Santa, Sir

Next Shift

Ronan's POV

I just hoped that damn elf coordinator had fixed the eggnog situation. If not, this Head Santa was going to be even less jolly tomorrow. And I needed this escape to work. I needed the control, even if it was just control over a ridiculous seasonal operation.

The thought of the next shift sent a wave of irritation through me, a sharp contrast to the calm I usually manufactured for the kids. I headed toward the small, windowless office adjacent to the mall's loading dock, the place where the Santa suit hung like a discarded skin. Inside, the air was stale, smelling faintly of mothballs and cheap aftershave. I stared at the mountain of applications piled high on the chipped metal desk; each sheet of paper felt like an insult to my intelligence.

"All of them are wrong," I muttered, kicking a stray box labeled 'Damaged Tinsel.'

"Too many young women just want to flaunt themselves in tacky polyester," I griped to the empty room, pulling the heavy sack of mail—the applications—onto the desk with a dull thud.

The stack of applications continued to mock me. I leaned back, the scent of stale mall air clinging to my suit. I pinched the bridge of my nose, scrolling through another glossy photo.

"Another one," I muttered to the empty room, a low rumble in my chest. "Just another, 'look at me, Santa' display." I tossed the application onto a growing pile. "Think this is a stepping stone to i********: fame? Don't they read the job description?"

I leaned forward, pulling another file from the dwindling stack. "Professional during the day, yes, but what about the nights? What about the hidden desires?" I thumbed through bland résumés. "They all want a sugar daddy, a quick fix. No real understanding of… the arrangement." I scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. "Authenticity. It's a ghost story these days." I chuckled grimly, “A ghost of Christmas past.”

My gaze snagged on a name. Katie. I paused. The photo showed wide, unsmiling eyes, a defiance set in her jaw. No pretense of saccharine cheer. I lifted the paper closer.

"Katie, hmm?" A flicker of interest ignited behind my eyes. "This one… this might just work." I pulled up her recorded interview with the elf coordinator. My new obsession, Katie, was an anomaly among the pile of desperate or vapid hopefuls, and based on her interview, I saw what an anomaly she was. I doubt she knows her true potential. I do. She has what so many others lack. She has the perfect mixture of defiance and obedience. I just know it. She has just unknowingly made my Christmas.

I watched closely. Her interview yesterday in the elf coordinator's office had been sharp, almost defiant, a refreshing spark against the suffocating blandness of seasonal employment. She had spunk. She had the kind of hidden fire that made her interesting, a far cry from the predictable submission I usually sought. I have just found My Elf and I don't intend to put her on a shelf.