Page 128

That’s when an idea hits me like a frozen snowball to the face.

I sprint to the ballroom and find a group of people in candy-cane headbands and hand-drawn Team Nate shirts.

“Excuse me,” I say as I approach one of the girls I recognize from social media photos. “Are you garland and tinsel 0102, by chance?”

“Ohmigod, yes!” the girl says, the tinsel on her light-up sweater twinkling. “You’re Sparkly Elf! Hot Santa’s helper, right? With the pretty sparkles?”

“First of all, thank you for giving me my own nickname and for appreciating the sparkles,” I say. “Secondly, I was hoping you could help me.”

PennyThoughts Feed

@GarlandAndTinsel0102

Okay #TheSantaClausCon friends, listen up! #HotSanta needs our help. I’m creating a collage of sorts and need every single photo you’ve got. I don’t care if they’re bad, unflattering, or blurry. Just send them!

@ChristmasSparkles50

BTW, free hot cocoa in the Grand Ballroom for this picture upload party!

@SantaBaby77

On it! And on my way. Can’t wait to meet IRL!

@BobaTea4Life

I’ve got a ton of selfies and car pics. Is that helpful?

@ChristmasSparkles50

Yes, we want everything you’ve got! Please and thank you!

@LiveLaughLaLaLand

Sounds like a weird catfishing scheme. Don’t do it, people!

Chapter 40

SADISTIC SANTA

25 minutes after midnight

Ah, New York. A town where dreams really can come true.

My taxi merges onto Twelfth Avenue and speeds down the West Side. Outside the car windows, there’s a light sprinkling of snow coming down. Blue and red lights from a police car flash across the interior of the car, and for a second, I think it’s for me. But it zooms past us, the wail of the siren fading.

I settle into my seat. I did it. I won.

It only took an entire year, meticulous planning, several rounds of plastic surgery, maintaining a low profile, getting in touch with old contacts who could help me pull this off, and keeping communications with current ones to a minimum. Including with her.

But it was all worth it to see Nathan Lambros go down for what he deserves for his years of lies and betrayal. And the look on Scarlett Payne’s face when she realized there was nothing she could do? Priceless.

Fool me once as Elvis, shame on you. Fool me twice as a lost-at-sea snorkeler, shame on me. But who’s having the last laugh now?

We arrive at the pier. It’s a picture-perfect view of the river, of lit-up skyscrapers, of freedom.

I tap my thumbs against my phone screen. My fingers itch to call her. To tell her the good news. In time. It’s too risky now, and I wouldn’t be able to reach her if I tried. She’ll have to contact me. Tomorrow, on Christmas, when she’s given a phone call.

My driver pulls into the bicycle lane. I’ll walk the rest of the way to the helipad. I grab my bags. Before I go, I pat my accomplice on the shoulder. “Thank you, Norman. It’s been a pleasure doing business again. Till next time, au revoir.”