Wiseguys: Christmas in Idaho

by Aaron Michaels

  So much for the quiet life in the middle of nowhere.

  Tony figured he'd let Brains make it to the counter, let him get busy with Norman, then he'd take Lookout down, grab his gun, and convince Brains just how stupid his idea was. It would have to be quick and most likely brutal, but Tony had no plans on breathing his last while he was looking at flashy ski jackets, not when he'd survived an all-out mob war.

  He'd shifted toward the door, still browsing through the jackets, when he spotted movement over by the jumpsuits. Carter was looking at him in the gap between a gaudy pink and neon green thing that might have fit on Carter's little finger and a more subdued burgundy and navy suit. Carter's expression was deadly serious. His eyes flickered toward the door; then he nodded almost imperceptibly toward the counter. Tony got it. He still needed to take down Lookout, but convincing Brains of his stupidity would be all Carter's job.

  When it went down, it happened so fast it was over almost before it started. Carter still had the grace and speed of his fencing days. He shouted, "Hey, bozo!" at Brains as he ran out from behind the rack, and that was enough to disrupt Brains' whole plan.

  Brains turned, as Carter must have known he would, shock on his face at the deep bellow from a man he didn't even know was there. Lookout stopped looking at Tony and took a half step toward Brains, ready to try to rescue him from the mountain of muscle bearing down on him. He never got the chance.

  Tony cold-cocked Lookout with a fast punch to the nose. A second punch in the same place knocked Lookout to his knees, then the kid collapsed on the floor, out like a light. Tony fished inside Lookout’s jacket and came up with the piece he knew would be there. A shitty little Saturday night special Tony could have bought on any street corner back home. Good enough to kill though.

  As he picked up the gun he heard a round go off with a sharp crack! followed by a thud as something – or rather, someone – hit the floor. When he turned around, gun in hand, it was to see Brains on the floor beneath Carter. The gun Brains had fired had slid away out of his reach. Carter must have knocked it out of his hand when he tackled the guy. Carter had blood on one side of his head and his hand around Brains' throat.

  Norman was still behind the counter, the color leached out of his face making his tan look sickly gray.

  "Now why'd you have to come play in here?" Carter said conversationally to the kid struggling beneath him. "We were having a nice afternoon until you two bozos showed up to ruin everything."

  Beneath Carter's hand, Brains was starting to turn an alarming shade of red. His rangy body was no match for Carter's muscles and bulk, and the expression on Brains' face said he knew it.

  "You're bleeding," Tony said as he walked up on Carter, keeping himself in Carter's line of sight so he'd know it was Tony and not Lookout trying to do something even more stupid, like take on Carter to rescue his friend.

  "Tried to blow my head off. Lucky for me, he can't shoot straight when his hand's all shaky."

  "What's... what's going on here?" Norman's voice wasn't too steady either. Tony didn't blame him.

  "These guys were about ready to rip you off," Tony said. "And they weren't too worried about witnesses, so I'm guessing they weren't planning on leaving any. Am I right?" he asked Brains.

  The kid's face was nearly purple now. Carter released the pressure on Brains' windpipe and the kid hauled in a huge breath that ended in a coughing fit.

  "Guess they figured the cops couldn't get here too fast, all this snow," Carter said. "Just how stupid you gotta be to try to hit a place like this? Norman here might not sell guns, but you see those hunting knives in the display case over there?" Carter nodded at the glass case to the left of the register. "All I gotta do is smash that glass, take my pick, and it's your blood on the floor."

  Brains' eyes flickered over to the cabinet and then widened so much it was almost comical. The kid wasn't used to not being the baddest guy around. Carter was top dog here, and Brains knew it.

  "Yeah, you wouldn't like that too much, would you?" Carter swiped at the side of his head with the hand that wasn't holding the kid down. His hand came away bloody.

  The movement seemed to break Norman out of his trance. He nearly ran to a display of sport towels, the kind tennis players or golfers might carry in their bag. He grabbed up a handful and held them out to Carter at arm's length, like he was scared to come too close to him.

  "Thanks," Carter said. He used a towel to wipe off most of the blood. The bullet had only grazed him, which was pretty much what Tony thought. Carter was tough, but nobody took a bullet in the head and kept on fighting, not even Carter.

  "Good thing he's a lousy shot," Tony said.

  "Yeah," Carter said.

  They shared a look, and for a moment nothing else in the store existed for them except each other. Escaped another one, the look said. I'm glad you're okay. And, I love you.

  After that, things went quickly. Norman called the cops, and within ten minutes a sheriff's deputy showed up. The paramedics beat the sheriff's deputy to the scene. By that time Tony and Carter had tied up Brains and Lookout with nylon cord. Brains' gun was on the floor where it came to rest after Brains lost it. Tony put Lookout's gun on the counter after removing all the bullets.

  Norman got back a little of his color then, and a lot of his colorful language.

  "Fucking kids," he said. "Hang out at the lake in the summer, but they don't have anything better to do when the snow falls than get high and get in trouble."

  Tony thought it was a little more serious than that, but he didn't say anything. He stayed by Carter while the paramedics treated his head wound. A thin line over Carter's ear, the wound had bled like crazy like head wounds always did, but the bullet hadn't struck bone. The paramedics tried to talk Carter into a trip to the hospital for an x-ray to make sure, but Carter was having none of it. He'd been hurt worse in fistfights and nursed his wounds then with a bottle of bourbon and a few aspirin.

  They gave the sheriff's deputy their fake ID's, top of the line stuff that rang no bells or whistles when the deputy ran them through the computer in his cruiser. The deputy gave them a hard look when he handed the ID's back. He could tell they were dangerous men but he couldn't prove it.

  "Have some experience getting robbed?" the deputy asked them.

  "Boxing," Tony said. "In high school. Had to be tough in my neighborhood when you're a skinny kid like me."

  "And where would that be?"

  "Back East." Their accents would have given them away anyway.

  "What about you?" the deputy asked Carter.

  "Wrestling."

  "Win any championships?"

  Carter gave the deputy his "aw shucks" grin. "Naw. Wasn't serious enough about it. And the coach and me, we didn't get along so much."

  The deputy nodded. "You two just passing through? Or are you staying around for a while?"

  "We were going to take skiing lessons at the resort," Tony said. "We might wait and do that tomorrow now."

  "And you're staying at..."

  The deputy looked at his notes. He didn't really need to. The address of Motel 6 was on the written statements Tony and Carter had filled out. He was just doing what cops everywhere did – ask the same questions over and over again, looking for inconsistencies. The trick was to keep answers short and simple and as true as possible. Tony and Carter had lots of practice.

  "Motel 6," Carter said.

  "Room numbers?"

  "One room," Tony said, and he gave the deputy the number.

  The deputy had other questions, things they'd already told him, already written in their statements. Fifteen minutes later the deputy was satisfied enough to tell them if he had any other questions, he'd be in touch. They were free to go.

  "Still up for skiing?" Tony asked Carter.

  "Maybe tomorrow." He had a bandage on his head and the tell-tale sign of a headache in the tightening of his eyes. "Right now I want a nice juicy steak, a cold beer, and a hot bath."

  All
that sounded way better than skiing as far as Tony was concerned.

  Norman bustled over to them as they were leaving. He held out his hand to shake both of theirs.

  "This might be out of line," Norman said, "but I want to do something for you. Both of you. There's a bed and breakfast in town, rooms up over the Steakhouse Grill. Owner's a friend of mine. She usually closes around Christmas time, goes to visit her family, but she's not up to traveling this year." He waved his hand in front of his face. "That's not important. Bottom line is – Motel 6 is no place for the guys who saved my ass to spend their time here. You've got a room at Bess's place for as long as you want it. The place is empty. You'll have the whole second floor to yourselves."

  It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for Tony, at least anyone who didn't want to curry favor with his uncle.

  "Thank you," he said. "But you don't have to–"

  "Which is exactly why I want to." Norman held his gaze then, the look man-to-man and serious. "You didn't have to either. You could have just as easily walked away, but you didn't. This is the least I can do. The very least."

  ***

  The very least Norman could do was damn fine. His friend Bess met them at the door to the Steakhouse Grill and handed them a key. "First door to the right at the top of the stairs," she said. "You can take your things up, wash up, then come back down here for dinner. On the house."

  Carter raised an eyebrow.

  "The room's enough," Tony said. "We can pay for dinner."

  "The room's on Norman. Dinner's on me. Norman told me what you did. You're good boys."

  Her eyes swam a little, and now Tony understood what Norman meant when he said Bess was a friend of his. Bess was a good-looking fifty-ish woman with long salt and pepper hair that hung heavy past her waist and laugh lines at the corners of her faded blue eyes. She didn't have a wedding ring on her finger. Whether or not Norman softened the tale of what happened for Bess's benefit, she was a smart woman. She knew how close she'd come to losing her "friend."

  The room was actually a suite of rooms. The door to the right of the top of the stairs opened on a bedroom larger than Tony's last apartment. The room was dominated by a four-poster bed covered in a down quilt and enough pillows to satisfy even a picky princess. What Tony initially thought was an armoire actually hid a big-screen television that swiveled to face either the bed or an over-sized chair next to a window that looked out over a small marina.

  Beyond the bedroom was a living room complete with a working fireplace and enough comfortable furniture to accommodate a crowd, not just two former wiseguys from Jersey. On the other side of the living room was a full kitchen complete with four-burner gas stove.

  "I smell spaghetti in our future," Carter said. He opened the cabinets, checked out the pots and pans beneath the stove. "Think I can find a decent deli around here?"

  Carter made kick-ass spaghetti. They'd been staying in motels for weeks. A fully-equipped kitchen where he could cook to his heart's content was Carter's idea of heaven.

  For Tony, heaven was the over-sized tub in the bathroom. Sharing showers with Carter was one thing, but this tub was big enough for the two of them to stretch out in and be comfortable.

  "After dinner," Tony said. "This is where I want to relax."

  The dinner Bess served them was as impressive as the rooms upstairs. Carter ordered steak and a caesar salad; Tony had grilled salmon. Dinner came with a good bottle of wine and a pair of real candles in antique silver candlesticks. They both begged off desert, so Bess made them each take a slice of cheesecake upstairs.

  "I'm stuffed," Carter said as he stripped off his shirt.

  Tony was in the bathroom running water in the tub. The cheesecake was safe in the refrigerator, and Tony had lit candles set in sconces on the wall over the tub.

  "How's your head?" Tony asked when Carter walked into the bathroom.

  "Better. I think the wine helped."

  The paramedics wouldn't have approved. Tony didn't care. He had Carter, and Carter said he was okay. That was all that mattered.

  Carter was down to his boxers by now. The room was warm from the steam coming off the bath water. Carter's skin glistened in the low candlelight.

  "You got too many clothes on," Carter said.

  Tony grinned. "Not for long."

  He took his time unbuttoning his shirt and unbuckling his belt, all the while enjoying the feeling of Carter's eyes following his every move. By the time Tony hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his own boxers, Carter had had enough. His big hands covered Tony's, and together they removed the last bit of Tony's clothes.

  "Mmmm." The sound came out as a rumble deep in Carter's throat. "That's nice."

  He was talking about the hard on rising thick and hot from between Tony's thighs.

  Carter sank to his knees on the thick bath rug. "Very nice," he said. He closed his lips around Tony, and now it was Tony's turn to moan deep in his throat.

  They stayed like that for a few minutes, Carter sucking gently on Tony, not hard enough to make him come, and Tony cradling Carter's head. He made sure not to touch the bandage over his ear. No matter what Carter said, the wound still had to hurt.

  The realization that he could have lost Carter today had struck him while they were at dinner. Tony found himself staring into Carter's soft brown eyes more than he ever did, even the first time they made love after they took off by themselves. Carter meant more to him than anyone else ever had. To lose him was unthinkable. Tony didn't want to do this life alone.

  "I love you," Tony said now. "I know I've said it before and I've always meant it, but I think I mean it more right this minute."

  Carter lifted his mouth away, let Tony's cock slip free. His lips were slick, his face flushed with his own desire.

  "I know what you mean," Carter said. "Something like today – puts everything else in perspective. Old Norman and Bess, it was almost the end for them today too. But I don't want to think about that now. We got today, and we got tomorrow."

  "And after that?"

  Carter shrugged. "Who the fuck knows?" He stood up, put his hands on Tony's hips. "One thing I do know is that we're us. I'm good with that. Everything else will sort itself out."

  Carter, the fatalist. Tony's problem was that he'd always been a planner. He was having a hard time letting that go.

  "I do have one thing I want," Carter said.

  "Yeah? What's that?"

  Instead of answering, Carter stepped out of his boxers. He had his own impressive hard on bobbing up from a thick bed of dark curls. He got into the tub, settled back against one side, and held his hand out to Tony. "C'mere," he said.

  Tony took his hand and got in the tub. Hot, bubbly water enveloped him as he sat down, and then Carter's arms did the same thing as Carter pulled him back against his broad chest.

  "I want to hold you while you come," Carter said, voice rumbling next to Tony's ear.

  Tony let himself relax against Carter. The water buoyed his arms, and he let them float as Carter's big hand closed around his cock.

  Carter kept the pace slow and easy. Tony let go, just let go of all of it – the almost's, the could have happened's, the what if's – and luxuriated in the feeling of being loved by Carter. Being held by him. Cared for by him. Brought off so slow and easy that when Tony came, he felt the rush in his entire body, an all-consuming orgasm that left him drained and deeply satisfied.

  "Wow," he said when he felt semi-coherent again. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

  Carter chuckled. "Wow yourself. Had no idea if I could do it. Some girl one time, so new at giving head she couldn't do it for long before she had to stop for a minute. She must'a sucked on me for an hour or more, kept me so close for so long that when I finally came, felt like my cock wasn't the only thing that exploded."

  "Some girl, huh?"

  "Yeah, well I couldn't grab your cock back then, so I did the best I could."

  "Yeah. Me too." Tony dunked his han
d beneath the water to rub the back of Carter's. No more of that for either of them.

  "Water's getting cold," Carter said. "How about we go try out that bed?"

  That was about the only incentive Tony could think of for getting out of even the lukewarm bath.

  They dried each other off with fluffy white towels, ran naked through the bedroom, the air chilly on their warm skin, and slid beneath covers just as cold. It didn't take long until they warmed each other up. When Tony's cock was hard enough again, he rolled Carter on his side, nudged his leg forward, and slid inside.