3. Santa
Chapter 3
Santa
I t took me much longer than I anticipated, to get some much-needed distance between me and hyena’s burning body. By the time I managed to make it closer to the freeway, and called for an Uber to take me back to my car in the strip club’s parking lot, at least three hours had passed in the frigid cold. I am now frozen, highly irritated, and filled with the need to stab someone again. The night is quickly evaporating into the morning, and I don’t have much hope that I will get to capture my Christmas gift.
A small Toyota Prius dropped me off near my car, and with a wave at the Uber driver, who hadn’t raised an eyebrow at my choice of clothing, I got back in my baby and set in to wait, with the heat defrosting my cold limbs. It is now close to four in the morning, and, finally, the side door of the club opens up, and a bunch of employees exit the space. Some are still dressed in stripper wear, with coats thrown haphazardly over them, and their flesh exposed to the elements, and others are in sweats and hoodies.
Thank fuck, a few more hours, and I might have had to just torch the building with all of them inside. I’ll save the possibility of doing something like that for another day, it could be amusing to watch them scream and try to get out, after I’ve blocked all the exits. Great, now I have a chub, thanks to the images my brain just supplied.
I bite down on my bottom lip, attempting to distract myself from my murderous thoughts, the itchy beard getting on my nerves, as I wait for my mark to come out. When she finally does, she’s covered from head to toe in ugly red and white flannel pants, and a thick, puffy gray jacket. With her auburn hair pulled into a messy bun, and her makeup wiped from her face, she’s almost unrecognizable. She looks somehow younger, less harsh, and more innocent now than she did inside, under the lights of the club. She walks arm in arm with another female, the both of them giggling conspiratorially as they follow two other women, who I’m pretty sure were the dancing elves from earlier, to a dark blue, rusted minivan. Fuck, this is going to be more challenging than I anticipated, I release a groan of frustration as I watch all four of them pile inside.
When their vehicle starts moving, I give them a head start out of the parking lot and slowly follow them at a distance. A new plan begins hatching in my head, to follow my bartender home and capture her from there. This might be even better than taking her from the parking lot, since there’s less chance of me ever being linked to her this way.
The first stop drops one of the elves off at a small rundown bungalow, and she scurries inside. The next stop has my Chrissy, and the other female she was giggling with, stepping out and rushing onto a dilapidated porch of an old back-split house, with large, dirty windows and dingy siding, as they fumble with the keys. The minute they let themselves inside, they slam the door, and the minivan takes off down the street. Fuck, she has a roommate.
I drag my hands down my face with exhaustion and frustration. I should just give up for the night and head back to my place, and chalk this nightmare up to the fucked night that it is. I managed to get my hands bloodied after all, so some of the need has been sated. The reasonable part of me is telling itself to put the car into drive and head home, but the psychopath who lives inside of me is refusing to listen, and instead pulls around the block, parks the vehicle, and gets out.
I take a quick look around the street, keeping my eyes peeled for danger. Most of the houses in this neighborhood look either abandoned or run down, far from the glamor of Newbury Street. My Mustang sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the broken-down beaters, rotting wood fences, and trash-littered sidewalks. Fuck, I’ll be really pissed if my car gets stolen, or broken into, here.
I jog around the corner, keeping to the shadows, with my eyes and ears open for anyone approaching behind me. It would be fucking hilarious to get mugged in my Santa costume, or, better yet, have a police cruiser shine its lights on old Saint Nick, and I end up in the slammer for being a peeping Tom. I can picture my dear old dad’s malignant face if he received that call in the middle of the night. Governor Brantford, can you please explain why your oldest son was peeping in women’s windows in an impoverished neighborhood? The privileged fucker would have a stroke. It might just be worth it if the fucker actually died.
When I’m three houses away, I decide to slip through backyards, rather than approach the house from the front. It’s a little more tedious, having to climb over fences and hide behind different sheds, but I don’t want to take any chances if someone comes out and shoots me. I doubt the residents here would have licenses to carry, or give me the benefit of the doubt. I finally make it into their back yard, press my back against the aged siding, and creep along its perimeter until I come to a window. I peer inside cautiously, trying to keep my Santa costume in the shadows. Fuck, I should have taken this shit off. It’s too late now.
The room I glimpse into is partially dark, with only a small lamp in a corner giving off a muted glow. It’s a sitting area with mismatched furniture, throw pillows on the surfaces and on the floor, and shadowed artwork that I can’t make out. I don’t see Chrissy or her roommate; the room is empty.
Dammit. I wait a few more minutes just in case, but when no one comes, I keep moving until I encounter another window. This one has old plastic blinds pulled down over the glass, but various rows are missing chunks, so I can still see within. It’s a bedroom, the overhead lights are on, and I spy clothing discarded everywhere, piles of stuff on every surface, an unmade bed, and a small television on a dresser, playing what looks like cartoons. What the hell, is there a kid in there?
I try pulling on the bottom of the window to see if it will lift. After making a groaning noise, that I swear could wake the dead, and announce my presence to the whole street, it gives a little, and I’m able to slip my fingers below it. I’m about to pry it further up, and lift my body through the window, when a noise alerts me to the fact that I’m no longer alone. A deep growl makes the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end, and the fading moonlight catches the glow of two luminous eyes, and sharp white teeth. Fuck, that’s either a damn wolf, or a really big dog, but either way, I’m toast if he gets closer.
I immediately pull my hands back, reach for my blade tucked in my pants, and start slowly backing away from the house and towards the street. The dog takes a few steps towards me, its huge paws looking as menacing as its teeth, as it snarls at me and saliva drips from its large mouth. Where did they get this thing, the bowels of hell? Fuck, its neck is wider than my thigh; this thing is going to rip me apart if I don’t get out of here.
“Good hellhound , you stay right there, buddy ,“ I whisper, the sound of my blood whooshing in my ears.
“Toothless! Where are you, buddy? It’s time to go night-night, come on, little friend,” a woman’s voice calls from the back door, and the massive hound’s large head turns on its neck to look in that direction as its ears twitch. Toothless? Little friend? Is she fucking kidding? This monstrous thing has nothing but teeth to rip a man to shreds. I take another step back, and he growls and moves closer to me, ignoring the woman’s commands. “Where is that sweet boy?” I hear the voice moving closer and closer, and dread starts to fill me. In all the years I’ve been killing people, I have never been taken down by a dog, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.
“Come on, sweet buddy. Momma’s tired. Let’s go, handsome!” The voice sounds more annoyed now as it calls again, and the dog wavers on whether to attack me. “Do you want some peanut butter? Come on, and Momma will give you some treatos!” With a final snarl, the dog turns around and lopes off toward the voice calling him, its tail wagging. I see a hint of auburn hair shining in the moonlight, before the back door opens and closes, and I’m left standing flush against the side of the house, with my heart in my throat, and so close to peeing my fucking pants.
That was close, too fucking close. I’m pretty sure I saw my life flash before my eyes, and none of it brought me satisfaction. I haven’t murdered enough people yet, not to mention my pretentious asshole of a father would be relieved if I died. I won’t dare give him that gratification. I slide back towards the window, peeking through the broken blinds again, and I hear her voice through the opened crack. “What a good boy you are, the goodiest, sweetest baby!“ She croons to the giant black monster who’s getting his head rubbed. A full-body shudder runs through me at the thought of those large teeth gnawing on my bones.
Fuck, there is no way I’m risking getting in there tonight, and being that beast’s chew toy. I need another plan, but it will have to wait until later. The miserable sun is getting ready to rise in the sky, and any meager amount of cover I had to disguise me out here is about to evaporate. With one final look in the window, my eyes trail over the silhouette of my current craving, then I force myself to leave the side of the house, and quickly make my way back to my vehicle.
Don’t worry, Chrissy. I’ll be seeing you real soon .