Page 37 of Subbing For Santa

But then, I’m angry that he was so cold towards me, especially when he released my wrists and left me to fend for myself.

But stupidly, I miss him, even though my power is still out and there’s still a huge fucking lock on my power box. Even so, my patheticness wins over as I continually check my phone every five minutes to see if he’s called or sent a message.

Like seriously. I think I need my head checked.

Since today is Christmas Eve, I drive into town and pick up the ham I ordered from the butcher, get some fresh veggies and stock up on snacks for the next few days.

Christmas was only fun when I was a kid until my parents overdid their alcohol consumption. Now, I don’t even know where my mum and sister are.

I know where my dad is, though. I’m happy I’m not anywhere near him.

Since I don’t have anyone to spend Christmas with, I tend to celebrate alone. Or perhaps wallow alone is a better term.

I’m used to it. It’s been that way for over ten years. It’s just been me and my TV and the batch of Christmas cookies I bake.

I never get a Christmas tree, but today I stopped by the florist and picked up a huge flower arrangement which has a little battery-operated star in it. It’s the first time I’ve brought any sort of Christmas decoration. The simplicity of it is enough. It’s perfect.

As the sun goes down and my little rental plunges into darkness, I sit on the floor by the open glass doors that lead onto my deck, with my new flower arrangement next to me, and flick the little star light on. A faint warm glow oozes from it, doing little for seeing anything, but at least it looks pretty.

It’s pretty here by the lake. I’d love to have enough money to buy this house. Well, I used to think that, but I’m not so sure anymore, what with the whole Big Brother is watching vibe. Then again, knowing my Santa is watching, whoever he is, kind of makes me feel less alone.

At 10pm, I still haven’t heard from Santa, and I begin to feel like a caged animal, so I grab the phone and a candle and leave the dark house, strolling down the grassy hill to the jetty that sits out over the lake. With my feet dangling over the side into the water, I lay back on the weathering timber and look up at the stars, letting the beauty of the earth fill me with positive energy.

I’d lived such a calming routine life before I moved here. Before the Vixen’s Lodge scandal. Now, I’m so on edge, teetering with fear of being exposed for my sinful ways, and fear of not experiencing such sin again. It’s why I continued the sex parties, even though I was putting my location at risk. Even so, I haven’t found the true peace I felt before. All the meditation and yoga in the world hasn’t been able to get me back to that place. Although, sometimes when I’m subbing for my Santa, I feel more at one with myself than I have in a long time.

By 11pm, I figure the silence from the phone is an obvious message that Santa has bowed out of our game. After all, in one hour, our arrangement is over. The clock will strike twelve and Christmas Eve will turn into Christmas Day, and I’ll be left to my loneliness for another year.

It’s probably for the best. He’s probably the baddest of men, and I’ve probably caught a lucky break to still be alive right now. I obviously never learnt that I shouldn’t talk to strangers.

The vibration of the phone on the wooden surface of the jetty next to my head is loud as it starts to silently ring. I startle, bolting upright to grab the phone, instead knocking it to skitter across the jetty. I gasp as I lunge for it, catching it just in time before it tumbles over the edge into the water.

Shit. That was close.

On its third ring, I quickly answer the call.

“Cutting it close.”

His voice.

Shit.

Why does its deep rasp have such an effect on me?

“We have an hour, little elf. Are you ready for the finale?”

No.

“Yes.” I breathe, my heart racing with anticipation.

“Are you sure? I’ll give you one last chance to back out now before I tell you what tonight’s game is, because if we do this, little elf, we will see it through to the end.”

What does that mean?

“Can I ask any questions first?”

“No. You decide here and now.” He rumbles. “And just remember that I know everything about you, Agatha Marie Fiera, daughter of Roma and Dougal. Sister of Elizabeth.” He chuckles at my loud intake of air. “You only know how I sound, taste, smell, and feel. You have no idea what my name is. Who my family is. Where I live. What I look like. What I do to earn a living.” He chuckles again. “I could be butt ugly, Aggie. Really fucking ugly, either on the outside or inside.” He clucks. “Or both. Be sure of what you want before you commit to our last game, my little elf, because it’s the best one yet. But is it best for me… Or you?”

I get it. He’s trying to scare me, right? Make me second guess things to create more anticipation. Well, I’m not that easily scared.

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