Page 9 of Stalking Christmas

I race out onto the wet patio in just my socks, and try to grab him by the collar, to haul him back and away from whatever he’s intent on. “No, Toothless, don’t eat any of that!” I attempt to wrestle with the beast that outweighs me by over fifty pounds, and finally manage to push him away, but not before he tears into whatever he’s trying to get to. He whines and barks, trying to get around my body, as I yank him off the table.What the fuck is that?

On the patio table littered with old discarded, empty beer bottles and half-smoked butts, is a torn package wrapped in black wrapping paper, and a red bow lies lopsided and damaged next to it. There’s a chunk out of the side of the box, and Toothless’s distinct teeth marks gracing it.Shit, what is that?Could it be poison from that idiot neighbor two doors down, who is constantly calling animal control on Toothless? “No, boy, you can’t have that. It could be bad. It’s not a treat!” I grapple with the giant beast, and finally manage to get him back inside the house, before returning and lifting the package.

“Hey, Chris, you home?” Daisy’s voice calls from within, and I turn to look at her through the patio door, while still holding the package in my hands. She opens the door wide and steps outside, her loopy smile letting me know she’s smoked a blunt, and is high. “Hey, what’s that?” She approaches me and tries to take the box from my hands, but I pull back and prevent her from reaching for it. “Don’t know. It was out here on the patio table, and Toothless tried to rip it apart. I’m guessing it’s probably fucking rat poison or some shit, from the guy two doors down.”

“Hmmm, whatever it is, it’s dripping, Chrissy.” Daisy points at my hands and down at the red-stained slush at my feet. A feeling of revulsion fills me.Did this asshole send us a dead animal to scare us? Fuck, what is wrong with people?I place the box back down on the table and rip it open, fully prepared to march down to his house with whatever dead animal is in there, and shove it down his unstable and vengeful throat. When the package is wide open, bile races up the back of my throat, and I have to lurch to the edge of the patio, to release the meager contents of my stomach. I can hear Daisy’s screams, but they seem to be coming through in a fog. My eyes trail back to the destroyed package on the table, and disbelief and fear fill me.

“Is that... what... what I think it... is?” Daisy questions through a sob. I can’t take my eyes off the red mess in front of me to stare at her and try to reassure her.

“It’s two hands, severed hands. Male... male, if I were to guess.” Jesus fuck, someone left severed hands on our back porch for our dog to find.

“Does... does that mean... whoever they... belong to is... dead?” Daisy questions, and she grabs onto my bicep and pulls me closer to her, burrowing her tiny body at my side, as the sound of Toothless’s excited pawing at the door is heard.

“I don’t know... but I hope not,” I exclaim, unsure of what to do. “We have to call the cops.”

“Are you nuts, Chris? We can’t call the cops. I still have a warrant out for my arrest, for forging bad cheques. They’ll take me in.” Daisy shrieks, and releases her hold on me. I go to drag my hands down my face in frustration, and realize that they are covered in blood, and Toothless’s slobber. “What do you suggest we do with them, Daisy? Someone sent us severed hands, for fuck’s sake. That’s not sane!”

“I... I don’t know... we get rid of them... maybe at the club. I can’t go to jail, Chrissy. It’s the holidays!” This can’t be my life; any moment now, I’m going to wake up, and all of this will be nothing but a bad nightmare.Please fucking wake up now.I blink my eyes a couple of times, hoping that the mess will disappear, but unfortunately, this is my reality and not some sick dream.

“Get me a couple garbage bags and the small shovel,” I instruct, and Daisy scrambles off to do my bidding. She comes panting back and hands me the bags.Shit, I forgot to ask her for some gloves, not that I think we even have any.“Hold the bag open wide.” I grab the bloody box and throw it, and its contents, into the black garbage bag, tying it off and putting it in anotherone. “What are you going to do, Chris?” Daisy questions with a pale face.

“Bury it. What else can we do?” I set to work in my soaked socks, digging a hole into the frigid ground of one of our disheveled flower beds, with the shovel that I swear we must have stolen from a kid. By the time I’m done, I can’t feel my fingers or my toes, my chest and face hurt from the cold air, and I’m positive I’m losing my mind.

Why would someone send us two male hands? Who the hell would be deranged enough to do that?

Chapter 12

The Gift

“Seriously, Ron? I’m back on the floor again tonight? You promised me I’d be behind the bar.” I scowl with annoyance at the ruddy face of the owner of the strip club. He gives me a lascivious look, from my stupid heels over the barely-there uniform to my breasts, that are hanging on for dear life in this non-existent bra. “You’ll make more money on the floor. Didn’t you say you needed to earn more over the holidays?”

I roll my eyes, knowing full well I’m getting nowhere with him, and as much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. I’ll make moremoney serving the floor, rather than behind the bar tonight. I’ll also get hit on and touched a lot more, too. “Just pretend they’re ants you can crush under the soles of your shoes,Sugar. Grin and bear it, and you’ll make double the tips from the bar tonight; it’s a full house,“ Sasha, one of the other servers, whispers to me while grinning at a customer who is blowing her kisses.

I straighten my shoulders, grab my metal tray off the bar, and head towards my assigned area for the night. There’s a group of six construction workers, still with their neon safety vests on, being loud and rowdy, and enjoying themselves after a shift. Here’s hoping they’re generous tippers. “Evening, gentlemen. What can I get ya?” I cock a hip and force myself to smile, while jutting out my precariously strapped tits. Six pairs of eyes immediately center on them, and my skin crawls with the sensation.Just breathe, you can do this, we need the money.

“Hey, pretty lady. Aren’t you a sight for tired eyes? What’s your name?” A dark-haired, older man questions. I force myself to continue smiling, even though I would love nothing more than to roll my eyes and walk away.Think groceries and rent money, bitch.“Chrissy,” I croak out.

“Chrissy, I think you might be the prettiest girl in this place tonight. Are you dancing too?” One of the others exclaims, his eyes locked in on my breasts, as he runs his tongue over his lips.

Fucking gross.“Nope, just serving. What can I get you all to drink?” They start throwing out their orders, and I make a mental note of them, before heading back to the bar to grab the drinks. Goosebumps rise along my exposed skin, with the feeling of eyes on me. I discreetly look over my shoulder, and catch men from different tables ogling my ass, and have to bite down on my bottom lip to contain the swear words that want to escape. My eyes rise to the center stage, and I watch as Daisy contorts her body around a pole, in nothing but a sparkly red thong, her face entirely at peace as a fucked-up version of‘Oh Holy Night’plays. I wish I had her confidence and‘give no fucks’attitude, I’d probably be a happier person. Maybe I should down a shot of tequila; it seems to help her get through the night.

After delivering the drinks to that table and pocketing the tips, I turn around and see a man in a dark coat sitting at one of the smaller tables, farther away from the stage in my area. A kernel of excitement fills me, at the prospect of making enough to completely cover rent tonight. Maybe Sasha is right; picture all of them as something I can crush, and keep going. I make my way over to the table, sashaying my hips and plastering a fake smile on my lips. “Hey, what can I get ya,” I question, and the smile falls off my face as I get a good look at who’s sitting at the table.Nic. What. The. Fuck.Oh my fucking god, this day just keeps throwing me curve balls over and over again.

His gray eyes slide over all my exposed skin, with a nonchalant, unimpressed look, before he returns his glance back up to the stage. “She’s really something, ain’t she?” He motions with his chin at Daisy, who’s now doing the splits in mid-air, and only gripping the pole with one hand. A flare of jealousy accosts me, and I have to tamp it down immediately before I embarrass myself. What do I care if he finds my roommate hot? He doesn’t belong to me, even if I saw him first. I remind myself I was a total dick to him the last time I served him, which really he didn’t deserve, and he still tipped me well. “Yeah, she’s amazing. She used to want to be part of Cirque or something when she was younger. Can I get you a drink?”

My eyes move over his tall frame, taking in his dark hair, five o’clock shadow dipped with silver, and the thick muscles across his chest, in the snug-fitting shirt he’s wearing, as he removes his jacket, hangs it off the chair next to him, and sprawls with wide open legs, on the chair that’s far too small to accommodate his large frame. Dark, molten silver eyes meet mine, and the cornerof his pink lips lifts. “Are you going to spit in it? ‘Cause I’d rather you didn’t.”

Heat rises on my face with embarrassment;shit,did he see me spit in his food at the diner? “I’ll try not to, no promises though,” I reply as my lips twist into a mischievous smirk. He returns to watching my roommate up on stage, his hands folded on the sticky tabletop, and I catch a glimpse of a black tattoo peeking from below the sleeve of his navy shirt. My mouth waters at the thought of more of them across his golden skin.Get it together, weirdo. He’s obviously not interested in you, and has Daisy in his sights.The thought that he might hit on her, and take her home for the night, has my fingers tightening on the edge of my tray, and the desire to bash it in his face, riling me up. I force myself to take deep, cleansing breaths before I do something guaranteed to get me fired.

“Scotch, neat, no spit, and top shelf.” He dismisses me with a raised dark eyebrow, and I find myself stomping away like a petulant child who has had her toy taken away. Honestly, I’m a mess; what the hell is the matter with me? It’s not like I want the guy for myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him stand up, walk over to the stage, and throw some bills at Daisy, who is now rolling her hips sensually on the stage. She winks back at him and blows him a kiss, as she shakes her ass in his direction. I’ve never wanted to murder my friend before, but right now, I do, and that makes me come to a stop. I can’t be behaving this way. I need to focus on making enough tips to survive the holidays, and not worry about some random guy, regardless of if the fucker is the hottest male I have ever seen, and I want to climb his tall length like a damn tree.

With my internal pep-talk complete, I return to his table with his scotch, sans spit, and place it in front of him. “That’ll be twenty.” I wait as he pulls out a fifty from his wallet and hands it to me. “Keep the change.”

I pocket it quickly, and move on to the next patron trying to get my attention. Soon, I’m running back and forth to the bar, as the club fills up to capacity with men out celebrating the holidays. One of the construction workers snakes his arm around my waist as I’m going by, and tries to pull me into his lap, but I manage to dodge the hold without breaking his jaw. I roll my eyes at his flirty words, promising me a huge tip if I sit on his lap, and elbow him in the chest. My phone vibrates in the pocket of my tiny uniform shorts, and I pull it out to take a look. It’s another text message from an unknown number.

Sweet little temptation, you always look good enough to eat, and I’m positively starving for a taste of you. How about you let me take a bite?

My eyes scan the crowd of men around me, to see if I can spot anyone with their phones out or looking in my direction. This is getting creepier and creepier. The crowd is too thick, and numerous people are holding phones and recording the stage, even though that’s clearly not allowed here. I quickly reply, block the number, and shove the phone back into my shorts, ignoring whoever this stalker wannabe is.

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