“Make it classy, in red, and I really like boots. I’ll consider it my fee for kidnapping your son and carting him to South Carolina.”
“Have you ever thought about becoming an attorney? I get the feeling you’d make a good attorney for some reason.”
“You’re joking, right? I can’t afford that degree. I’m still trying to pay back the degree I have.”
“I feel it’s relevant to mention that Julian hates debt and will likely eliminate your financial aid debt with extreme prejudice. The only reason he hasn’t fully paid back his loan to us is that I wrote it into the documentation there was a maximum amount a month he could pay back. He isn’t paying any interest.”
“All work and no play makes Julian a snarly boy?”
“Exactly, and who has time for that?”
“What is he going to say if I try to tell him I can pay back my own financial aid?”
“He’ll pay it off and suggest you make the payments into a savings or investment account to appease your pride.”
I liked that idea. “I can work with that.”
“Birds of a feather flock together. I should’ve known. Keep me in the loop on your kidnapping ideas, and I’ll brainstorm with Juliette to make it as fun as possible for all of you. And as I’m being forced to ask on threat of death again, would you like an outfit for your kidnapping work as an early Christmas present?”
Did he really think I’d say no? Dressing the part seemed like a good way to make it even more fun to me. “Yes, please. Also, can she make a suit for him for Christmas? Is it too late to make him a suit? He’ll probably want to look nice when meeting my mother.”
“Good idea. She’ll love forcing him into wearing one of her suits. I’ll let her know, and I’ll make sure she makes a matching outfit for your partner-in-crime.”
“I would just like you to know, for the record, that the acquisition of interesting in-laws is factoring into my willingness to plan and execute a kidnapping.”
“What can I say? We’re unicorns.”
That they were.
With a little help from Kristine, Julian coaxed me into joining him at the mall every time he volunteered at the Christmas Village. With her mission mostly completed, Kristine joined in, which made the hours fly by despite the screaming kids, drooling mothers, annoyed fathers, and the expected holiday disasters occurring all around us.
Julian proved the most challenging difficulty, as he concocted every excuse under the sun to visit, try to take me out for dinner, coax me into coming to his house, and otherwise spending as much time with me as possible. Without a job and no leads, I had no viable excuses, so I did the only thing I could: I gave Julian’s mother and father a copy of my apartment key so they could invade while I kept their son occupied.
At the rate I was going, I’d end up moving into his house accidentally. His favorite tactic was to keep me busy trying to beat him at games he already knew how to play until I passed out on his couch with a controller still in my hand. When that happened, I woke up with a handmade blanket wrapped around me and the scent of hot chocolate ready to lure me to Julian’s kitchen, where he continued his evil plans through making me breakfast.
Either Kristine had snitched on me, or he’d used his powers of deduction to determine food motivated me, would aid his cause, and land me in trouble. With a sufficient quantity of steak, from my new favorite restaurant, he could lure me into his bedroom and keep me there without much of a fight. If he figured out taking off his shirt would win him the war, I’d be doomed.
It took his mother and father’s help to convince Julian to send me home the day before Christmas Eve, and to ensure I made it to my destination, his father drove me. It took an hour to escape Julian’s house, and I wanted to laugh at his efforts to keep me from leaving.
The instant Julian’s father pulled out of the driveway, I said, “I’m amazed he didn’t slash your tires to keep me from leaving.”
“Don’t suggest that. He might. Your dress for Christmas is in the back, your outfit for tomorrow is there, too, and my wife has forgotten a word from her personal dictionary.”
“Which one?”
“Moderation.”
“Uh oh. I’m afraid to ask. But I’m going to ask. What did she do?”
“Julian has three new suits, you have six new pairs of shoes, two pairs of boots, and there’s jewelry to go with your dress and your kidnapping kit. She’s also included a variety of things you can use to rope our son.”
“I see she likes the idea of me kidnapping Julian.”
“She wants to go on a road trip and meet your mother. You did warn your mother there’s an entire flock of people coming, right?”
“I told my stepfather. He’s thrilled. My mother’s horrified. She wanted to know why we couldn’t wait until the day after Christmas. I told her I had to make sure the lawyers could go back to work on time. Then she got mad I was bringing lawyers over. Something about land sharks.”
“This is going to be a disaster, isn’t it?”
I giggled. “In good news, as my mother lives in South Carolina, visits will be infrequent. And you could invite her to New York with little worry of her coming. That’s something, right?”
“You could just tell her she’s meeting her future son-in-law. That should distract her.”
“I have a bow, and I’m planning on making Julian wear it. I haven’t decided how I’m going to make him admit his formal surrender yet.”
“I don’t think you’re going to have a problem with that.”
“You’re probably right. You know your part of this, right?”
Julian’s father sighed. “Yes, yes. Five minutes before we’re supposed to pick you up, I’ll call and say traffic is pure chaos, we’re an hour out, and once it’s clear you’re doomed, Kristine will chirp in that she managed to find a parking spot at the mall, so she’ll come to the rescue. You will get him into the car, lock the door, and refuse to let him out.”
“I got handcuffs, but they’re the cheap kind and are easy to escape from,” I admitted.
“Use them if he puts up a fight,” his father suggested. “And there’s all sorts of things you can use in the back. You have your bag packed for the trip?”
“Waiting inside my apartment for you to take home with you along with his Christmas present.”
“I already told you, Chloe. You’re the best Christmas present he could ask for.”
“You’re confused again. He’s my Christmas present. He’s just getting a consolation prize.”
“You know what? I’m just going to sit back and enjoy the show.”
Smart man.
The next time anyone suggested I do anything at the mall on Christmas Eve, I would stage a revolt. I would also stage my kidnapping to take place anywhere other than the mall. In good news, the storage lockers for the Christmas Village were secure and generally attended, so I didn’t worry about our outfits and general tools going missing throughout the day. My elf dress drew a lot of attention, as did the heels I’d worn instead of the boots.
The boots waited in the bag, where I would use them for my new favorite Christmas tradition: Julian kidnapping.
I hoped he didn’t mind, because I enjoyed plotting his fall. It would make up for my long string of losses at his hands on the gaming front. He hadn’t been joking about his refusal to throw a game, which ultimately meant I wanted to beat him even more.
Obviously, only marriage would do. Going back and forth from my place to his and back took a toll, and it wasted valuable minutes I could’ve spent trying to kick his ass at games. One day, I would win.
It might take a while, but damn it, I would win.
While no children tossed their ice cream cones at me, beleaguered fathers and mothers, trying to distract their offspring while their partners finished the last of their shopping, swarmed on the Christmas Village. For the first hour, I enjoyed trying to contain children with offerings of candy canes.
Then the over curious pe
ople armed with cell phones and cameras showed up, and the Christmas Village turned into a holiday-themed circus.
Someone, likely one of the drooling mothers, had told someone else the hottest Santa in New York was playing with kids. That someone else had told their friends, who told their friends, who in turn had told their friends. Every friend of every single, drooling mother in town came out to enjoy the show.
I’d never been so annoyed or jealous in my life, which made handling a bunch of hyped kids a living nightmare. To make it worse, Kristine kept laughing at me.
“Revenge will come, and when it does, I will be the one laughing,” I warned her.
“You’re trying so hard to be a good sport, but you’re so about to snap. You realize half the people taking pictures are taking pictures of you, right?”
“Of me? Why would they do that?”
“Because Santa keeps staring at your ass.”
I glanced at Julian, who was occupied listening to the holiday wishes of a little boy and doing his best to wrangle the child for the photograph parents desired. Could he even see my ass? I’d have to move at least two feet to the right to give him a decent view. “Are you saying we should switch places? Right now, he’s probably forced to look at your ass rather than mine.”
“You’re fine right there. Don’t you dare move. We’ve finally got this production line moving. If we change anything, we will be ruined.”
As she was probably right, I went back to work, questioning how I’d gotten roped into going to a mall on Christmas Eve.
Oh, right. I wanted to indulge in a kidnapping. To kidnap the hot Santa Claus everyone else wanted a piece of, I needed to survive the entire shift without losing my temper, failing to smile, or terrorizing any of the children.
“You suck, Kristine.”
She laughed, grinned, and went back to her work, which involved making sure the mothers knew they couldn’t sit on Santa’s lap, tell people how much the pictures cost, and make sure everyone understood the basic rules of the Christmas Village.
I handed out candy canes, did my best to entertain the kids, and helped convince the mothers they really weren’t allowed to sit on Santa’s lap.
Unfortunately, Kristine and I also had the misfortune of entertaining the dads, some of which went out of their way to drop things in the hope we’d bend over.
Good old New York. The assholes came out in droves around the holidays.
“You can’t kill anyone,” Kristine informed me in a lull between waves of children and parents in line to see Santa.
“I find your rules oppressive and unfair.”
“There’s only a few hours left, then you can go back to being a scrooge.”
“In a few hours, I will have many reasons to not be a scrooge.”
“While this is true, you have to make it to the end of our shift without indulging in any misbehavior. We’re on a tight schedule. Also, don’t forget your job is to sleep for the first leg of the drive, as you’ll have to take over when I get too tired. Use your captive as a pillow.”
I fully intended to. “No murders, no indulgences in misbehavior… how about lunch? Can we indulge in lunch?”
“Chloe.”
“What? I’m hungry.”
“We had lunch an hour ago.”
We had? Damn it, we had. I’d left Kristine to fend for herself for five whole minutes while I sprinted for the nearest bathroom and scarfed something down. Was it a bad sign I couldn’t remember what I’d eaten? Probably. “We are never discussing this ever again.”
“Santa’s staring at your ass again,” she informed me.
I dropped a candy cane and retrieved it, and thanks to Julian’s mother and her ability to make a dress that wouldn’t completely show my ass if I bent over, I rewarded Julian for paying attention to the right person.
“That was disgusting and shameless.”
“But did he look?”
“Well, Santa’s smiling and probably wishing himself a very merry Christmas.”
“Good. Think that’ll distract him when we finally bust this joint?”
“Just give him your best come-hither. He’ll follow you like a lost puppy. You won’t even have to take any additional steps to capture him. Also, I think someone just took a picture of you bending over for Santa.”
Whatever. “I should start charging. Think I could pay the rent that way?”
“If you wanted to charge people for taking your picture, you’d be a model, Chloe. Instead, you decided you wanted to be a receptionist for a bunch of egotistical lawyers.”
“That wasn’t my brightest move, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t. How’s the job search doing?”
“I have a ridiculous number of interviews in early January.”
“How many counts as ridiculous?”
“Five a day every day for a week, possibly more if time allows. If we’re back in time, there are two firms that want to interview me right after Christmas, but I’m to call him if we’re back in time.”
“We’ll be back in time. Make that headhunter earn his pay. If those firms are waiting for your beck and call, they’re going to make you a good offer.”
“I have to deal with the move stuff.”
“My couch. Your shit. We’ll make it work.”
I smirked and looked forward to the moment Kristine and Julian realized I’d played them at their own game. Victory would be mine, I’d accept Julian’s surrender, move in with him, and begin my legal acquisition of a ridiculously hot Santa capable of curing my Claustrophobia once and for all.
The hours dragged, but I survived without incident. Santa escaped before Kristine and I could get changed, and he watched us fend off the stragglers, dressed in jeans and a leather coat. The coat, I was certain, was of his mother’s making, likely stamped with a P, and fit him better than any damned glove I’d ever seen.
“You’re drooling, Chloe.”
“It’s that jacket’s fault. And he’s staring at us. Intently.”
“We’re dressed like slutty elves. Let him enjoy the show with a better view. You’re a lot of woman for him to enjoy, and that dress is hot on you. But think about it this way, you both spread the holiday cheer. There are a lot of happy moms and dads right now. And they’re probably taking their frustrations out on each other. Merry Christmas to them!”
It took another twenty minutes until we could make a run for it, and I grabbed the bag containing our matching outfits and dragged my accomplice to the bathroom so we could change and prepare to wage war. Our target followed us and waited in the corridor, and I caught the bastard snickering at our flight to safety and better clothes.
Julian’s mother thought tight leather pants would work best for our kidnapping plans, and I liked the way she thought. Add in our new leather jackets, which fit us as well as Julian’s fit him, and our blouses, which involved a roaring tiger motif and promised we were fierce, and my day was made. That she included lingerie in our kidnapping outfits cracked us both up.
“His mother’s a little insane, Chloe.”
I checked the tag and laughed at the presence of the prized prototype stamp. “You’re not allowed to sell the clothes or the boots. This is a rule I just made. Because you’ll never be able to afford this ever again.”
“She went overboard.”
“Welcome to the entirety of my December, one incident of someone going overboard followed by another. In good news, it led to this moment. I’m going to show up at my mother’s house dressed like I’m about to take over kingdoms.”
“We’re on a filthy mission to conquer you a man. And as your best friend, I’m entirely unsurprised you needed to resort to kidnapping. Fortunately, your target will likely cooperate with minimal fuss.”
“And if he doesn’t, no one will report him as missing for a while.”
“That’s harsh but hilarious.”
I smiled, grabbed the duffle bag with my clothes and other kidnapping tools, and strode out of the bathroom.
Julian’s brows shot up when we stepped out. “You match. You’re…” While my goal was to secure him as mine, I appreciated his inability to string more than two words together.
“Wearing a lot of leather?” I supplied.
I liked the way he took his time looking me over from head to toe. “Yes.”
“How are we doing on time?”
He struggled to tear his eyes off me to check his watch. “Our ride should be here in ten minutes.”
Excellent. That gave us five minutes to lure him to the parking lot before his father was scheduled to call with his sob story.
Kristine checked her phone, as neither of us wore actual watches. “My ride is going to be down in the parking garage. Walk with me there. There’s a good spot for pickups there.”
“That works. When they get here, I’ll direct them down there. We hadn’t talked about where to actually meet. An oversight on my part,” Julian admitted.
Poor, poor Julian. He had no idea he’d been so thoroughly tricked. “Let’s head down, then. Before anyone else decides to take pictures.”
“Reached your threshold for publicity, have you?”
“Shush, Santa. You had more people taking pictures of you than I did.”
“Well, I’m Santa. That’s part of my job description. My face hurts from smiling so much.”
“Mine, too. I vote we don’t smile until next year. Smiling hurts.”
Kristine laughed. “You two are terrible people.”
Julian pouted. “I’m not a terrible person. I’m Santa. Santa can’t be a terrible person.”
“Depends on where you’re from. One of the versions of Santa pulverizes naughty children and eats them alive.” I giggled. “Are you saying you’re a good Santa, then?”
“I am not a good Santa. I’m the best Santa.”
Of course he was. He was also a Carter, which meant I was signing up for a lifetime of his ego. Alas, I enjoyed his ego most of the time, so I’d suffer through somehow.
We made it to the parking garage when Julian’s phone rang, right on schedule. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
Claustrophobic Page 14
