Santa's Naughty Helpers

by Elizabeth Knox

  I nod my head. “Yep, I know someone who owes me a favor and said he’d do anything to repay me. He’s not chunky, but he has a great beard. I’d just need to get him a Santa costume and maybe a pillow to put under his costume.”

  “Oh, God. That would be great. If you pull this off, I’ll put a good word for you up the pipeline.”

  Now, this is something I’d appreciate. “Like I said, you don’t need to worry about Santa. I’ve got him covered.”

  “Thank you so much, Sunny. I really appreciate your initiative to take control of the situation. Keep up this type of attitude and I see you—”

  A scream rings out to my left where the patient waiting room is, causing me to rise from my office chair and go out from around the charge station. Marjorie walks alongside me as we head toward the commotion. As we come into view of the waiting area, we see Calvin, our floor security guard, pushing back one of our former patient’s father. Sadly, Imogen passed away earlier today. Her father is running for a seat in the Senate this year and is a high political figure. Imogen had been on our floor for almost three-and-a-half months. She was about to turn fifteen, and sadly, her leukemia kept throwing us all for a loop. She’d make advances, have great days, and then every bit of progress we made came crashing to a halt.

  “Dallas,” I call him by his first name, trying my best to calm him down. I was Imogen’s nurse most days, there for her in her last dying moments when her father was across town campaigning. She was a lovely girl, a bright light we desperately needed in this world.

  “My ex-wife . . . she . . . she c-called and said I-Imogen was . . . tell me it isn’t true, Sunny. Tell me she’s not . . .” Oh my God. He doesn’t know.

  “Calvin, let Dallas go. Please,” I beg our security guard, needing to show the man some bit of compassion. Calvin does as I ask and backs away from him. Dallas’ ex-wife was here when she passed because she was the type who never left Imogen’s bedside. Her name is Ophelia and she knew what was coming, she’d accepted it . . . but I don’t think Dallas did. He threw himself into work when she started getting worse, like he was trying to escape her impending death.

  This isn’t my place, nor my job to notify him. I mean, his ex-wife already did . . . but why did he come here then? I have no idea.

  “Dallas, you know what happened. Ophelia told you,” I speak softly while confirming what his ex-wife said was true.

  Gnawing on his bottom lip he shakes his head over and over again, continuously denying it. “No. She can’t be. She . . . this can’t be real. This is . . . this is some sort of dream.” I wish it were a dream. I wish we lived in a world where kids didn’t have to die for no reason. His expression shifts from pain-filled to anger. He stares me straight in the eyes and growls out every word with exact precision, “I will make you pay for your hand in this. I will make all of you pay.”

  Calvin grabs Dallas by the back of the hand and tries to pull him away from Marjorie and myself, but the second his hand touches Dallas he throws a punch into Calvin’s face. Blood spurts from his nose and Calvin falls to the ground. I rush to Calvin’s side to assess the damage and Dallas glares at me while he’s walking away. Meanwhile, Marjorie’s already on the phone notifying upstairs about what just happened.

  This isn’t the first time I’ve been threatened since working at the hospital, but it’s the first time I’m taking it seriously.

  Chapter One

  I think it’s brave that you push away the waves rolling every day and you decide to fight

  ~ Lana Rafaela

  Ice

  Sipping on my Barqs root beer I lean back in the chair I’m sitting in, I listen to my brother as he yammers on in my ear while I look around The Clubhouse bar. It’s packed in here, busier than it’s been in months. I’m so fuckin’ happy for my son, Breaker. He’s really turned this bar into a profitable thing. The club still deals with illegal shit and I’m sure it always will, but he’s proving he’s smarter than I ever was.

  My brother clears his throat, “Sometimes I regret all the decisions I made.” At least once a week he’s calling me to catch up. My brother is the Prez of a club out in Birmingham, Alabama. He’s about eight years younger than I am, but our father was in the club life so naturally we followed in his footsteps. I started the Raiders MC when I was barely nineteen, and Zeus prospected with the Sons of Gods MC at the young age of sixteen and was eventually voted in as the Prez about twenty-five years ago. I’m pretty sure he was the youngest Prez voted in at the age of twenty-three. He pissed a lot of people off, but he’s always had a good head on his shoulders.

  “Brother, you can’t keep thinkin’ that shit. You and I both know you can’t go back in the past and change things. What’s the point in feelin’ guilty about it now?” I say the same shit to him every time. He’s so hung up on his ex-wife, not that I can blame him. She did have a great ass, and she birthed two of his kids . . . but he did what he had to.

  His kids were almost killed when they were toddlers, so he pushed them away. He said some fucked up shit in order for his ex-wife to flee and go to Detroit where her mother was living with his girls. Zeus made the biggest sacrifice just so those girls could live a normal life. He loves ‘em and I fuckin’ know it. I might not have been the best father to my children, but I love them all, even the ones that aren’t here with us anymore.

  “I know, I know . . . but . . . I just wish things were different.” I can almost see him running his hand over his face in despair. It’s a habit we both have, picking it up from our father. Whenever he was stressed, he’d do the same type of shit. “Anyways, how’re the kids?”

  “Breaker’s makin’ me damn proud, and Octavia is doin’ really well.”

  “She finally get over the fact you contracted her to marry someone?” Zeus snickers on the other end. If he were here, I would’ve laid a punch into him by now.

  “I’m pretty sure she has. Sunny’s told me she’s never seen Octavia happier. They speak a couple times a week I think.”

  “Sunny, huh?” His tone is accusatory as hell. Sunny’s my ex-girlfriend, and Octavia’s mom. I did the woman dirty in the past, but she’s got a damn good heart. A better heart than I ever deserved.

  “Mhm, you know Sunny and I are on good terms these days. If it weren’t for her . . .” I lose track of what I’m saying, knowing damn well I would’ve been dead in a ditch now if it weren’t for her.

  “She saved your fuckin’ life man, but at least you were smart enough to make the decision you needed to.” No one can force you into rehab, I didn’t know that. I thought for some reason that it worked like a psychiatric hold, but, even though I was coming down from being high and sobering up now, in my gut I knew I needed help, but if it weren’t for Sunny cryin’ her damn eyes out in front of me that night . . . I don’t think I would’ve ever made the decisions I needed to.

  I think even back then, on that dark night, I knew what was coming if I didn’t make a change. All of my daughters were murdered by a woman I knocked up except one and . . . and I was guilty as shit. Hell, Zeus and I aren’t very different. We both have problems letting shit go. Sometimes I sit back and wonder if I was sober at the time, if I would’ve seen what that fucking whore was doing, or if she would’ve deceived me too. While Zeus lives with regret for pushing his family away, I’ll live with my own when it comes to my daughters.

  “She did, and I’m damn lucky,” I mutter, sipping my drink again.

  “Here’s your food, Ice.” Agony, one of the club’s prospects, sets a burger and fries in front of me. He’s one of those people who’re concerned about me staying sober, but it’s been about a year since I’ve gotten clean and I fully intend on staying this way. I’ve got too much to live for. Plus, I don’t think Zeus could live without our weekly calls. I’m not bein’ a dick when I say that. I’m pretty much the only family he has left.

  “Thanks, man,” I reply as he walks away and disappears behind the bar, serving the groups of women hooting and hollering as the
ir friend gets up on one of the tables and dances away.

  “You can say that again, I think—” Zeus’ voice halts immediately as I hear someone speaking in the background to him. A couple seconds of silence pass us by before he speaks again, “I gotta go, brother, but I’ll call you next week like normal.”

  “Alright, well, you stay safe.”

  “Right back at ya,” Zeus says before he hangs up the phone. I set my cell down on the table and the door to The Clubhouse opens up, revealing a woman with familiar dreads and exposed arms which reveal her sleeve tattoos. Hell, at forty-seven she’s still got it the way she did in her twenties.

  “I was just talkin’ about you, young lady,” I say to Sunny, who cocks a brow and pulls the chair out across from me.

  “I appreciate you calling me young, but honey, I haven’t been young in ten years. I’m interested in hearing who you were talking to, though.” Sunny smiles brightly like she always does, flashing those pearly whites of hers.

  “Zeus called for his weekly check in,” I inform her.

  She nods. “Ah, how’s he doing? I haven’t heard you talk about him in a couple months.”

  “He’s doing good, just tired. You know—”

  “Same shit, different day.” There she goes finishing my damn sentences. Moments like this make me wonder why I ever let this bitch get away. I’d never compare women I slept with, or the mothers of my kids, but Sunny and I . . . we had some special shit goin’ on. I was too much of a dog back in the day when we were dating. I didn’t treat her right and I did her dirty. Why she even comes around after everything I did, I have no clue. It’s why I say she’s got such a good fuckin’ heart.

  “Exactly. So, what brings you across town?”

  I don’t miss the way Sunny takes a gulp, giving away the fact she needs something. But what is it she needs? I can’t wait to fuckin’ find out.

  Chapter Two

  I think it’s brave that you keep on living even if you don’t know how to anymore

  ~ Lana Rafaela

  Sunny

  Here he sits with his arms crossed in front of his chest, rings on his fingers in a plain black hoodie under his cut. His beard goes down below his sternum and he’s added gauges in his ears. My point is, he’s never looked hotter. He ages like fine fucking wine, and I’m having a really hard time not licking my lips. That and drooling on the table.

  He’s asked me what’s brought me all the way across town, and there’re two things. I’m debating on telling him about the latter, but I need to ask him the world’s biggest favor to me, and considering he owes me one for saving his life, I doubt he’ll say no. If he does, I’ll hold how I helped him over his head because I’m a bitch like that. Plus, I birthed one of his children. Octavia’s labor alone should grant me this favor. Thirty-eight hours and no fucking drugs.

  “Our Santa bailed on us, and we need a new one. The kids are really looking forward to having a visit from the Santa Claus. You know?” I pout a bit at the end, appearing to be disappointed. If he can come up with the idea of volunteering himself, then I don’t have to ask and still have a favor up my sleeve.

  “That’s fuckin’ shitty of him. Slimy motherfucker.”

  I blink a couple times, surprised at the fact this is the only reaction I’m getting from him.

  I clear my throat and look into his crystal blue eyes. When I look into them, they remind me of how clear the water is in the Caribbean. “Ice, would, I mean could you be Santa for them? The kids . . . these kids go through so much more than anyone should have to go through, especially at their ages. They’re fighting cancer each and every day, and . . . I’d really appreciate this if you could do this for me, too.”

  He picks up his soda and finishes off the thing before setting the glass back down. “I can’t tell if you’re fuckin’ with me or not, sweetheart.”

  I pop my head to the side and glare at him. “Do you seriously think I’d be screwing with you about this? This is for kids with cancer, asshole.” I grab a napkin from the table, ball it up, and chuck it at his forehead.

  “Whoa, watch the money maker. My face is golden, baby.”

  I roll my eyes and scoff, “I see you’re still a cocky shit.”

  “Sorry, baby, but sobriety won’t even take that away from me.” He laughs, running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. I’ve never been fond of men with the gray and black mixture, but Ice makes it look delicious.

  “So, you’ll do it, for the kids?” I question, my tone hopeful as hell. I mean, if he doesn’t do this I might just reach across the table and slap him, tell him how he’s a conceited bastard and then go beg one of his sons to do it. I know Breaker will without a doubt. He loves kids, even if he tries to make it seem like he doesn’t give a damn about them.

  Ice straightens up a little bit more in his chair and looks right at me. “No, I’ll do it for you.”

  My heart shoots up into my throat as the reality of what he’s just said settles in. I’m stuck blinking at him, like some lovestruck teenager, wondering if this happened or if I imagined it.

  He clears his throat. “Look, you’ve done a lot for me, Sunny. Far more than I ever deserve and I know it. If you want me to dress up and pretend to be Santa for the next ten years I will, ‘cause at the end of the day you’re the reason I got my life back.”

  My bottom lip trembles as emotion shoots through my system and I wipe my finger under my eyes. I can’t help that I’m an emotional woman. I’ve always been this way. Empathizing with people has always been my strong suit, even if they might not deserve any empathy. I just . . . I’ve never been someone who can give up on people. Sure, they might treat you like shit at times, but everyone deserves a second chance, and sometimes even a third, or a fourth. At the end of the day Ice is my daughter’s father and I’d do anything to help him, because if he died, my baby girl would be heartbroken. She might act like she isn’t too close with him, and it’s mainly because he fucked up when she was a kid, but she adores him. He’s her daddy.

  Ice reaches his hand out across the table and grabs the one I’ve left sitting on top of the table. He rubs his thumb over the top of my hand in a sweet manner. “I still don’t know why you’ve done the shit for me that you have, but I’m grateful as fuck. I hope you know that.”

  I nod my head, wiping away the stray tears. “I know you are.”

  “Enlighten me if you will. Why did you help me?”

  “Because I love you, Ice. I always have and I always will. Even though you treated me like crap, chasing all the free pussy you could back then, I still love your crazy ass.”

  He blinks rapidly as he recognizes what I’ve said and squeezes my hand. “I’m glad you said t—”

  “I need something else from you,” I interrupt him, not sure if I can handle what he was about to say. I don’t know if I’m ready to face the fact I still love him, or if I’m ready for the possibility of trying again. I have no fucking clue, but . . . I’ll put it off for as long as I can, because as much as I don’t like admitting it, I don’t want to get hurt again. “I was threatened at the hospital a week ago, by a patient’s father. My patient had just passed away and long story short, he’s blaming the nurses and doctors on his daughter’s team. I didn’t think anything about it at first because it’s typical when parents don’t take it well. But, I’ve been followed out to my car every day for the last week after shift, and it’s . . . it’s terrifying the fuck out of me, Ice.”

  He raises his brows. “Let me get this straight, you were threatened a week ago and you’re just now telling me.” His grip grows tighter around my hand, almost like he’s pulling me to him.

  I nod once.

  He sucks in a deep breath and releases a heavy sigh. “Don’t you worry about a thing. What’s your schedule? I’m takin’ you to work and pickin’ you up every day until shit gets cleared up.”

  “No, I didn’t ask you to do—”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you were askin’ me. I’m
doin’ it, and that’s that.”

  Jesus. I know better than to argue with Ice when his mind is set on something. It’s like pulling a bloody piece of meat away from a starving dog.

  Chapter Three

  When a devil falls in love, it’s the most hauntingly beautiful thing ever. And you should be terrified, for he will go to the depths of hell for her.

  ~ Unknown

  Ice

  She looks like she’s about to piss herself, cry, or hug me. In all honesty, it could be all three. Sunny gnaws on her bottom lip and looks at me with thankful eyes. She doesn’t have to thank me at all. I know she’s about to because I’ve known this woman for over twenty-five years. “Ice, thank you so much. I don’t know what else I can say. I’m so thankful for . . . for you watching out for me.”

  “You don’t gotta thank me for shit, woman. ‘Cause of you I’m still here, livin’ and breathin’. If you ask me, I owe you a hell of a lot.”

  Sunny cranes her neck to the side a bit. “You don’t owe me anything. I took an oath to help people, Ice, people just like you. Whether they’re an addict or just cut their leg open on a piece of metal. It’s my job to help the people who need it.”

  “Can we just agree to disagree? I don’t wanna get into an argument with you and you know we’re headed that way.” I chuckle lightly, watching the sides of her lips pull into a smile.

  “I didn’t think you were still a contentious asshole, but I guess I was wrong.” She smirks wider as she says it, and now I’m doing the same damn thing.

  “I’ve been a prick since I was a baby, and I’ll be one ‘til I die. You can count on that.”

  Sunny rolls her eyes.

  “Aye, Sunny,” Agony calls from the bar, causing her to turn back and look at him. “You want any food or anything?”