by Chiah Wilder
Opening the back door, he nodded to the employees on break and slipped into the dressing room. Several minutes later, he came out and took his seat on the golden throne, adjusting the long white beard hanging from his face. Children cheered and adults looked relieved when a petite elf unhooked the velour-covered rope and let the first group of children through.
When he’d seen the ad for a Santa position at the mall, he thought the irony of him playing Santa was too good to pass up, so he applied. The notion was quite ingenious, and he patted himself on the back when he actually landed the damn job. His wife couldn’t believe he even wanted to do it knowing how much he detested the season, but he enjoyed whispering into the young children’s ears that he knew they’d been really naughty all year, and he couldn’t promise he’d stop by on Christmas Eve. The misanthrope made sure he didn’t say it to every kid, just to a smattering of children. The real bonus was getting names from the sign-up list for coupons and free goodies, or from the credit card receipts. Later, when he returned home, he’d input the names and search if they owned any property in the county. If they did, he’d drive by, and nine times out of ten, their houses proved to be garish and had at least one inflatable something in the yard. He’d then add the names to his list. If he regretted anything, it was that there wasn’t enough time to destroy all the homes he’d written down.
An hour into his shift, a cute blonde girl came over to him and he settled her on his lap. She waved at the crowd and he watched as a pretty blonde woman waved back. For a moment, he was taken with her beauty, and then he frowned when he saw a tall man in a leather jacket put his arm around her and kiss her quickly. The angry Santa hated men who wore leather jackets and the women who swooned over them. He bet if he approached the pretty woman, she’d never give him the time of day. She’s probably some cheapie.
“Hi, Santa,” the girl said, bringing him back to the task at hand.
“Have you been a good girl?”
The girl nodded. “Mommy and Daddy say I have.”
“Are those your parents? Your dad in the leather jacket?”
“Yeah. He rides a big motorcycle and belongs to a club. He took me around the block once, but Mommy got real mad and he can’t do that until I grow bigger.”
So, he’s one of those assholes who parade around town thinking they own it. The Insurgents. His wife’s definitely a slut.
“What’s your name?”
“Paisley, but Mommy calls me Paisey.”
“What do you want for Christmas?”
“LuvaBella, the genie dream place, the kitchen with food and pots and pans, and that’s it.”
“Do you think you’ve been a good enough girl to get all that?”
Paisley nodded. “Mommy and Daddy told me I am.”
“But they’re not with you all the time, are they. Do you really think you’ve been good all year?”
The little girl hung her head down and shook it. “Can I get LuvaBella?” she whispered.
“I’ll have to see. Do you know where you live?”
She jerked her head up. “You’re supposed to. You’re Santa Claus.”
He laughed dryly. “Answering like that isn’t nice, and it makes me not want to visit your home.”
Her big blue eyes glistened and he smiled inwardly. “Sorry,” she said through the fingers over her mouth. “My house is thirty-seven something Meadows Street.”
He patted her knee. “That’s very good. Don’t tell your mommy or daddy, because I’m bringing you something real special and I want it to be a surprise for you and them. Okay?”
She bobbed her head up and down, her pigtails bouncing around her head.
He glanced over at the photographer, who pointed at her watch. He cleared his throat. “Now, smile big for the camera, Paisley.” Helping her down, he leaned in close. “Remember our secret. I’m bringing you a very big surprise.”
“I won’t say anything.” She jumped down and ran over to the man in the leather jacket. The pretty woman hugged Paisley, then grasped her hand. The man clutched her other one and they walked toward the booth to retrieve their photographs. The back of the man’s jacket read “Insurgents MC.”
Curling his lip, he had a sour taste in his mouth. He had every intention of paying a visit to Paisley’s home. It would be his biggest challenge to date. I’ll have to watch the house and see what their pattern is. The last thing he wanted was to run into the biker. If Paisley and her mother happened to be there, that would make it all the more exciting.
The Crazed Grinch couldn’t wait to return home and start planning his next break-ins.
Chapter Eight
Cara
Cara waved at Evan Christiansen when she entered the Brighter Lives building. Evan was the vice president of marketing and development with Brighter Lives charitable organization. Cara had been volunteering with the charity for the past five years. The Insurgents worked in conjunction with the organization for their annual Toys for Tots fundraiser. Some of the board members weren’t too keen on Brighter Lives being associated with an outlaw biker group, but the amount of money they raised and the smiles on the children’s faces at the event made them turn a blind eye to the club’s sketchy lifestyle.
“Is everyone waiting for me?” Cara asked, unwrapping the scarf around her neck.
“Yes. Here, let me take that,” Evan said, picking up the tray of sweet rolls she’d put on the receptionist’s desk.
They rode up the elevator together, chatting about the upcoming fundraiser. Cara had worked with three vice presidents in the past five years, and Evan had been with Brighter Lives longer than the last two. She loved that the charity’s sole purpose was to make children’s lives better in any way they could. She was active with the food drives, back-to-school barbecues, and the many clothes drives they hosted throughout the year.
“Here she is,” Addie said as Cara entered the conference room. Gathered around the large oval table were Belle, Addie, Clotille, and Kylie. Baylee had called Cara the day before saying she had to go to Aspen for a project, and she’d mentioned she was still feeling pretty lousy.
Doris, Marlena, and Bernie should’ve been at the meeting since all the old ladies were involved in the Insurgents’ fundraiser, but they rarely got involved, especially with helping out. All they really did was show up at the event and drink a lot of beer. Cara had noticed they did that at the bike rallies as well. It seemed that the minute Cara became an old lady, they turned over a lot of the work to her, and once Belle and Banger married, they dropped out entirely. Belle told Cara she didn’t care because she couldn’t stand the way the women gossiped and acted like they were her friend. The truth was the three women resented Belle and Cara because they were in charge since Banger was president and Hawk was vice president. It seemed so silly to Cara, but it was the way they were.
“Where’s Cherri?” Kylie asked as she stood up.
Belle took the platter of sweet rolls from Evan and placed them on a long table against the wall. “She had to help out at Paisley’s school today,” she said over her shoulder.
Scattered around the table were small red and white poinsettia plants. Trays of croissants, sliced fruit, and mini bagels along with tubs of cream cheese, apple butter, and various jams spread across the table. Kylie picked up a plate and speared a slice of cantaloupe.
“So sweet,” she murmured as she popped a bite into her mouth.
“I’ll have to try a slice,” Cara said, picking up a plate.
“Kimber wanted to come, but Hawk told her she had to watch the shop because he had some club stuff to do.” Kylie nabbed a blueberry sweet roll.
“Those are my favorites too. I love blueberry. And what can I say? Hawk does what Hawk wants,” Cara replied.
“It’s the same with all these guys,” Clotille added.
“But we love them that way, don’t we?” Addie placed a couple of bagels on her dish. “Did you make the apple butter, Belle?”
“I did. And you don’t k
now the meaning of stubborn, rough, and independent until you’ve married a president of the club.” Belle shook her head. “Sometimes I want to kill him, but then he does something so sweet and gentle and I turn into putty.”
“I don’t think you have to be a biker to be stubborn as all heck. You need to meet my husband,” Torey said, pouring a glass of orange juice. “Mitch’s head is made out of steel. He won’t budge at all.”
The women laughed, and Evan cleared his throat as if to remind the women that a man was in the room.
Torey Sinton was the Director of Children and Teen Services and had been working with Brighter Lives for the past ten years. She and Cara had gone to the same high school, and even though they hadn’t been best friends, they stayed in contact through their social connections. Cara had dragged Hawk to Torey’s wedding two years before. Her husband, Mitch, came off as a grumpy cynic, and from Torey’s comment, it seemed like he wasn’t improving with age. Each time Cara saw him at the social events he’d attend, he usually had a frown on his face and rarely spoke to anyone.
“Hello, ladies,” a cheerful voice boomed.
Putting her plate down on the conference table, Cara looked up and smiled widely at Joseph Ross. At forty-seven years old, Joseph was CEO and President of Brighter Lives. He’d taken over the position when Dianna Wheaton, who’d been with the organization for over two decades, retired. He was a hands-on CEO and not only attended the fundraising events but put in hours at Brandon House, the residential program for homeless and runaway teens. Cara admired his dedication in helping minors have safe and better lives.
After Joseph called the meeting to order, Lindi Dixon, Vice President of Program Operations, confirmed that the community center would be decorated by the city for the charity event that was coming up in a couple of Saturdays. As they discussed the logistics of passing out the toys, setting up the tables, and where Santa would sit, among other things, Cara felt the flutter of excitement she normally did when all the hard work she and her committee had done was finally going to come to fruition.
She noticed how tired Lindi looked. She was only thirty-five years old but looked fifteen years older. I’m being so catty. But it was the truth. Lindi worked more than full time, had three little ones at home, and a husband who worked insane hours for a realtor. Dale was always at work, even at night. Cara couldn’t help but wonder how many buyers really wanted to see homes in the late evening. He always seemed distant, rarely offering any gestures of intimacy with Lindi when she’d see them at functions together.
Maybe he’s having an affair. She mentally chastised herself. Stop being this way. Focus on the meeting.
“Who’s going to play Santa this year?” Cara asked, looking at Evan and Joseph.
Joseph shook his head. “I’ve done it for the past several years. I’d like a break. What about Dale doing it?”
“I’m not even sure he can be at the fundraiser,” Lindi replied.
“I can ask Mitch, but he’s so down on the holidays, I don’t think he’ll want to.”
“Who doesn’t love the holidays?” Addie said.
“My husband just isn’t into them. I absolutely love this time of year, and I wanted to go all out, but he wouldn’t have it. I had to fight to get a tree up.”
“That may be a good thing, considering what’s happening with that wacko who’s breaking into people’s homes,” Lindi said.
“What does the paper call him?” Joseph asked.
“The Crazed Grinch,” Cara and Evan said in unison.
Joseph’s brow knitted together. “I can’t believe we have someone like that in our town.”
“We have a lot of nasty stuff going on in our town,” Kylie said. “Jerry insisted we totally deck out our house this year. I think the macho in him wants the guy to come after our house so he can catch him.” She giggled.
“I never thought about the crazy person who’s roaming the streets looking for houses to hit. I guess I shouldn’t be too upset with Mitch.” Torey leaned back in the chair.
“A lot of people hate all the commercialism that’s defined the holiday. I read in the Denver Post that there’s a backlash against commercialism this year,” Cara said.
“Simpler is better,” Evan said, the others nodding in agreement.
“But the kids love all the lights and decorations. If I had it my way, it’d be a small tree. It’s so much work to put everything up, especially when I’m doing it alone,” Lindi remarked.
“I just wanted a little bit more pizzazz since I’m hosting the Christmas party for the volunteers this year. Remember, the party’s on the 22nd,” Torey said as she rose from her chair.
Lindi, Evan, and Joseph also stood up.
“Ladies, if you want to stay and chat, the conference room is yours for the next hour, and then we have a financial meeting,” Evan said before leaving the room.
The women said their goodbyes to the staff, then went back to the table for a second round of goodies. As Clotille walked around, refreshing everyone’s coffee, she said, “I’ve been offered a job in Human Resources with Brighter Lives. I applied for it never thinking I’d get it. Now I don’t know what to do. I want the job, but I know Rock will flip out. He thinks a mother should be home with the kids. I think it stems back from when he was a child and his mother had to work all the time because his dad blew all his earnings on drink and women. Rock hated seeing his mother so overworked, and he missed her in the home.”
“Just because he has those ideas from his childhood doesn’t mean they’re yours,” Addie replied.
“That’s true. I have to admit that I’d love to see what it’s like to work. I never really earned my own money, and I feel like I need something more than just taking care of the house and the kids. James is in preschool now, Andrew’s in high school, and Rock’s busy with the club. I need something too.”
“I’ll tell you, if you can afford to stay home, do it just until Andrew’s out of high school. I think teenagers need their mom around if it’s possible. All my problems with Emily started in high school, and I was too damn busy trying to earn a living to be around when she needed guidance and a firm hand. I didn’t have a choice, but if I had, I would’ve stayed home until she graduated. Now with Ethan approaching high school, I’m glad I can be around for him.”
Clotille rubbed the back of her neck. “We are having some problems with Andrew. It just started this school year when he went into his sophomore year. The school has called a couple of times saying he’s skipped classes, and Rock’s also caught him sneaking out the window at night.”
“That’s tough,” Cara said as she threw her paper plate into the trash can. “I see a lot of teenagers getting into trouble. It’s not always because the mother works, but sometimes having less free time or someone around to make sure the teen is home helps. Of course, teens can do things behind their parents’ back too.”
“I sure did, and my parents didn’t have a clue,” Addie said.
“I feel very torn on this. I guess I just have to think about it and talk with Rock. Are any of you free to come on Friday night for jambalaya and cornbread? I’m going to call Cherri, Baylee, and Kimber and see if they can come too.”
“Count us in,” Addie said.
“I’m sure we can, but let me check with Hawk.” Cara took out her lipstick and reapplied it. Glancing at the time, she gathered her coat and scarf. “I have to get going. I’ll call you,” she said to Clotille as she slipped on her coat and then walked out of the room.
Cara had cut her law practice down to part time when Braxton was born. She’d thought she’d go back to full time once he went to full-day school, but then Isa came, and Hawk was planning on at least three more. She chuckled as she remembered how happy he was when she’d told him she was pregnant again. She’d be good with one, maybe two more, but three? I don’t think so.
Spotting a parking space in front of the office building, she sped over to secure it, ignoring the honking horns. Before going in, sh
e took out her phone and called her mom to make sure Isa was doing all right. Her mom would pick Braxton up at school later, and then Cara would swing by her parents’ and take both kids home.
When she opened the door to her office, she saw a medium-sized man folded in one of the leather chairs. Straggly hair fell over his face, and light brown eyes stared at her through the strands. She went over to Asher and asked him in a low voice, “Do I have an appointment I forgot about?”
“No,” he whispered back. “This dude came in about a half hour ago insisting on seeing you. He said his name was Garret. I told him you don’t take walk-ins, but he was adamant that he had to talk to you. And he’s been sitting there the whole time watching me. It’s pretty creepy. Do you want me to throw him out?”
Shaking her head, she whirled around and went over to the man. She extended her hand and he clutched it, his palms cold and wet. As inconspicuously as she could muster, she pulled away from him, wishing she could find a discreet way to wipe her hand off. “What can I do for you?”
“I need to talk to you in private.” His eyes were everywhere but on her.
“All right. Let’s go into my office.” As she passed Asher, he tilted his head to her as if to say he had her back. Stepping inside, she gestured to the man to sit down. When he started to close the door, she shook her head and grasped its edge. “The door always stays open. Have a seat.”
The man stared at her, then at the door, and back at her. Slowly he turned around and walked to the chair. She noted he was a thin, wiry man with long, unkempt hair. He looked like he was in his late twenties or very early thirties.
Sitting behind her desk, she looked fixedly at him and he seemed to squirm under the intensity. “What brings you to my office? Are you in trouble?” The way he fidgeted in his seat, kept running his hand through his hair, and looking everywhere but at her told her something was amiss with him. She’d been a criminal defense attorney long enough to be able to read people when they came in to see her.