Four

Here Comes Santa Claus

Nothing.

The call goes to voicemail. I try a second time, with the same result, so I decide to try the other number listed on his profile. Maybe a landline?

“Hello?”

The voice is a letdown. Too creaky to match the man in the picture.

“Hello, Mr. O’Donnell?”

“Who?”

“Diego O’Donnell?”

“Oh, you mean Dunk. He’s not home.”

“You know when he’ll be back?”

“Why?” The dude sounds suspicious.

“I’m calling about a job opportunity, something rather urgent. No chance you’d know where I can find him?”

“He could still be downtown. Dunk had a Santa Claus gig tonight, but it should be over by now.”

Diego is in Manhattan! I can barely contain my excitement. “Do you remember where the gig was, by any chance?”

“No, sorry, some fancy mall downtown. You want to leave a message?”

“No need, thank you, I’ll call back.”

I hang up and nibble at one of my nails. Damn. Now that my folly has gained momentum, I can’t lose steam. If only that guy remembered the name of the mall…

Let’s see if Google can help. A quick “santa claus wednesday december 12 manhattan mall” search and… Bingo! There’s only one late-evening event today, and the address is not too far from my office. The program says the show ends at 9:30 p.m. If I hurry, I might get there just in time.

***

Fifteen minutes after the scheduled end of the event, I arrive at the mall worried sick I might’ve missed him. But, luckily, there’s still a Santa seated in the winter wonderland booth at the mall’s entrance. He’s ushering a kid away, who an elf assistant promptly replaces with the last toddler in line, depositing the newcomer on Santa’s knee.

As Diego listens to the little boy, I observe my mark to evaluate if he’s as good looking in person, or if he’s a cheat—aka a Photoshop-friendly model who doesn’t understand that going to a casting looking half as hot as his portfolio is a lose-lose approach. But between the fake beard and fake belly, it’s a hard one to call.

Once the kid has expressed all his Christmas wishes and taken the customary picture, my man stands up.

Mmm. Impressive. At least he didn’t lie about his height.

“I’m getting hella out of here,” his lady elf helper says. “You coming?”

“Nah, gotta get changed first. See ya soon, Jess.”

They bump fists and the girl walks away, still wearing her red, white, and green costume.

In the few seconds I get distracted by watching the elf leave, Diego has opened a hidden door and is already disappearing backstage. Whoops. “Excuse me—!” I call.

“Sorry, Miss, the event’s over,” he says, without sparing me a second glance. And then he’s gone.

What now? I could wait for him to get changed and come back out, but again, I’m impatient. And if I stay too long out here, I might chicken out, call my mom, and surrender my bed to Julia.