Wiseguys: Christmas in Idaho

by Aaron Michaels

  Wiseguys: Christmas in Idaho

  Aaron Michaels

  December found Tony and Carter in a little town in Northern Idaho fifty miles south of the Canadian border. They’d driven to Idaho because neither of them had ever been there, and decided to stop simply because they were both tired of driving.

  They spent the first night at a Motel 6. The room reminded Tony of the motel rooms they’d had as kids on those hunting trips that weren’t really hunting trips with Uncle Sid. Only now a dusting of snow covered the ground and the room had one king-size bed they both shared instead of the double beds in the rooms of their childhood.

  Tony decided he might like to stay in Idaho a while when he woke up that first morning, still dog-tired from driving, and saw Carter standing naked by the room’s lone window, the drapes cracked open, watching the snow fall. He had an expression on his face like a little kid on his way to see Santa.

  The sight of beefy Carter, all hard muscles and shorn skull and goofy grin, did things to Tony’s heart – not to mention his cock – that Uncle Sid never would have approved of. But Uncle Sid was six months dead now, Carter’s shoulder was long since healed from the bullet he’d taken for Tony, and the two of them were their own family. Uncle Sid's rules no longer applied.

  “You see something special out there?” Tony asked, voice still scratchy with sleep.

  Carter turned from the window, grinning wide. “Snow. Ain’t nothing like this back in Jersey.” He rubbed the top of his head with one large hand. “Gonna need one of those knit beanies or something. I don’t look so good with hair.”

  Carter had started shaving his scalp about the same time he started shaving his face. Tony had to think hard to remember what Carter even looked like when he’d had hair. He thought it might have been curly. Hugged tight against his scalp, dark brown, and curly.

  “We had snow in Jersey,” Tony said. “I remember going to midnight mass Christmas Eve at St. Luke’s in a fucking snowstorm. Feet wet and cold all through Father Mark’s sermon.”

  “Not snow like this. Gonna need a hat, I tell ya.” Carter held out his hand. “C’mon, sleepyhead. Come look.”

  Tony got out from under the covers, shivered as the cold air in the room hit his skin. “It’s fucking freezing out here.” Still, even with his grumbling and the cold air and the rough motel carpet under his feet, he smiled at the little kid look on Carter's face.

  They had a second story room. The view from the window looked out over a parking lot half-filled with cars. Snow fell in a heavy curtain, obliterating the world beyond the street in front of the motel. The cars in the lot already had a good four inches of snow on them.

  Tony went to stand next to Carter. Carter was having none of it. He wrapped a heavy arm around Tony and pulled him back against his chest, Tony’s bare ass snugged in tight against Carter’s body.

  “We’re snowed in,” Tony said.

  Not exactly true. He could see shapes of cars moving around out there, big lumbering trucks and smaller cars rattle-thumping by on their chained-up tires, headlights piercing the snowy gloom.

  Carter was right. It had snowed in Jersey, but it had always seemed like thin, dirty snow, even when it snowed enough to close down schools and businesses and give everyone an unexpected day off. It hadn’t snowed like this though. Not the kind of snow that made the world seem clean and new.

  “I think I want to stay here for a while,” Tony said.

  Carter rumbled a laugh from deep in his chest. “That’s good, ‘cause I don’t think the van’s gonna do so good in this weather unless we go buy some chains.”

  They stood watching the snow for a while, then Carter’s cock perked up, snug as it was against Tony’s rear end.

  Tony chuckled, wiggled his ass suggestively, and Carter’s big hands came down to grab Tony. Then it was hot kisses and hard cocks, and moans and sweaty bodies back on their king-size bed, the outside world of snow forgotten.

  He came buried deep inside Carter, the big man on his hands and knees, Tony bent over him, his wiry body almost a second skin on Carter's slick back.

  The force of his release wrung Tony out, and both of them collapsed down on the bed. He looked at the mirror over the motel room’s sink, but they were too flat on the bed now for Tony to see anything except the curve of his own ass.

  He’d never been one to want to watch, but he'd caught a glimpse of them as they'd been fucking. The two of them moving together had been mesmerizing. He'd looked again right before Carter came and almost stopped moving. Carter’s face, features scrunched up with passion and need, was the most amazing thing Tony had ever seen.

  Uncle Sid -- hell, any of the family -- would have killed Tony and Carter on the spot if they'd known about the two of them. Tony had been raised to think the feelings he'd kept buried deep inside for Carter all those years were wrong. Even now, neither of them put a name on what they had. They were family, that's all, just like they'd always been, only now they fucked and loved each other.

  Tony lay on top of Carter's sweaty back, let the deep breaths Carter took rock him and lull him into an almost doze, and let his mind wander.

  Uncle Sid hadn't been perfect, but he'd been the head of the family. He'd raised Tony after his own parents died. Tony respected him and loved him after a fashion, and did all the things Uncle Sid told him to do, but now he had to wonder if maybe Uncle Sid had been wrong about things. About power and the need to get it and keep it and brutally defend against any perceived disrespect of that power. About money and the fact that whatever he had was never enough. About love and not marrying above -- or below -- his station in life.

  Carter groaned. Tony kissed his shoulder and rolled off onto his back. Carter had his eyes shut, but he reached out for Tony's hand and held it, fingers threaded together.

  Tony didn't know about everything else Uncle Sid had taught him, he was still too new at finding his own way in the world without the support of the family to make a lot of judgment calls, but in this one thing, his uncle had been an idiot. Tony loved Carter and Carter loved him. How could anyone think something so beautiful was wrong?

  ***

  They found a sporting goods shop two blocks down from the motel. Easy walking distance for guys used to walking blocks on end in the city, but they were still covered in snow and freezing cold when the front door of the shop closed behind them.

  Tony stomped the snow off his shoes – walking boots, Carter called them, but no match for snow that was halfway up to his knees – just inside the door while he got his bearings. Lots of ski clothes in here, not too much in the way of hunting and fishing gear or stuff for a tennis court or round of golf. Wrong time of year for the racquet and club set.

  A nice ski jacket would work to keep the snow and cold off him. Tony wasn't about to buy ski pants, especially not in loud colors like what he saw on display. And those slick, padded jumpsuits would look fucking ridiculous on him.

  "Nice," Carter said next to him. He'd brushed the snow off his head and the shoulders of his leather jacket and was looking at a display of skis.

  "You don't ski," Tony said.

  That didn't stop Carter from heading over to the display.

  Carter ran a hand along the edge of one ski, let his fingers inspect the bindings. "Don't matter. I can still appreciate the work that went into something like this." He waggled an eyebrow at Tony. "Maybe we should take lessons. With all this snow and this stuff in here, there's gotta be a place to ski around here somewhere."

  "Other than down the middle of the street?" Or on the sidewalk. Tony had seen one guy on skis gliding down the other side of the street. It hadn't looked like fun. "I don't ski either."

  "Never too late to l
earn," Carter said.

  That was true. Tony had learned a lot of things in the last few months, like how to give head good enough to make Carter shout, how to fuck him slow enough to make him groan. But he'd wanted to do those things.

  Carter really wanted to do this. Tony could tell that by the look on his face. Maybe he should try. Carter had come all this way with Tony. Left his life behind, left the opportunity to work for another family, and as far as Tony knew, Carter never looked back once and wished he hadn't. Compared to all that, trying a new sport seemed pretty insignificant. Besides, wasn't starting a new life all about trying new things?

  "You gonna pick me up when I fall on my ass?" Tony asked.

  "Who says you're gonna fall? You're pretty good on your feet." Carter's eyes glinted as he lowered his voice. "Not to shabby off 'em either."

  Tony stifled his reply when he saw a store employee approaching them.

  The man was a spry-looking sixty-something, face deeply tanned and wrinkled. He had a shock of white hair and a pencil-thin mustache. He had on a pair of those padded ski pants, black with a bright red strip on the outside legs, and a red Christmas sweater. His name tag identified him as Norman, and he wasn't an employee – he was the owner.

  "Can I help you gentlemen?" Norman asked.

  He looked friendly. The clerk in the motel had been friendly too. It had taken Tony a while to quit expecting rudeness in stores and motels and restaurants, a little longer still until he opened up enough not to appear rude himself.

  Carter, on the other hand, never had a problem interacting with people.

  "Yeah," Carter said. "What do we need if we want to ski? Anyplace around here we can do that?"

  He asked with a smile and almost an "aw, shucks" attitude, and Norman's smile changed from professionally polite to genuine.

  "Mount Diablo Ski Resort," Norman said. "Best in the state. Take Main out there–" He pointed through the storefront's windows. "–'til you get to the turn-off to go to the border. Make the turn. Follow the signs to the resort. Can't miss it."

  Tony wasn't sure Carter's van would make it even with chains, not in this weather, but Carter didn't seem too worried about it.

  "So maybe..." Carter trailed off and looked at Tony, and Tony nodded, once. "You should hook us up," he said to Norman. "Whatever we need."

  "Have you ever been skiing before?"

  Carter shook his head.

  Norman studied the two of them for a moment. "Tell you what. I could sell you skis and boots and poles, top of the line stuff that would cost you a bundle and make me a tidy profit, but you'd be better off renting the first time up at the resort. Try it. Take a few lessons. They give adult lessons up there just like they do for the kids. See if you like it. I love it myself, but I'm an odd duck and too old to know better than to slide down the side of a mountain with two long boards strapped to my feet. Skiing's not for everybody."

  Carter chuckled. "I've been known to do some thick-headed stuff myself."

  Tony had to smile. When Carter was fifteen, he got it into his head he wanted to learn to sword fight. Closest he'd gotten was fencing. He'd been pretty good at it, and it had made him wicked quick on his feet for a big man. It also made him learn to anticipate an opponent's moves. That alone was worth all the ribbing Carter had taken for how he looked in his tight white fencing clothes. Not that Tony had minded watching Carter in those tight, white, show off every curve and bulge fencing clothes.

  "How about you?" Norman asked. "You game?"

  Tony shared a long look with Carter, who still had that little kid expression. How could he say no to that?

  "Why not?" Tony said. "And I appreciate the courtesy." Another thing that was almost unknown to him – guys giving up a profit to help somebody out. Nobody did that in Uncle Sid's world, not unless they were banking up favors to call in one day.

  "No problem," Norman said. "You get hooked on it, you'll be back. I'm the only shop in fifty miles."

  Tony had to laugh at that. Cagy old coot.

  "You will need the right clothes though, or you'll freeze your balls off," Norman said. He pointed at the rack of ski jackets and pants, and another taller rack with jumpsuits. "Look better on the snow bunnies than an old fart like me, but they do the trick."

  Apparently now Norman thought they were on good enough terms that his language had roughened a bit. Tony didn't mind. It sounded more real to him than the artificially correct language most store clerks used.

  Tony still couldn't see himself in a jumpsuit. Carter, though, he was game to try. He wandered over to the rack with Norman and was soon lost on the other side, sorting through what was available, looking, no doubt, for something that would not only fit but not make him look like a neon sign out on the snow.

  Snow. He was going fucking skiing. Tony shook his head. Life was getting more interesting every day.

  Tony searched through the ski jackets. The price tags made him blink. Being the only shop in fifty miles let Norman made a pretty healthy markup. Tony still had a good amount of money left hidden in the back of Carter's van. Probably enough to open his own shop and give the old fart a run for his money.

  Right. From wiseguy to respectable sporting goods merchant. Pretty big jump, and besides, he wouldn't be able to get a license to sell firearms. Not with his family background. Even with a fake I.D., Tony didn't want to risk it.

  He wasn't worried about the cops. It was the other families. The ones who, no doubt, waged their own little war back home to fill the void left by Uncle Sid's death and the breakup of his family. Oh yeah, Tony wanted to steer clear of that bunch for as long as possible. He liked his little non-violent life.

  The front door of the shop opened letting in a blast of cold air and two tall, rangy, early twenty-something kids. They wore bulky jackets and black knit caps pulled down low around their ears. They stamped the snow off their feet just like Tony and Carter had done, but something about them bugged him.

  Tony used to think he had a radar for danger, something he'd built up over the years working for his uncle. Of course, if the radar had actually been working, he wouldn't have been caught in the ambush like the rest of his uncle's crew. Right now that sixth sense was telling him something was off about these two guys.

  He kept browsing through the jackets, not watching the new guys except out of the corner of his eye. Every now and then he'd take a quick look around the store to orient himself better to his surroundings. He used to do that second-nature anytime he went in a new place. Six months living outside of his uncle's influence had him slipping.

  Norman was back behind the counter, apparently content to let Tony and Carter browse now that he'd made his sales pitch. Carter was hidden behind the taller rack of jumpsuits, out of view of the newcomers. As far as Tony could tell, he and Carter were the only customers and Norman the only one working.

  The store didn't seem to have a video surveillance system, and there were none of those round, watch the whole store mirrors in any of the corners up near the ceiling. Norman might have some other security system Tony didn't know about, not without a more careful recon of the store, but he doubted it. A sporting goods store, especially one that didn't seem to sell guns, probably wasn't high on anyone's hit list for lucrative places to rob.

  But that's what was going down, Tony knew it. The new guys were too nervous, too intent on looking around the store for the same security setups Tony had tried to spot, and were working too hard to look like they weren't looking. Each of them could have a piece underneath those bulky jackets, jackets that were unzipped and hanging open.

  So what was he going to do about it? Anything?

  Back home, if the job had gone down in territory that belonged to his uncle, the answer would have been simple. Stop it, by whatever means necessary, and the means were usually deadly. Disposing of the evidence wasn't hard for someone like Uncle Sid. Bodies disappeared in any number of ways, never to be found again. Tony had lost count of the number of people his uncle's
guys made disappear. Carter had taken care of a few in his time too, but those days were over for the both of them.

  Weren't they?

  Tony kept his head down. He needed the guys not to look him in the eyes. No way could he pretend he was just an innocent shopper if either of them met his gaze. He'd spent too many years being dangerous, and in situations like this, it showed.

  It didn't take long before they made their move. One of them, the taller of the two, stayed by the front door. He'd be the lookout.

  The other one headed toward the counter and Norman. He looked like he could be stocky beneath his open coat. That made him the muscle. Maybe he thought he was the brains, too, but he wasn't all that smart. He hadn't checked out the rest of the store. From his vantage point near the front door, all he could see was Tony and Norman. Carter was still hidden behind the jumpsuits, not making any noise. Ignoring Carter wasn't smart.

  Brains also by-passed Tony. Either Brains thought Tony wasn't a threat, or else they planned to kill Tony, right along with Norman. Neither Brains nor Lookout had bothered to cover their faces, and that meant they didn't intend to leave witnesses behind. Lookout wasn't stationed by the door just to keep people out, but to keep Tony in.