Frosting Her Christmas Cookies - Alina Jacobs Page 0,32
I peered at the girl. “You’re not Morticia.”
“I am her twin, and I will be here to take candid thirst shots. The photo shoot she did of you is doing awesome, by the way.” Lilith showed me the post.
“That’s graphic,” I said, reading the comments.
“There are a number of women who wrote that they got off to the video of Morticia running her nails all over your face,” Lilith stated.
There was only one woman I wanted to get off all over my face though.
Morticia’s twin and her friend—and for some reason, her cat—all busied themselves with prepping for their social media image creations while I answered emails on my phone and waited for The Great Christmas Bake-Off to start.
I wondered what Morticia would wear. The bake-off was holiday party themed. Everyone was supposed to dress in a Christmas costume.
“Here’s your outfit,” Belle said, handing me a garment bag.
“I’m not wearing a costume,” I said, looking up from my phone.
My older sister didn’t say a word.
I sighed loudly. “Are you serious? I’m in a suit! I’m dressed up as a CEO.”
“It’s not a Halloween party,” my older sister said, rolling her eyes. “You’re supposed to dress up in a nice outfit.”
“Oh,” I said, taking the bag and unzipping it. It contained a blue velvet tuxedo jacket with black pants and a black silk bow tie. “This is not my usual style.”
Belle made a threatening noise.
“But I guess I can wear this,” I said grudgingly.
“You better,” she warned.
When I walked into the bake-off studio, all the other bachelorettes were also dressed up, most of them in fifties-style dresses with lots of petticoats and pearls. Except for Morticia.
I burst out laughing, the cameras catching me doubling over. “What are you wearing?”
17
Morticia
The producers had said that we were supposed to dress up for this next bake-off challenge. That meant a costume. I hadn’t been to a Christmas party before, preferring to wait out the season from the comforts of my bedroom surrounded by candles, tea, and baked goods. However, I did love an occasion to dress up.
Clearly, if this was a Christmas costume party, I was going as Krampus, the half goat, half demon that followed Saint Nicholas around Europe, punishing the bad children.
“What are you doing?” Emma exclaimed when she saw me.
“I’m late,” I said, hurrying past her, the chains of the costume clanging as I jogged. The fur goat suit was already making me sweat. Fortunately, I had forgone a mask and instead had meticulously applied my makeup then attached the horns on a headband.
“Forget being late,” Emma said. “You’re going to scare everyone! This is Christmas not Halloween.”
“Oof,” I said when I opened the door to the studio to take my place at my station and saw all the other girls’ outfits. “I think I may have misread what this bake-off challenge was supposed to be about. Took it too far…”
All the production staff were muffling their laughter as I walked in. A part of me felt the icy hand of embarrassment. It was just like high school.
“What are you wearing?” Jonathan burst out then doubled over laughing.
Anastasia, a smile playing around her face, remarked, “And what are you supposed to be?”
“A freak!” Keeley spat. She was wearing one of those retro dresses from the fifties with a corset, petticoats, and heels.
I drew myself up to my full height, which was an extra foot with the horns. “I am Krampus,” I announced theatrically.
“While this is supposed to be a dress-up-for-the-holidays challenge, I suppose Krampus isn’t totally out of place for Christmas,” Anastasia said. “Of course, before we start the challenge, one of you is going home.”
The bachelorettes all held hands and hugged each other, their sparkly makeup glittering. I rattled my chains and try to ignore the bit of metal that was poking into my lower back.
Across the soundstage, Jonathan was struggling to keep it together. He caught my eye and mouthed, You look hot.
After Anastasia announced that the girl who had made Christmas Jell-O shots yesterday was leaving, Jonathan headed in my direction. He looked—not hot. I refused to think of him as hot, but I did appreciate the creativity he had put into the outfit he was wearing. Yeah. That.
The velvet tux was like a second skin on him. The blue brought out the color of his eyes, making them bright as starlight.
“I can’t tell,” Jonathan said, taking me by the hand and spinning me around, “if you really want to be here