Just North of Whoville by Turiskylie, Joyce (free children's ebooks pdf .TXT) 📗

phone call a few days earlier when he was having a dilemma at Macy’s over purchasing the red or the green golf tee. In the end, they were on sale and he now had an employee discount, so he picked up both.

“Go ahead! Open it!” he squeaked.

Inside the box was a pin. A huge, be-jeweled pin in the shape of a Christmas wreath. The sort of gift you buy for Grandma for what you think might possibly be her last Christmas.

“You really shouldn’t have,” I said, as I shielded my eyes from the cubic zirconia reflecting off the Christmas lights around my desk.

“It’s just costume jewelry. But it reminded me of you.”

Exactly what about an old lady pin patently meant for a one-foot-in-the-grave grandma reminded him of me, I have no idea.

“Put it on! Let me see!” he clapped and pleaded. So I did.

“Oh!----it just lights up your face.”

“Pretty much lights up the entire office. But thanks.”

“Okay muffin, let’s get you made-up,” Deb said as she put her arm around Timmy and led him off to the make-up table. “Here you go, Brooklyn,” she said to the make-up artist who was unpacking near my desk. “I want you to powder his face with sunshine.”

“That’s the model?” Brooklyn leaned in to me as she opened a bag of sponges.

“Yeah. His name’s Timmy.”

“Wow. Good thing I trained as a mortician.”

While Brooklyn began sponging him down, Steve popped his head in the door.

“You busy?”

“Not really. Come on in.”

After he took the opportunity to say “nice pin” in a sarcastic way, he handed me a stack of headshots and resumes. Though I generally preferred casting friends, Steve wanted to go all out and hold actual auditions for the play. He claimed he wanted to do this “all professional-like”; but my gut told me he just wanted to make sure he got a really hot “Mary” to play opposite his “George”.

“Are you here about the Smiling Class?” Jamie said as she walked by and saw Steve at my desk.

“Um…no,” I answered for him. “This is my friend Steve. He’s just dropping off some things for me.”

“Oh,” she said, continuing to check him out. “You should think about modeling. Here’s my card. Call me,” she said like a dominatrix eager to shake him down for a spanking.

“What the hell is a Smiling Class?” he asked after she was out of sight.

“Say ‘cheese’!”

“Cheese.”

“That’s it. I just saved you four hundred dollars.”

Across the room, Mitchell put on some music for the test shots. Even in his khaki pants, I could see Timmy trying to bring sexy back.

Deb and Jamie had stepped out for a smoke break, so I decided to step in.

“Timmy----we talked about this. You want to show your personality. Forget about being a model. Just be yourself.”

“Okay,” he replied with a bit of uncertainty. “But it’s kind of hard to turn the sexy off.”

“Well…you just need to tighten that faucet for this one. Okay? You’ve got to pull out the personality. The real you.”

“What if this is the real me?” he said, almost terrified of his own sexiness.

I looked over at Timmy’s wardrobe suitcase and saw a bit of red and green faux-fur sticking out from the side.

“Here,” I said as I pulled out his elf costume. “Put this on. We’re gonna get you some work.”

As Timmy ran off behind the changing screen and I switched the CD to Christmas music, I went over to Mitchell to discuss the change in plans. As we began rearranging the set with some of the Christmas décor, Deb suddenly appeared.

“Well. Dorrie. I didn’t know you were an agent.”

“I’m…I’m not.”

“Exactly. So just go back to your desk and answer the phone. That’s what we pay you for.”

With my tail between my legs, I made my way back to my desk and popped open a peppermint stick to ease the pain.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked.

“I can’t work for these people anymore. I can’t do this. It’s just wrong.”

“Mitchy-poo,” Deb said in her fake flirty voice as she rubbed up against Mitch. “It’s gonna to be another rough one, I’m afraid. But I’ve almost got him sold on the photographer’s retreat with you, so flirt a little.”

“Ta-dah!” Timmy said as he jumped out from behind the screen wearing his elf costume. His eyes scanned the room for me. He finally saw me at my desk and I gave my nod of approval.

“I’m not sure that’s the right look,” Deb scrunched up her face.

“I like it,” Mitchell piped in. “We can have some fun with this.”

“Well,” Deb forced a smile. “If you’re okay with it, Mitch.”

“Yay!” Timmy jumped up and down, jingling the bells on his shoes.

“Okay sugar,” Mitchell said as he raised his lens, “let me see you jingle those big, fat bells.”

8

“What so great about Ted’s Ribs and Chicken?” I asked Celia the next day as we perused glassware at an artsy shop in Soho.

“It’s an old college thing for Alex,” she replied with that mix of warmth and wifely patience she’d already mastered. While my life was a continual mad dash of damage repair, Celia continued building on a strong foundation. Just having coffee with her made me feel as if I, too, could build my own dream life. Sure I was positioned over swamp land in an earthquake zone---but it could happen.

That afternoon, she asked me to help her begin setting up her Wedding Registry. For a few brief shining hours, I could exist in her Camelot.

But a pricey glass shop was a scary place for me. I kept my hands in my pockets, my purse trained steadily at my side, and held back a strong urge to sneeze as I walked past a spun-glass