Operation Santa’s Most Wanted
OPERATION: SANTA’S MOST WANTED
TW: She sucks at stalking.
RAFE
Imight be wrong, but I have a feeling that my tiny neighbor might be stalking me. Sure, it could be all in my head, but there are quite a few things that make me think the way I do.
First of all, she always appears everywhere I go. The woman takes trash out at the same time I do, goes grocery shopping whenever I do, and I’ve even met her around shadier parts of the town—places, someone like her shouldn’t be.
What was her name again… I swear, it sounded something like Frankenstein, but cuter. Frank? No, that’s a dude’s name. Francine? Nah, that doesn’t sound like her at all. What was it?
As if on cue, the universe listens and I hear my next door neighbor, Mrs.Doris, call out. “Frankie Wilder, what business do you have hiding in that man’s bushes?”
I choke on a laugh at the words and stalk closer to the door, but keep it closed. Call me nosey, but I want to hear what happens next.
“Shut your mouth, you old rag! I still remember how you stole the last candy cane from the dentist’s office, and for the record, I haven’t forgiven you to this day!” Frankie hisses and again, I barely hold back a bark of laughter.
“Frankie, language!” Mrs. Doris gasps.
I expect another sharp clapback, but instead, I hear a resigned sound and Frankie’s voice. “Sorry, Mrs. Doris, I’m like on the edge today real bad and you’re giving out my position.”
“What are you even doing over there, child?” Mrs. Doris asks, sounding equally as annoyed as she is entertained.
“I’m not stalking the sexy mafia looking guy, I promise I’m not.
I’m doing research for my next book, gathering intel and everything.
Plus,” Frankie stops talking and I hear some shuffling around closer to my door.
“You can’t stand there and tell me he’s not easy on the eyes.
I’m a woman, I like looking at nice things. ”
“Frankie, your daddy would be worried if he knew you were wandering around the neighborhood this late in the evening. Go home, sweetheart, have some sleep and come back to stalk your friend tomorrow.” Mrs. Doris calls out and soon after, I hear her front door close.
I’m half tempted to open the door and see the look on her face, but I decide against it. She’s not committing a crime. Wait, she is, since stalking is illegal. Okay, fine, she’s being a little naughty now, but she’s not hurting anyone, so I can let her be.
Besides, how much more research does she have to do until she writes that book? A week? Maybe two? I can survive having a tiny, overly caffeinated shadow for that long.
Chuckling, I go about my business and finish up cleaning the living room before I head to bed. Sleep doesn’t come easy, but when it does, I’m out like a light.
The only problem is that I don’t get to sleep for nearly half as much as I hoped I would. When I’m startled awake by a loud bang against my house wall, I sit up in bed, reach for my nightstand to grab my gun and glance at the clock.
“2 AM? What the actual fuck?” I mutter and kick the sheets off before I slide my feet into house slippers, grip the gun in my hand tighter and quietly stalk downstairs.
I’m literally wearing only my boxers, so if there’s an intruder, someone’s about to see the outline of my dick very close and very goddamn personal.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I stop and listen. There’s nothing at first, but then, I hear the same banging against the wall. It’s coming from the outside, very close to the front door.
Taking a deep breath, I tiptoe to the door, hold my breath as I unlock it and open it so quietly, even I don’t hear the action. When I step out of the house, there’s a quietly hissed “oh shit,” followed by the sound of something landing into the bush next to my house.
I turn on the porch light and groan as I quickly hide the gun behind my back. There’s a ladder… A fucking ladder set against the wall of my house and the goddamn bush is moving. In fact, it’s making tiny hissy sounds that suspiciously resemble the cursing of quite a manic author I might know.
Taking a step closer to check if Frankie hasn’t injured herself, I’m met with a view that’s challenging my ability to stay serious.
Frankie is laid out in the bush, her cheeks red, hair full of branches and leaves. That, I could still overlook, but the fact that this woman is dressed in what looks like a catwoman’s costume, paired with night vision glasses that make her look like an alien, yeah…
Before I can do as much as ask if she’s okay, Frankie scrambles out of the bush, screams, “I’m self-employed!” And takes off in the direction of her own house.
I’m left standing like an idiot, half naked with a gun hidden behind my back. Alright then, alright…
Since I’m an insanely light sleeper in general, I can’t fall asleep anymore, overthinking the events of the night and by the time the next morning comes, I already have a plan.
The two of us can play this game, I don’t mind.
As soon as the sun starts rising, I get dressed and write a note on a piece of torn paper, “If you wanted my attention, sweetheart, now you have it.” Then, I slide on my shoes and leave the house for my morning walk, this time way earlier than I usually do.
My main goal is to drop by her house and check if Frankie is awake or not.
Must be my lucky day because when I finally reach her house, the lights are off, but the small gate has been left open—must be because she was in a hurry to leave.
I walk up to her front door, slip the note into the post slot and turn on my heel to leave. Just because I’m a great neighbor, I close the gate behind me, then head home. “Let the games begin.”