Chapter 4- Grand Theft Auto

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"Ah, perfect."

We walked into a restaurant called Nick's Place, soft Christmas music playing in the background. I smelled the powerful scent of liquor coming from a guy sleeping on the bar.

"Uh, I don't think I'm supposed to be in here," Kate said, her voice concerning.

"Just stay next to me, but I'll do the talking." Santa walked up to a young woman manning the entrance.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked.

"Wendy!" Santa smiled.

"How do you know my name?" Wendy asked.

Santa chuckled. "You got so big!"

"Excuse me?" Wendy questioned.

"Ah, you know what I mean. Grown-up big! Now, do you remember that letter that you sent me about dreaming of being a fashion designer?" Santa turned to us. "She used to always ask for sewing kits, little toy sewing machines. I think it was 2009 when you made all the stockings by yourself."

"I—Yeah, I think so," Wendy said, smiling.

"Well, I'm sorry the fashion designer thing didn't quite pan out," Santa said apologetically.

"Yeah, I wanted to go to Parsons and live in New York, but I couldn't afford the tuition," Wendy explained. "Wait, is this some kind of reality show? How do you know all that stuff?"

"Kate, come on," Santa said.

"Did you talk to my Mom?" Wendy questioned.

"Oh, no, no, no. I certainly wouldn't ruin the surprise of that beautiful scarf you made for your mom. Now, Wendy, we've got a big problem. We need a ride into the city," Santa explained.

"Oh, I don't have a car. Can you call an Uber?" Wendy suggested.

"Don't have an account." Santa frowned.

"Um, a taxi?" Wendy offered.

"Oh, you guys got any cash on you?" Santa asked the three of us.

"No," we said in unison.

"Ah, right. You think I can pay the driver with these?" Santa asked, holding candy canes.

"Santa! Sorry," Kate apologized, taking the candy canes from him.

"You know what? Um... Here, take my tips. Um, although I don't think it's enough to cover a cab ride-"

"Wendy, that's very kind of you, but I'm sure somebody in here will help us out." Santa stopped her. He walked over to the seating area and I stood next to Teddy nervously. "Uh, sorry for the intrusion, folks. I'm-"

"Santa Claus. The real Santa Claus. Not just one of those phony mall ones," Kate interrupted.

"You don't look like Santa Claus," a man said.

"Yeah, well, billboards add eighty pounds, Freddie," Santa replied. "As I was saying, we've got ourselves an emergency situation here. Christmas is in trouble. And if you all want presents under the tree and in your stockings in the morning, then I need your help. So, who here can give us a ride into the city so I can find my reindeer?"

The guests continued to talk, ignoring his speech. He walked up to some tables, asking people for help. They all declined in different languages. A woman looked at us worriedly as she talked to someone on the phone.

"We gotta get out of here," Teddy said, and I nodded in agreement. "Okay, sorry, folks! Grandpa's a little-"

"What are you doing? What has gotten into you?" Santa questioned Teddy.

"Okay, Santa, let's go!" Teddy said with gritted teeth.

"Hey! You three! Out!" the bartender barked at us.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Charlie Plummer! Now, old Charlie here is in the Naughty List Hall of Fame. Ah, you just got outta the joint again, what, about a month ago, Charlie?" Santa asked. "Armed robbery. Money laundering, grand theft auto. You know what, Charlie? I don't think your parole officer would be too happy if he knew you'd stolen that red Dodge Challenger a couple of days ago, do you?"

"Yeah, well, what my parole officer doesn't know won't hurt him. You, on the other hand, might not be so lucky!" Charlie said, pulling out a bat from behind the counter.

"No judgments! After all, my friend Teddy here is headed down the same path. I mean, he's still a little young, but, you keep going, couple years, this could be you. Prison tattoos and slinging tequila shots!"

"Teddy, what's he talking about? Are you doing that sort of stuff?" I questioned in disbelief.

"(Y/n)-"

"Okay, that's it! Out, out, out!"

"Let's go! Okay, hold the doors! Sweet dreams, Charlie. Oh, no. Christmas spirit's already down thirty-five percent. We need to get things back on track," Santa explained.

"Hold on," Teddy said, shushing us afterward. We watched as he snuck behind the counter and grabbed the keys to a car.

"Teddy, I don't think this is such a good idea," Santa reasoned.

"Neither do I," Kate and I agreed.

"Oh, come on! Do you wanna save Christmas or not?" Teddy questioned.

"Well, not by stealing a car. That kind of undermines the whole naughty and nice concept, don't you think?" Santa asked.

"Don't you break into, like, a billion homes every year? I mean, technically, that's illegal too," Teddy retorted.

"Fair point," Santa sighed.

"And plus, it's not just any car. It's this car. I mean, we're not even breaking the law because, you know, the car's already stolen. And when we're finished, we'll just-"

"Turn it into the police," Santa finished.

"Yeah," Teddy nodded.

"Let's go," Santa said. He started mumbling things until he shouted at Teddy, "You're not even old enough to drive!"

"We both have our licenses!" I retorted.

"No time to argue. Look!" Teddy said, panic overtaking him.

"That's my car!" Charlie roared.

"No, it's not! You stole it!" Kate argued.

We drove away, dodging Charlie. Santa dug through the glove box as Kate and I looked back.

"How we doing?" Santa asked.

"No one's following us, so you can slow down, Teddy," Kate informed them.

"Oh, come on, I'm not even going that fast!" Teddy protested.

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