Page 5 of Wait a HO HO HO Second!

A knock sounded at her door. Joy turned and stomped her foot. “Go away!” she yelled.

“Let me in, Joy,” Marci, her best friend and the assistant GM, said from outside the door.

Sighing, she opened the door to her best friend, who swept in with a box of CinnaPOP Poppers and two Blizzard Bliss cocoas from Center Court Coffee. As Joy closed the door, she couldn’t help but feel jealous of the way Marci moved. Smooth, flowing, and seductive. All Joy could do was stomp around like an angry gorilla. As she shut the door, she forced herself to take a few deep breaths. That wasn’t her talking. That was Kian Van Adler talking, and she had worked too hard over the years to make her voice louder than his to fall back into that habit now.

“I’m here to help!” Marci said, setting the supplies on her kitchen island.

“By feeding me copious amounts of sugar?” Joy asked as she walked over to her best friend, reminding herself not to stomp or clomp. Hell, what did it matter? She was who she was.

“If that’s what it takes!” Marci said, pulling Joy into a hug and rubbing her back vigorously. Then she released her and shoved a cup of cocoa into her hands.

“I’m not sure CinnaPOP Poppers and cocoa can make me forget that King Kian Van Adler is officially back up in my grill.”

Opening the popper container, Marci eyed her. “It was bound to happen, Joy. He does own the place.”

Joy mocked her best friend. “It was bound to happen, blah blah,” she said, her words dripping with sarcasm. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’ve been dealing with August for six months without a problem. That could have continued. Why do you think I’ve worked so hard to keep this place running like a well-oiled machine? Spoiler alert: it’s to keep King Van Adler away.”

“Guess that backfired on you,” she said, popping a cinnamon roll into her mouth.

The aroma melted away Joy’s anger. How could you be mad while holding a cup of decadent chocolate and facing down an entire container of mini cinnamon rolls? The answer is, you can’t. Licking her lips, she grabbed a popper and inspected it. “I appreciate how their poppers always have a generous yet even coat of glaze.” Once in her mouth, she moaned as the cinnamon and sugar popped on her tongue. Marcus Owens, the owner of CinnaPOP, told her that was why he’d named them CinnaPOP Poppers. They popped on the tongue in an explosion of flavor.

“These are every fat girl’s dream come true,” she said, dancing in place as she chewed.

“You’re not fat,” Marci said, almost as if it were expected.

“Try again,” Joy said. “I accept myself. I’m a badass, disabled fat girl, and I’m okay with that. You should be, too.”

It had taken her a long time to come to terms with the phrase ‘fat girl.’ She’d spent years on fad diets, starving herself, and hiding her body in ugly clothes. Only after she stopped letting King Van Adler's words rule her life did she begin to embrace who she was and who she wanted to be. She was fat, but she wanted to be fat and fashionable. She wanted to take up space in the world without apology. Ironically, it wasn’t until she started working for Lorelei that she found a way to do that. Funny that the woman who raised the boy who had bullied Joy all her life was the one to teach her to love herself.

Shaking off the nostalgia, she grabbed another popper. The first time she’d tried them, she’d imagined the bakers rolling tiny cinnamon rolls by hand for hours. Until Marcus ruined it for her by explaining that they used the end cuts of the big cinnamon rolls, chopped them, baked them, then set them under a bath of sweet glaze. Joy held plenty of secrets about this mall, and that was one of them. When people asked, Marcus called it a trade secret, so Joy never let on that she knew.

They walked to the couch and sat, the poppers between them and their drinks in hand. Soon, they were sated and happy again.

“Turns out, copious amounts of sugar does the trick,” Joy said, leaning back on the couch. She unzipped her shoes and released the hook-and-loop bands on her ankle-foot orthotics, pulling them free of the plastic. Her Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease caused the muscles in her lower legs to waste away as the peripheral sensory nerves were slowly damaged. She required the AFOs to walk but enjoyed taking them off whenever she could. It was always as freeing as taking your bra off at the end of a long day. “If only that would fix these legs,” she said, pulling them up onto the couch.

Over the last few years, the ‘upside-down champagne bottle’ look of her legs had increased significantly, as had her need for crutches to steady herself when walking. The disease was progressing, but she prayed it wouldn’t progress to her hands. She also prayed she could continue walking with crutches because living here would be impossible if she had to use a wheelchair. She planned to speak with her orthotist about newer AFO designs to see if anything could ease the issues she had with the thermoplastic ones she currently wore. Joy constantly needed them adjusted as her legs changed shape and her arches rose. She’d seen several new carbon-fiber designs that intrigued her. It was probably a pipe dream, but it was worth asking the next time she went in for an adjustment on her current braces.

“Did you ever consider being nice to Kian?” Marci asked.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Joy exclaimed, nearly spilling her hot chocolate all over her couch as it sloshed. Good thing there was a lid on it, or she’d be wearing Blizzard Bliss Cocoa all over herself and her furniture. That’s what the mere mention of Kian’s name did to her. “Why should I be the one to apologize when he’s the one who bullied me for my entire life?”

Marci held up her finger. “I didn’t say apologize. I said be nice to him. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” Joy asked. “Do you think it ever dawned on him to be nice to me? Doubtful.”

“Maybe not, but where you lead, he may follow.” Marci arched a brow, daring Joy to make the snarky remark on her tongue.

Rather than spewing more hatred toward King Kian, she shook her head. “If he insists we work together, that’s fine. I don’t have to like him to do so.”

“That’s true,” Marci agreed in that annoying way of hers. “But what if he’s changed? It’s been twelve years since high school. He’s matured. You’ve matured, too.”

Joy wanted to snort with laughter. Had she matured over the last twelve years? In some ways, yes. When it came to Kian, no. She would hold hatred for him for the rest of her life. That was how miserable he’d made her life growing up.

Everyone close to her thought it odd that she’d taken a job with Lorelei. Maybe it was, but desperation made you do things you otherwise wouldn’t. Besides, it had turned out to be the best decision she’d ever made.

“I’ll work with him, but I’m not going to let him hurt me again. I’m a big girl now, both literally and figuratively. I will keep the upper hand when it comes to Kian Van Adler.”

“The upper hand?” Marci asked. “You work for him. He owns this place.”