The Counterfeit Claus (3 page)

Michael stretched a hand down, pulled him up into a hug, and told Devon the beers were on him for the rest of his trip. Devon figured the money spent paying a healthy sized bar tab was the least he could have lost.

Andy was talking again, tucking a hank of silky blond hair behind his almost girlishly delicate ear. Devon had no idea what he’d said while Devon was strolling down memory lane. “Sorry, could you say that again? I kind-of drifted off a little. I worked all night last night… but don’t worry, I’ll be okay for the shift. I just need another cup of coffee.” Devon lobbed his Dunkin’ Donuts extra-large cup into the trash can in the corner of the small locker room.

“I said Michael’s locker is number seventeen.” Andy’s big dark blue eyes were heavily lined with black and his hair was a shockingly bright blond Devon didn’t remember from his previous encounters with the younger man. Whatever the reason for his new and improved look, Andy’s voice was still the same, low and husky. No wonder he’d managed to bend a straight arrow like Rose around… hell, the kid was cute enough to have the Pope waving a rainbow flag.

Andy gave him a shaky smile, finger-combing his long bangs down to frame his incredible sapphire eyes. “Did Michael say what was wrong? He sounded really sick, and he still made sure we were covered… oh, gosh, it’s almost time to open the village. Can you get into costume and meet me out by Santa’s chair? I’m afraid there’s something going around, and one of our elves is out sick as well, and Adrien, the other elf isn’t here yet. Well, that’s not unusual, because Adrien is almost always late. We’ve learned not to expect him until fifteen minutes to a half an hour after his shift starts. If it’s longer than that we call the hospitals to find out how late he’s going to be.”

The stiff feeling in Devon’s cheeks eased as Andy turned his attention to things other than gazing soulfully at him. He liked the genuine concern for Rose in the kid’s sexy voice, and after he caught the other worker’s name, he tuned out most of what Andy had to say about the guy. Devon snorted. Though, given the little bit he’d actually caught about what Andy said about Aaron? Adrien? Whatever his name was, it was just possible the hilarious stories Rose had told about his younger brother’s friend were true if this was the same kid.

Andy shot Devon another wide eyed look when he snorted. The younger man bit at his plush bottom lip before turning toward the door and hurrying off. Devon shook his head. He’d better get his ass in gear and get out to the Christmas Village before they were inundated with screaming toddlers and exhausted parents. Opening Rose’s locker was pathetically easy. Devon didn’t even need the combination, as his former soldier hadn’t even bothered to check to make sure the lock engaged fully.

Devon huffed out an aggravated breath. He was definitely going to kick Rose’s ass as soon as the guy could put up a decent fight. He’d trained Corporal Rose better than this. Staying sharp with his police skills wasn’t something Devon had ever thought he would have to beat into the youngster. There was clearly more wrong with him than just a nasty case of stomach flu.

Devon pulled out the familiar red suit, glad to see it still there. Slipping into the outfit, he found the pants a little loose in the waist and the jacket a little tight in the shoulders. Eh, not much he could do about the slight discomfort. Hopefully the discomfort would help him stay awake and alert.

Adrien ran down the hallway to the tiny—and disgustingly smelly—locker room for the male employees. As he rounded the last corner he smacked right into Andy. They were roughly the same size—small—and bounced off in opposite directions, with Andy getting the worst of the collision. Adrien fell on his nicely cushioned ass, but poor Andy somehow managed to spin around and pull a full on face-plant on the concrete floor. When he sat up, the skin of his right cheek was split open, and blood streamed freely down the creamy skin of his face.

“Oh shit! Andy, I’m so sorry. Oh my god, oh my god, your pretty face… oh.” Adrien clapped a hand over his mouth. Damn his clumsiness.

Andy reached a hand up to his face, grimacing when he touched just below the wound. He glanced over at Adrien, a panicked look on his face. “I’ll have to go to the hospital. Oh, crap-doodly, Adrien, this is bad.”

Adrien jumped up, and then thought better of his plan to rush over to help Andy. “Come on, Andy, I’ll walk you over to security. Liam’s on duty today He’ll give you a ride to the hospital and then go back and pick you up when you’re done. I’m so sorry. Do we need to close the Village?”

Andy shook his head. “No, you know how everything runs. I’m putting you in charge.” Handing over his keys and clipboard, Andy smiled. “I didn’t pick up the cash box yet… I can’t give that to you, so just let the parents know if they want to either leave checks or pay by credit card we’ll mail the pictures or they can come back next week to pick them up… and I guess if they have cash… um, give them a “rein-check” to come back next week, and we’ll give them a twenty-five percent discount for their trouble. Can you manage that?”

Adrien’s head spun. Yeah he knew how to do all the little tasks of running the village, but Andy had always put Michael in charge when he couldn’t be present before. “I… you aren’t going to put Michael in charge.”

Andy shook his head, grimaced, and gripped the sides of his head carefully. “No. That won’t work today
He swayed then, and Adrien grabbed his arm to steady him. The security office was only a few more steps down the hall. “Hey, Liam! Help!”
Liam came boiling out of the security office in a flash, a thunderous expression on his lean face. He took in Andy’s battered condition and Adrien’s disheveled appearance in a glance. The anger melted off his face, an exasperated look crossing in its stead. “Damn, Adrien, you usually don’t take out casual bystanders.”
Adrien winced. “I know. I just. Shit.”
Andy patted his shoulder. “It was bound to happen at some time. You’re like a walking bio-hazard-naturaldisaster and I’m a place waiting for an accident to happen.”
Adrien’s gut clenched. Oh. He hadn’t realized Andy just expected to get hurt all the time. Admittedly, Andy did get hurt a surprising amount—but to just expect the bad stuff was kinda like he was inviting those things to visit him. Gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip, Adrien glanced up at Liam. “Li, will your boss cut you enough slack to take Andy to the hospital?”
Liam nodded. “Yeah, he’s got a soft spot for Andy, just like the rest of us.” He rapped on the door to the security office. A huge bald-headed black man opened it. Liam grinned up at him. “Hey, Scotty, I gotta take Danger Mouse here to the hospital to get his pretty cheek stitched up. You need me to clock out?”
Adrien wanted to hide behind Andy when the Scotty’s gaze bored into him. The man was mountain sized, and he had mad-crazy ninja skills. Adrien looked down at the security chief’s hands. Geez, even the guy’s hands were huge—the darn things were the size of small countries. Adrien blinked, lifting his eyes to try to meet Scotty’s. “I— ” His voice squeaked and broke. He ducked his chin down, and then forced himself to look back up. “It was an accident!”
Scotty and Liam both got identical long-suffering expressions on their faces. Liam shook his head at the Security Chief. “Oh, hell—never mind about this one, Scotty. I’ll sort him out later. Adrien, you’d better get into your costume and over to the Village… you guys were supposed to open five minutes ago.”
Adrien squeaked again, and turned around on the spot. As he picked up his foot to take his first step, three voices rang out behind him. “Carefully!”
Glancing over his shoulder, Adrien nodded his head. He could do careful.
Andy sighed loudly, and Liam gave a frustrated sounding grunt. Scotty’s deep rumble was low enough that he probably hadn’t intended for Adrien to hear it. “Liam, we have to do something about that boy. He needs a damn keeper. Or a leash.”
Oh. Ouch. That hurt worse than the fall had. Adrien hustled very carefully to the locker room and very, very carefully put on his new tights and go-go elf-boy shorts. Then he very, very, very carefully went to find Santa. This had to be the worst day ever. Maybe Michael would be able to cheer him up.

Devon looked around at the Christmas Village, warmth spreading through his center. The set up was identical to the last time he’d been here… but that wasn’t what made him want to work here every single day of the holiday season. No, what choked him up just a little was the way the damn Village looked almost identical to the one his madre used to take a train and two buses to bring him to every December when he was a kid. It even smelled the same, like fake pine and real peppermint. They’d been dirt poor back then, but his madre—well, Rosario Soto somehow always managed to find not only enough extra money for the double bus fare on a non-work day, but she also managed lunch at the mall and a cocoa at the transfer station on the way home.

The first time Devon asked Santa to bring his dad— just for a visit—and St. Nick didn’t follow through, he’d figured out that the jolly old guy in the snazzy red suit really didn’t have any special powers… but his mom did. He was six. He went along with his madre’s stories about Santa for another seven years before he could bring himself to let on that he’d long ago figured out that she was the one who brought magic and light to his world. Devon made his way past the handful of families in line, noting that most of the kids were already half-way out of their winter gear and starting to whine as hats bobbled in their small hands and scarves dragged on the ground. He walked behind the raised partition that gave the kids the illusion of a private time with Santa while allowing their parents to stand to one side with an unobstructed view of the whole area. He settled into his seat, and prepared to do his part to help spread a little magic in the world… just as soon as his helper elf showed up to get things rolling.

Twenty minutes later Devon faced an ever lengthening line of children and parents with absolutely no idea where either Andy or the promised “elf or elves” were. A little sprite of a girl with curly reddish brown hair, thick black eyelashes, summer blue eyes and chocolate on her face started crying. Sad faces spread up and down the line. Devon stood up, about to make up something about his helper elves dealing with a toy emergency at the North Pole. The young, fresh faced mother standing in line rocking her baby and petting the infant’s fluff of blond hair at random moments had even started to sniffle a bit as she rocked the baby against her shoulder. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she took a step back, bumping the man behind her. Out of the corner of his eye, Devon caught sight of a streak of green and red tumbling out of the hall where the locker rooms were. At first Devon thought the exaggerated flailing was part of an act. Then he realized the elf was actually in danger of falling and hurting himself or worse yet, one of the kids. The little fool had come around the corner from the locker room area at a dead run. At that pace, in the slick little leather slippers he had on his feet Devon would have to say the real Christmas miracle had to be that the guy hadn’t fallen and cracked his head open yet.

Devon was damned if something that potentially traumatizing to all these kid was going to happen on his watch. Not to mention what could happen to the poor, dumb elf. The elf flailed again, but this time he overcorrected. Everything broke down into scatter-shots of time, each instant moving as slowly as whole minutes. Snap. The little elf’s feet flew out in front of him. Snap. Devon launched himself off the platform in a long dive. Snap.

Devon had a long, golden moment where he seemed to float in the air. He could see he was going to just make it to the man before his head hit. Mierda, when he crashed down on the hard floor the padding for his Santa belly would protect him from some of the impact but it was going to hurt like hell. The possible cracked ribs could be hidden from all the kids in line, though. Cracked ribs and bruises would heal. If elf-boy smashed his melon on the pretty, hard as hell marble flooring there was no telling if he would live long enough to heal.

By the time Adrien figured out he didn’t have everything under control—and that he couldn’t even pull off a controlled crash without risking really hurting one of the smaller kids in the line he’d already overbalanced. He flung his arms out behind him, hoping to fall away from the kids. His feet sliding out in front of him answered his wish in seconds.

Adrien was going to end the day in one of the local hospitals, having traumatized countless kids in the process, because even if his brother Sam wasn’t here to catch the footage and post it to YouTube, dollars to donuts someone had their phone out and was already taping his latest bit of clumsiness.

He had an awful vision of mean bully older kids with hard faces showing the clip to horrified five, six and seven year olds for years to come. A whole generation of kids would forever think of Christmas as “the season when clumsy elves die.”

As he slid past Santa’s throne in an ungainly skid headed more toward the horizontal than the vertical, Michael launched himself off the platform yelling at the top of his fool lungs. “Noooooooo!”

Remembering the horde of pint-sized shoppers watching in horror, Adrien kept his composure enough to bite back the utterance fighting to get out of his throat, which was a hearty “OH SHIT!” He didn’t even cry out Michael’s name. He wanted to do anything necessary in a desperate attempt to get the big goof-ball to use some of those finely tuned military police skills he loved bragging about. They would come in uber-handy for saving Adrien’s ass right about now.

Michael hit the floor with a sickening thud. Adrien winced, both in anticipation of his own eminent thud, and at Michael’s having hurt himself to no good effect. The big idiot belly flopping on the floor couldn’t possibly save Adrien.

Except, somehow, it did.
Adrien had forgotten to take into account how the slick velvet of the Santa suit would keep Michael sliding forward. Just before Adrien hit the floor, Michael was there. He’d turned half on his side, and managed to catch Adrien’s head in the palm of one broad hand.
Adrien realized several pertinent facts simultaneously. The man in the shiny red Santa suit, the same one who had saved him from what could easily have been a serious head injury, was not Michael. His fluffy white beard was twisted half off his face, showing a stubble-covered jaw that looked positively edible. A tsunami of lust crashed down on Adrien, and the only coherent thought he could muster for a second had to do with wanting to spend a few weeks nibbling on the notMichael Santa. Reason returned with the realization that Adrien had fallen in a weird pretzel twist that showed off his flexibility in the most humiliating way possible.
His left ankle ended up somewhere around his right ear, his right leg bent and twisted so that leg was under his butt. His left arm was flung up above his head. He’d even managed to smack himself with his right hand. Sheesh. His only saving grace in the whole ridiculous mess was that the undignified heap he was in fell squarely between the counterfeit Santa and the kids.
The breadth of his shoulders, while not god-like, was enough to hide Santa’s dishabille for a critical few seconds. Thinking quickly, he decided to camp things up so the adult guests of Christmas Village could be left with a scrap of plausible deniability when their young charges started questioning Santa’s very un-Santa like behavior.
“Oh, Santa, I didn’t see the ice! That must be why you’re always telling all the elves to walk carefully.” Adrien used every bit of his high school theater training to project his voice as he wiggled closer to the strange Santa facing him. As soon as the crowd behind them broke out in exclamations, he leaned forward. Whispering quickly, in barely audible tones, Adrien broke the bad news. “Santa, your beard is broken. Pretend you’ve got to take me to Mrs. Claus for a quick bit of mothering, and then carry me out of here so we can hide your face.”
Santa’s big brown eyes widened and then narrowed intently. His voice came out in an equally hushed baritone. “Mierda! I don’t care how cute you are… I am not picking you up, Papi.”
The man’s voice poured into Adrien’s ears hotly, an aural aphrodisiac. He closed his eyes for a split second. Between falling three times in less than two hours and the effect Counterfeit Claus was having on his libido, he really might need to be carried. Adrien sucked in a deep breath. “Crap-Doodly.”
A warm hand cupped his cheek. His eyes flew back open, meeting a piercing brown gaze. Adrien hurried to explain the important parts of the situation to the slowcoach in front of him. “We have to get you out of here— Santa—at least long enough to fix your beard. If you don’t wanna pick me up so I can shield your face, just pretend you hit your head or something. You should be able to pull that off.”
Adrien untangled his limbs. As he lowered his left leg, managing to keep his body between Santa and the crowd, the big man on the floor with him watched him intently. Adrien ignored the man’s increasingly heated looks, turning to the crowd instead. “Folks, I’m afraid Santa bumped his head saving me. We just have to go get a good cup of cocoa from Mrs. Claus and some of her delicious cookies to fix us right up. We’ll be back in half an hour if you want to wait.”
Santa sat up next to him, one hand pressed to his temple to hold the edge of his beard in place. With a suppressed grunt he was on his feet. He bent down, wrapped one huge paw around Adrien’s slim arm and hauled Adrien upright with an ease that made Adrien’s heart beat faster. A delicious smell permeated the air around him… oh. Oh dear Lord, the damn man was wearing Drakkar Noir. The scent of Drakkar invariably made Adrien want to strip out of whatever he was wearing and offer his ass up to the nearest likely candidate.
Not that he was a slut. Really. The response was conditioned by his first lover. Adrien shivered. The man had been a complete prick outside of the bedroom, but holy shit-balls, he had a skill bordering on miraculous between the sheets. Adrien sucked in a deep breath and forced his wandering thoughts back to the present.
Tipping his head back, he looked up and up again into smoldering brown eyes. Holy guacamole, his whole body was going to burn to cinders in the wake of this man’s heated looks. Santa manhandled him around, turning him towards the locker room. Adrien went willingly when a broad hand pressed between his shoulders. He’d forgotten about the kids and Christmas Village the second the big man put his hands on him. The skin of Adrien’s upper arms tingled where the man’s rough palms rested, guiding Adrien along in front of him. The strange Santa walked close, heat from his big body radiating across the space between them. They turned the corner away from where the families could see them. Santa’s hands fell away from Adrien’s arms.
Adrien bit back a moan. Nibbling at one corner of his lip, he looked over his shoulder. The man had stepped back, and now stood slightly more than an arm’s length away, his eyes locked on Adrien’s elf-a-go-go clad ass. He looked up all at once, his whole posture changing, becoming more intent. The effect was startling. Adrien met his hot, dark eyes. A shiver swept him from head to feet. Santa’s sinfully bitable lips curved into a wicked smile. Stepping forward, he reached past Adrien to push open the locker room door. Adrien licked his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth afterward. The counterfeit Santa stepped forward, leaning down to whisper in Adrien’s ear. “We should probably go into the locker room. I imagine some of the nosier folks are working up their nerve to follow us around that corner.”
The hot rush of air against his ear combined with his three falls, and Adrien’s knees gave out on him. Okay, so the warm, moist air from that beautiful mouth could easily make him weak kneed all by itself. Even without the added zinger of the—oh God, Adrien’s clothes really needed to come off—damned Drakkar. He clutched at Santa’s sleeves. “Santa, I’m going to—”
A husky chuckle cut across his words. “You can call me Devon. I just play Santa on TV.”
Laughter shook loose from Adrien in quick bursts that rocked his compact frame and put enough starch back into his knees to keep him standing. After a moment he manfully tamped the noise down by biting him bottom lip as he looked down. One glance up into Devon’s twinkling brown eyes ended his attempted decorum. Giggling helplessly, Adrien stumbled backward into the locker room. Muscles in his neck and shoulders loosened from the knots two hours of nearly continuous catastrophes had caused. Santa—Devon’s smile grew wider, his slight Hispanic accent growing stronger with every word. “You are just a hot little mess, aren’t you? I didn’t believe Michael when he said he knew someone who was more trouble than he could ever dream of being, but here chu are, papi.”
Adrien’s mouth dropped open. During the big brouha-ha out at the Village, the man must have hit his head. There was no other acceptable explanation for him—
“Did you just call me a mess?”