Chapter 9
“Hold still, I’ve almost got it.” Macy Cuomo parted her thirteen-year-old daughter’s hair down the center. As Gia sat at on a stool in front of the vanity in the downstairs bathroom of their two-story home, Macy stood behind her, working the comb through her hair. The door remained open to get rid of the heat from the curling irons, flat irons and hot combs all plugged into the wall.
“Jeez, Mom, why can’t you just send me to the hairdresser’s to get a blowout like Talia’s mom does for her?”
Talia’s mom, Jaime Jones, had an ex-husband who made child support payments on time. She also spent more time with a bottle of wine than she did with her own children. Those were some of the reasons why Macy wasn’t going to follow anything that Jaime did for her daughter. “Oh, but think of all the bonding time we get.” Macy offered a wide, sweet smile as she slid the flat iron down to the end of Gia’s long dark hair.
Finally Gia sat still. With her oldest quiet, Macy concentrated on fixing her hair. The music for the local Tallahassee morning news show filtered through the air. Macy’s eight-year-old son, MJ, had sprawled his little body out on the living room floor and was tossing his baseball up in the air.
“Oh, MJ, turn that up!” Gia yelled, craning her neck to peer into the living room.
“Hold still!” Macy said again.
“Mama, it’s Duke Rodriguez!”
Duke!
She needn’t be reminded who the man was. Every weekday morning for the past two weeks, the flat-screen television mounted on the wall had remained on the news station. The guest host of the local morning show, Duke Rodriguez, united the three of them for various reasons. MJ made up his part of the fan club because of Duke’s history as a professional baseball player. Gia, the budding media queen, followed the sports-figure-turned-news-anchor for his ability to merge politics with social events of the world in his broadcasts. As for Macy, she adored him for the main reasons every red-blooded woman did—the man was hot. Macy’s stomach fluttered with butterflies every time his deep voice entered the room. Not that she’d ever act on it. He was a celebrity, for God’s sake. Not to mention she had no time for a man in her life.
Duke’s baritone laugh emanated from the television in the living room and drifted down the hall. Macy leaned out of the doorway to get a better look at the dreamy man.
“Mario Junior, do not stand so close to the TV,” Macy yelled as she pulled the comb through the roots of Gia’s hair.
“Aw, Mom!” whined MJ as he stepped backward to the oversize brown leather couch, nearly tripping over his white tennis shoes on the way.
“Just do it. And put your shoes on!” Macy glanced at the cell phone in Gia’s hand. The minute Gia realized her mother was looking, she held the phone against her chest. Macy rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, not understanding how Gia could get so offended over her privacy when she posted every emotion, feeling and thought on Twitter.
“But Mama!” MJ petitioned loudly.
A lot of mothers could only envision what their children were going to be when they got older. Macy was positive MJ was going to be a lawyer. He loved to argue, and by the early age of four had always come up with good cases. But today he was going to lose. Macy was in no mood. She was already running behind schedule and should have been walking out of the house right about now. She had several errands to run before she had to get to the storage center and start pulling out her equipment.
“They’re just about to get to the Santa story. Remember, we saw him last week!”
“I want to see!” Gia said, scrambling from the chair the minute Macy set the flat iron on the edge of the sink. She clicked the button off and turned off all the other salon-style hair equipment, then followed Gia into the cluttered living room. Yet another thing Macy knew she was going to have to do at some point today before Mario came over to pick up the kids. Her ex-husband would surely tease her if he saw the mess, especially considering that had been one of her complaints about him during their divorce.
Macy leaned against the arm of the couch and pushed the long sleeves of her thin blue shirt up to her elbows. She crossed one leg over the other and realized she needed to put on her shoes, too. Quickly running upstairs to her bedroom, she grabbed a pair of braided flip-flops. Typically she didn’t wear flip-flops with jeans, but today she had so much to do that they were convenient. Besides, the late November weather was still warm and balmy. She made it back to the living room in time to hear her daughter sighing. What a way to start a chaotic Monday morning. One more half day of school, and the kids would be out for Thanksgiving break.
“Duke!” Gia gasped, all lovesick. Macy could have sworn her moody teenager even batted her eyelashes at the television screen.
“And I bet the local high school baseball coach is going to ask for his old job back.” Duke chuckled. As the family all gathered in the living room, the high definition of the television captured the cheeks of Duke’s cohost turning a bright shade of pink, as they had every day since he came to WKSS.
“Speaking of Santa, we’re expecting a sighting.” Juliette Walker twirled her hair around her finger and blinked flirtatiously at Duke. Obviously the young cohost was as smitten with Duke Rodriguez as Macy.
This morning, he wore a well-tailored black suit, crisp white Oxford shirt and a red tie. Without acknowledging Juliette’s attempt to flirt, Duke shuffled the papers together in front of him in his large hands; a megawatt smile tugged at his square jawline, involuntarily exposing his dimples. Even after being away from sports for ten years, Duke still maintained a fit frame—broad shoulders and a tapered waist. He kept his straight black hair short and close-cropped. Unlike the typical news anchor, Duke wore a well-trimmed goatee to frame his luscious, full lips. Macy cleared her throat to keep from swaying when Duke blinked his thick lashes.
“Already?” Duke asked.
“Yes, I hear he’ll be at the mall this Black Friday morning. Oh, I can recall the days of going to the mall and sitting on Santa’s lap. What about you, Duke?”
Duke shuffled his paperwork and nodded his head. “I tried to milk Santa for all that I could.”
“No way.” Juliette gawked.
“It’s true,” Duke said with a nod. “But it had to be the right Santa, you know what I mean?” he asked, but didn’t give Juliette a chance to reply. “I mean, that Santa I saw setting up down at the mall looks like a total fake. Did you see his beard?”
A sinking feeling washed over Macy at that very moment. She pushed herself off the wall. “Okay, kids, let’s finish getting ready...”
“Wait!” Gia exclaimed.
“...to this day, I’m almost tempted to sit on a Santa’s lap if he’s got a real beard.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Juliette said.
“Well, maybe not now. I mean, I tried to let every Santa I saw know what I wanted for Christmas until I was about thirteen. And
