Baby Nubbins, and make out with him full on the mouth. It was fun to torture Nubbins in front of one another. But it was even better when there was a crowd of people standing outside the adoption center. It took real comedic timing. You’d change Nubbins’s diaper on the diaper-changing table, then you’d carefully lift him, and gently place him on your shoulder and burp him ever so slightly. At just the right moment, you’d drop the baby.
It worked every time. Everyone watching knew it wasn’t real, but when the baby hit the floor, they still jumped and gasped. And the best part was that they did it in sync, so it looked like a minor earthquake had just occurred.
I had to be cautious when I pulled stunts like this. I could not under any circumstances get caught or I’d lose my job. A job that, in spite of its ridiculousness, I really appreciated. I was paying rent, I was technically an actress, and my parents were off my back.
FAO also provided me with a whole new group of friends. I met a lot of other people my age, other actors. Jeff was one of them, the only coworker of mine that I’ve ever kissed. Jeff was average cute—tall, thin, borderline gangly. He’s the kind of guy you’d expect to play video games in online groups, and occasionally smoke pot. His job at FAO Schwarz was to play a toy soldier. He stood outside the store in a red-and-black uniform with shiny gold buttons. He wore a tall black felt hat, and there were red circles drawn on his cheeks. I noticed him on my first day at work and decided that since Christmas was approaching, Jeff would be my Nutcracker fantasy.
I’m not certain how our flirtation began. Actually, that’s not true. It’s just a little embarrassing, and not something I’d want my parents to know. During one of our breaks we played the game “I Never” in the employee lounge. It’s originally a drinking game but, since we were at work, we played a modified version. If someone said something they’d never done and you’d done it, instead of taking a shot, you just held up a finger. When you had all ten fingers up— Oh, my gosh . . . you were out! Okay, so not as exciting as the drinking game, but still fun. I was actually the one who suggested this version. We’d played it this way at church once. Let me tell you, it was a thrilling game, people were offering things like: I’ve never been to Wisconsin, I’ve never tried Dr Pepper, I’ve never thought about getting bangs.
The FAO Schwarz employee version was much more racy.
“I’ve never been arrested,” one of the shorter elves from Connecticut volunteered. Santa and a guy who did LEGO demos both held up a finger.
“I’ve never been caught having sex in public,” Princess Pretty offered. A nurse, one of the piano dancers, and a security guard all put fingers up. By this point in the game most people had five or six fingers in the air—my hands were still in my pockets.
And then it was my turn. I had a good one, too, one I was sure would get everyone. “I’ve never been to second base,” I said enthusiastically. (Regular-people second base, not the Mormon version—I’ve totally held hands before.)
“What?” One of the elves gave me a quizzical look. “In baseball?”
“No,” I said. “You know, second base.” I gestured toward my boobs.
The room burst into laughter. “No one has ever touched your boobs?” Jeff asked. “How is that even possible?”
“How old are you?” Santa interrupted.
“Twenty-one,” I said.
“But she’s Mormon,” Karla, a nurse I’d become better friends with, blurted out.
“Mormons can’t have their boobs touched?” Jeff asked.
“We’re not supposed to.”
“Why?”
“It can lead to other things.”
“Like what?” Jeff challenged.
“I don’t know . . . ,” I said. “You’re not supposed to be aroused .”
Apparently using the word aroused was a faux pas. The group started laughing hysterically, and it was, “Oh, does this arouse