Winter Dreams

by Shawn Keys

  Cara flashed her best smile. “Oh no, I got it. You gave it to me three times, and you spelled it the same every time. I also saw your credit card, and I know it was spelled the same as on that. Please, Miss, we really need to close.” Firmly, Cara nudged them onward. Taking great care that one of the kids didn’t get their finger stuck in the door, she pushed it closed and threw the lock.

  Then, she turned and sank with her back to the door, her light brown hair cushioning the back of her head as she bonked it lightly against the wood. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s finally over!”

  From the other side of ‘Santa’s Shack’ stationed in the Blue Marlin mall, Karin whooped, “December 24th, baby! Oh yeah! We made it without killing anyone, and it was a close call a couple of times!” She took off her elf hat long enough to flip her flame-red locks back and forth, shaking out the knots, then seated the green, floppy cap back in place.

  Tricia snapped the lid on their cash box closed. “I think we did even better than last year with the donation bin.” She gathered her own long, black hair into a tail, catching it up in an elastic scrunchy before tugging her elf hat back in place.

  ‘Santa’ pushed up from the throne-shaped chair at the focal point of the display, bending backward far enough to make his spine crack. He tugged his white beard down off his chin so it hung like a bib, the stripped off his shaggy white wig and the red hat along with it. Now looking much more like ‘Rusty’ than ‘Santa’, he tossed the hat like a basketball into a nearby bin. “Ho ho ho, I’m off to rot my brain with vodka.”

  Cara gestured at the Santa’s village set-up around them. “Not so fast, ‘Santa’. Remember what Patrick promised? To get our bonus, this has to be cleared up before the doors open tomorrow. All the kids have to believe ‘Santa’ delivered the presents and vanished back to the North Pole.”

  Rusty spread his arms in a grandiose way. “What do I look like to you?”

  Tricia paused and looked him up and down. He was minus his wig now, and the beard was out of place, but he was still porting his bright red suit and the pillowy addition to his belly underneath. She gave him a snarky answer, “Poorest imitation of a Santa I’ve ever seen.”

  Rusty held up a finger, as if marking the point she had scored. “Ahh, but a Santa nonetheless! Boss of the North Pole. El numero uno. Head honcho. Anointed by the great Angel Patrick himself to look after this place.” He gestured at the girls. “And what do you look like?”

  Cara glanced down at her own attire, which was identical to the other two girls. Modern ideals of appropriate dress in a work-place and countering the sexualization of women hadn’t quite changed the status of elf costumes yet. All three of them were dressed in little more than green corsets topped by fuzzy white wreathes that did very little to block their cleavage being pushed out the top. The fuzzy white fur also wrapped around their waists like a belt. That separated the corsets from the green hot-pants which were the only thing protecting their modesty below. Chocolate-hued hosiery emerged from under the tight-fitting shorts, wrapping their legs right down to the sharp-toed green boots with two-inch heels that extended halfway up their calves.

  The ever-cheerful Karin didn’t seem bothered by the outfit in the least. She struck a pose. “Why, the sexiest… elves… ever!”

  Rusty turned his upswept finger to point at her directly. “Ahh, precisely! What a fine way to put it!” He bowed his head. “Granting the sexiness. But elves all the same! Which means, my elven peons, I will leave you with the privilege of carrying on with all this tear-down. Let’s embrace the spirit of Santa’s workshop up north. The elves slave away while he gets all the glory. Let’s not mess with the formula.” He sauntered toward the opposite door leading to the back of the shack.

  Cara objected, “You can’t just leave us here to do all this! We’ll be here till midnight!”

  Rusty called back, “Probably even later if you sit on that cute butt of yours the whole time.”

  Tricia said snarkily, “Didn’t know Santa was both a dictator and prone to sexual harassment.”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “What a magical world we live in, right? Tell you what, bring out the elf-equality signs next year, and we’ll see what happens. Until then? Santa is going to get waaaassstted!” He nudged the door open with his butt, not caring in the least that he was half out of Santa gear already. He let the door slam closed behind him and headed for the mall staff room.

  Karin sighed. “He’s probably half-drunk already. I swore I saw him sneaking sips from a flask.”

  Cara nodded. “Remember last year? We had to prop him up with pillows on either side to keep him from falling off the chair on the 24th. He’s good most of the time, but he loses it near the end. This is the last time we’re doing this, ladies. I mean, I love seeing the kids all happy, but this is sooooo not worth it.”

  Tricia grunted as she put a little muscle into twisting one of the huge candy cane markers off its base. She started to turn it around the screw-post at its core. “Come on, let’s get working. He’s right. If we stand around gabbing, it will be dawn before we’re done.”

  Karin tried to sound cheerful, “At least we’re hanging out with each other. I mean, that’s what we were going to do anyway, right?”

  With a touch of waspish humor, Tricia said, “Thanks, Karin. Reminding us of our total lack of a social life helps a lot.”

  Cara got a dreamy look on her face. “Tonight could have been a great one for finding some party and just staring at the guys and wondering ‘what if’.” She shook her head. “I am getting sick of all this short-term work, crap. A lot of girls our age have careers. Time off. Time to go drag sexy men into bed!”

  Karin grinned. “Or find ones willing to drag us into bed and do unspeakable things to us!”

  Cara flashed her a naughty smile. “Exactly! If we had thought twice about how long it would be before our little online shop would generate a real profit, maybe we would have held off a while.”

  Tricia shook her head firmly. “No! We’ve talked ourselves around this same tree a dozen times. We got it going and put our lives on hold. We take these stupid jobs along the way to keep us alive. Then, by next Christmas, we’ll be hosting our own Christmas party! Funded by everyone’s love of Hummingbird guitars, Inc.!” She mimed an air guitar.

  Cara chuckled. “Sure.” She found it hard to muster enthusiasm, though they really had had some decent sales. The profit graphs were sweeping upward, their manufacturing process was holding steady, and the website was functioning well despite a few initial glitches. There was a real chance they could make it.

  As long as we can keep paying the bills, she thought.

  To that end, she looked at the Christmas shack around them. The mall management were sticklers, and Patrick could be the worst of them. She didn’t think they could withhold their paychecks if they didn’t get the decorations down. But there was a nice ‘bonus’ attached to the check. That was definitely going to vanish if they didn’t fulfill the contract in every way.

  With a sigh, she peeled herself off the ground and grabbed a step-stool from behind a fake tree. Setting it in place, she ascended to the top and reached for the first string of Christmas lights. “Alright. Let’s get this over with. Screw Rusty.”

  Karin shivered. “Not on your life. I don’t care how long my dry-spell has been!”

  Laughing at the play on words proved just how tired they were. Together, they got on with tearing down the interior, making Christmas vanish before their very eyes.

  * * *

  The shack was almost bare. The women only had a single Christmas tree left to pack up. It was huge. Hundreds of bulbs. Dozens of strings of light. It was the centerpiece to the whole display, and they were delaying the huge effort to strip it down until the end.

  Cara was up on her step-stool again, leaning out over a fence to unhook the last of the dangling star decorations from the ceiling. Karin was steadying her, while Tricia was on the far side waiting to catch the sta
r once it was off its hook before it could crush on the ground.

  The door to the shack snapped open.

  The surprise was startling. No-one should have been there so late at night. Cara wobbled and nearly went for a spill. Karin tried to steady her, but ended up only being able to break her all. Tricia needed to dive to catch the star which was sent off in a totally unexpected direction. Her nimble hands caught it and saved the price of the glass sculpture from coming out of their salaries by a fraction of an inch. Despite their best efforts, Cara stumbled off the ladder. They spilled together onto the ground, but managed to do so without more than a couple bruises.

  Through the door burst the familiar yet frazzled mall owner and supervisor, Patrick Tully. His normally frizzy hair was even more wild, escaping from the hipster ponytail he usually maintained. Patrick gawked at the three elf-dressed girls flopped onto the ground. “What are you doing here?” He looked frozen, shocked at having found them.

  Cara groaned. “Umm, sorry to scare you, Sir. We were just…” Her eyes focused on Patrick a little better. “Ahhh, what… I mean, what are you doing here?”

  Patrick realized where her eyes had gone. He was holding a gasoline can in one hand and a large bag of supplies in the other, which included flammable putty, matches, and a few other things that were not easy to explain. He hurriedly set those down to one side, then blustered into the room. “You stayed to clean up?”

  Tricia snapped at him, suspicion infecting her voice as well. “Of course, we stayed! What did you think we were going to do? Why are you here?” She pointed at the gas can.

  Ignoring her, Patrick yelled, “That’s why I extended the Christmas Eve hours! Who in their right-minds would stay after the doors closed at 6? Who would stay this late on Christmas Eve to take down decorations?” He was honestly furious that the girls were there, regret building because of what this meant.

  Karin blurted, “We had to stay! We needed the bonus!”

  “Don’t you all have lives?”

  Cara was getting annoyed. “No! Alright? Thanks for reminding us! We only have this tree left and you can kick us out.” She gestured at the gas can by his side. “Why are you here, anyway? Can’t the night security guard refill the generator or whatever you’re doing? Or are you saving money by doing it all yourself?” She wouldn’t put it past him. Patrick was not only a stickler for the rules; he would also probably kill his mother to save $10.

  Her annoyed tone broke through Patrick’s manic distress. He scowled. “I wanted these lights all up! It was the perfect place to…” He growled, cutting himself off. “Never mind! It’s… too late.” He reached down into the bin filled with strings of Christmas lights the girls had just finished pulling down. He hauled out a huge bundle of the things, then tossed the looped cords onto the ground. “Untangle those!”

  Tricia gawked back at him. “You can’t be serious! Someone will do it next year!”

  “No!” Wrestling with his conscience once more, Patrick finally decided he was going through with his plan. He tugged a gun out of his pocket. A real gun! A revolver that looked twenty years old or more, but a gun nonetheless!

  Cara gasped. She pulled back, about to run.

  Patrick saw her twitch. “Don’t move! You shouldn’t have been here! I need this to happen!” He looked frantic, totally out of his mind. Desperation didn’t begin to describe it. “This needs to happen. It… it doesn’t matter what it costs. You’re not going to ruin it. I can’t let you!”

  Karin squeaked out, “You’re robbing the place? We didn’t make that much!”

  Patrick didn’t confirm her guess. He merely gestured with the pistol toward the cord of lights. “Untangle them! You’re going to tie each other up so you can’t get in my way!”

  Tricia objected, “To Hell with tha –”

  Patrick advanced half a step, raising the pistol higher. That shut her up. He challenged her, “I like you girls. I really do. Three years in a row, you’ve been here and gave this whole thing a touch of friendliness. The kids love it. But that isn’t going to stop me from doing what I need to! Shut up and do what I say!”

  Scowling fiercely at him, the ladies traded looks. They all wanted a way out of this, but Cara had nothing. Maybe they could rush him, but one of them was going to die if they tried it. Unless the guy chickened out, he could easily get off a bunch of shots before the women crowded him. And they did yoga together! They weren’t fighters. They kicked ass in business, not in a sparring ring!

  Firing poisonous looks at Patrick the whole way, the girls unraveled the strings of lights as quickly as they could. The tangle wasn’t too bad. They had just stowed them, after all, and had taken a little care while doing it. Soon, there were enough on the ground to practically redecorate the whole shack.

  “Her first.” Patrick gestured at Tricia, who as always was the most volatile of the trio.

  Clenching her teeth, Tricia sank against the fence surrounding the Santa chair. Cara wove a line of Christmas lights around her ankles, then through the fence slats and around her wrists. By the end, Tricia was fixed in place, her legs together, knees pulled up against her green-corset chest.

  Next came Karin. She looked miserable enough, her normally cheerful disposition vanished under the weight of the threat.

  At last, Cara was forced to tie her own ankles before Patrick stepped through the fence gate and bound her up against the fence slats as well. He checked all their restraints, making sure they were trapped in place side by side.

  Cara tugged to get free, and found no give at all. She wasn’t blind to the sexy image they struck. The three of them had had a few adventures in the past. But while this scene ignited a few of those memories, fear and uncertainty banished the sexy parallels just as quickly.

  Walking back around to the front, Patrick grabbed hold of some of the linen handkerchiefs provided in case of random kid explosions or messes. He walked back over and wrapped one through Karin’s mouth, gagging her.

  Tricia complained, “Is this really necessar – arrruummm…” She was forced to trail off as Patrick wedged one of them into her mouth with a little extra force.

  The mall owner sniffed disdainfully. “In your case, doubly sure!” He tugged it a little tighter than it had to be.

  Cara pleaded, “Please, you don’t need to do this. We’ll be quiet. We won’t say a thing until you’re long gone! But don’t gag me! I need to be able to call for help once you leave. Otherwise we’ll be here until the 26th!”

  Patrick’s face fell, shifting back from annoyance into regret again. “Sorry to say, no, you won’t be.” He then stuffed the white linen into Cara’s mouth. “And I’m not doing this so you won’t talk. I’m doing this so you can’t scream. Sorry ladies, but you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. This isn’t a question of stealing pocket change. This is a question of millions. This is a question of life or death!”

  He pulled back, admiring the handiwork of the girls in their elf costumes stacked up in a tight line, pressed side to side and trapped. In a sudden burst of humor, he went over and plugged in the end of the light chain holding them. The Christmas lights glowed into life, making their bound situation morbidly cheerful. He laughed darkly.

  Shaking his head, Patrick shuffled back to his supplies.

  All three of the ladies cried out at him, muffled by their gags.

  Patrick rolled his eyes. “Not sure that’s any better than you yapping at me! Be quiet!” He leveled the pistol at them again.

  They all quieted quickly. Cara thought, He wouldn’t! He tied us up. He doesn’t want to. But… but… maybe I’m wrong?

  Patrick nodded. Having muffled their screams, he looked a little less frazzled. More resolved. “Better. But I guess it doesn’t matter. No way you’re going to stay quiet through this.” He grabbed the gas can.

  His pistol ceased to matter. The girls started to scream again. Cara jerked against her bindings. No no no no no! He… he can’t mean he’s going to… oh no!

/>   Though he hadn’t wanted an audience, Patrick had one now. He was a brand-new evil villain, nervous despite his plan. He talked even if he didn’t have to, laying down his evil plan like he was right out of a bad movie. “This isn’t gas, you know. The fire marshals can tell if it was gas. They look for it. They call them ‘accelerants’. I looked it up online. Then I looked up one that burns completely away. Practically odorless, especially when you put it behind all the electrical that is going to burn, too! These stupid Christmas shacks. They are fire traps! Fake trees with these plastic needles. Loops of shoddy electrical. Fragile wood buildings. Do you know how many of these burn down every year?”

  The only answer he had was the girls increasing their struggles.

  Patrick gave them a tragic shake of his head. “You three are going to make it all the more real. Stayed after-hours to clean up this mess, and made a huge, huge mess. Horrible accident! All your fault. But a mistake. Tragic. Don’t worry. The insurance will pay out for your deaths. Your families might even be set for life.”

  Cara was screaming behind the handkerchief. Even she could see the weakness in his plan. They were tied up with Christmas lighting! Maybe the cheap stuff would melt, but the metal would probably stay coiled around them even after death. The insurance companies would see that the girls were tied up. This idiot won’t get a single dime out of them! They’ll figure it out. And we’re going to die for nothing! Can’t he see that?

  He started to splash around whatever was in the gas can, coating everything liberally. Apparently, he couldn’t see it. He went about putting smears of the putty into the electrical sockets and stuffing pieces of gauzy paper that were sure to burn between the boughs of the tree. He was layering kindling over everything.

  By the time he was done, he was a little out of breath. Excited by the danger. Excited by the idea he was finally free of the rules and about to become a real villain… and then get paid! He looked like he was in his glory, ready to prove that he had outsmarted everyone, picturing himself already standing in the office the next day, pretending to be aghast at what happened.