Temptation on Ocean Drive - Jennifer Probst Page 0,8
the intro. “Gabe, are you ready?” she whispered into her earpiece.
He blew out a hard breath. “Yeah.”
She signaled to the DJ, and the music began to blare. “Go on three.”
Palms damp, heart beating, she waited as the DJ introduced Santa Claus. Gabe strode in with a red bag thrown over his shoulder, waving to the kids as he made his way to the dance floor. Clapping ensued, but Bella noticed most of the older children looked a bit bored, as if Santa at a wedding was lame, and they just wanted the whole episode to be over.
The rap song began, and Gabe dropped his bag. The strains of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” hit the speakers, and Gabe began to sing. He had a good voice, deep and strong, but as the lyrics continued, he just swayed back and forth, nodding his head now and then with no rhythm.
Bella glanced around. The crowd was obviously unimpressed. Eloise was frowning, waiting for the big dance number she’d counted on, and her husband muttered something in her ear.
And then it got worse.
Gabe began to clap, trying to get the audience more involved, but everyone just looked at him with a bit of awkwardness as the classic rap song blasted around them, contradicting the lameness of his performance. Eloise glanced around, her gaze finally latching on to Bella’s, and she put up her hands in question, basically asking what the hell was happening.
Oh, this was bad.
Please, Gabe, she prayed silently. Please do something to save this before it’s too late.
As if he’d heard her mental plea, suddenly, he exploded into a bunch of bizarre dance moves that made no sense. She watched in horror as the graceful, smooth man she knew morphed into a combination of old-school John Travolta with shades of Miley Cyrus twerking. His red velvet suit flashed, and his shiny black boots pounded the floor in a bad Saturday Night Live sketch parody. He moved his hands like a giant wave, snapping his fingers, and suddenly began to salsa, shaking his shoulders and hips like a sick bird trying to die in peace.
Dear God, he was right. He couldn’t dance at all.
A drunk Paul would have been better than this.
She craved to close her eyes and make it stop, but she forced herself to keep watching. How was she going to salvage the rest of the reception? What excuses could she make? Would Eloise blacklist Sunshine Bridal, write bad reviews, and tell everyone she knew that her wedding had been ruined by a crazed, dancing Santa?
As the final quarter of the song mercifully began, she noticed a strange thing. The kids who’d looked bored were clapping and calling out encouraging words. A blur of phone lights blinked furiously as people took photos. Eloise looked delighted, laughing hysterically with her husband, as pockets of onlookers pointed and sang with Gabe.
They thought it was a joke. And they loved it.
Gabe spun on his heel for the climax and, with a hearty whoop, slid across the stage on his knees.
The crowd roared.
He took his bow, blowing kisses and throwing out some Ho ho hos, then smoothly transitioned into pulling out presents from his bag and calling out names. He distributed the gifts to the now-enthusiastic audience and finally made his exit.
Her knees almost buckled in relief.
Eloise raced over to her, beaming. “That was amazing!” she squealed. “How did you know changing the number up would be so successful?”
“I’m glad you trusted us to know when we feel something will work better,” she lied smoothly. “With the age of your crowd, Gabe and I decided to go vintage and comedic. I’m so happy you enjoyed it.”
Eloise shook her head. “You two are a dream team. Instead of hiring a Santa, he took it on himself to make sure it was done right. Thank you, Bella. Everything tonight has been just . . . perfect.”
Bella’s heart squeezed, and she said a quick prayer of gratitude that this disaster had flipped to a good outcome. “You and your husband deserve perfect.”
She watched Eloise flit back onto the dance floor. Gabe’s voice purred in her earpiece, like a high-performance sports car sparking to life. “Getting Paul home now. Back in fifteen.”
“Got it.”
The rest of the evening went smoothly, and after the cake cutting and custom dessert bar, the happy couple began their official last dance. By the time all the guests had left, her body ached and she wondered if she’d ever have enough energy to coordinate another