Up ahead, Santa’s village loomed. He gripped the handle on his suitcase tighter and fought through the crowd until he was in the back of the makeshift mountain. In front of it, hordes of children stood in line as elves in all sizes and shapes handed out suckers to them. Parents stared vacantly ahead, several of them glancing at their watches as they waited for Santa to take his place again.
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.