Christmas Billionaire Read online

  Thankfully, there weren’t many people in the mall this early and so the only people in line to see Santa were the kids on the trip.

  I ended up standing next to Sharon, who seemed far more concerned with the fact that this was the last day before winter break than she was about helping the kids enjoy their field trip. Yet, I was used to that from her, so most of what she said went in one ear and out the other. It was easier that way.

  “Only three more hours!” Sharon expressed, grinning from ear to ear when I turned toward her.

  “Yeah, I know. It’s great. The kids are excited too,” I answered.

  “I know, they were practically swinging from the rafters this morning,” she huffed and rolled her eyes, “Thank God for this field trip. I’m not sure what I would’ve done with them all day.”

  “Mine were good,” I admitted, “I knew there was no use in trying to do anything today, so I took attendance and let them do their own thing until it was time to get on the bus.”

  “See, you’re smart. I tried to control the madness instead of simply going with it,” she laughed, “I swear, if that bus had come five minutes sooner, I might’ve been eaten alive.”

  “Ewww! That’s gross!” one of the kids called from behind us.

  “It’s only a figure of speech,” Sharon answered, but the kid’s that heard the conversations still wrinkled their nose and made grossed out noises in disgust.

  Sharon returned her attention to me.

  “So, do you have any romance blossoming this Christmas?”

  “Sharon, this right here is the highlight of my Christmas,” I chuckled and spoke in a lower tone, “This and spending time with the family, which also does not provide any romantic options.”

  “Hey! Maybe that’s what you should ask Santa for!” Sharon insisted, loud enough to pique the interest of the kids around us.

  I knew I shouldn’t be surprised. In fact, I should’ve been waiting for this.

  After all, my coworkers, Sharon especially, and even Mrs. Neilson, had been hard at work trying to fix me up with someone for months now. It started when I let it slip at a faculty dinner early in the year that I hadn’t had a serious relationship in over two years, and they ran with it.

  I didn’t understand why my love life was of such concern to them but by now, it was more of a running joke than a serious inquisition.

  Still, I found my jaw dropping and my eyes widening as the kids started to ask about what Sharon meant.

  “I think that Ms. Lawson should as Santa for a boyfriend this Christmas,” she announced and I felt my knees grow week. I wished I could’ve melted into the floor but instead, I heard the cheers and excited howls of encouragement from the kids and even a few more of the teachers.

  “I’m not going to do that!” I exclaimed.

  “Come on, Ms. Lawson!” Susie spoke up, tugging on my shirt, “You told me that Santa knows everything, but it wouldn’t hurt to help him out a little. Don’t be afraid.”

  “Susie…I’m not afraid,” I replied as far too much started to happen. I felt myself becoming overwhelmed.

  “Yeah, Ms. Lawson, Susie has a point. Go sit on his lap and tell him what you want! It’ll be fun!” a voice that I assumed was Sharon’s waded through the white noise of encouragement and teasing.

  Suddenly, I felt dizzy, and before I knew it, I was being shuffled to the front of the line. Behind me, hordes of children were calling after me, cheering me on and growing enthused by the fun the teachers were having at my expense.

  Eventually, I found myself next to an elf who looked to be younger than I was, wearing a huge grin on her face.

  “Right this way, Ms. Lawson, right?” the elf exclaimed cheerfully.

  “Um…don’t you want the kids to go first? I’d hate for them to run out of time.”

  “Santa’s got plenty of time for all of the children, Ms. Lawson,” the elf answered, and I wondered if she was extremely good at her job or if she was getting a great amount of joy from helping to make me do this.

  Either way, it didn’t matter that much because I knew as I neared Santa, there was nothing I could do besides make a run for it and look like a bigger fool.

  So, I took a deep breath and gave in, trying to have fun without being too mortified.

  It almost worked too.

  Instead of feeling claustrophobic, I tried to focus on the idea that I was doing this for fun, for the kids. It was silly and fun, that’s what being a kid around the holidays was all about.

  I mean, it isn’t like Santa will know me, I thought as I sat down on the big guy’s lap and glanced back at my class and coworkers. Some of them were taking photos, so I raised my hand and gave the two-thumbs-up sign and rolled my eyes playfully before getting a whiff of a familiar scent.

  I stopped and wondered how obvious it was that my face completely dropped, along with my heart. Before I even turned around to look Santa in the eye, I had a terrible feeling I knew exactly who he was and I wasn’t going to ever live this down.

  I turned around, hoping this was a nightmare, and sure enough, I saw Dexter’s sparkling blue eyes staring directly into mine.

  “Oh…my,” I blurted, my eyes widening.

  “Ho! Ho! Ho!” he cried out, diverting his eyes from me, “Merry Christmas, Mazie! What would you like for Christmas?”

  “I…Uh…Dex?” I shuddered, thankfully keeping my voice low.

  “Say it so we can hear you!” a small voice called from the crowd.

  “What do you want for Christmas?” Dex repeated, trying his best to stay in character and so, I figured that for his sake and mine, I should play along.

  So, I averted my eyes and giggled, trying to release some of the tension that had built up.

  “I would like to ask you for a boyfriend for Christmas,” I exclaimed, trying not to laugh or cry too much so that I could be done with it. When I didn’t hear anything more from the peanut gallery except expressions of shock and laughter as both teacher and child confirmed I said it, I added, “Thank you, Santa!”

  Embarrassed, I jumped off his lap as quickly as I could and scurried through Santa’s Village to wait for the rest of my class.

  I refused to look at Dexter the rest of the time we were there, and as soon as we were able to, I headed back to my classroom.

  The rest of the day went by in an embarrassed blur.

  Thankfully, the kids were picked up by their parents the moment we got off the bus, so I could return to my classroom alone. I shut the door and hoped no one would come after me.

  I needed some time to recover before I had to face anyone that I knew, either personally or professionally.

  Until I came to terms with what had happened today, I couldn’t show my face to my family or to my coworkers.

  For once, I was happy that it was the start of winter break. Yet, considering that meant I had to spend time with my family, and likely Dexter’s family, if not old Santa himself, it was like being thrown out of the pan and into the flames.

  Eventually, I had to sit down and I buried my head in my hands.

  There were so many unanswered questions.

  The most pressing of which was why Dexter was playing Santa Claus in the first place.

  I was certain that it was volunteer work, but the entirety of the Myers family wasn’t one to volunteer. They would hold charity galas and formal events that looked good for their constituents, but playing Santa at the local mall was hardly a high roller event.

  In fact, there was a good possibility that Dexter wouldn’t have seen anyone he knows.

  Maybe that was the point, I considered since he looked every bit as surprised as I was. But why would he do something like that?

  The Dexter I knew wouldn’t be caught dead out in public without a suit and tie.

  With a shuddering breath and an almost complete breakdown of my nerves, my mind wandered away from Dexter and back to my problems. I thought about how utterly ridiculous I must have sounded and felt sick to my stomach.<
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  I must have sat in that room for close to an hour without moving.

  Eventually, I decided that I should probably go home and pour myself a nice, big glass of wine in an attempt to try to forget this whole fiasco.

  So, I mustered up my courage, gathered my belongings, and bolted out the door, power walking past everyone I saw, trying to pretend I was on a mission.

  By the time I made it to my car, I was out of breath, but I didn’t care. At least I was alone, in my car.

  On the way home, I tried to drown out my thoughts with the radio, but holiday songs of Santa Claus and his reindeer, rooftops, and jingle bells were all haunting reminders of the day’s events.

  Halfway into my fifteen-minute drive, I couldn’t take it anymore and snapped off the radio completely.

  Sitting in silence, listening to the hum of the car engine, I couldn’t help but think that running away was a perfectly acceptable option.

  Don’t be ridiculous! I finally told myself before I made a decision that blew the embarrassing event even further out of proportion.

  Still, as much as I tried to reason with myself and get over it, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  Later that evening and about a half a bottle into the Chardonnay I was supposed to be saving, but needed it now for the preservation of my sanity more than I ever would for any impromptu celebration, I received a text from an unknown number.

  Hey, Mazie, the text read, this is Dex.

  My heart leaped into my chest as the wine helped my head to spin faster with the shock. It took me a minute to continue reading, and when I did, I focused heavily on each word.

  Listen, you can’t tell anyone that I was Santa. I got in some trouble and am doing community service. If my dad finds out, he’ll fire me. Please, I’m counting on you.

  Your secret is safe with me, Santa, I texted back, with a smiley emoji for good measure.

  At first, I was satisfied with what I said, but after a minute, a sense of paranoia started to sink in, and I wondered if I should be worried.

  So, after erasing a few texts that I started, I finally settled on sending him something simple: I promise, I won’t tell anyone, but are you okay? You know you can always talk to me.

  Yes. I’m fine. It was stupid…but if you want, I could explain the whole story over dinner? Saturday night?

  There was no emoji attached, but that didn’t stop me from getting excited about the invitation. I wasn’t sure what to make of it and didn’t want to overthink it, but I was curious about what he meant by dinner.

  After a short deliberation, I told him that would be great and to pick me up at seven.

  However, after hitting send, the mortification returned, and I no longer wanted to continue the conversation.

  So, I quickly turned my phone on silent and went into the bedroom, snuggling up with Mittens, who wasn’t the least bit happy, so that I could try to fall asleep and put this strange day behind me Between the events that took place today and the wine that was buzzing through my system, all I wanted to do now was forget this day ever happened.

  I thought I might have trouble going to sleep but to my surprise, I was knocked out cold the second my head hit the pillow and I slept soundly the entire night.

  In the morning, though, when I woke up, the first thought I had was of what had happened the day before and how terrible it was.

  However, my second thought was of how Dexter had asked me out, and I couldn’t help but grin at that.

  Excited to see if he had responded, I turned over, grabbed my phone off the nightstand, and illuminated the screen.

  My stomach tied in excited knots as I read Dexter’s name across the screen, signaling another text.

  A boyfriend from Santa is a lot to ask for, don’t you think?

  After contemplating that for a moment, I texted back, I guess that depends on which Santa you ask, before I got all giddy and refused to look at my phone for a good portion of the day.

  Chapter 9

  Dexter

  Back at work on Friday, I had casually mentioned, via email, that I was sitting down with Mr. Wilson next week and that I had already booked my travel accommodations. In the email, I expressed how I was hopeful that we were nearing the close of the deal but I didn’t expect anything from it.

  My father enacted the no news is good news motto to the fullest. If I didn’t receive a raging email in response, or worse, an unstable phone call through which I start to question my father’s sanity, everything must be good.

  God, forbid I ask him if he received the email. The dissertation I received because of that mistake equaled the time it took to complete nearly a half a day’s work, through which time I was terrified he was going to fire me for incompetence.

  Thus, I never asked him about the status of a correspondence again.

  So, after not hearing anything from the email, I went ahead with my travel plans and started the presentation.

  That was at the beginning of the week, and now, I was readying myself to finish up the presentation after double checking my plane tickets.

  When I finally finished the last of my presentation and sat back to admire my work, I grinned.

  It was a lot of work, but if this deal was successful, I would be gaining so much more than a huge client. I was also certain that if Mr. Wilson entrusted his company’s marketing to my father’s firm, he would have no choice but to respect me.

  I would have accomplished a feat that was insurmountable by seniors at even larger marketing firms than my father’s company.

  It would be the lead into partnership and worthiness that would be undeniable. I would be an instant irrefutable asset to the company.

  However, as I walked by my father’s office on my way out, I decided to try to be cordial to the man, considering after my meeting with Mr. Wilson, we would probably be spending a lot of time together.

  The proposal had heavy tones of upper management, ensuring the best for this high-value client. That meant that like it or not, my father would have to work with me to strategize.

  Mr. Wilson wanted the best of the best, and I was certain that the promise of having both the senior and junior Myers working on their business would increase our chances of landing this deal.

  So, I knocked, popped my head into the office, and waved.

  “I’m getting out of here now. Have a good night.”

  My father was buried in paperwork since the old fool was paranoid about certain computer uses, and when I spoke, he barely looked up from what he was working on.

  “I don’t need to give you permission to leave, Dexter. I don’t know what on earth you’re waiting for,” he grumbled.

  “I know,” I replied, trying to hide the aggravation in my voice, “I was simply telling you goodnight.”

  Before he could say anything else, I pivoted around and hurriedly walked away, too aggravated to worry about if he called after me or what he said.

  By the time I got to my car, I was fuming.

  Asshole, I thought, shaking my head with aggravation and huffing.

  I felt my teeth ground together as I peeled out of the parking lot, remembering that I had to go to the gym to meet Garrett.

  Fortunately, instead of being angry, today I was pleased. I needed to let off a little steam and instead of getting drunk, working out would be a healthy and probably far more suitable alternative.

  When I walked into the gym, Garrett didn’t even bother to tease me. He could tell by the look on my face that if he said the wrong thing, there was a good possibility that he would get punched in the face.

  “Dude…you okay?” he asked cautiously.

  “Do I fucking look like I’m okay?” I spat, glowering at him in warning.

  “Well, no. You don’t,” his eyes grew wide as he stepped back, reacting to his thought. “You didn’t lose that client, did you?”

  “Oh God. No. I didn’t lose anything,” I huffed as my tone softened, realizing that the situation could, indeed, be far
worse. “It’s my father. I can’t take it anymore.”

  “What happened?” he asked, sounding somewhat relieved.

  “Only the same old shit. I’m tired of trying with him. Every accomplishment I’ve ever made or anything that I’ve been proud of, he makes me feel as though it was completely expected. Like failure wasn’t an option.”

  “Well, not for nothing, but with your father, failure kind of isn’t an option,” he replied, which only made me angrier.

  “Yeah, well, I’ve done all this shit for him, I’ve made him billions, I’ve brought more clients to his business than any one employee has ever achieved, and I’m about to land this deal that will set him up for life. What more does he want from me? I try to talk him, that’s it. All I want to do is have a conversation with him, like a normal human being, and he treats me like shit, and that’s even if he bothers to acknowledge me in the first place. I’m sick of it!”

  “What are you gonna do about it?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted, losing steam as the reality of the situation hit me, “It’s not like I could quit. I could get another job, but I would lose all sense of loyalty, which is important in this business. Besides, I like the company; I just wish I could find a way to live up to my father’s expectations…or at least figure out what the fuck they are.”

  I huffed with ire as I dropped the weight back onto the rack.

  “Have you told him any of this?” Garrett asked, and I almost burst out laughing.

  “Have you ever seen anyone try to tell my father something? He would find it all funny and tell you that you’ve officially shredded your balls. I can’t talk to him about anything without hearing a lecture about how his way is the best and only way to get anything done.”

  “How’d you get the time off the other day for the Santa thing?” Garrett asked as though he had only recently remembered that he had meant to ask me.

  “Same way I do everything. I told him that I planned to take the day off and he didn’t even bother to ask why, as a boss or as a father.”

  “Well, the way I look at it, you can be angry that he didn’t pry, or you could take it as a good thing.” When I glared at him in askance, his shoulders rose and fell with ease, “You could’ve had to lie to him because I’m sure he wouldn’t take too kindly to the news that you were arrested.”