by Eli Easton
“Sure,” I said, though inside I was screaming: By midnight! Are you out of your fucking mind?
“You lucked out with this wrestling team thing, kid.” Randall gave me a friendly punch on the arm. “It’ll draw in the sports fans. Besides, it’s just the sort of sentiment readers love. Big, tough wrestlers chipping in at a Christmas charity for orphans. Classic!”
“Most of the St. Mark’s kids aren’t technically orphans,” I pointed out.
He ignored me. “And to think, if I didn’t run this story every year, we’d have missed this. Let that be a lesson to you. Sometimes a story that seems small, isn’t.”
“Actually, I’d be happy for a truly small and stress-free story next time. Maybe we should call the Y about that rotor-rootering thing.”
Randall laughed, but his expression said he thought I was weird. “Too bad about that mystery-Santa angle. Maybe the guy’ll come back next year.”
“Maybe,” I said enigmatically. By next Christmas, both Mack and I would probably live far away.
“So who is it this year? The Santa?” Randall demanded.
I shrugged with a who-knows expression. “Some guy from the wrestling team. Not sure which one of them drew the short straw.”
“I haven’t seen the Mountain, Mack McDonall. He should be here, shouldn’t he?” Randall looked around.
“Should be. I heard Owen Nelson say one of the guys got food poisoning, though. So maybe that was him.”
“Have you interviewed Nelson yet?” Randall demanded.
“Not yet. He just finished with WKOW, so I was about to, yeah.”
“Well, go do it, Gabe.” Randall shoved me toward Owen.
I was grateful that Randall hadn’t gotten his hooks on the real Mack McDonall story. Because damn, the guy was relentless.
Owen was just leaving the WKOW area when I grabbed him. I looked around, then spoke softly into his ear. “Mack’s here. He’s cool with everything. Thanks again for doing this.”
“Hey. Can’t leave one of our teammates hanging out there.” He gave me a curious look. “I’m still not sure how you learned so much about Mack in so short a time. Jesus, Gabe, I’ve known him since we were freshman, and I had no idea he’d grown up at St. Mark’s. Or about what happened with his dad.”
I blinked at him, thinking about that. I would have liked to believe Mack and I had some special rapport, that he’d let me, and me alone, in on his deepest secrets. But I knew that wasn’t what had happened.
“I found out because I was assigned to this story,” I said honestly. “But if I’m a very, very lucky boy, Mack will trust me. Someday.”
Owen held up a fist for me to bump. “You’re a good guy, Gabe.”
I bumped it, but I made a face. “Kiss of death. I’m not good. I’m hot and dangerous, I’ll have you know. But let’s do this interview thing.” I took out my phone and started the recorder. “So, Owen Nelson, tell us about Santa Claus.”
Owen nodded. “When we heard the Elks didn’t have a Santa for tonight, we figured we could find a victim—I mean, a willing volunteer.” He put on a naughty grin. “It took four of us to pin him down to the mat, but I think you’ll agree we got the best possible Santa for the job.”
“Oh? And who is that?”
As if on cue, there was a sudden bang. I turned to see Walter had opened the main doors and the children were filing in. They were damned cute, all dressed in their best clothes and bubbling with excitement. The more confident ones strutted like they were on a runway. There were murmurs and chuckles from the diners.
Walter got the kids arranged in the middle of the room, where there was a space between tables. Sharon stood to the side taking photos.
“Okay, kids, who do we want to see?” Walter asked.
“Santa!” the kids called out.
“You’ll have to help me call for him! Let’s sing a song and see if we can get Santa to appear.”
“Santa! Santa!” the group chanted, some of them jumping up and down.
Sharon began singing “Here comes Santa Claus,” and the kids chimed in. The littler kids were genuinely eager, bodies scrunched tight and springing around with anticipation. The older ones played along, trying to outsing one another. A boy of about twelve pumped his fist in the air and faced the diners. He motioned and the diners sang along.
“…right down Santa Claus Lane!”
Owen and the other wrestlers joined in too, their deep voices bellowing. By the amusement on their faces, they all knew who Santa was.
When I didn’t think the room could get any louder, the double doors burst open again and there he stood, a bulging sack slung over his shoulder. Mack looked so perfectly, one-hundred-percent, Santa Claus. His size made him appear larger than life, a legendary figure. For a moment, the room held its collective breath, stunned. Nobody moved so much as an eyelash.
Then he spoke. “Ho-ho-ho! Meeeeerry Christmas!”
Oh. Dios mio. I put my hand over my mouth to hold back a laugh. That? That shit was priceless right there.
The kids squealed and yelled. A number of them rushed to Santa and grabbed his legs much like they’d done with Mack at the decorating party. Sharon waded through small bodies and tried to enforce some order. But Santa didn’t seem bothered. He rubbed heads and squeezed hands and made his way farther into the room, despite the children clinging to his massive thigh.
“Oh my God. I’ll never let him live this down,” Owen muttered in a low, delighted voice.
“Don’t give him too much shit,” I said.
Owen just laughed at me like I was crazy. He pulled out his phone to snap a picture. Meanwhile, I noticed that WKOW was filming the whole thing. Of course they were.
I sighed. Poor Mack. The world might never learn Mack McDonall’s history, but he’d be ribbed by his teammates for being Santa, probably forever. Or until he hung one of them naked in front of the student union.
Come to think of it, my odds were on Mack.
Santa made it to the “throne,” and Sharon got the kids in a line. I went over to see if I could help and was given the task of finding the correct gift for each kid inside Mack’s huge bag. A kid would sit on Santa’s lap. He would ask their name, Sharon would take a photo, then Santa would chat with them while I rummaged around the bag looking for the right gift tag.
Owen came up and put his elf hat on my head. I made him stand there and hold some of the gifts I’d organized alphabetically.
After the first few kids, I stopped worrying about pulling gifts fast and let myself tune in to Mack. He seemed utterly at ease and in no particular hurry. His Santa was on the gruff side, saying things like “You’d better be good to your brothers and sisters at St. Mark’s. You are, aren’t you?” and “Darren! I heard you had a fight with Peter a few weeks ago. I want you guys to make a truce. You need to have each other’s backs. You feel me?” and, to one quiet and sad-looking little girl, “Molly, I see everything as Santa. And I know that Sharon and Amanda and Bob all love you very much and you’re in a safe place. So try not to worry. Okay?”
When Josh and Sasha came up, she looked angelic in a green and red plaid dress—though I knew better. She dragged Josh firmly by the hand. He stared at Santa with big, wary eyes.
“Can you do us both at the same time?” she asked Mack when it was her turn. “’Cause Josh does everything with me.”
“I sure can.” Mack went to lift Josh up, but Sasha stepped in.
“I’ll go first. Josh, we’re gonna sit on Santa’s lap so’s we can get our picture taken and get our candy.” She explained it in a very matter-of-fact voice and began trying to heft herself up on Mack’s knee. He lifted her. Seated, she reached down for Josh, and he let himself be pulled up by her and Mack so they each had a knee.
“Merry Christmas, Sasha and Josh. I hear you guys have become excellent friends. That makes me very happy. Since you’ve both been good this year, is there anything you want to ask me for?”
Suddenly remembering my part,
I hurriedly searched for their gifts.
“Hmmm, let’s see, Santa, what do I want?” Sasha tapped her chin dramatically. She cupped a hand to her mouth and Mack leaned down so she could whisper in his ear.
He grunted. “I think I can do that.”
“Now you tell him what you want, Josh,” Sasha said. “And it don’t have to be something ‘sensible’ either.”
Josh raised his shoulders up to his ears and shook his head.
“That’s all right, Josh,” Mack said. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m pretty good at guessing. Besides, I have a present for you both right here.”
Mack reached out to me and I handed him Sasha’s and Josh’s gifts. Josh clutched his little red box to his chest as if someone might take it.
Sharon snapped their photo, Mack handed them each a mesh bag of chocolate coins, and Sasha hopped down. “Come on, Josh.”
But Josh hesitated. He looked up at Santa from under his lashes, his chin down to his chest, and crooked his finger. Mack leaned in, and Josh whispered something in his ear.
“I’m on it. I swear by Rudolph’s red nose,” Mack said. He put up a fist in a red glove, and Josh, with a tiny giggle, bumped it. Then he jumped down and Sasha led him away.
At last, the gifts were all handed out and the photos taken. Santa stood up and waved goodbye to the kids. I saw the WKOW team moving in, so I ditched the elf hat and got there first. I introduced myself as if Mack and I didn’t know each other and interviewed him, recording it on my phone.
I was hoping to help him solidify his story before the news videotaped him, but he was pretty solid with it already.
“I got drafted into it,” Mack said in his gruffest voice. “But St. Mark’s is a good place and they deserve all the help and donations they can get. If putting on a suit and fake beard makes some kids happy, then, yeah, I’m down with it.”
I watched him give the news anchor for WKOW the same sound bite on camera before he left the room. The kids waved him off with cries of “bye Santa” and “I love you, Santa” and “Don’t freeze your butt off in the North Pole!”
I made sure Randall was occupied, and I slipped out to follow Mack.
When I caught up with Mack at his car, he was de-Santifying, folding his red velvet jacket neatly into a gym bag along with his wig, hat, and beard. He was wearing a tight-fitting, long underwear shirt in white and those red velvet pants and black boots.
I leered at him. “Nice look. I don’t suppose I can get you to dress up as Santa for sex sometime?”
He gave me a funny look. “You’re cracked, Gabe. Either that or you have some very weird issues around the holidays.”
“Well, maybe a few.”
I leaned against the side of his car. I’d rushed out so fast from the lodge, I hadn’t put on my coat, a decision I was regretting. I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered. “So… that went okay, right?”
Mack pulled his green anorak out of the trunk and put it on. Then he brought out a gray blanket, the kind you carry around for football games or picnics. He shook it out and came over to me. He shrouded me in it, draping it neatly around my face. I felt like Joseph in a Christmas nativity pageant. But I didn’t mind, especially when his big body added its warmth, pressing me against the car.
Mmm. Nice. Warm.
“It went better than all right,” Mack said, staring down at me. His eyes were dark in the moonlight. “Gabe, I owe you an apology. I… I didn’t trust you. And I should have. I’m sorry.”
The words were simple, but I could hear the deep feeling behind them. I wasn’t sure what to say. “It’s okay, Mack. I get that this whole thing started out weird.”
“Nah, it’s not okay. It’s just… I dunno.” He swallowed. “Growing up, I was always a freak because of my size. And then the whole thing with my dad and being put in St. Mark’s just made it worse. I shut the other kids out so I didn’t have to care what they said about me. And I… I still have a hard time trusting people, that’s all. But what you did—getting Owen and the whole team to come out and cover my ass…. No one’s ever done anything like that for me before.”
I got a lump in my chest, hot and tight. Which was not a very comfortable feeling. “Owen and Jordan deserve a lot of the credit. It was my idea, but they pulled it off.”
“Yeah. They’re good friends too,” he said, as if almost surprised to realize it. “Anyway, sorry for being a dick. I’m still not sure why a smart, outgoing, good-looking guy like you would be interested in a guy like me. But I promise I’ll work on deserving it.”
He sounded absolutely sincere. It made me ache to think that Mack still thought of himself as a freak, that he didn’t see how goddamn amazing and special he was.
“Well, believe it. Because I’m crazy about you, you idiot,” I said, a little angrily.
Mack smiled. “Yeah? Um. Me too you.” His voice was gruff.
“So? Start making it up to me.” I tilted up my chin.
Mack obliged. The kiss was slick and hot, the sensation exaggerated in comparison to the frigid air. The press of Mack’s tongue into my mouth ignited the embers of lust that were always banked in my belly for Mack. A rush of fire raced through my body, chasing away the chill and waking up every inch of my skin to a needy craving. I gathered the edge of the blanket around Mack, hiding us both from the winter air. It would have looked ridiculous to anyone who might be watching, but who cared? It felt amazing. I wanted to sink into that hiding place with Mack and not face reality again until sometime much, much later, preferably after we’d both come.
Mack growled with a mix of desire and frustration. He got his arms around me and lifted so that he didn’t have to stoop. He pressed me against the car, my feet off the ground, and his big chest against me. I wrapped the blanket more tightly around us, feasting on his mouth. Dios, it felt so good to kiss him. I could kiss him forever.
He pressed his hips against me, his dick hard against my thigh. I heaved a shuddering breath. Fuck, he felt big. I got a thrill knowing I’d made Mack McDonall desperate for me. I wanted my hands on him—now.
I broke out of the kiss. “Can we get in your car?” I was dying to get my hand inside his pants.
Mack gave a pained groan and put his forehead against mine. “There’s no room. I can hardly breathe in there. But… soon? Can I see you tomorrow night?”
With the break in the kiss and the creep of the cold air into the blanket, my logical brain came back online. I still had a job to finish inside the lodge tonight, and I had a story to write too. I was on a deadline for the front page of the Sunday paper. I had to admit, that was a damned good feeling.
And, yeah, getting Mack naked in a cold parking lot or tiny car was probably not the best plan.
“Tomorrow,” I said firmly. “Text me?”
“You got it.”
We dared one more kiss, but it was a brief one. Mack set me back on my feet and stepped away with great reluctance, like a man pulling himself out of quicksand. That told me he was having as hard a time controlling his want as I was. I loved that.
“I better get back inside,” I said, handing him the blanket.
“See you tomorrow,” Mack said, his voice gravelly.
I ran for the lodge.
MACK: Hey. Do you want to grab dinner tonight? My treat.
GABE: Are you asking me on a date? For real?
MACK: Maybe. Yes.
GABE: I love a man who knows his own mind. ;-) Where do you want to meet?
MACK: You pick.
GABE: Nah. You’re the one with a special diet. Bet you know some good holes-in-the-wall off campus.
MACK: I’ll text you the address.
The place I pulled up to on Sunday night was in Mack’s neighborhood, a tiny storefront with a sign over it that read Papa Al’s. It was an itty bitty Italian place that boasted “Pizza, Stromboli, and Pasta” in neon colors in the window. Wafts of Christmas music came from the interior.
Mack waited for me outside on the sidewalk. H
is features were lost in the shadow of his parka hood, but there was no mistaking his build.
“Hey,” I said, as I walked up, hands stuffed in my pockets. I felt a little awkward and a lot eager.
“You make it okay?” Mack shoved his hood back and eyed my Honda where I’d left it parallel parked across the street. “You didn’t have trouble with the snow?”
I held out a palm and watched a few fat snowflakes land on my glove. The skies were silent and heavy, the flakes were sticking, and there was a sense of enchantment in the air, the magic the first snowfall of winter always brings.
“No problemo. I grew up in Indiana. And I’ve got snow tires.”
Mack nodded and looked at the road. “Supposed to be a foot by morning. Tricky driving. I was thinking maybe you should, um, stay at my place tonight. Just to be safe.”
“Is that what you were thinking?” I grinned and stepped closer, grabbing the front of his parka. “That’s so magnanimous of you.”
Mack looked down into my eyes, his face studiously casual. But there was some rosy color in those cheeks I didn’t think was because of the cold. “That’s me, always putting others first.”
“Uh-huh. What about your dad?”
“Won’t be home till 6 a.m.”
I swallowed a whimper of longing. Mack asked me to sleep over? And I had him all to myself until 6 a.m.? I was so finally getting Mack in bed tonight. “You’re right. It’s much too dangerous for me to drive back to the campus in this treacherous blizzard.”
Mack smiled really big and squeezed my hand. “Good. You ready to go inside and eat?”
I hesitated. It was sort of nice looking up at Mack in the snow, with the colored lights from Papa Al’s neon sign playing over him in red and blue. It was so… plain and ordinary and unfancy—Mack, the restaurant, the street, even the snow. And at the same time, it was achingly wonderful, like that scene in Rocky where Rocky and Adrian first kiss. At this moment, the possibilities were endless and I almost had everything I’d ever wanted.
Hell, maybe Mack was the real Santa Claus.
