“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
Ethan blinked at him, then glanced down at his notebook. “The casino’s accounts?” It was a little unusual for the owner to do them, yes, but it was how he’d gotten started, and he did like to oversee things personally.
Crabtree waved this away with his hand. “I mean this nonsense about buying a house. And please skip the part where you bluster about Sarah tattling. She didn’t. She asked for my help because it’s her job and I’m the one with the connections she needs.”
Ethan pursed his lips. “I meant for her to look up some listings on the internet.”
“Then you should have told her as much. Sarah was my secretary, as you well know.”
Yes, you never let me forget.
Crabtree glowered at Ethan. “Sarah operates better in the gray than the black and white, so of course she was going to come to me. Thank God she did, though. What were you thinking with the list of requirements you gave her? Did you eat something funny for lunch? Stare at numbers too long? Eat too much raw cookie dough from Jansen’s assembly line?”
Ethan glared back. “What’s wrong with my house-hunting list?”
“What’s wrong, he asks. Everything. You might as well put a for sale sign on this place while you’re at it, to start. It’s already bad enough you live in that dive and own Herod’s, but I’ve been able to sell it that you’re looking into building your own place and can’t quite settle on a builder. Now you want to shack up in a goddamned subdivision like you’re some kind of investment broker?”
“I am some kind of investment broker,” Ethan ground out.
“No. You were. Now you own and manage one of the oldest casinos in the city, the one memory left I have of my Billy.” Crabtree’s lip curled, and he huffed. “And if you think that sort of place is right for Randy, you’re a bigger fool than I imagined.”
Ethan pushed to his feet. “Listen here—”
Crabtree aimed a finger at him. “No. You listen. I’ve been letting you fumble around like a fool long enough. Do better at claiming both this building and your man, or I’ll do what I have to do to protect both.”
Cold rage filled Ethan. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me.”
With his threat hanging in the air, Crabtree left the room.
RANDY HADN’T PLAYED prop for Herod’s in quite a while. When Ethan had first been learning his place as the new owner and manager, Randy had still worked a few days a week, mostly to make sure Ethan wasn’t feeling overwhelmed. After a few months, though, Randy had given up the strategy of working prop to keep tabs on his husband, and the reason he’d done this was entirely because of Crabtree.
Ever since Ethan won Herod’s in the infamous high-stakes poker game Crabtree himself set up for that very purpose, the gangster’s favorite pastime was getting a rise out of Ethan. At first Randy had chalked it up to some kind of good-natured hazing, but as the months went on, he had to admit something more was at work here. He couldn’t really figure out what it was, but it annoyed the crap out of him. Randy couldn’t decide what was the best plan going forward either. Should he ignore it and let it play out? Gently help Ethan from the sidelines? Scold Crabtree and tell him to fuck off? Let Ethan find his own feet and defeat his rival on his own?
Randy had no idea.
So far his strategy had been largely to stay out of the matter but to keep a close eye on Ethan and make sure Crabtree wasn’t luring him into any trouble. The staff Christmas party had been a landmine he was glad to dodge, and he was proud of himself for seeing it coming long ago. Yes, it had been fun back in the day, and he did have a good time goofing around with everyone, but if his choices were putting on a show for everyone else and snuggling with Ethan, there wasn’t any choice at all. It was Ethan every time. He was content to stay away from the casino and Crabtree, keep baking cookies and hanging tinsel, and getting naked for his husband when he came home. As far as Randy was concerned, the Christmas party issue was settled and done.
Then a package showed up on the front porch.
At first he thought it was a package of books he’d ordered for Ethan for part of his present, but the box was too big. When he saw the return address was from one of his favorite kinky outfitters, he grinned and opened it eagerly, assuming it was an early Christmas present from Sam and Mitch. He frowned, though, when he saw it contained nothing but a slightly distasteful leather elf outfit. And he swore under his breath when he saw the note inside, typed on the bottom of the invoice.
Looking forward to seeing you in this at the Christmas party. C
He was on the phone inside of a minute.
“Randy,” Crabtree answered, sounding delighted. “I assume you got my little gift?”
“I’m not coming to the Christmas party, which I thought I’d made abundantly clear,” Randy said through gritted teeth. “And even if I were to show up, I absolutely wouldn’t come wearing that.”
“Oh, but Ethan will look quite silly if he’s a Santa without an elf.”
Randy shut his eyes. “You’re telling me Ethan agreed to play Santa at the party?”
“But of course! He has to be there. He’s the owner. What image would he project if he stayed away?”
“And he has to come in a Santa suit?”
“Naturally. He agreed, wisely, that the party needed a little life and theming. In fact, he was the one who suggested the Santa idea. He’ll deliver the bonuses to each of the employees. With the help of his elf assistant.”
Randy eyed the mesh ass and leather cock pouch of the elf outfit. He had an idea of the kinds of bonuses Crabtree thought the assistant would be giving.
“You’re an ass, Crabtree,” Randy replied.
“Yours, I’m sure, will look exceptional in your costume. I look forward to a close inspection on Christmas Eve.”
Randy swore and hung up on him.
It would have been fine if all that had happened was he’d gotten a stupid costume in the mail, something he could refuse to wear and call it a day, but Randy had his doubts Ethan had agreed to the exact terms Crabtree had described, and was equally sure the gangster hadn’t lobbed only one bomb. Randy couldn’t guess the game, but the odds told him it would fuck up everything.
He got nothing done the rest of that afternoon. After pacing the floor for a good hour, he got on his bike and took a long, fast ride. Even this didn’t clear his head, though, and he ended up at the Stratosphere, standing at the rail as he watched sunset take over the Strip. When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he pulled it out, punched back a text, and went back to his silent musing.
Half an hour later, a hand slid around his waist. When a kiss against the back of his neck accompanied the hand, he gave up and leaned into Ethan.
His husband seemed calm, which was good, Randy supposed. That meant Crabtree hadn’t done anything else yet, not that Ethan had seen. Maybe there was time to head it off at the pass.
Or maybe this had been his plan all along, to get Randy to tell Ethan and piss him off personally. He sighed and shut his eyes, nestling deeper into his husband’s embrace. “We need to get Crabtree a hobby.”
Ethan stiffened. “What now?”
Reluctantly, Randy told him about the elf outfit and the phone call, trying to keep things as matter of fact as possible. His heart sank as Ethan pulled away and paced around the nearby area of the balcony, his lips pressed into a thin, angry line.
“He asked me to come to the party, and I said I’d come. When he asked if I’d wear a Santa outfit, I told him I didn’t mind. Then he began to sigh and look pathetic, talking about the old days, wishing you would be there, and like an idiot I fell for his trap. He smiled like a sad little boy and said, ‘Oh, maybe he could play an elf with you,’ and I agreed.”
Randy could see the scene clearly in his mind. “He played you. Then called me and sold me the same song and dance, except my version was X-rated.”
Ethan threw up his hands. �
�Why is he so obsessed with this? Why does he insist on making you a sexual spectacle?”
“Probably because he’s always enjoyed doing that to me, and he misses it.” Randy leaned against the railing, feeling the wind whip around him. “And because he enjoys getting under your skin. Which, I hate to tell you, you make it far too enjoyable for him.”
Ethan grimaced. “I know. I keep trying not to react, but it does bother me. I know you aren’t interested in him anymore, but I hate that he has that history with you, with the casino, and that he keeps lording it over me. He makes all this noise about setting you and me up and arranging for me to win Herod’s, but it’s like he regrets it now. Does he mean to take it away? Take you away?”
Randy pushed off the rail. “Okay, first of all, chill, babe. He can’t do either one of those things. It took him years to set up that heist to get someone like you in a position to win the casino—which, by the way, you did largely on your own, rolling a ball down the lane he set up. And it’s yours now, which means he’d have to con you, and I’m not going to let him do that. Which brings us to the next thing you think he’s trying to take: me. I’m not a piece of property, I have free will, and I’m happy where I’m at.”
“Yes, but I don’t think it’s you he’s trying to manipulate, is it? It’s me. He’s fucking with my head. And it’s working. He keeps making me doubt everything. All my decisions, my feelings.”
“Then stop letting him.” Randy stopped Ethan’s pacing, took his hands. “Listen. Everything you’ve done about Herod’s has been to move it forward, not backward. So what if Crabtree and I used to get kinky at parties? Doesn’t mean we have to now. I can promise you, I have no interest anymore.”
Ethan stared at him, and Randy waited under the scrutiny. “Speaking of parties. Something has been bothering me. You keep saying you don’t want to participate, and you reject everyone’s efforts to draw you in. Yet when I watched the videos of you from years past, you seemed to enjoy it. I could see you were lonely too, but you weren’t present under duress.”
Randy hesitated, then decided to offer up the truth. “Well, yeah. It was a fun time.”
Ethan deflated. “So you do want to do this, but you’ve been saying no this entire time because of me?”
Randy glanced away with a shrug. “It’s not that simple. Sure, the parties were kinky and fun, but I don’t want to upset you, and I don’t want an evening’s cheap entertainment more than I want a cozy Christmas with you. Also, I get that you like to keep things formal with the casino, because it’s your work. You won’t want to put on a sexual show of any kind for your workplace.” He gave his husband a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. We just have to find the way to explain this to Crabtree.” He took Ethan’s hand and nodded toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs and hit the buffet before we head home.”
They had too much food for dinner, drank enough at the bar that they went over to the tables and played a bit of poker, then got even more drunk and had to take a taxi home. The timers for their outdoor light display turned on as they approached their street, making Randy’s heart rise. Home.
Shutting the door behind them, he pulled Ethan hard against his chest, stuck his tongue down his husband’s throat, and kissed him as if he hadn’t seen him in a year. When they had to break for air, he threaded his fingers through his husband’s hair and drew their foreheads together.
“It’s you I want.” He caressed Ethan’s hairline with his thumbs. “Christmas with you. To go to bed with you. Life with you. Please remember that.”
Ethan stroked Randy’s face, kissed his chin reverently.
Then he gripped Randy’s hips, turned him around with delicious force, and pushed him into the wall as he fumbled with the fastening to Randy’s jeans.
It was a blunt claiming, Ethan reminding Randy who had married him, a kind of fucked-up reply to Randy’s devotional promise. Ethan removed just enough of their clothes to prepare Randy—using spit for lube, one of Randy’s favorite kinks, even though he always paid for it later—then took him right there in the living room. It had been a long time since they’d been this raw and rough.
Randy loved it. He shut his eyes and pressed his hands to the wall, doing whatever Ethan said, rolling under the hard edges of his husband, surrendering happily in every way.
Yet as Randy went to bed that night, he could see doubt still shadowed his husband’s eyes, and he knew this battle wasn’t over. He wondered if he should say something more, reach out in another way.
I’ll fix it in the morning, he decided, and drifted off to sleep.
When he woke, however, it was ten and Ethan was already gone. Randy hadn’t meant to sleep in that late, but someone had worn him out. He hummed as he lazed about the kitchen, making coffee and poking in the fridge, pondering what to make for breakfast.
When the doorbell rang, he was still in a good mood. He was only wearing underwear, so he grabbed a throw from the back of the couch and wrapped it around himself. He assumed this was a package or a religious nut trying to convert him. If it was the latter, he was dropping the blanket immediately. His underwear was pretty skimpy.
Ethan’s secretary stood on the stoop, dressed in her gray suit with her graying hair up in a bun. She smiled at him politely. “Good morning, Randy.” She handed him a manila envelope. “Mr. Ellison asked me to deliver this to you right away. He said to call him if you had any questions.”
Randy frowned at her, but she only turned on her sensible mid-heel and headed back down the sidewalk to the waiting car, where a driver was already opening the door for her. He watched her drive away, then went inside to see what this important delivery was all about.
The envelope contained a promotional flyer with Randy’s picture in the center, one Ethan had taken of him with his phone outside the Bellagio. The photo was pasted over a closeup of a Christmas tree and ornaments.
Randy read the boldface print below the image.
THE TWELVE DAYS OF RANDY
JOIN THE HEROD’S CASINO STAFF IN TWELVE DAYS OF CELEBRATION
Beginning December 13th, watch for holiday mischief and mayhem from your favorite Herod’s poker player.
Win prizes, get surprises, and be sure to keep your cameras ready.
Because with Randy, you never know what will happen.
Randy put the flyer down and picked up his phone. Ethan answered on the first ring.
“Slick, what the hell? Is this a joke?”
“Not at all,” Ethan replied coolly, but Randy could hear the hesitation in his voice. “Unless you don’t like the idea.”
“You didn’t want this. You didn’t want me involved at all, and I was fine with that, and now you’re committing me to twelve days?”
“Well, I lay awake a long time last night, thinking. About how you admitted you liked the antics and would do them if it weren’t for me. I realized my biggest reservation was that I was jealous—jealous that I hadn’t gotten to see any of it. So I decided the answer wasn’t to keep you from it but to invite you to do even more than usual.” He paused, then added, “Feel free to repeat the cake, by the way.”
Randy was quiet for a long moment, processing. “You’re serious. You’re really serious.”
“Yes. Especially about the cake.” He cleared his throat. “Do you want to do it? Because if you don’t, I’ll cancel the print order for the flyers and tell Crabtree once and for all that it’s not going to happen. It’s up to you.”
So this was about Crabtree. “Ethan…” Randy said, unable to say anything else.
“Think about it and get back to me.” Ethan hung up.
Randy set his phone on the couch. He stared at the flyer for a long time. Then he picked up the phone and called Sarah Reynolds. He caught her just as her car was returning to the casino.
“Mr. Jansen. How can I help you?”
“Sarah. Hey, can you tell me if Crabtree has been in to see Ethan today? Or did they meet for breakfast or anything like that?”
> “Hmm.” He heard rustling in the background. “No, they couldn’t have, because Crabtree went out of town last night and won’t be back until tomorrow.”
Good. That was one major worry off his chest at least. This was Ethan’s wild hair alone. “Thanks. Another question for you, if you don’t mind. I assume you worked a little bit with Ethan on this Twelve Days of Randy thing. Did he seem excited about it to you?” Or was it more like he was plotting strategy for a siege?
“He seemed to be enjoying himself quite a bit, I would say. He was quite proud of the idea and was looking forward to it. I think he felt it was making up for all the wild times with you at Herod’s he’d missed.”
Or more like he’s putting a brand on me in front of everyone, especially Crabtree. A warm feeling bloomed inside Randy’s chest as he began to understand. “Excellent. Well, it sounds like a great time. I’m looking forward to it.”
“As am I, Mr. Jansen.”
With a smile, Randy hung up with Sarah, thinking about all the wicked fun he was about to have. After a quick text to Ethan, he hunted down a notepad and a pen. He had some brainstorming to do.
Chapter Four
THE TWELVE DAYS of Randy started out better than Randy could have ever dreamed. For day one, he trick-or-treated his way through the casino, giving out a trick or a treat to each employee he met. It was more fun than he’d predicted. Some people had him do silly things like rub his stomach and pat his head while reciting The Pledge of Allegiance, or simply asked to reach into Randy’s Grab Bag, which he’d stocked full of goodies and naughties.
The award for best treat request, though, came from the cute new bartender, hands down.
Ethan had hired Lance just three months ago. He was originally from Idaho, ended up in L.A. because a friend convinced him he could get out of Hicksville by making a killing in adult films, then when he realized how tough and demoralizing that industry could be, he backed out and ended up in Vegas. He’d been a customer when Ethan found him, and after an hour’s conversation, the young man had secured himself a job. He’d fit in well at the bar, and Ethan was eyeing him for a floor manager position if things kept in the direction they were going.
The Twelve Days of Randy Page 4