“Forget it, I’ll go,” Tony said, approaching the scene, George no doubt sculking off for a quick cigarette break.
The kid being dragged away from Santa’s workshop by his dad looked unhappy, even angry. The dad on the other hand—big brown eyes, brown hair, trim body…Woof!
* * * *
Adam and Garth had barely taken a couple of steps before Garth came face to upper chest with a wall of blue uniform.
Garth looked up and gulped. “They didn’t have to call you. We’re leaving.”
“I wasn’t called,” Mr. Mountain of Muscle rumbled. “I was just passing when I saw the, uh, commotion.”
“He,” Adam turned around and shot Santa a death glare, “said my daddy was a de…degeneration.”
“A what?” The security guard squatted until he was eye-level with Adam.
“I asked Santa to send a new boyfriend for daddy ’cause Uncle Jerry was mean and nasty and—”
“Adam!” Garth warned softly and closed his eyes. This wasn’t happening.
“And Santa said some mean things, so I kicked him in the nuts.”