Ruthie skidded to a stop by my table saying, “Mike, she’s at it again. You gotta get her out of the bar. Everyone is about to start taking their clothes off. You know how I feel about that hippie shit.”

Ruthie is the bartender at the Hi-Brow, which is just down the block from the Denny’s where I keep my office hours. She’s not easily spooked and doesn’t usually need help no matter who walks into her bar…except for one person who only shows up in L.A. on Christmas Eve. I grabbed my coat and threw some bills on the table. 

“Jilly, I’ll be back later.” Jilly, pouring coffee for a customer, waved to me as we ran out the door and down Hollywood Boulevard to the dingy black bar with the neon sign of a martini glass tipping over onto the street.

Ruthie stopped at the door and looked at me. “I’m not going back in there, Mike. Not until you get her under control.”

I sighed and pushed through the heavy door into a bar full of mellow Grateful Dead mayhem. Everyone was in varying states of undress and hugging and kissing on each other. Some seriously dirty dancing was happening out on the dance floor.

I finally spotted her sitting in the booth in the back, watching the room with a delighted smile on her jolly face. I stalked through the crowd, pushing people away as they tried to pull me into their stoned euphoria, straight to her table. She looked up at me innocently. 

Loretta Claus is a handsome, plump woman of later years with beautifully styled snowy white hair, rosy cheeks, sparkling blue eyes and strangely modern glasses perched on her adorable little nose. Tonight, she was dressed in a stunning red suit with a plunging neckline and matching three-inch peep-toed heels. 

“Mike! How lovely to see you. Won’t you join me for a drink? We’re having such a lovely time here tonight.” She held out her hand to me as her eyes twinkled.

I tried to glare at her, but it’s hard to do when someone smells like baking cookies and candy canes. “Loretta, I told you the last time you did this that if I caught you doing it again I was gonna tell Kris.”

“Oh, pish posh! Kris is busy circling the world bringing joy to all the kiddies. If he’d come straight home when he was done, I wouldn’t be here. We both know he’s in Australia laying on a beach drinking beer. Am I supposed to stay in that frozen wasteland while he’s on a beach? Screw that!”

She threw back what was left of her drink and looked over at the bar, noticing it was missing Ruthie. She eyed me suspiciously. “Ruthie went and got you, didn’t she? Where is that girl? I swear this time I’m gonna put her on the Naughty List for sure.”

I leaned down, putting both hands on the table in front of her and got nose-to-nose with her. “Lo, if you want another drink, you better knock this crap off right now. This place stinks of cinnamon, butter and caramel pheromones. These people are all high on supernatural sugar, and you’re about to get 86’ed out of the last bar in L.A. that doesn’t slam the door when they see you walk up.”

She pouted and tried to make an excuse. Instead, I pushed in closer and softly said, “You know it’s worse if I have to do it for you, Loretta. Just turn it off.”

She snapped her fingers and suddenly the air in the bar cleared. No cookies. No candy canes. People slowly came back to their senses. Many rushed out of the bar although more simply carried on with what they were doing.

I stood up. “Now, if you behave, I’ll buy you a drink, and we can catch up the way old friends do.” She tried to be mad, but the promise of another Appletini won out.

Ruthie finally came back in. She headed straight to the register and began to prepare to close the place down. 

I headed over to her. “Hold on, Ruthie. It’s over now. I know it’s hard to have much sympathy for her, but she doesn’t have anywhere else to go tonight, and no one to be with. How about we cut her a little slack? You keep the bar open, and I’ll stick around until it’s time to send her home.”

Ruthie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Mike, you owe me for this, buddy.” She reached under the bar, pulled out a bottle of champagne, popped the cork and yelled, “Merry Christmas champagne for everyone on the house!”

Everyone cheered, and she poured two glasses, handing them to me. I turned and smiled at the plump lady standing next to me, beaming and fluttering her sparkling blue eyes my way.