Polterheist(29)

Miles said, "To return to the point-"

"There was a point to this?" I asked.

"To return to the point," Miles said, "I need you to go take over Ivy's post, Dreidel. Eggnog will have to manage alone here." He asked the elf, "Can you handle it, Eggnog?"

"I have a master's degree from Princeton," Eggnog said with disdain.

"Thank God," said Jeff. "That'll really come in handy when the parents riot because they want a white Santa."

Miles said, "Don't say ‘God' on the-"

"No one's going to riot, Jeff," I said soothingly. "They'll just make complaints that all begin with the phrase, ‘I'm not a bigot, but . . .' and then say something bigoted about you."

Jeff asked Miles, "Can I make a complaint about having a Jewish elf?"

Accommodating for once, Miles said, "I'll move Dreidel to another department immediately."

"Good," said Jeff. "We need some more time apart. Four years wasn't enough."

"Dreidel, with Ivy gone, I need you to go work the west entrance on the main floor," Miles said to me. "Starting right now."

"Oh, no . . ." My heart sank. The west entrance was the coldest spot in the whole store.

Miles ignored my protest. "You've worked there before, so you know what to do, right? Greet people as they arrive, point them toward Solsticeland, and promote Karaoke Bear."

"Must I?"

"You must."

I sighed in defeat and resigned myself to singing through chattering teeth as I did karaoke duets with an animated stuffed bear that was dressed like Lady Gaga crossed with a gangsta. Strategically placed at the store's busiest (and-did I mention?-coldest) entrance, this elaborate and expensive product was one of Fenster's featured Christmas items for the privileged children of the oligarchs. Many youngsters who saw Karaoke Bear on their way to Solsticeland expressed a fervent desire, when visiting Santa, to find the musical mammal under their Christmas tree-or within the tree's general vicinity, Karaoke Bear and his sound system being too big to fit under anything.

"Well?" Miles prodded. "Is there a problem, Dreidel?"

"No. I'll do it," I said in resignation. But I decided I'd go to my locker first and get my coat. Fenster's wasn't paying me enough to freeze to death. If I got too cold down there, I'd put it on and dare Miles to fire me when he was so short-handed.

I turned to go off and work my new post, but I paused when it occurred to me that Max and Lucky would need to know where I was. So I said to Jeff, "If, um, anyone asks for me . . ."

"Who'd ask for you?" he said crankily. "It's not as if anyone we know is going to come here."

"At Christmas, everyone comes to Fenster's," Miles reminded him.

I stared hard at Jeff, trying to get him to wise up. "I mean, if the new elves want my help . . ."

"What new elves?" Miles asked alertly. "We don't have any new elves."

"You didn't get the memo?" I glanced at him briefly, then returned to trying to mind-meld with Jeff. "A couple of, um, emergency elves have come on board for the final days of the season."

"Really?" Miles frowned. "I should have been informed! I'm the senior manager of this floor."

"Emergency elves?" Diversity Santa's eyes widened when he finally got it. "Oh! The new elves."

"Oh, right," said Eggnog. "Sugarplum and, um . . . Snickerdoodle?"

"Belsnickel."

"What sort of elf name is that?" Miles asked.

"A very traditional one." I added, "They have a pretty convincing reindeer with them, too."

Jeff snorted. "Convincing? I thought she looked like . . . Um. Never mind." He'd caught my warning expression. "Okay, if they turn up, I'll tell them where you've gone."

Satisfied, I left the throne room and went to the ladies' locker room to get my coat. I put it on but didn't bother to button it, and I headed toward the escalators. I went via the Kwanzaa exhibit and Solstice Castle, deliberately avoiding the Enchanted Forest. (Once strangled, twice shy.)

As I passed the castle, my nostrils stung a little. I noticed a wisp of smoke curling out of one of the castle windows. Princess Crystal was having a forbidden cigarette in the tower.

I reached the escalator and spent the next few minutes riding down to the ground floor. Once I got there, I started making my way through the vast cosmetics department. I use makeup a lot in my profession, as well as having a reasonable supply of it for my daily life, but I always felt overwhelmed by the range and quantity of cosmetic products on display at Fenster's, as well as bewildered by their descriptions.

Did any woman-even one who worked as a psychedelic circus clown-need a compact with thirty shades of eye shadow? When had a "revolutionary four-stage process" replaced a tube of mascara for enhancing eyelashes? Was I the only woman here who thought that the lipstick colors "burgundy," "cabernet," and "merlot" all looked identical? Would spending half a week's pay on a three-ounce bottle of moisturizer really "transform" my face-and if so, what would it be transformed into?

"Hi!" a maniacally grinning salesgirl said to me. "Want to try Compulsion, the scent he won't be able to resist?"

"No, thanks, I'm-Agh!" I staggered backward, coughing hard after she sprayed the cologne directly into my mouth.

"Oh, my God! Sorry, sorry!" she cried. "Are you okay?"

My eyes watered as I kept coughing.

"Oh, no! Help! Medic! Medic!"

Did we have medics at Fenster's?

I waved my hand at the wide-eyed girl, trying to get her to calm down. "I'm . . ." Cough, cough. ". . . okay."

A plump, middle-aged woman elbowed her way through the dense crowd of shoppers and demanded, "What's the problem? What's going on here?"

She had applied her makeup with a trowel, and she was so heavily drenched in a rival cologne that one whiff made me start coughing again. I didn't recognize her, but I could tell from her nametag and her manner that she was the girl's supervisor. I wondered whether Fenster's specifically trained its managers to be officious or if that quality was just a standard prerequisite for the job.

"I think I've harmed this figure skater!" the salesgirl confessed.

"I'm an elf," I corrected, dabbing at my watering eyes. "Good guess, though. And at least you didn't mistake me for a hooker."

The scent-drenched manager flinched. "You can't say that word on the floor." She'd obviously realized that my pointy ears signified I was a Solsticeland character.

I said to the girl, "You might want to exercise a little restraint with your spritzer."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I have a quota. I'm supposed to spritz fifty people at every post before I can move on to my next location."

While she spoke, my still-misty gaze beheld a couple of tall, buxom, blonde elves looming behind her, their red-and-green outfits considerably skimpier than my blue one. Their faces bore a familiar combination of vacuity and malice, and I felt a little shiver run through me.

Or maybe that was just from the chilly breeze whipping down this aisle from the nearby north entrance. I pulled my coat more tightly around my body.

In any case, while the girl gestured with her bottle and explained that she still had to spritz nineteen more people before she could move on, Naughty-or maybe it was Nice-gave her a deliberate shove. Foreseeing the inevitable result, I jumped back to avoid being spritzed in the face again when the girl's hand reflexively squeezed the bottle as she stumbled. The floor manager, who had not recognized the imminent danger, shrieked when the girl squirted cologne into her eyes, and clapped a hand over her face. Naughty and Nice giggled and started to slip away, using the dense crowd for cover.

"That does it!" I said.

Sniping comments, snickering, and sly looks were one thing, but now they were assaulting people. Enough was enough!

While the horrified cologne girl was trying to help her startled, shrieking boss, I tried to get around the two of them to grab those half-naked holiday hags. I didn't really know what I would do once I got my hands on them, but banging their empty blonde heads together until their skulls cracked might not be a bad place to start.

"Come back here!" I shouted as Naughty shoved her way through the crowded aisle.

She looked over her shoulder at me and laughed.

Nice got separated from her, her way blocked by a couple of heavyset women in fur coats carrying a voluminous burden of shopping bags. She turned back in this direction, looking for another escape route.

In my eagerness to shake Nice until her nasty little head flew off, I tried to move the manager out of my way. I was too excited to be gentle, and she shrieked anew, with her hands still covering her eyes, as she stumbled into a customer.

The customer caught her, staggering a little under the sudden impact, then said to me in outraged tones, "What are you doing?" I realized she thought the manager was covering her face and shrieking because I was brutalizing her.

"Help!" cried the guilt-stricken salesgirl. "We need help!"

Nice giggled as she dashed behind the manager and the customer. I lunged for her.

"Stop it!" said the customer. "What is the matter with you?" She was an older woman, a little smaller than me, and tidily elegant in a forest-green winter coat.