Free Lone Star Santa by Heather MacAllister Page A

it.
    These were some kind of women, he thought duringthe second movie. Tricky women. Bad news women you were drawn to, desperately wanting to rescue them so they’d be able to be with you. Women being blackmailed. Women who betrayed. Women who loved unwisely.
    He enjoyed sitting in the dark, watching the light and shadows play across the faces of the actors as their characters made really poor life choices. Mitch didn’t know why all this doom and gloom appealed to him, only that it did.
    His parents arrived home midway through the third video.
    “Mitch?” They appeared in the doorway.
    “Are you alone?” his mother asked.
    “Yeah, why?”
    “Because of The Electric Santa truck blocking the drive way,” Robert reminded him.
    It was the first time he’d driven the truck home since he’d started working there. “Oh, sorry. I’ll move it.” Mitch paused the movie, stood and dug in his pocket for the key.
    His father was staring at the red hoodie Mitch had left on the sofa and his mother had bent to pick up the empty popcorn bags. She straightened, compressing the bags. Both his parents gazed at him silently.
    “Hey, I was going to pick those up.”
    “Really?” Patsy nudged the empty two-liter Coke bottle with her toe.
    Mitch picked up the bottle. “Um, yeah. After the movie.”
    They glanced at the frozen image on the screen. Or maybe they were looking at the DVD player he’d set on the floor and the VCR that he’d propped precariously on the shelf above the TV, a shelf that had previouslyheld a silver-framed wedding photo of his sister flanked by an engraved silver tray given to his father when he was salesman of the year and an engraved silver bowl presented to his mother by the City of Sugar Land. Everything was on the floor now.
    “The video rental place didn’t have copies of the movies I wanted on DVD.”
    “Okay,” said his mother without expression.
    Mitch could tell she was holding back.
    “And the truck?” asked his father.
    “Oh, yeah. I’m working for The Electric Santa again.”
    There was silence. Mitch figured that was probably for the best, but if he thought about this situation from his parents’ point of view—and he didn’t really want to—he would want an explanation. Only Mitch knew they wouldn’t like the real explanation and he certainly didn’t want them to worry. “These movies are a nice contrast,” he said to fill the silence. “You know flashing lights, bright colors and Christmas frenzy during the day, bleak people with doomed lives in black-and-white at night.”
    His parents looked at each other and seemed to communicate in that mysterious parental way. “We’ve had a lot of Christmas frenzy today, ourselves,” his mother said.
    His dad reached down and shook the bag Mitch had left on the coffee table. “Got any more popcorn?”
    “Yeah. I bought two three-packs.”
    “Lite, or with butter?” Robert asked.
    “Butter.”
    Mitch’s dad inhaled and closed his eyes. “Real butter or movie butter?”
    “It said real butter on the package.”
    “Robert,” Mitch’s mother warned.

    “Patsy?” he pleaded.
    “I give up.” She shook her head and laughed. “You two go shuffle the cars and I’ll pop the popcorn. Then we’ll watch the end of the movie together.”
    “Works for me.” Could it be that Mitch had escaped an inquisition?
    “Yes! Real buttered popcorn!” His father pumped a fist as they walked toward the driveway.
    “Dad.” Mitch grinned.
    “Oh, you don’t know what it’s been like. No salt, no bacon, no butter, no carbs—except she’s kind of over that—but no sugar and no egg yolks. I put my foot down about the herbal tea. She’s gonna kill me with all this healthful eating.”
    Mitch still grinned, even though he was aware that his father was filling the silence to keep from questioning him. He touched his father’s arm when they got to The Electric Santa truck. “Thanks.” He figured his dad would understand.
    Without