Havoc for the Holidays (Home for the Holidays)

18. Ezechiel

Chapter eighteen

Ezechiel

I t was finally showtime. We were absolutely not ready. There was nothing I could do about that fact, either. Ergo, I stopped stressing and resorted to the one thing that had gotten me into dancing in the first place—I decided to have fun. After all, everyone else was having fun. I figured I might as well have some too.

The venue was an absolute fever dream of holiday excess. After the townspeople overheard my stress about the success of the show, they came out in full force to be as helpful as possible in the form of donating decorations. The once austere interior of the reclaimed church was so overstuffed with decorations, I could only pray that the fire marshal wouldn't decide to attend tonight. Not counting the massive Christmas tree prop commanding center stage, there were six additional trees erected around the circumference of the audience space, each one so overburdened by ornaments, I swore I could hear the boughs groaning in protest.

In addition to the copious evergreens, there was a spider web of holiday lights suspended from the ceiling in an acid-trip inducing array of blinking colors. The veritable handfuls of tinsel added to the network of lights was mind boggling. I'd honestly never seen so much tinsel in one place. The fact that it kept slipping free to flutter to the ground was admittedly quite magical, even if the end result was that the entire cast now wore metallic embellishments in their hair.

The hair and makeup was another instance of why it was best I simply threw my hands up and enjoyed the night for what it was. When Ollie had volunteered his mother’s services, he neglected to inform me that the woman had no skill in either department. What she lacked in skills, she made up for with excess. Never had I ever encountered so many children with beehive hairstyles held in place by enough hairspray to make the tresses glossy. It proved an excellent adhesive for the accidental tinsel adornments.

As if that weren't avant-garde enough for the occasion, Ollie’s mother was apparently a fan of makeup from the eighties. Every time I turned around, another dancer appeared in heavy eyeshadow ranging from neon pink to electric blue with a strong presence of mandarin orange. The unnaturally heavy application of bright fuchsia blush was a choice . As was the glitter. I loved it too much to put into words. It wouldn't surprise me if someone assumed we were dancing a rendition of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

“Ezechiel, let me freshen up your contour.” Ollie's mother appeared with a makeup brush and a palette that contained zero contouring colors. I gleefully let her assault me with the rainbow.

“Thank you, Mrs. Branson.”

She flounced the tip of my nose with her brush as she gave me a warm smile. “None of that Mrs. nonsense. Mom or Megan.”

“Understood. Have you seen Olls?” I turned my face to make it easier for her to apply more unnecessary color to my skin.

“Hyperventilating in the restroom. It's what he does.” She winked and stepped back. “There! Perfect. No wonder Ollie’s so smitten. You're just about the most handsome man I ever did see.”

“I heard that.” A gruff voice drew our attention to the side as Ollie’s father appeared from the crowd of screaming children in tinsel and tulle.

“Oh, don't be sensitive.” Megan swatted at her husband with the brush before shifting closer to kiss his cheek. They were an adorable couple. I loved them the instant they walked into Ollie’s apartment unannounced two days earlier. His father Matthew was the source of Ollie and Becs’ fiery red hair, but the curls came from Megan. They took my presence on the family couch in stride and invited themselves to finish watching the Hallmark Christmas movie we'd been watching. Since that moment, I'd simply become an extension of their son, and the recipient of their smothering love as a result.

“You two go find your seats. I have to get this mob backstage before someone trips on a tree trimming.” I kissed Molly’s cheek and exchanged a bear hug with Matthew.

“Already happened. Doc set up a first aid station in the supply closet.” Matthew winked as he stepped back. “Break a leg, boy.”

I tilted my head and then laughed and shrugged it off. The entire night was chaos, so it didn't surprise me that there was a need for a first aid station. I was grateful for the town doctor’s forethought.

It took nearly fifteen minutes to get all the performers backstage, but I quickly gave up trying to get them to be quiet. I searched the crowd, but still no Ollie. A gentle hand landed on my lower back as my mother appeared with her telepathic ability to come when I needed her most. I was so glad her headache had subsided enough that she could attend tonight. Even as a fully grown adult, it always tickled me pink when my mom could see me perform.

“You have your fretful face on, Ez.”

“I haven't seen Ollie.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Feeling okay?”

“I am. And I was just with Ollie. The poor thing sweated and wept all his makeup off. I got him fixed up. No more fretful face. He’ll be here.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, side-eyeing the exit near the bathroom. “I feel bad.”

“He’ll be here, love. I promise you.” She scrunched her eyes and I caught a mischievous smile.

“What have you done?”

“Oh, you’ll see.” She patted my back and moved toward the students. “Break a leg, baby boy.”

Shaking my head, I watched with a smile as she moved through the crowd and exchanged hugs and kisses and quiet words with each and every one of her former students. It might be a small studio in a rural town, but I had big shoes to fill taking over for her. The more I thought about my future here with these dancers, the more excited I got.

The MC called the audience to order on the other side of the curtain and a hush fell over the crowd on both sides. The moment was upon us, and I asked for one last holiday miracle—hopefully the show would be a success. I took up my position in the wing to orchestrate stage directions and calls as the students all buzzed with excitement. I was so in the zone as the first act of the show began, I completely missed Ollie's arrival beside me. One look at his ensemble and makeup had me forgetting everything I needed to do.

His hair was corralled under a tall hat, and the addition of breeches for his comfort and modesty was not one I was mad about. His dick might not be on full display but his ass? Delicious in those tight pants. As much as I never wanted him in distress, it was good his emotional breakdown had ruined his mother's makeup application. My Ollie looked edible in a smoky eye, dark liner, and subtle contouring. Sorry, Mrs. Branson—my mom got the point for makeup skills tonight.

“Is it me yet?” Ollie leaned in and pecked my cheek. The act snapped me out of my open admiration and brought my attention back to the clipboard in my hand.

“In just a minute.” I looked back to the stage and cringed. Instead of our tirelessly practiced steps, the children were simply running amok with the stage props.

“Wish me luck.” He wiped his hands on his breeches and blew out a tense breath.

“You don't need it. You'll do perfect, my Olls.”

The notes of the music shifted and I gave my boyfriend a wink before directing the next group of dancers and him onto the stage.

He did not, in fact, perform perfectly. He was a gloriously hot mess amid pure bedlam. It was the best performance of the Nutcracker to ever see stage time. Ollie barely managed to keep up with the children who swarmed around him. His tottering movements and the fact that he was counting the steps out loud simply added to the charm as the dancers, young and old alike, tried to push and pull him where he needed to be.

My brief appearance on stage as the Mouse King was the only time he relaxed fully. It was hard to take the action-packed, tense scene seriously as we whacked at one another with fake swords, laughing the entire time. All around us, the children on the stage went feral with cheering and jeering until the audience was in absolute hysterics. Ollie landed our practiced choreography and his final victory blow with a wobble before I made my dramatic exit and returned to the more important task of trying to herd cats, also known as stage direction.

As the show progressed, the havoc increased. There were too many close calls with the tree on the stage and the tinsel hanging from the ceiling seemed to multiply by the minute. At one point, one of the toddlers ended up with Ollie’s fake sword and the entire candy cane dance went on in the foreground as Ollie chased the little boy to and fro before finally retrieving it. The audience continued to laugh as the next scene came and went. I worried they might start dropping like flies as everyone crowded the stage for the final waltz.

As I suspected might happen, the appearance of all the dancers needed for the waltz resulted in a freestyle routine that looked nothing like what we had practiced. Numerous adrenaline-fueled children and a stage full of tinsel was a recipe for a glorious disaster that almost resembled a dance. At least if you qualify moshing as dancing. Handfuls of the silvery strands began flying as the dancers promenaded at breakneck speeds around a baffled Ollie and the other older students. They didn't slow down until the music came to its conclusion. They only stopped once the lights dimmed.

I hurried everyone left in the wings toward the stage and for the first time all night, everyone hit their mark without issue. At least one thing went according to plan. I slid in beside Ollie and linked my pinky with his. The trembling in his hand was noticeably through the contact. As the lights returned, I stole a glance at his face and noticed how flush he was beneath the makeup.

With the lights returned the noise. Every one of my students bowed and curtsied to uproarious cheers and hoots from proud parents and teachers and friends. The entire town was in attendance and they were all on their feet in a standing ovation. My smile was too big for my face and my heart was too big for my chest. Of every standing ovation I'd received throughout my entire career, this was the one that meant the most. This havoc-filled disaster of a show was my greatest accomplishment, not because of its creativity or technical skill, but because of the pure, unadulterated joy it brought to me and every single person involved in it. I turned to find Ollie smiling at me with utter adoration and realized for the first time in my life, I'd found true happiness. I'd found where I was always meant to be. I'd found home.