Page 37 of Merry & Bright
“Here you are, Santa,” she said, handing it to him. It was an oddly shaped parcel wrapped in garish reindeer paper and topped with a large pink gift rosette.
“Now, let me see,” Santa Mike improvised, searching for the tag. “This looks like a nice present for a lady, I think. Oh yes, it’s for Trish!” He strode over to Trish and handed her the present, demanding a kiss in exchange.
Everyone watched as Trish opened it. Light-up reindeer horns and an ice-cube tray that made penis-shaped ice cubes tumbled out. Trish laughed, and everyone cheered. Penny took the reindeer horns and tucked the headband into Trish’s frizzy hair. There was a pregnant pause, then the lights came on and everyone cheered again.
The next present went to Rod—a nasal-hair trimmer in the shape of a giant finger. Then Elaine got a home pole-dancing kit, and Eric got a neon-pink mankini thong which he pulled on over his jeans and polo shirt. Each time a gift was opened, there was general hilarity and loud calls for demonstrations.
Sam realised, with gnawing horror, that he’d totally misread the brief. He dreaded his own offering coming out. When it finally did—and was handed to Paul the Cashier—there was an embarrassed silence.
“Oh, that’s nice!” Monica said at last, in the sort of deliberately jolly tone people use when they’re trying to cheer someone up. “Everyone likes fizz, don’t they?”
Paul looked crushed.
Penny hissed, “Who bought that? What a crap present!” while Sam flushed and wished himself anywhere but there.
The whole excruciating process went on and on and on. Plainly everyone had been looking forward to the Secret Santa part of the evening, and they were determined to milk it to death.
Eventually, however, everyone had their presents—everyone except Sam.
“Oh no, Santa!” Monica chirped in mock horror. “There’s one young fellow who doesn’t have a present yet. Young Sam over there.”
“Ho, ho, ho. I’m sure we must have something for him, Monica! Have another fumble in my sack.”
Everyone shrieked with laughter and Monica dug deep, burrowing right down to the bottom. When she pulled her arm out, she held a big square parcel wrapped in blue paper covered with fat dancing polar bears. Mike delivered the gift, subjecting Sam to a manly handshake-n-hug before he was finally allowed to sit down again. By then, the rest of the table was baying to find out what his gift was.
Sam tore the paper off and pulled it out.
A... mirror?
The gold frame bore a plaque with the legend “Mr. Perfect” printed on it in sweeping cursive script. A tub of his favourite hair wax was taped to the glass.
“Mr Perfect!” Penny squealed beside him. “Oh my God, that’ssoyou, Sammy! You and your hair gel!” She started cackling, and the rest of the table joined in.
Sam had to resist a sudden urge to lift his hand and smooth his hair into a tamer style. Somehow he managed to muster up a laugh and make a joke about “already having one of these,” but he felt sick and depressed as the quips began to pile up about his devotion to his appearance. The collage shirt came in for a lot of good-natured abuse, and then Dave had a go about his Armani shoulder bag. Sam did his best to laugh along, but really, did everyone at M&H think he was some shallow wanker? It certainly felt like it right now. They all seemed to be enjoying ripping him to shreds, and all he could do was sit there and take it.
Trish shouted down the table, “Did you buy Sam’s pressie, Nick? I bet you did! You always buy the best Secret Santa presents!” Sam glanced down the table at Nick then, and it was obvious itwashim who’d bought it. He looked mortified when he met Sam’s gaze, and Sam quickly looked away again, swallowing hard.
Penny grabbed the tub of hair wax and opened it up. “Who’s for a new ’do?” she shouted. She took a great dollop of the stuff and started rubbing it between her hands. “Come on, Sammy. I’ll show you how it’s really done.”
The table erupted in laughter again, and several voices egged her on. Sam had no choice but to take it on the chin, and anyway, it was silly to mind someone giving him a funny hairstyle when Eric was prancing around in a pink thong, and Trish was wearing reindeer horns.
Just as he was squaring his shoulders and nailing a smile on his face, a voice called down from the other end of the table. “Sam’s hair’s already caked in that stuff. Come over here if you want a challenge, Harbottle. There’s no hair wax in the world that can tame this!”
Nick.
“Y’reckon, pretty boy?” Penny laughed. She turned on her spiky heel and headed for him, rubbing her hands together in glee, while Sam stared after her, frowning.
***
AFTER LA SCALA, A FEWpeople headed home, but most everyone else was up for dancing at The Cellar, the local nightclub.
Sam decided to slip off quietly when no one was looking, but Mike, of all people, still in his Santa attire, accosted Sam outside the restaurant and insisted he come along. Then he walked with Sam the whole way there, preventing him from escaping.
The M&H crowd was a rowdy group, but since the bouncers at The Cellar knew Penny, they were let straight in ahead of the small disgruntled queue already waiting.
The Cellar looked like it hadn’t been done up in years, maybe decades. Black seating with neon-pink lighting screamed 1980s. A mirrored wall that made the place look twice its actual size was a trap for the unwary. Paul the Cashier walked straight into it, making Penny laugh so hard she looked in danger of wetting herself.
The clientele ranged from teenagers to the middle-aged, and the music reflected that. As they headed for the bar and a Katy Perry song ended, a tide of young girls swept off the floor and vintage Madonna began. A few of the M&H crowd rushed to replace them, eager to start vogueing. Nick was one of them, his soft dark hair now caked in hair wax and teased into a style that, while absurd, looked oddly good on him as he threw pose after camp pose.