The Santa Claus (Men Of The World)

by J. O Mantel

  “You have me,” she corrects.

  As we both stare out into the darkness, I place my hand on top of hers and turn to face her. My thumb brushes over the top of hers as I lower our joined hands between us.

  “I know that, Nic.”

  I feel the tears well in my eyes as she locks her gaze with mine.

  “But that’s not enough for you, is it? There’s more.” She places her palm on my cheek and I angle my head into it.

  Thirty years of friendship, and twenty of those we’ve spent working together. Nicolette never married—never been one to settle down—and although she may be flirtatious, she’s always remained professional on all levels.

  “This show … and you, have been my life, for years. Then I look around and everything about this place reminds me of them and how much I’ve screwed everything up. It’s just a constant reminder of how much of a failure I am.”

  “Stop it! You’re not a failure. Your soon-to-be ex dumped you because you spend too much time at work, doing what you love rather than being at home and making love. That doesn’t make you a bad person, or a failure. Okay, so maybe you need to work on your priorities a little, but that doesn’t make you a bad guy.”

  “But it makes me the wrong guy.”

  “Not everything in life goes as we plan, Dante. This is one of those times, just a bump in the road, and you’ll get through this. And I’ll be there with you, all the way, no matter what it takes.”

  I squeeze her hand a little tighter and then lose myself in her gorgeous eyes. This woman, who has been a part of my life for so long, gets me in a way that no one else ever has. I release my hold on her hand and pace the length of the room, occasionally glancing down at the busy street below.

  “I’ve selected all the finalists,” I say.

  “Huh?” Nicolette throws a confused glance my way.

  “The bachelors, I’ve selected the finalists from each country.”

  “Wow. You don’t waste any time, do you?”

  “You know me, when I have my heart set on something, I go for it.”

  The truth of the matter is, as soon as my marriage started to fall apart, I’ve focused mainly on Tainted Love. It’s the one thing that’s kept me sane all year, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to let anything or anyone get in my way of seeing this through. I’ve kept my private life and my family out of the spotlight for years, and whenever I couldn’t face the reality of my life being flushed down the toilet, I became the Miranda Priestley of my family and turned to work to get away from my problems. It wasn’t enough that my almost ex told me I was married to my job, but also accused me, for months, of having an affair with Nicolette.

  “So what happens now?” Nicolette asks.

  “I think what I need is an extended vacation. Some time away from my job to sort my life out, focus on new things and get away from New York. It’s time for a new chapter, a new beginning, and what better way to do that than travel the world to twelve different countries. It’ll be the perfect working vacation.”

  Her smile twists as she bites down on her lower lip. This will be the first time in thirty years that the two of us will be apart. It pains me to leave her, but I know she’ll be able to take care of things here while I’m away.

  “It sounds to me like you’ve already made up your mind.”

  I nod in acknowledgement and hold back the painful tears as I look into her glistening eyes.

  “I’m sorry to lump all this on you on Christmas Eve, I’m sure there are other things you’d rather be doing.”

  “Staying home and drinking wine alone …, yeah, that sounds like a fantastic evening, and I’m not only your assistant, but also a dear and loyal friend, everything kind of goes with the job description.”

  Her voice is sincere, and she continues to look at me with those eyes. This woman is so talented and beautiful, and I’m amazed that no man has nabbed her after all these years.

  “You’re not mad at me?”

  “Mad? Why on earth would I be mad at you?”

  “For leaving. Running away. I don’t know.”

  “Dante, you’re doing this for you. Not me. So it shouldn’t matter what I think. Your life is whatever you make it. And no matter what you decide, I’ll be right here, supporting you however I can. Just tell me how I can help, and whatever it is, I’ll make it happen.”

  My expression softens and I pull away from her and wander back to the window for the millionth time this evening where I can watch the ever-growing crowd of people gathering around Times Square.

  “Funny you should mention that,” I say.

  “Oh?”

  She moves until she’s standing right beside me, and we turn from looking out the window to face each other.

  “I’m going to be gone for a year. During that time, I’m going to need someone to help with things around here.”

  “I already told you, whatever you need.”

  “I’m not just talking about paperwork, well, not in the current capacity anyway,” I confirm.

  “Dante, what are you asking?”

  “Nic, you’re a great P.A and a talented script writer, but you’re also a lawyer.”

  “Okay?” she enquires.

  “I’m going to need a legal team, someone who can take care of all the legal stuff while I’m away, and I want that someone to be you. I’ll take care of all your expenses, give you a raise and a promotion, whatever you need.”

  Her eyes widen and she opens her mouth to speak, but words seem to fail her. She takes a step toward me and stares deep into my eyes.

  “Me? You want me?”

  “You’re the best there is, Nic. I can’t think of anyone else who’d be more suitable for this position. We’ve been a team for over twenty years, now it’s your time to shine.”

  Her eyes glisten as tears well in them. Her lips tremble and she lets out a gasp before she speaks.

  “I … I don’t know what to say.”

  “Yes?” I offer.

  She bursts into tears and leans forward, wrapping her arms around my neck as she sobs into my left shoulder.

  “Oh, Dante, yes of course.”

  “I hope those are tears of joy,” I ask.

  “I’m just so overwhelmed at the moment. Dante, I … I’m speechless.”

  “You’ve already said enough. Knowing that I have you on my team is all I need. We still have some time before I need to leave, so we can go over all the details.”

  She pulls back and we stare at one another; her sigh is all that fills the room because neither of us say anything.

  “I’m ready whenever you need me.”

  “Thank you. Now, get out of here. It’s Christmas Eve. Go home, put your feet up and have that bottle of wine.”

  “What about you?” she asks.

  “Me? Oh, I’m going to stay here a little longer and finish up some paperwork before I head home.”

  “Would you like to join me?” she offers.

  Her invitation is genuine, and while the offer is tempting, I’m not really the best company right now.

  “Thank you. But I’ve got my hands full here for tonight. Have a glass or two for me?”

  “Sure.” She smiles, then leans forward and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Merry Christmas, Dante.”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  She makes her way across the office, and over to the door where she stops and turns around to face me once more.

  “Oh, by the way, who did you end up choosing?”

  “Come again?”

  “Your bachelor. Who did you choose?”

  I haven’t ironed out the details of how I’ll secure my leading man, but with the guy now unemployed, there’s nothing getting in my way.

  I turn to face the window once more and smile as I say, “Deacon Brady.”

  Christmas Day.

  My parents’ house is filled with the delicious smell of its usual Christmas Day
feast. Turkey, mashed potato, pumpkin soup, roast vegetables, gravy, ham, and of course eggnog. Unfortunately, my mood is soured because I’ve received news from my lawyer that the only way for me to avoid creditors and accumulating further debts, is to sell my L.A. condo. It’s one of the toughest decisions I’ve ever had to make, but it’s my only option to stay afloat, and although I’ll lose everything else, I’ll still have the result of what I’ve worked so hard for—my Golden Globe and Emmy awards.

  The atmosphere in here around Christmas is always vibrant, and it’s one of the happiest moments of my life when I get to spend it with my family. As I sit here with my half-filled glass of wine, I think about all the times Brodie and I spent Christmas with my family, and how many of those occasions he got so blind drunk that I had to carry him to the bedroom. We’d have drunken sex and laugh until all hours of the morning. I wish I’d seen the signs back then instead of sitting here now wondering how the hell I could have prevented all this.

  The soft hum of Michael Bublè’s Christmas album plays through the speakers, just as it has every year. Looking at my two nieces, I think about what might have been, if Brodie and I had decided to take the next step in our relationship and have children. It was something we’d discussed on several occasions, well, it was a discussion I always brought up, anyway. I’m more than thankful now that I didn’t decide to pursue that option with the man who has singlehandedly destroyed my life. The last thing I want to do tonight is sit here and drink myself into a coma, dwelling on how he took advantage of me for so long, yet here I am, once again, surrounded by family and feeling sorry for myself.

  When Dad finishes carving up the turkey, we each grab a helping and load up our plates with more food. Grabbing my cutlery, I glance around the table as Kate pours wine for Thomas and my parents, before leaning over the table to fill my glass. Her eyes meet mine and she winks at me before sitting back down next to her husband to start eating. I then look at Mom who has a wide smile on her face as she places her forkful of turkey in her mouth. She raises her brow then turns to her granddaughters and son-in-law as I finally take a bite of my Christmas dinner.

  There’s endless chatter across the table, and even though I’m feeling far from festive, I put on a brave face, pretending like I actually care. I know that makes me sound like a complete asshole, especially at the Christmas dinner table, but the truth is, since I flew back from Los Angeles yesterday, there’s only one thing I’ve been thinking about, well one person, actually.

  Kris.

  We’ve known each other barely five minutes and yet we’ve managed to get each other off, twice, and both times were sensational. I don’t know a thing about him, but what I do know is that I can’t stop thinking about the mysterious stranger who has seemingly stolen the key to my cock.

  I took Kate’s advice and had casual, mouth-watering, and incredibly satisfying sex, and now I can’t stop thinking about the damn guy. I raise my head and look at my sister as my thoughts run wild about the man I can’t seem to get out of my head. I twirl my fork in the center of the mashed potato that’s sitting among the half-eaten meal on my plate, then reach across the table and grab a bread roll, breaking it in half so I can take a bite.

  Remaining silent, I place a forkful of food in my mouth and raise my head again to see Kate eyeing me over the rim of her glass. As soon as Taylor, my lawyer, told me the news that I’d need to sell my house to get out of debt, I immediately told Kate, but kept it from Mom and Dad. I didn’t want something like this ruining their Christmas dinner, especially since they’d feel guilty because I left them a large sum of money. Then they would try and guilt trip me into taking it back, so I wouldn’t have to sell my condo. But it’s far too late to save anything, and if I don’t sell the condo now, I may not get what I need to pay everything off.

  By the end of dinner, I’m stuffed like a turkey, with absolutely no room for anything else. When I see the Christmas pudding Mom and Kate have spent time nurturing in a pot of boiling water, however, I know I definitely have some room in my stomach for that. Kate gives me a rather large serving of the pudding and then pours thickened cream over the top before topping it off with a glacé cherry. I grab my fork and break a piece off, enjoying the warm slice of happiness.

  I’m tired, and as much as I want this evening to be over so I can crawl into bed and have indecent thoughts about Kris while I touch myself, I instead make my way into the living room. The girls gather around the Christmas tree with Thomas and my parents, and I feel the couch dip as Kate sits down beside me.

  “You haven’t said a word all evening, are you okay?”

  “Not really. I’ve managed to flush my life completely down the toilet, and I can’t stop thinking about a guy I’ve known less than a few days.”

  “Ah ha, so you have been dreaming about him?”

  “I wouldn’t say … okay, so maybe I have, no thanks to you, of course.”

  “You’re welcome,” she says.

  I shift in my seat, desperately trying to hide my misery.

  “It’s not that big a deal, really,” I admit.

  “Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?”

  I stare at her, studying her eyes and the expression in them that tells me she’s not convinced this thing between Kris and I is just casual.

  “It’d never work between us.”

  “Only because you’re being a stubborn ass, and not doing anything about it.”

  She clears her throat and leans back on the couch, placing her hand under her left arm as though in pain.

  “Are you all right?” I ask.

  “I’m fine, it’s just a sharp pain I’ve felt the last couple of days. Nothing to worry about. And don’t change the subject,” she says.

  I’m really not in the mood for this right now. The last thing I need is for my older, persistent sister trying to convince me that I need to stop feeling sorry for myself and run straight into the arms of another man.

  A single, sexy man who has a wicked mouth.

  But it’s not going to work, not this time, when I’ve been miserable for days and I keep trying to convince myself that he was just a casual fling, a rebound to get over Brodie. So why the hell does it feel like something more?

  “Deacon?” Kate calls.

  “What?”

  “Go.”

  “Huh?”

  “Go and see Kris. We both know you’re thinking it. Dinner’s over and we’re only going to spend the next few hours opening presents and listening to Dad talk about politics.”

  “No, I can’t, besides what about Mom? She’ll go into a panic and think something’s happened to me and—”

  “You’re making excuses.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re being selfish.”

  “No, I’m …”

  But that’s just it, I am being selfish. Selfish, because I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m never going to fall in love again and find the happiness I know I deserve. I lean back on the couch and look up at the ceiling—anything to avoid looking into my sister’s determined eyes right now and letting her see just how miserable I actually am.

  “Kate, I can’t just up and leave. It’s Christmas night, I don’t even know where the guy is, or if he even wants to speak to me again.”

  “Deacon, do you want to know what my friends Mandy and Rebecca say about people like you? That you’re nothing but a big, whining pussy and you need to grow some fucking balls. So stop being a selfish prick, and go see the guy. You know why you’re feeling like this? It’s because the guy made you feel good again and that scares you. Nobody’s telling you to marry the guy, it’s just sex. Think of him as a holidate.”

  “A what?” I retort.

  “A holidate, you know, a date for the holidays.”

  I look at her and quirk my eyebrows. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “No, it’s not. And stop dawdli
ng. You’re going to go see him.”

  “Whatever,” I scoff.

  “Oh, you want to be juvenile about this? I can play this game all night with you, Deacon. We can go back and forth as often as you like, or you can just make me shut up by getting your ass off that couch, out the door, and down to … wherever it is you’re going to meet this guy for some steamy Christmas sex.”

  That comment has me laughing and when I clear the tears from my eyes to see her, I smile.

  “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Fine. But what about—?”

  “I’ll cover for you.”

  I look at Mom and the others sitting beneath the tree exchanging gifts, just as Mom turns to me with a smile and hands me a package wrapped in Christmas paper.

  “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” she whispers.

  “Merry Christmas, Mom,” I say, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

  She turns to the others and Kate nudges me before angling her head in the direction of the door. I quickly get to my feet and quietly sneak out of the room, carefully opening and closing the front door. I click the button on the fob to unlock the car and get in. I sit in silence for a moment and watch the driveway in front of me turn white as snow continues to fall. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, contemplating going through with my sister’s crazy idea. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, then open my wallet and take out Kris’s card. I open a new window and type my message.

  Hi.

  I hit send and immediately feel like a total idiot for my lack of trying.

  Hi, seriously? You’re pathetic, Deacon.

  Within seconds however, my phone alerts me of a message. I look down at the screen and read his reply.

  KRIS: Merry Christmas, Deacon. I was just thinking about you.

  You were?

  KRIS: Yes. I haven’t stopped thinking about you. To be honest, you’re all I think about.

  And so are you.

  I’ve been thinking about you too.

  KRIS: Are you okay?