Page 2 of The Elf’s Naughty Toy

My eyes can’t help but roll. This is the bullshit she’s being spoon-fed by the two people who she’s supposed to trust most in the world. Yet, they’re dishing out lies on the daily, trying to keep some false dream alive for fear that the truth will kill the spirit of the holiday and burst their happy Christmas bubble. Little do they know that they’re doing more harm than good. Because when Laney learns the truth about Santa, she’ll question what else her parents have lied to her about. And once she goes down that road, she’ll end up with trust issues. Take it from me: the one who knows firsthand not to trust anything that comes out of my dad’s mouth.

“You do know that Santa doesn’t really exist, right, Laney?” At least when the time comes, she’ll know I never lied to her. I’ll be one person she can count on. The person in her life she can trust without a shadow of a doubt.

“He does, too, exist, Millie. He just stopped bringing you presents because you stopped believing in him.” No, I stopped getting presents because my parents got a divorce and stopped the ruse. My dad was too busy building his new family with his hot young wife, and my mom… Well, she was too busy wallowing in her pain and anger. So, I got to face the brutal reality that parents lie to their kids, Dads leave their families for something “better,” and Christmas is a materialistic holiday meant to bring companies closer to their end-of-year sales goals. Hence the reason it happens right before New Years. But again, this is the bullshit my dear old stepmother is filling my little sister’s head with.

“You girls ready?” Margot pops her head inside my room, her smile immediately dropping as her eyes run down my frame. I take it she doesn’t like the way I accessorized the outfit she picked out for me. I decided that a black leather jacket and my knee-high combat boots were a good addition, but apparently, she’s not a fan. I’m sure she wanted me to wear heels with the skirt, so I, too, could look like a candy cane.

Hate to say it, but at twenty years old, I don’t need anyone telling me how to dress. She’s lucky that I agreed to wear the stupid outfit she bought me. Honestly, I only did it for Laney’s sake because I didn’t want to cause a fight with my dad and make her sad. I’ve been holding my tongue a lot lately for fear of making my little sis sad. She’s the only reason I decided to come to town for the holiday. Plus, Mom is off on her cruise, trying to forget that Christmas even exists so she doesn’t have to remember the day she found out her husband was having an affair on her and her beautiful life was over.

“Yes, Mommy!” Laney takes my hand. “We’re ready.”

I squeeze her fingers, channeling my inner patience and let her lead the way out of my room and down the stairs, with Margot following behind us—no doubt having an internal shit fit that her perfect family photo is going to be ruined by her evil stepdaughter. Maybe had she respected the fact that my father was a married man and had a young daughter at home, I would have respect forherwishes. But until I get an apology from the home-wrecker, I’m not going to fall in line. I’ll only keep the peace for Laney. She’s innocent and sweet and doesn’t deserve to be caught up in the crossfire.

“You girls ready to go?” my dad asks as soon as we enter the kitchen.

“Yes,” Margot says, stepping up to his front and planting a kiss on his lips. One that makes me want to gag. “You’ll take offthe jacket for the photo, right, Mill?” She turns her manipulating stare on me, rubbing her fingers up my dad’s chest.

He obviously catches her hint and looks my outfit over, grimacing when he sees my black combat boots and matching leather jacket. “Yes, she will,” he states, turning his attention back to his trophy wife. “We’ll put our little Laney bear in front of her to hide the boots,” he not so quietly whispers, giving her another kiss. “Shall we head out and see Santa Claus?” He turns toward his favorite daughter. The one I hold no resentment toward whatsoever. None of this is Laney’s fault. She’s an innocent. But my father… He’s a bastard. He, too, has never apologized for what he did to our family. For the mass destruction he caused. He just carries on as if nothing happened.

“Yes!” Laney practically bounces in her shoes, pulling my attention from the selfish couple. “Do you know what I’m asking Santa for, Daddy?”

He shakes his head, looking down at his favorite little princess with so much love in his eyes. “Let me guess…a giant pink Barbie castle.” I remember when he used to look at me that way—all the way up until I was ten years old. Then he stopped looking at me at all because he was never home. Mom and I thought it was because he was busy trying to make partner at his law firm. But come to find out, it was because he was busy fucking his hot new secretary.

“No, Daddy.” She shakes her head. “I’m asking him for my very own elf. He has so many. And I’ll take really good care of him. I’ll love him so much.”

My eyes snap up to the two adults in the room, wondering how they’re going to play that one off. Because obviously they can’t give their daughter a live elf for Christmas. But if they don’t give her what she wants, Laney will stop believing in Santa. And according to my stepmother,“Christmas will be doomed.”

“Well, sweetheart, I don’t think Santa just gives away his elves. If he did, every little boy and girl would want one, and then he wouldn’t have any left.”

“Elves can only live at the North Pole, Laney,” her mother jumps in. “They can’t breathe on Earth.”

Oh my God. How stupid is she? “The North Pole isn’t on a different planet, Margot. It’s the most northern point of Earth. It’s one of our planet’s magnetic poles.”

Margot’s cheeks instantly turn red, but I know it’s not out of embarrassment. She looks pissed. She hates when I call her out on shit, but I don’t want my little sister getting a question wrong on her geography test one day because of what her mom told her. “And according to all the Christmas fairy tales”—I smile at my sweet sister—“Santa has millions of elves and is the most generous magical soul. If he truly does exist, he would definitely give you an elf if you asked for one.” I have to bite back my smirk when I see my stepmother’s cheeks turn an even brighter shade of tomato. I can’t wait to see how the home-wrecker talks herself out of this one.

“But I’ll promise him I won’t tell anyone.” Laney turns her sweet, pleading eyes back on our dad. “And if I do, my elf will go right back to the North Pole.”

“But, Laney, sweetie.” Margot steps up to her, holding out the little fur coat for Laney to slip into. “The elves are Santa’s children. He won’t want to give one of his kids away. That would make him so sad.” She meets my eyes, and the message is clear:Touché.The bitch thinks she’s won this round, but we’ll see. The day is still young.

3

Brawn

Wow, this place is different. I feel like I’m on another planet. I’ve been surrounded by little people all my life, but here, they come in all shapes and heights. And all of them look funny. Their ears are small. Their noses come in all different sizes. And their voices are deep. The female person who greeted me upon my arrival sounded almost like Santa. Her hair was short and spikey, colored in green and red stripes, and she called herself Mick. I asked her if it was short for Mickey Mouse, and she glared at me. Guess her Christmas cheer is at a zero.

“Come on, Santa. You have to get out on the floor. Now, did the manager brief you?”

Manager? All Santa told me was to sit in the big chair, let the kids climb on my lap, and ask them what they want for Christmas. If any of them cry, I need to help cheer them up. Oh, and I’m supposed to smile for every picture. Santa also said that if I do a great job, I’ll get to ask him for my very own Christmas wish. But if I mess this up, then I’m facingdoom.

“Yes.” I nod at the girl who’s way too grumpy to be an elf. “I’m ready to spread Christmas cheer.”

“Great. If any of the kids leak on you, or throw up, the extra suits are right back here. Now, come on, Santa, the brats are waiting.”

Leak? What the hell does that mean?

“Leak?” I ask as she starts walking through the door.

“You know…” She looks back over her shoulder with a not-so-friendly grin on her face. “If their diapers explode. It happens every year. It’s like those little babies just wait to sit on Santa’s lap so they can let those mustard turds run.”

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