Kristmas Collins (13 page)

“You sound surprised. Do you think it’s a coincidence that Temple of Duma’s has gone to another level since you put me in charge of the talent?”

He continued to review the file as they walked. “I weep for these Kerstman people. I guess they had to downgrade from a Mercedes to a Honda Accord.”

“Not everybody who worked there was rich.”

“But they weren’t poor, either.”

“I forgot—Justin Duma grew up dirt poor so now everybody else has to feel his pain. You’re not suffering unless he says so.”

“Hey, life ain’t fair—do you think they’d be having all these fund raisers for these Kerstman kids if it was a bunch of black families from Newark?”

“I have no idea. All I know is I feel sorry for these people. It’s not just the money—every night in the club I meet rich guys who’re poor, just like I’ve met people with no money who’re rich. They’ve had their lives ripped away—they probably will never trust anyone or anything ever again.”

“Yet they’re about to have their kid sit on the lap of a total stranger, completely clueless that he’s been tracking them. Talk about naïve.”

Wintry shook her head with disgust, which meant the conversation was over.

They reached the festive center of the mall, where a line of eager children and their parents had already formed to see Santa Claus. Flyers had been mailed to all former Kerstman employees, offering them a hundred dollar voucher to be used in the mall if they stopped by to see Santa. It said the gift was courtesy of the Yonkers Mall, but the vouchers were really purchased by Kris Collins, with hopes of getting some needed information. If they were as poverty-stricken as Wintry made them out to be, it would be a good showing—Duma knew that a hundred bucks was like a million when you’ve got no money.

They put their spat aside for business purposes, and worked out a system in which Wintry would signal that a Kerstman kid was approaching by removing her granny glasses.

He played his part with ho-ho-hos and belly laughs. He was able to extract the necessary information, all while keeping his identity hidden and the line moving—although one five-year-old informed him that Santa wasn’t black, which caused his embarrassed mother to spend five minutes apologizing, slowing things down.

After promising another child an Xbox—
did any of these kids ever leave the house?
—a little girl marched toward him like she had important business with Santa. Wintry removed her glasses.

The girl took a seat on his lap. “Hello, Santa.”

“Ho, ho, ho … Merry Christmas! And what’s your name?”

“You’re Santa—I thought you knew everything?”

He glanced in Wintry’s direction. She looked like she wanted to hang him out to dry, but played nice, holding up the folder for him to see. “Santa knows that you are Susie Woods, six years old, from Harrison, New York.”

“We actually live in our car now. My mom and dad tell us to keep it a secret, so maybe nobody told you.”

The response took Duma back to when he was her age. He lived with his mother and five siblings in a Caprice Classic. But it wasn’t a car that you could drive. It had been stolen, stripped, and left to die by the side of the street in their neighborhood. And like most things that were left to die in Oakland, it had a few bullet holes in it.

“I have a secret for you, Susie,” he whispered. “When I was your age I lived in a car, too.”

“Why didn’t you live in your sleigh?”

“That’s a good question—you’re very smart. So what does such a smart girl want for Christmas this year?”

“Can I ask for gifts for more people than just me?”

He shrugged his big shoulders. “It never hurts to ask.”

“Then for my mom and dad, I want them to get their wallets back.”

“What happened to their wallets?”

“We were robbed last night. But the guy seemed nice, so I think if Santa asked him to give them back, he would.”

“If he doesn’t, then he’ll be on Santa’s naughty list … and nobody wants that, ho, ho, ho.”

“Santa knows all about being on the naughty list,” Wintry muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

“And for me, I’d like a house to live in,” Susie continued. “If you could get us our old one back that would be my first choice. But if not, I’d take one with a yard with tall trees in it. I love climbing trees! And a big chimney, so that you can fit down it with your big belly.”

He patted his gut and let out a laugh. “You don’t mess around with the small stuff, do ya? Were you a good girl this year? You’d have to be a really good girl to get a house.”

“I thought you had a list that told you stuff like that?” She pointed at Wintry. “Maybe your helper can tell you.”

Wintry played along, browsing through the file. “Let me see … oh, here it is, Susie Woods. Yes for sure, Susie is on the good list. Let me just double check … yep, good list it is.”

“Sounds like you’re in business this year, Susie,” Santa said.

She let out a huge sigh of relief. “Phew … I was worried that I might not get my wish this year.”

“Why did you think that?”

“Because you made my wish come true last year. I didn’t know if it was fair to get it two years in a row.”

“What did I bring you last year?”

She looked skeptically at him.

“Santa’s getting a little old … and forgetful. Maybe you can help him out, Susie,” Wintry said.

“I asked you to make my brother’s cancer go away, and you did. I thought you’d remember that—it was kinda a big deal.”

Duma felt a lump form in his throat, and fought back a tear. He gathered himself, and said, “Thank you visiting me today, Susie … Merry Christmas to you.”

She looked up at him with optimistic eyes. “It will be if you bring me that house!”

“And you say I never take you out to any nice restaurants,” Duma said with a sly grin, as they ate in the food court during Santa’s allotted fifteen-minute break.

But Wintry wasn’t listening. She was viewing the girl off in the distance, who was staring at the poster that was promoting tomorrow’s
Candy Stripers
auditions at the Macy’s in Herald Square. Wintry checked the file and matched the girl as fourteen-year-old Hope Roberts.

“I’ll be back,” she said, and headed toward the girl. Duma looked momentarily surprised by the sudden departure, before returning his attention to his pile of fries.

She eased up next to the gangly teenager with sandy colored hair tied in a ponytail. It seemed like yesterday when she was that age, when her long legs felt too big for her body and her metal-filled mouth made her not want to speak.

“I can’t believe they’re bringing back
Candi Kane & the Candy Stripers
, it used to be my favorite show,” Wintry said.

The girl grew enthusiastic. “And this version is going to be more than a teen soap. It’s going to have singing and dancing … kind of like
Glee
!” She paused for a moment, and added, “My name is Hope, by the way.”

“A perfect name for this time of year. I’m Mrs. Claus.”

“Yeah, if Santa were married to Rihanna you are.”

“He’d probably be too dense to appreciate it, even if I was.” She pointed to the poster. “Are you thinking about auditioning?”

“Me?”

“No, the other person I’m talking to … if you stare at the poster any harder you’re gonna burn a hole in it.”

“Um … I wouldn’t be able to. And besides, there’s gonna be like hundreds of girls there … I would never get picked.”

“You sure as hell aren’t going to get picked if you don’t show up.”

“I have a job over Christmas break, so I gotta work.”

“Trust me, you’ll have plenty of time to work when you’re grown up.”

“My mom lost her job a couple years ago and I’m trying to help out with the bills. She worked at Kerstman.”

“That’s the dude who stole all his employees’ money, right? Then he ran off and hid the loot, or something like that?”

“That’s my life. But it’s pretty much going to be over soon, anyway.”

Wintry looked to the girl with concern. “Don’t you even think like that.”

Hope seemed surprised by the reaction. “Oh, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant that when my mom finds out I skipped school today, she’s gonna ground me for like a year.”

“I remember those days … blowing off school to hang out with my friends.”

“I don’t really have any friends at my new school. After we lost our house, we moved to an apartment in Elmsford. I hate it there, and I don’t really know anybody.”

“Well, they’re all gonna want to be your friend when you become one of the
Candy Stripers
. Is your dad in the picture … maybe he can help convince your mom to let you audition?”

“He’s in the military. He’s basically been over in Afghanistan since I was little, so it’s really just been my mom and me. He won’t be making it home for Christmas … again.”

“You must be very proud of him.”

“I am—I just wish he was around once in awhile so I could tell him.”

“If it makes you feel any better, my dad was stationed at Fort Wherever I’m Not. He took off when I was five, never saw him again.” Wintry motioned to the part of the poster promoting that the new cast would be joining Candi Kane on a Christmas trip to entertain the troops. “Maybe
when
you get the part, you can get to see him. If he can’t get to you, go to him. I’m sure he’d love to see his little girl perform.”

“Thanks for what you’re doing, but even if I wanted to, I couldn’t afford the entrance fee.”

Wintry pulled out a couple of vouchers and handed them to her. “Santa and I are offering these to Kerstman families who visit us today. I’m giving you two hundred dollars worth to put toward your audition tomorrow.”

Hope studied them. “But it says the money can only be used in the Yonkers Mall.”

“If they’re advertising the
Candy Stripers
audition in the mall, then it counts. If anyone questions you, tell them that Mrs. Claus said so.”

She continued to stare at the voucher. “Thanks for trying to help, but I just don’t think I can.”

“Listen, I would love to audition for this, but I’m too late. I didn’t chase my dreams as hard as I should have, and I’ll always regret it.”

“Yeah, but you got to marry Santa Claus,” Hope replied with a smile.

“Don’t get me wrong, I have a great guy, two adorable little monsters, and an amazing job at a hot club in the city. But I always wanted to be on Broadway. And as you get older, the excuses fade away and the only thing you’re left with is the fact that you didn’t go for it.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, I appreciate it, but when my mom …”

“This isn’t about your mom, this is about Hope. I think the problem is you really don’t have the talent.”

A determined look came over her face. “I’m good.”

“Prove it to me.”

“What?”

“Look at these people—they’re like a bunch of shopping zombies. Let’s wake ’em up.”

“You want me to sing and dance in the mall?”

“I knew you didn’t have the guts.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Do you remember the ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ scene in
Mean Girls
?”

“You want to do that here? We don’t even have any music.”

“You said you could sing,” Wintry said and then sung out like she was on Broadway, “What a bright time, it’s the right time to rock the night away.”

Hope hesitantly joined her, “Jingle bell time is a swell time to go riding in a one horse sleigh.”

She found her confidence, and together, their voices grew powerful. And when they added the sultry dance number, they had the crowd in the palm of their hands. It was exhilarating. Wintry had forgotten what a rush it was to perform in front of an audience.

When they finished, the mall crowd gave them a rousing ovation, and someone shouted out, “Encore!”

“I can’t believe we just did that!” Hope gushed, her self-esteem now bouncing off the third floor.

“You up for another?”

“What do you have in mind?”

Wintry searched the crowd to find Duma in the back near the food court, sporting a proud smile on his face. “Do you like Beyonce?”

“Who doesn’t?”

Wintry grinned. “I say we do the one where she sings about ‘if you liked it you should have put a ring on it’.”

Zee Thomas got emotional, just as he always did when he got to this part of his presentation.

But he couldn’t detail the actual low point that drugs had led him to, because he was passed out in a car when the mother and father were murdered for drug money. So he told the seventh and eighth graders at the assembly about the children who survived—they were just a few years younger than those in the audience at the time, and he described what it meant to grow up without a mother and father. As he spoke, he clasped the locket around his neck—it contained a picture of the family.