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All of the girls followed her gaze to a house across the street. Every window blazed. A ton of cars filled the driveway, and a deep, steady bass line vibrated from within the walls. Silhouettes moved in front of the big bay window, one figure standing out among the others. Someone was gyrating wildly, shaking her hips and butt exhibitionist-style.
“Whoa.” Sophie chewed on the end of one of her braids.
Cassie thrust the door open. “This we have to see.”
She shot across the front yard. Lola, Sophie, and Heather scrambled out of the car, too. “Come on, Santa.” Heather gazed at Emily over her shoulder. “You’re not going to wimp out on us, are you?”
Emily didn’t know what else to do but to follow the other girls up the gently sloping front yard, iPhone in hand. They came to a stop behind a large holly bush and peered through the branches. A strobe light pulsed against the windowpane. A squeal went up as the gyrating person whipped off her shirt and tossed it into the crowd. Emily couldn’t make out too many details, only that the person was wearing a red Santa hat on her head.
“Do you think it’s a bachelor party?” Sophie whispered.
“Maybe it’s just a Christmas party with strippers,” Lola suggested.
“If Colin’s in there, I’ll kill him,” Cassie growled.
Heather squatted in the snow. “I dare you to get a picture, Cass.”
Cassie stood and extracted her phone from her bag. “That’s hardly a dare.” She marched toward the window, her shoulders squared. A twig snapped loudly in the woods, and she froze. “Was that one of you?”
Everyone shook their heads and looked around. The sidewalk was empty. There was no one lurking near the line of cars, either. Emily peered at the house next door, her heart thumping. She swore she’d just seen something move by the deck. What if it was the cops?
“Someone’s on to us.” Cassie marched back to the group. She shot Emily a sharp glare, as though it were Emily’s fault.
Heather sniffed. “There’s no one there. You’re just scared.”
“Fine. You do it,” Cassie challenged, handing Heather her phone.
Heather turned the phone over in her hands, then cocked her head as if listening for something. No twigs snapped, but there was something fraught and dangerous in the air.
Sophie leveled her eyes at Emily. “How about if Santa does it?”
Emily’s heart raced. “Um. Okay.”
The elves turned and stared at her. “Good for you, Santa,” Cassie said gruffly. “Go for it.”
The volume of the music increased the closer she got to the window. Another cheer rang out inside the house, followed by someone bellowing, “Take it all off!”
She was only a few feet from the window now. She crouched down low. Prickles from the bush grazed her skin. The wet snow seeped through the knees of her jeans. When she glanced back, she half-expected to see Cassie’s car peeling away, the elves laughing hysterically, but they were still hunched by the bushes, watching.
She slithered into the overgrown bush just beneath the bay window. A figure passed just a few feet above her and she froze, holding her breath. The music shifted from a fast techno song to something brassier with lots of horns. More cheers rose up, and Emily inched her nose up the siding until she could see into the room. A ton of women crowded a large space filled with floral-upholstered sofas, Tiffany-style leaded-glass lamps, and shelves laden with old-fashioned dolls in lacy petticoats. Everyone was holding a pink cocktail and staring at the stripper, who’d now climbed up onto the raised brick fireplace and was wiggling her butt.
Only, why would a bunch of women watch a girl stripper? It was doubtful there were that many lesbians in West Rosewood. Emily’s gaze returned to the figure on the fireplace, and she bit down hard on her tongue to keep from laughing. It wasn’t a woman stripper. It was a man.
He had shed almost all of his clothes, wearing only the red Santa hat and a red G-string. The women, who all looked like soccer moms, oohed and aahed, and every so often one of them would shove a bill into the waistband of his underwear.
With shaking hands, Emily raised her phone to the window and pressed the button to take a few shots. Suddenly, the front door creaked open, the music spilling out of the house. A woman stepped onto the porch and looked around. “Is someone there?”
Emily’s heart leapt into her throat. She shoved the phone back into her pocket and took off down the yard. “Hey!” the woman cried, but Emily kept going. The elves followed, and they all piled into Cassie’s car, giggling hysterically.
“Drive!” Emily cried, glancing at the woman, who was now halfway down the walk.
Cassie screeched out of the neighborhood. Only when they were on Lancaster Avenue again did Emily’s heart start to slow down. In a strange way, that had been exhilarating. She felt like a felon.
“Did you get any shots, Santa?” Heather asked.
Lola snorted. “I bet she didn’t.”
Emily passed the phone to Heather. Heather’s eyebrows shot up as she clicked through the pictures. “The stripper was a guy?”
Sophie grabbed the phone. “Oh my God, that is the lamest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Does anyone know who he is?” Lola stared at the pictures, too. “I bet his wife doesn’t know he’s doing this.”
Cassie pulled over so she could get a look at the pictures, then doubled over, laughing. “You rock, Santa. All this time we thought you were a narc. I guess we were wrong.”
Sophie ran her tongue over her teeth. “Maybe we should even let her into . . . you know.”
