It's a Mall World After All (15 page)

Colton prodded T.J. off of his lap, stood up, and faced Bryant. He lowered his chin to let Bryant get a better look at his face. "Stop yelling at the elves," he said with forced humor. "Or Santa will put you on the naughty list."

Bryant took a step toward Colton, squaring his shoulders. "Yeah, I'll tell you what list you can put it on. You can put it on the list that you shove—"

"Bryant," I said, "will you please just go away. You're upsetting the children."

Out in the audience every single eye was riveted on us. The kids had completely lost interest in their presents, and all stared at the guy who was yelling at Santa. Harris and Preeth took off in a fast pace for—I'm not sure where. They hurried into Bloomingdale's and away from us. Maybe to call for mall security, or maybe just to avoid the ensuing bloodshed.

The two teachers walked slowly toward us, but since both were women—one who didn't look much older than us, the second who looked so ancient she seemed to be in need of a Boy Scout to help her reach the front of the courtyard—I didn't think either of them would intimidate Bryant.

"Oh, you're worried about upsetting people?" Bryant flung at me. "Too bad you never worried about upsetting me. You're nothing but a self-righteous, two-faced, piece of—"

Colton put his hand on Bryant's shoulder. His baritone voice had a growl to it. "Go. Home. Now."

Bryant shrugged off Colton's grip. "Don't touch me. You don't own the mall. I'll say whatever I want to you and your little ho-ho-ho."

"Bryant," Colton said, and it was almost his normal voice. Bryant should have recognized him, but still didn't. Bryant took a step toward me, but before he could reach me, Colton took hold of his arm and pulled him backward.

That's when Bryant yelled a few words that weren't appropriate for a room full of elementary students and swung at Colton's face. I heard a smack and saw Colton's head jerk back. He took a staggering step backward. His Santa hat nearly fell off, but remained attached to his wig at a drunken angle.

A collective gasp went up from the children, along with two or three shrieks from the girls sitting in the front.

And then in the next moment Colton convinced me that wrestling is not such a useless skill after all. He grabbed Bryant's elbow, threw his right arm over Bryant's head, and in one swift movement pulled Bryant over his hip and to the floor. Bryant struggled to get up, but Colton stayed on top of him, keeping him headlocked and on the ground.

Next to me T.J. let out slow breath. "Santa rocks!"

The girls in the front row clapped, and the kids in the back row all started cheering at once.

Colton said something to Bryant, which made him stop struggling, but I couldn't hear it for all of the kids applauding. One girl said breathlessly, "I don't care what my parents say. I'm staying up to see Santa this year."

"Wait till my mom hears what Santa does to the people on the naughty list!" her friend replied.

Okay, so this was another service project that didn't turn out like I planned. Probably there would be some concerned parents calling the school to question why Santa was wrestling passing shoppers to the ground. Ms. Ellis would most likely ban NHS from doing any more extracurricular activities, but it wasn't my fault this time. Colton had taken the picture of Bryant and Shelby and sent it to Brianna, so he couldn't blame me for this.

Two burly guys wearing mall security badges hurried down the hallway just as Colton let Bryant up off the ground. The four of them stepped away from the group to talk, and Ms. Ellis joined them. She kept speaking excitedly and waving a hand in Bryant's direction. I wondered if she could give Bryant in-school suspension for punching Santa at the mall.

Yeah, he was pretty much the last person I wanted to be stuck with in study hall all day.

About this same time Harris and Preeth walked out of Bloomingdale's and up to me. "What do we do now?" Harris asked.

I looked around at the rest of the NHS members. They all stared back at me as though I should know what to do next.

I took another glance in Colton's direction. He and Bryant seemed quite busy yelling at each other, plus Colton kept touching his cheek and wincing, so I had a feeling he was in no mood to sit through the last few children. I picked up the next stack of presents and called out, "While Santa is busy . . . um . . . giving a deposition to mall security, I'll hand out a few of the presents, okay?"

A wave of grumbling rippled through the audience, followed by the chant, "We want Santa! We want Santa!"

Suddenly Colton had become Elvis, and a poorly dressed elf wasn't going to cut it.

I cast another glance in Colton's direction. He'd stopped talking to the security guards and watched as the crowd called his name. From beneath his slightly skewed beard, he smiled.

"All right," I said. "We'll wait for Santa."

A cheer went up from the audience, and they didn't stop cheering until Colton came back to the chair. As Bryant walked into Bloomingdale's with security guards—I assumed they were escorting him out of the mall—a girl jumped onto Colton's lap. "I love you, Santa," she said.

"I love you too," he said.

She reached over and gave his biceps a squeeze. "For a fat guy you're really buff."

"Well, Santa has a lot of time to work out between holiday seasons."

Colton tried to hurry the last five kids, probably because his cheek was swelling, but it was all he could do to interest them in their presents and get them to leave. The last two kids wanted his autograph.

Finally I told the group Santa really had to go because Mrs. Claus needed him to shoo away vagrant polar bears from the toy workshop. I guess after seeing Colton take down Bryant, they believed the story, and I was able to lead him away into Bloomingdale's. A round of applause followed us as we left.

As we went up the elevator in the store Colton leaned against the wall and touched his cheek. "How bad is it?"

"It's red and swollen."

"Where are we going? Harris has the bag with my clothes."

"We'll get those later. The refrigerator in the break room has an ice machine. I think you need that more." The elevator door opened. I led him down the hallway and past the manager's office. Once we got to the break room, Colton sat down on a plastic chair and pulled off his hat and wig. I grabbed some paper towels and ice from the freezer.

I pushed another chair next to his, but instead of sitting on it, I knelt on it, leaning over to him so I could hold the ice against his cheek. He winced, but didn't move away.

"The kids loved you," I said by way of consolation. "You did a great job."

"Yeah. Now they all think Santa Claus is a jolly old fat man who brings them presents and tackles people in the mall. Someday they'll tell their therapists about this afternoon."

"No, they won't. They thought you were wonderful. Didn't you hear them all chanting, 'I believe in Santa!' as you left?"

Colton leaned his head against the back of his chair as though this thought brought him no comfort. "I can't believe Bryant actually punched Santa in front of a bunch of little kids."

I didn't answer.

"Go ahead and say it," Colton said. "You were right and I was wrong."

I turned the paper towel over because that side was getting too wet. "I'm not happy I was right."

He let out a sigh. "Yeah, neither am I."

"What did he say to you?"

A muscle twitched in Colton's jaw, and I knew he was gritting his teeth. "He said I was on your side instead of his."

"What did you say to him?"

"That the next time he wanted to lie to someone, it had better not be me."

I turned the ice, moving it slightly on his face. He seemed so tense, so miserable. I wished I could make it all go away. Neither of us spoke for a few moments. I wondered if Bryant and Colton's friendship was over.

Colton reached up and peeled the beard from his face. A sticky adhesive had kept it in place, and when Colton pulled it from his chin, it sounded like tape ripping apart.

"Did that hurt?" I asked him.

"I can't tell. My cheek is too busy throbbing for my face to register pain anywhere else."

I put the ice back to his cheek. Some of the water from the ice cubes drizzled down his face, and he reached up a hand to wipe it away. "You're getting me wet." He looked me in the eyes for the first time, and the corners of his mouth turned upward. "Although I suppose I shouldn't complain about that, since it's like your trademark or something. If we're going to hang out together, I'll need to start wearing my raincoat."

"Are we going to hang out?"

He tilted his head and considered me lazily. "I've always wanted my own elf."

"Oh, have you?"

"And if you remember back to Candice's party, I apologized to Kayla, which means you owe me a kiss."

"I remember that." I knew I was blushing, so I shrugged and smiled. "I'll keep my eyes open for mistle­toe." Colton took my hand from his face and held it loosely intertwined with his fingers. "Mistletoe wasn't part of the agreement." Then he bent toward me and gave me a kiss, which made me realize I should make him apologize to people more often.

On a daily basis, in fact.

As I thought about what a good thing apologies were, and once again wondered what kind of cologne Colton wore, the door to the break room opened.

I pulled away from Colton so quickly, I almost fell off my chair.

I looked over and saw Harris and Preeth grinning at me from the doorway. "Man Charlotte . . ." Preeth said. "What exactly did you ask Santa for this Christmas?"

Harris held out a large plastic bag. "You guys ready to change?"

"Yeah," Colton answered. He stood up, walked over, and took the bag. "Are the kids back on the bus?"

"Yes. The teachers were all worried about you. They wanted to make sure you were okay. Ms. Ellis had to keep telling them she would see to it that you got the necessary medical attention—which reminds me, Ms. Ellis is getting a first aid kit, and she wants you to meet her outside the restroom in your normal clothes. You know, just in case you have to go to the ER or something. She doesn't want to traumatize any kids in the waiting room by making them think Santa has been out brawling before Christmas Eve."

"I wasn't brawling," Colton said, "and I don't have to go to the ER."

Harris shrugged. "You could just tell the little tykes you fell off the roof. Occupational hazard and all that."

Colton flung the plastic bag over his shoulder like it was Santa's sack, then turned to me. "Elf-girl, are you ready to go back to your secret identity?"

"I'm ready," I said, following him out the door.

But really, I knew there was no going back.

fourteen

Brianna looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes. "That's the whole point. I spent so much time on him, and it was all for nothing. Just like this stupid blanket." She gave the yarn a tug, and a row of the blanket disappeared. "You were right, and I never should have made it. It's all for nothing."

I sat down beside her and took what was left of the blanket out of her hands. "It wasn't for nothing," I said. "You learned how to crochet. And you learned things from your relationship with Bryant." I struggled to think of something to use as an example. "Like now you know what kind of guy to avoid."

"Tell me exactly what happened," she said. "I talked to Colton on the phone for a little while, but I'm not sure he told me everything. He lied to me about the whole thing at the mall, so now I'm not sure."

"He didn't lie. He just didn't realize what was going on. He's as upset about this as you are."

She took the blanket out of my hands. "No, he's not. He wasn't in love. He never sat around planning what B names he would call his children. I was going to name our son Brady, our daughter Brandy, and our dog Brawny." Which is just one more proof that things really do work out for the best.

"I'm sorry, Bri," I said.

"Did he really kiss her? Colton said he kissed her."

"Just a little one on the cheek."

She fingered the blanket, twisting the yarn with her fingers. "Colton didn't make it sound like it was just a little one."

"Maybe he saw something I didn't. He went outside."

Kelly leaned in closer. "Or maybe Colton was talking about some other time. He's probably talked to Bryant since their fight. He might have found out more details." I glared at Kelly because saying this sort of thing wasn't helping Brianna feel any better.

Brianna gave the yarn a particularly vicious tug. "When I'm done, I'm taking this pile of yarn and leaving it on Bryant's doorstep."

"He doesn't deserve it," I said. "You should crochet something new. For yourself. A sweater maybe."

"I only know the chain stitch," she said.

"You could learn," Aleeta said. "And then you could teach me. We could have matching sweaters."

Which apparently was the wrong thing to say because Brianna teared up again.

The doorbell rang, but none of us moved. We were too busy shoving Kleenex in Brianna's direction. "You'll find someone better," Kelly said.

I nodded. "I see a lot of guys at my perfume sprayer post. I'll start interviewing them." From out in the living room we heard Amanda yell, "Bryant's here to see you!" For a moment Brianna remained perfectly still. She clenched the wad of tissue in her hand. Then she stood up, dropped the Kleenex on the bed, and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

"You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to," I said.

"I want to," Brianna answered. "He owes me an explanation."

Kelly, Aleeta, and I exchanged glances, but none of us said anything. Brianna walked out the door and shut it firmly behind her.

Brianna's house isn't very big. It's just three bedrooms with a kitchen and living room. So no matter where you are, there isn't a lot of privacy. Amanda sat in the living room reading a book and apparently had no intention of leaving, because Brianna and Bryant went into the hallway to talk.

"I'm really, really sorry," he said.

"Then why did you do it? You cheated and you lied to me." For someone who'd been crying, her voice sounded surprisingly even. "I believed in you when my friends said I shouldn't. You made a fool of me."

Silence. Then his voice sounding pained. "I didn't mean for any of it to happen. Look, I was just trying to be her friend. She knew I had a girlfriend. The first time she came on to me, I stopped her." The first time? Exactly how many times had there been? And if he knew what she was like after the first time, why had he allowed there to be any other times?

Brianna didn't say anything to him, and he went on. "The second time it just sort of happened. I didn't want to totally brush her off and be rude, you know?"

"So what you're telling me is you made out with her to be nice?"

Aleeta leaned over and whispered, "I didn't know Bryant offered that service to lonely high school girls. He should advertise in the school newspaper."

Out in the hallway Bryant raised his voice. "Look, I'm trying to work things out with you. Don't you even care about us?"

"Me? You're the one that cheated."

"And I said I was sorry. But I don't consider it cheating, because it didn't mean anything to me. At the mall today she told me she wanted me to break it off with you, and I told her, 'Shelby, I'm sorry but I don't have those kind of feelings for you.' It would have all just blown over once I got on the Stanford football team."

I wished I could see Brianna's face so I knew what she was thinking. "Don't take him back," I whispered.

It wasn't Brianna who spoke next though, but Amanda. Apparently she'd come down the hallway to interject herself into the conversation. "Excuse me, Bryant, are you asking my sister to trust you when you've just shown by your actions that you're completely un­trustworthy?"

His voice softened, "I think I deserve a second chance."

Amanda spoke again. "No one deserves trust. You have to earn it."

"Look," he said. "This is between Brianna and me.

I wasn't talking to you."

I stood up and walked to the door. I'm not sure why. I suppose just in case Brianna needed my help, I could fling open the door and yell at Bryant or something.

I shouldn't have bothered. Amanda never backs down in an argument.

"Shall we go over the facts of the situation and see what they reveal?" she asked. "Fact one: People don't usually come on to you unless you encourage them. Fact two: You're perfectly capable of giving a woman the brush-off if you don't want her attention, which leads us to fact three: You wanted her attentions. Fact four—"

"I don't have to listen to this," Bryant said. The sound of his footsteps went down the hallway. "Call me when you want to talk, Brianna."

"I'm not calling you," she said.

More footsteps. "Fine."

Then Brianna opened the bedroom door and nearly ran into me. Her face was drawn tight as though each step hurt. I put my arms around her, and she covered her face with her hands, sobbing. I held on to her. Kelly, Aleeta, and Amanda all joined me until we looked like a football huddle of emotional women.

"It'll be okay," I said.

"We're here for you," Kelly said.

"I've decided to become a divorce lawyer," Amanda said.

Well, we all have our own ways of showing we care.

"Who are you shopping for?" I asked.

"You," he said.

"Me?" I fumbled with the cup and half dropped it into the dishwasher. "Shouldn't you do that while I'm not around?"

"Maybe, but this way you can tell me what you want."

I picked up some spoons and slid them into the silverware rack. "That's sweet, Colton, but you're missing the whole point of gift giving. You're supposed to guess what I want."

"Like use my psychic powers?"

"Right."

"Hmmm. Do you want some perfume you can spray on your own time?"

"Nah."

"An umbrella?"

"Nope. That's what I'm getting you." He let out a mock grunt. "I thought you were done drenching me?"

"Well, in theory . . . but in theory I'd never planned on drenching you in the first place."

"How about one of those Martha Stewart books on refreshments?"

I put the last of the silverware into the dishwasher and shut the door. "Okay, you've made your point. I'll go with you to pick something out for myself."

As it turned out, this took most of the day. Partially because when he came over, Julianne and Eve­lynn commandeered his attention and made him take them for a ride in his convertible. After that, Colton and I drove to the mall, but we went there to eat dinner at Ruby Tuesday.

Colton requested a table in Reese's mother's section. He didn't explain why, but I knew without asking it was so he could leave her a big tip.

After we sat down, she came to our table carrying a water pitcher and wearing the black shoes. She ran through the standard introduction, the specials, then kept snatching glances at me as she filled our glasses. Finally she said, "Did you come to the mall yesterday with a school group?"

Well, I guess it had been too much to hope that she wouldn't remember the tall girl in the tacky elf suit. "Yes," I said, "our NHS group passed out pres­ents."

She smiled above the water pitcher. "It was so kind of you." She hesitated then, as though she hadn't made up her mind whether to say more. At last she said, "How did you know I needed shoes? Why did you buy them for me when I'm not a child?"

I opened my mouth, but didn't know what to say. Colton, however, answered without hesitating. "Because your son asked for them for Christmas. We had all the children fill out a wish list, and he wrote that he wanted black shoes for his mother." She nodded, smiling, but not looking at us. The water pitcher trembled in her hands. "He has a good heart—and now I have good shoes. Thank you. My feet feel much better today."

I smiled back at her. "We were happy to do it for you."

She left then so we would have a few minutes to look over the menu. I watched her go, then leaned toward Colton. "See, aren't you glad we did that service project now?" "Yeah, I'm glad," he said, but the look he gave me made me wonder whether he was actually thinking of the service project.

I reached across the table and took hold of his hand, very carefully, so I didn't knock over my water glass in the process.

After dinner we walked around the mall, talking. I bought a Barbie doll convertible for Julianne, since she'd liked riding in Colton's. He suggested I get her an I'm-a-cool-wrestler Ken doll to go along with the car, but apparently through some oversight of Mattel's, those don't exist.

After some more walking, Colton decided I shouldn't see what he picked out for me after all. I had a good idea what it might be though, because before he left, he held up my wrist, sized it with his fingers, and then asked if I liked gold or silver better.

We agreed to meet back in front of Nordstrom in half an hour. I'd already bought presents for the rest of my family, and I really had no idea what to get Colton. That's the problem with shopping for rich people. They already have everything they need, and what they want is out of your price range.