Free On Strike for Christmas by Sheila Roberts Page B

performances.”
    â€œCostumes?” Rick squeaked.
    Laura just shrugged. “That’s the deal. I’m not doing any of it. My husband wants to experience firsthand everything I do every year.”
    Rick looked disgusted.
    â€œWell, I’m sorry he doesn’t have the tree up,” said Rosemary, “but this would actually make a pretty cool picture. Don’t you think, Rick?” She didn’t give Rick time to answer. Instead, she said to the woman, “How about we move that easy chair over by the boxes and put you in it, say, relaxing with a mug of coffee?”
    Laura grinned. “Works for me.”
    â€œRick, could you get the chair?” Rosemary commanded.
    He obliged, and in another couple of minutes Laura was curled up in it, posing with a mug and a magazine.
    â€œWould you be open to us following your family through the season?” Rosemary asked after they’d finished the interview.
    â€œYou mean like a reality show?” asked Laura.
    â€œYeah, only in print.”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œGreat,” said Rosemary. “I’ll talk to my editor and get back to you. We’ll want an exclusive, of course.” She’d have to remember to talk to Joy Robertson about that, too.
    â€œOkay.”
    Rosemary beamed. “People are going to love this.”
    The new star of her series grinned.
    â€œI’ll be in touch,” Rosemary promised as she and Rick walked out the door. “Good luck.”
    â€œThanks. I think my husband will need it.”
    Rosemary was practically chortling as she and Rick walked back to her car. “Let’s see,” she said, flipping through her notes, “I’ve got the woman who’s married to the Scrooge. Her main thing is no shopping. Then I’ve got Sharon Benedict.”
    â€œYulezilla,” Rick interjected.
    Rosemary ignored him. “And I’ve got Laura Fredericks and Joy Robertson. This is going to be awesome.”
    Rick shook his head. “This is all dumb, if you ask me.”
    â€œWell, no one asked you,” Rosemary said. Then she couldn’t resist adding, “But let’s pretend someone did. What’s your problem, anyway?”
    He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just dumb. These woman are making a big deal out of all this, threatening to do nothing, like the guys care.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    â€œGuys don’t.”
    â€œOf course they do,” Rosemary insisted.
    Rick shook his head. “Most don’t. At least not the way women do. Yeah, we’ll eat the cookies and stuff, but if it was up to guys we wouldn’t do all that other crap. I mean, how many men do you know who send out Christmas cards? And you won’t see a bunch of angels and Santas sitting around my place.”
    â€œDon’t tell me you don’t like getting presents.”
    Rick shook his head as if over the folly of it all. “Do you know how out of hand that gets? A guy buys the wrong thing for his woman and he’s in deep shit. He doesn’t get something big and cool enough for his mom, she looks all disappointed. He’s got to fight all those crowds on Christmas Eve—”
    â€œHe wouldn’t have to do that if he shopped before Christmas Eve.”
    The only answer Rick had for that was another shake of the head.
    â€œDon’t you like to give your friends presents?”
    â€œNo. I’d rather just take ’em to a ball game.”
    â€œYou are not normal,” Rosemary decided. He looked normal enough—average height, nice, buff body, cute smile, brown eyes. But beneath that normal guy facade lurked a real Scrooge.
    â€œI think I am,” Rick insisted. “Most guys don’t want hassle. Christmas with the chicks in charge usually means hassle. That’s all I’m saying. Most of these guys will be perfectly happy if the women don’t do