Page 37 of Unwrapped

“She was a shit mother, but somehow managed to hire the only honest manager in LA. He was probably in love with her. I remember him being a dorky with thick glasses and a comb-over. But he handled her money well. There was a time when boatloads of it rolled in. I guess he lied to her when her spending got out of hand and told her she owed more taxes than she did. He invested her money stocks and real estate.”

“Wow.”

I snort, “Men went crazy for her. Craved her. One guy cried outside in the rain. But when she was done, she was done. Usually because she had someone better lined up.”

“Was your father in the picture?”

I wince.

“Never mind. I’m sorry I pried.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“You’re right, I’m not. Sexy Santa’s back.”

“You think he’s sexy?”

“His package is…”

“Stop,” I snort. “I can’t. Come on, it’s Santa. Checking him out is just…wrong.”

“I wish he had asked me to sit on his lap and ask what I wanted for Christmas.”

Our food’s delivered and I’m saved from replying by the heavenly smells. Sally stuffs a french fry into her mouth and moans. “Truffle fries. He makes the best.”

I lower my head and nibble my sandwich. Santa waves as he walks in with the mayor, shaking hands and trying to “Ho.” But the man is jacked. It’s a wonder the stitches on the suit haven’t torn from the bulky muscles underneath. I can’t see his face beneath the white beard and through the large glasses. It’s impossible to tell if he’s old, young, or somewhere in between.

My back tenses the closer they get to our table. I eat, pretending to look out the window. Thankfully, Roger is pulled into a conversation and I’m able to finish my meal, leave a generous tip and slip out the door after telling Sally I wanted to explore the shops along Main Street.

Christmas is at the end of the week and I want to get a little something for Sally. A light snow has begun to fall, and it feels like I’m strolling inside a snow globe. I enter the General Store and get lost perusing jars of homemade jams and jellies, soaps and bath salts. But Sally could buy any of these things…but then I notice the perfect things. I pick up a paperback of a shirtless pirate with his arm around a woman about to swoon. The laces at the front of her dress are undone and her hair falls to the plank floor of the boat.

“Perfect.” I riffle through the bookshelf finding as many as I can and fill a wooden basket with fudge and dirty paperbacks.

Snip. Snip.

“Hey!” I scream as the handle to my Luis are severed and my purse is snatched. It happened so fast all I see is a blur of messy hair and jeans run out the backdoor.

“Hey! Come back here!” I yell, giving chase. People stop to stare at the commotion, but no one acts. I follow the thief out into the back alley behind all the buildings on Main Street. “Stop! Please! You can have my money, but my journal means more to me! Please!” I shriek.

I try to run but in my stupid, sexy boots there’s no way I’ll catch him. But that doesn’t stop me from trying. I dash on the slippery concrete around a corner placing my palms on the old bricks to keep myself from falling and pull up short.

Sexy Santa snags the thief by the back of his neck. I do a double take. The top half of his costume is on a pile of crates leaving him in a white tank top.

Panting, I finally slide over to the kid kicking and screaming in the big man’s grip. I grab my purse, now covered in snow, first checking that my journal is safe. I clutch it to my chest, squeezing it tight before taking out my wallet and folding five twenty-dollar bills in half.

“Take it. Spend it wisely. If you were desperate enough to steal from a stranger, you must need it.”

Santa frowns.

But up close, I see the grime in the boy’s hair and the grease marks on his coat and clothes.

“You ain’t calling the cops?’

“No. How old are you twelve?”

“Fourteen.”

“Come back to the store with me. I’ll buy you lunch and some clothes.”

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