of clues. But apparently he’d moved onto other waters. I had hoped he remained in jail. I was wrong.

“Of course, it would be you, wouldn’t it?”

“But I…”

“Don’t think you’ll get away with this.
I’m going to call Security!”

“Myron, I…”

Barry stepped in. “I realize you’re upset, you probably just got pelted with a nasty old orange, didn’t you?”

“Yes!”

Barry nodded sympathetically. “Yes, they really do get out of hand when they can’t have their Santy pictures.”

Myron swung around.
The masses of devices snapping pictures looked like a sea of paparazzi surrounding Santa.

“Aren’t they getting their pictures?”

Barry shook his head. “Our equipment is down because of the outage. Those are black market pictures – not of our doing, of course.”

A glimmer of understanding came
over Myron. 

“Are you saying one of those families hurled an orange at me?”

“Well, probably not specifically at you. And not one of those families. Specifically, it was probably her.” Barry pointed at the mean mommy returning back down the mall with Petunia and her pie.

Myron huffed.
“Yes, well, of course. I suppose it goes with the territory.”

“Exactly.”

“As for you, Mina. Unless you are dressed for trick-or-treat I can only assume you work here as well.”

“You work here?”

Myron sniffed. “It’s temporary until I can find something more suitable.”

Yeah.
Maybe like prison. I wondered about the data stealing last summer. I could only figure he’d been let out on some kind of bond.

“Well, that’s
great. Nice to see you.” Liar, liar pants on fire.

“Look, Mina – I didn’t like working with you at EEJIT, and I’m somewhat appalled to be employed at the same location that would even consider you to be qualified as an elf.”