12 Days of Christmas

“… near-death encounter on the set of River of Spies, halting production for months but still somehow making it a global box office hit for the fifth week in a row?”  

All eyes turned to Noel, like that scene with the gulls in Finding Nemo. They were hungry for details. He was glad he’d taken his manager's advice about memorizing this particular part, so he could look into the eyes of his audience and not the teleprompter. For dramatic effect. 

“That moment changed me, Dev. Not to be cliche, but it was like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, seeing my life flash before my eyes, and all I could think about when I did that stunt, was one, did you get the shot? Because I don’t think I can do another take.” 

The audience and host laughed. 

“And two, the people in my life. How I shouldn’t take them for granted and tell them as often as possible how much they mean to me. It kinda triggered something within me, Dev, to start being more honest about how I feel because you never know when it could be your last moment.” 

The audience “ooo’d and awww’d” and Dev, the host, pretended to dab away tears from his eye with a tissue. 

“What a sweetheart underneath all that bulky muscle. You had the world holding their breath while you recovered, especially your co-star Sorsha. I remember her being in your spot a few months ago just worried sick about you. She surely has to be on that list of people you want to confess your ‘true feelings’ for.” 

Dev placed an infliction on the end of his sentence, punctuating it as a question. But both men knew what part of the script was next. The segue to his dating life. The big reveal. 

“Sorsha was a huge factor in my recovery. We’ve grown closer because of it.” 

“Clearly,” Dev responds with an impish grin. “After that last candid shot of you guys leaving the West Hollywood Hotel together in what some are dubbing the “stroll of shame”, many people are expecting you guys to cozy up in her new beachfront property in Monaco for the holidays. With a five million dollar price tag, there has to be a fireplace big enough to roast some chestnuts.” 

Dev chuckled on cue and the audience followed shortly after, practically bursting at the seams at the pre-written joke. 

Noel smiled on his cue, flashing pearly white teeth, fluttering thick eyelashes, adding an extra shimmer to his eyes even though deep down the gesture felt like stretching a sore muscle, with great exertion. 

The photo Dev was referring to was staged. Leaving at just the right moment, looking the just right amount of disheveled to suggest a passionate night of love-making to the paparazzi hiding around the corner, wielding their cameras like swords. Another acting job to add to his repertoire at the behest of his manager. 

Noel’s pointer finger twitched ever so slightly against the cheap fabric of his chair but otherwise did not indicate how tired he was. How impatient he was getting. The hands on his watch seemed to be moving at an excruciatingly slow pace. For a moment, Noel thought his watch was broken when no more than five minutes had passed since the last time he checked it. 

The laughter finally died down and the host looked at Noel expectantly with wide blue eyes, waiting for his scripted response. 

It didn’t help that Dev looked exactly like one of those three feet antique dolls your grandma would give to you as a present and then you’d have to shove it in your closet so its never-blinking eyes couldn’t stare into your soul, or steal your soul, in Noel’s case. 

More seconds ticked by on his watch. Noel gulped, feeling the predatory stare of his manager from twenty miles away. She was no doubt watching Daily Dose of Dev, from her office, on her laptop, Chardonnay glass within easy reach. Waiting to see how Noel will respond. He could see her acrylic nails tapping on her desk, making sounds similar to his watch. Counting down the seconds. He could see the torture chamber gears spinning on overload in her head, plotting Noel’s downfall if this little stunt of his ruined her career as well. 

But that thought solidified Noel’s resolve. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have a reason to risk his fame and fortune. Wasn’t true love the ultimate reason? Very much in the spirit of Christmas, if you asked Noel. 

Dev gave his guest a tight smile, silently urging him to hurry the hell up. Hollywood ran on a tight schedule. His show was no exception. Secretly, Dev despised Noel. All the pretty boy nepo baby types in the entertainment industry. They’ve never had to put in effort for their success. Gifts, jobs, money, jewels, anything their little hearts desired, and anything their little brains could imagine were just handed to them.  As a result, they have no concept of other people's time, and no respect for the literal blood, sweat, and tears regular people, like Dev, have to put into their projects. Noel sitting across from him, not saying a word, taking his sweet time to think of an answer, as if Dev didn’t have a show to run, felt like a slap to the face. He clenched his jaw. 

“I don’t know what Sorsha is up to. After fully healing, we kinda went our separate ways. I’m visiting Hilliard to reconnect with a special someone.” Noel said. 

It was like time stopped for a moment, the whole studio went silent. Audience members quickly muttered to one another, getting the rumor mill up and running and full speed. 

A full-on girlfriend would ruin his curated image of the ‘sweet bad boy’, ‘the player with chivalry’, ‘the wild stallion that no woman could tame’ persona his manager decided on for him. She claimed it would feed into his fans’ parasocial relationship and therefore boost his sales. Everyone wants to think they have a chance with a celebrity. But ever the businesswoman, his manager concocted a scheme to “allude” to the world that they’re dating when she and Sorsha realized how they could benefit from one another’s success. 

Dev took a swig of water to hide his shock. Noel was going way off script but the drama made for good ratings and high views. Cheating scandals always make for eye-catching headlines. 

To admit publicly, on a highly rated talk show, that Noel Northe has been lying this whole time, to his manager, his business partner/fake girlfriend, to his fans, was career suicide. 

“A special someone that is not Sorsha?” Dev asked, barely able to hide his eager curiosity. 

Noel nodded. “We were never an official couple anyway.” 

A gasp from the audience. Dev’s eyes widened to an even bigger, rounder, shape, like two spotlights aimed at Noel’s face. 

“That’s not uncommon in the entertainment industry,” Dev began, trying to quiet the audience’s steadily increasing grumblings. “But I think I speak for all of us when I say it’s surprising to hear that someone has the heart of a self-proclaimed “bad boy” like yourself.” 

“Trust me, I’m still getting used to this too. But like I said, that moment changed something in me. I feel this sense of urgency now, a push to do more with my life than just acting.” 

“And that “push” is in Hilliard? As in Hilliard, Ohio?” 

Not exactly the lavish, luxurious vacation spot one would expect an A-List celebrity to visit. 

“Yeah, she is. I’m gonna ask her to marry me. I’m gonna settle down with her, start a family with her, experience all that life has to offer with her by my side.” 

“This all seems pretty sudden, stemming from your incident. How are you going to propose?” 

“I’m not sure yet, but my heart will tell me how to do it. When the right time will be.” 

Dev opened his mouth to ask another question but Noel interrupted. He didn’t like being interrogated. He could tell Dev was just trying to make him look clueless. 

True he didn’t have a real plan, but love doesn’t wait. There’s no right time for feelings. Noel was following his instincts and impulses. 

“I know it may come as a disappointment to my fans but this woman has had my heart for years. My new year resolution to be more honest and I’m gonna start by declaring my love for her.” 

Dev was about to try speaking again when a woman in the front row burst from her chair. She pointed at Noel and shouted, “You’ve been lying to us!” 

Another woman stood up and called him a phony. Then suddenly it was like floodgates opening as another one threw a bejeweled sign that read “MARRY ME!!” on stage. 

Heavy cardboard stock hit Noel in the knee. A torn and crinkled “Noel’s # 1 fan” in bright red lettering stared up at him. The ink smudged, leaving a blood-like trail all over the sign. 

More and more women began shouting and throwing down their signs. Some women held onto theirs like they were torches and pitchforks. Some got up from their seats and made their way to the stage on a rampage. The studio, Daily Dose of Dev, transformed into a madhouse. 

Dev’s voice couldn’t be heard over the yelling. He had no choice but to sit and watch the chaos unfold. He wasn’t as big as Noel Northe, his voice didn’t carry as much weight. His show had been reduced to a Jerry Springer/ Maury Povitch Frankenstein monster combination. No self-respecting star would want to interview with such a low-brow host. 

Noel’s security finally stepped in when someone grabbed his ankle, like an alligator latching onto their prey for a death roll. A few other burly men dressed in all black materialized out of thin air and escorted Noel out. 

Dev was left to brood in his chair without so much as a ‘goodbye’, ‘thank you’, or ‘sorry’. He crossed his arms, not caring that the cameras could see his anger, frustration, rage, embarrassment, his everything, and the whole world could see it now too. Dev didn’t care that he had an audience watching him watching Noel, never taking his eyes off him, burning a hole right through his stupid, bougie leather jacket. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The plane ride didn’t offer the quiet reprieve Noel was hoping for. He didn’t drink any water or eat on the talk show so his head was killing him. The LA sun added a migraine on top of it. 

All of the seats were bought so he was alone and it was quiet with no other passengers on board. However, the voice scolding him over speakerphone was louder than the plane engines themselves and seemed just as loud right next to his ear. Though he should’ve expected as much. Noel didn’t mean to say all of that all at once. It just kinda came out. 

“- I give you one job, Noel. One freaking job. Say. Your. Lines. You have lines for Christ's sake! What kind of actor doesn’t stick to the script!”

Gianna, his manager, wasn’t so much asking a question as she was attacking his intelligence and skills. She was good at that. 

“This episode already has over five million views and it’s only been up for thirty minutes. Congratulations on your new award of “shortest amount of time it takes to mess up”. Do you even know the strings I had to pull to get you that time slot on Daily Dose? How much money I’ll have to shell out on a decent PR team?”

Again, she wasn’t asking questions. Noel knew by now to not answer like she was. He stayed quiet and let her continue with the tirade. 

“Dev is pissed, Sorsha is pissed, I’m pissed! Please tell me this is some kind of brain trauma-induced mania. At least that way I can tell people something.”

Total silence, except for the plane taking off. 

“Good lord, you’re serious, aren’t you? About this woman in the middle of bum fuck nowhere?” 

“Hilliard, Ohio. And yes.” Noel finally responded. 

“Have you ever been there before?” 

“Not since I was a kid.” 

“So what? It's been like fifteen years? Is she still there?” 

“Certainly hope so.”

“Do you have her address?”

“Nope, but that’ll be easy enough to figure out.” His assistant wasn’t coming with him but how hard could it be to use Google? 

“Have you kept in touch?”

“Not exactly.” Noel got his assistant to stalk her Instagram a few times a month. She was a private person, only posting photos of animals and plants with cute little poetry snippets as captions. 

“What does she do?” 

“Probably works at her family restaurant.” 

“Do you know the name?” 

“No? but I remember it’s popular with the locals.” 

Gianna sighed, long, loud, and deep. “So you mean to tell me you threw all of us under the bus and acted like a spoiled brat for a woman you essentially know nothing about.” 

“I wouldn’t put it like that exactly-“ 

“How else would you put it?” 

“I’m already on the plane, Gianna, my mind’s made up.” 

More silence. 

It was rare for Noel to challenge Gianna like this. The incident did have a profound effect on Noel. He wasn’t reading off a script. These words were coming from his soul. 

The tension was so thick he couldn’t breathe. 

“I don’t have time for this conversation right now so I’m giving you twelve days.” She conceded after a few minutes of thinking. 

“Twelve days? What-“ 

“That’s my condition. Your next job, fingers crossed I can work my magic, is in twelve days. Go on this little ‘Eat Pray Love’ adventure. Get it out of your system. I’ll even wait to say I told you so until after you come crawling back to beg for my forgiveness, once you’ve realized this woman, this lifestyle you're romanticizing, is only gonna hold you back.” 

Noel didn’t need any more time to decide. “See you in twelve days.” He said, accepting Gianna’s terms.

Click. 

With the plane finally quiet, Noel reclined his seat and closed his eyes. Only six hours until touchdown. 

Rather than panic, he started planning. He took it as a challenge to prove Gianna wrong. Twelve days was more than plenty. He probably needed less. What woman wouldn’t want to be whisked away by a rich, handsome knight in shining armor? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Noel stared at the old, fading building before him and then back down at the Google Maps directions on his phone. Then wondered if he was at the right address. Wondered for just a millisecond if Gianna was right. 

No way. He shook his head to clear the mental fog. Just thinking it would manifest a negative outcome. The chipping red paint and dead flowers did nothing to stop a sinking feeling from forming in his gut. This couldn’t be the same award-winning restaurant from his memories. Granted those memories belong to fifteen-year-old Noel but this place had been etched into his brain from the moment he walked through the doors. The first time he saw her, she was behind the counter, working on homework. He drenched in rain and mud and tears, burst through the front door. She was smart, clearly, from the advanced chemistry textbooks stacked next to her, and it only took her a few seconds to figure out he was terrified of thunder, looking for a place to hide. She reached out to him then, like an angel, and for the first time, Noel believed in God. Only a divine being could make another. 

A gust of wind picked up, tossing leaves and dirt about and making the sign sway and creak ominously. It caught Noel’s attention as he pulled his jacket tighter around him. The memory faded, dragging him back to reality. The words Pitaya hung precariously as if it were clinging onto the building, desperate not to fall. 

Inside was not much better. Empty, quiet, and dusty above the door chimed to alert staff that a patron had entered, but no one moved a muscle to greet him when Noel stepped foot inside. It was as if he were a ghost. There used to be lines out the door from open to close. 

The staff were like statues. Cooks on their phones, a hostess taking a nap at a booth. 

One woman, a waitress he guessed from her apron and collection of pens shoved into the front pocket, paced back and forth like a zombie, with no real direction or purpose. She turned to make her back to the other side of the restaurant and Noel’s heart skipped a beat. It was her, he was sure of it. He couldn’t forget her eyes or the way her eyebrows furrowed when she was focused. He cleared his throat and it sounded like a bomb went off. Echoed in the empty space. Her eyes met his. She seemed shocked. That there was someone in the restaurant? Or because that someone was him? 

Noel lowered himself on one knee, not giving himself the chance to overthink. He reached for a small black box from a coat pocket and presented it to Sara. He cleared his throat, reciting one of the many speeches he’d prepared on the flight. 

“Sara Nguyen, you’re the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, my soul mate, the only one I’ve been thinking about all these years, will you marry me?”

Noel was so high on endorphins and adrenaline that he almost missed her response. It was immediate, like an arrow shot from its quiver. 

“Umm…I’m sorry, who are you?”