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I’ll fix the box tomorrow. I get up from my work bench to go back into the house with a new plan for the evening forming in my mind. One that involves me in my pajamas with my Kindle surrounded by snacks. The perfect night for a single girl.
As I always do when I walk into the house, I hit the power button on my laptop to wake it up to check for new sales. I see there’s another email from this Nicolas man. He’s a persistent little bugger.
I’m in your neighborhood. I’ll swing by soon.
“What the heck?” I read it again. How does he know what neighborhood I’m in? He must’ve meant to send that email to someone else. That has to be it. I fire back another quick email for clarification. I should delete the whole email chain. This toy company wanting to meet with me has scam written all over it in glittery holiday colors.
The sound of bells jingling drift into the house. I walk over to the living room window and peek out to see where the sound is coming from, but all I see is Mac’s adorable cat in the window looking straight at me. He’s a little cutie pie. Maybe I could somehow lure him over here, and then Mac would come looking for him. I’ll have to think more about that plan later.
“Jocelyn.” I think I hear my name called. I walk back toward my side door that goes out to my garage. I step out and look around, but I don’t see anything. The doors are all closed. I walk over to my work area and stare at the stupid mailbox. I already know I’m going to fix it even though I’m upset with Mac. It’ll drive me nuts knowing it’s out here broken.
“You do amazing work.”
I let out a small scream, then turn around quickly to see who said it. An older man in a red suit is standing there with a hat on his head that looks like a Christmas stocking. He’s holding up an ornament I made. My heart begins to race. I should be afraid, but the man doesn’t look as though he’d hurt a fly. He has a kind face with a bushy white beard, and he’s a little on the plump side. He’s the quintessential dadbod Santa. I size him up just in case I have to make a quick getaway and decide I could totally outrun him if I had to. But that still doesn’t explain how the hell he got into my workshop.
“Don’t be scared. I’m Nicolas, or Santa, if you like.”
I stare at him. He’s clearly deranged if he’s going around introducing himself as Santa.
“I told you I was stopping by.”
I grab the broken piece of wood from the mailbox as a weapon.
Nicolas holds his hands up.
“Why are you in my house?”
“This is your workshop,” he points out.
“What do you want?” I start to circle around the table. He doesn't seem scary, but he still let himself inside somehow. The garage doors are closed. It’s not like he magically popped in here from the North Pole or something. “Great cosplay. Now you should leave.”
“I need your help.” He lets out a long sigh. “I can’t keep up like I once did. Each year there are more and more kids.”
“Kids that you have to deliver gifts to for Christmas?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes!” His whole face lights up with a smile. “This is so much easier than I thought it would be. I was sure I’d have to show you some magic. Though, to be honest, I think you could use some magic.”
Okay, he’s crazy. That’s the thing about crazy. It can come in a sweet looking grandpa package. He starts to reach inside his suit. Is he getting a weapon?
“Don’t move!” I shout, but he keeps moving, taking a step around the table toward me. I bump into something, making me swing the piece of wood in my hand. The Santa man jumps back, pulling his hand back out of his jacket. Glitter flies between us as he stumbles back to miss being hit. I hate glitter. It’s pretty and all, but it’s hell to clean up.
I swear it all happens in slow motion as he stumbles and falls backwards. I wince as I watch his head connect with the side of my worktable before he tumbles to the floor. I stand there in shock, unsure of what to do. He lies on the concrete floor with his eyes closed. I rush over to him, dropping to my knees to check his pulse. What have I done? The man was only reaching for glitter!
His eyes flutter open, and he smiles up at me. “You have to find the new Santa now.”
“Okay, Santa, sure.” I agree, going along with his crazy. “How many fingers do you see?” I hold up two, but he doesn’t answer me.
“It’s a special job, but I think you’ll find that perfect someone. You must hurry. Christmas Eve is near. The children are depending on you.” His eyes start to close again.
“No! Don’t close your eyes.” I jump up and run inside to get my phone to call 911. I snag it off the kitchen counter and dash back to the garage. I almost hit the call button, but I come to a stop when I see he’s gone.
“Holy shit! Santa guy, where are you?” I frantically look everywhere for him, but the only thing I see is his hat.
I pick it up and look at it. The tag inside says it was made at the North Pole. I glance around the room again, but the man is nowhere to be found. Even the glitter is gone.
“What the hell is happening?” I rub my cheeks and stare at where I could swear the Santa cosplayer fell. But no. There’s nothing. No glitter. No lunatic Santa.
Maybe I’m the crazy one after all.
