by Cat Kane
There was nothing about the guy standing there that should have given him pause, except maybe that he had a girl’s hair color. But the stance, the nervous glances, the fidgeting, the way the guy looked one fret away from a meltdown, convinced him he was looking at the poor sap who owned the bags of junk he carried.
He’d have put it down to guilt, to anxiety, if the guy hadn’t been joined by a couple of security staff. Jase couldn’t hear them from this distance, but the looks and gestures were enough. The guy ran his hands through that oddly colored hair, and Jase couldn’t help notice the way it caught and reflected the twinkling lights around the doors. The security guys shrugged noncommittally, and even from his vantage point, he could see the guy’s shoulders slump.
Shit…
Seeing the little stuffed animals and games had been one thing, but seeing this guy torn up over a few bags of tacky trash Jase wouldn’t have donated to the charity collector lady was a new low entirely.
The security guys roused themselves from apathy long enough to ask the guy a few questions, all of which were met with a negative shake of the head. One of them spoke at length, and although Jase couldn’t hear him, it looked as though his droning was putting the poor guy to sleep. Eventually they gave the guy a sheet of paper, and asked a few more questions, this time writing down the answers as they were given.
That was all they were going to do? Ask questions and give out a pamphlet? Well damn; if he’d known that, he might have stolen a cart sooner. He snorted a laugh as he realized he was only half kidding.
For the longest moment, the guy stood rooted to the sidewalk in front of the store, as though he believed that if he stayed there long enough, his stuff would magically reappear.
Jase decided he was lucky that the guy eventually moved off, threading dejectedly through the parking lot towards the bus stop on the highway. One more minute and Jase would have run towards him, bags offered out like some deranged elf. Anything to wipe away the sadness.
Funny, he never set out to make people sad, but it was always the way it turned out.
He followed the guy towards the bus stop, hiding as best he could in between trucks and cars. At least, he figured, if he could see which bus the guy caught and worked out where he was going, he’d have a better chance of returning the gifts.
The highway was packed nose-to-tail with traffic. He couldn’t see any cops, but if he’d tried getting through this in the stolen car, he’d be a sitting target. From the lines of tail-lights snaking away into the distance and further into town, he might have been sitting there till February. It was quicker on foot, even if it meant freezing his ass off. The threadbare grass along the verge by the highway glittered like stars with the frost, and crunched beneath his boots as he walked.
He couldn’t quite believe he was going to follow this guy home like some forlorn puppy. But the bags were a dead weight in his hands, and the guilt weighed heavier still. Doing the right thing sucked, he decided. Sucked big time.
The guy got onto a bus heading for Heath Street, and for the first time since this mess began, Jase felt his luck turn. Heath Street was right across the railway tracks, and on the far side of a large disused park. With the traffic as heavy as it was, he’d probably beat the bus there.
He watched at the guy took a seat on the bus, leaned his head against the window and stared out blankly at the bustling traffic. If he hadn’t already decided to follow, that look would have convinced Jase faster than he could blink.
Jase was already past the tracks, and ducking down a side street before the bus had managed to join the rush hour traffic. It made slow progress, and he could keep an eye on it as it sat at the lights for an eternity while he cut across the park towards the neighbourhood of small, unremarkable houses. Heath Street ran across several blocks, but there was only one bus stop, and Jase turned onto the street just as the bus pulled up at the curb.
The guy walked a couple hundred yards from the bus stop, then disappeared into a neat but shabby little house with Christmas lights in every window and a decrepit light-up reindeer standing precariously on what passed for a front yard. The door closed, and Jase sighed.
The guy hadn’t looked old enough to have kids who’d fit the presents, but hell, who knew? He was probably in there right now grovelling to a battle-axe wife or girlfriend, explaining what happened and being bitched out cause damn it she wanted that foot-care gift set! For a moment, he paused, half expecting to hear shrieking, or china breaking. There was nothing, just the sound of the wind and traffic, and the soft whirr of the reindeer raising and lowering its head, pretending to chew on the sparse grassy patch by the front porch.
He should take the stuff back, right now. After all, he was right here. Hell, he could ring the doorbell, leave the stuff on the porch, and run.
The reindeer lifted its head as he passed, and Jase gave it a half-hearted glare.
Yeah, it was all going to work out, nice and easy.
* * *
The house was quiet when Riley stepped inside, shrugging out of his jacket. He found room for it on the coat rack by the door, between Bree’s monstrous fake-fur leopard-print coat and myriad small colorful parkas.
He’d half-hoped to be accosted as soon as he walked in the door. Delaying the inevitable wasn’t an appealing prospect. But there was no stampede of little feet, no Bree hovering at the door to run interference while he hid the presents in the closet.
Instead, he found his aunt in the kitchen, entertaining a coffee, a cigarette and some sleazy tabloid magazine that recounted the latest escapades of some reality TV celebrities Riley had never heard of. The cigarette, held between deep red painted nails, bobbed almost in time with the echoes of Jim Reeves singing Silver Bells that purred from the radio on the windowsill.
She looked up and, when she saw him, immediately stubbed out the cigarette in deference of Riley’s dislike of the habit. She never smoked around the kids if they were home, but despite all their best efforts she hadn’t managed to kick the habit entirely.
"You took your time," she teased, "I was starting to wonder where you’d gotten to. Was it crazy busy?"
"Yeah," he said, because that wasn’t a lie, was it? It had been so busy the security guys took almost a half hour before they even talked to him. In a futile attempt not to have to lie again, he tried to deflect with: "Where are the kids?"
"Ah, Leona took them to some Santa grotto, winter wonderland something or other at the mall."
"Oh."
"Did you get everything?"
Bree looked at him, eyes smiling and as excited as the absent kids, and truth and good intention fell flat into a sacrificial holly bush.
"Yeah."
Of course that wasn’t technically a lie either; he had gotten everything. He just didn’t have it anymore.
Bree clapped her hands like an eager kid herself. "Where is it all, I want to see!"
This was exactly why he hated lying, and steered clear of it where ever possible. For one, he sucked at it, and for two, no-one ever took his word for anything; they insisted on asking more questions.
"I left them at a buddy’s house."
Bree stared.
"A buddy’s house," she repeated.
"Yeah. Cause I’d forgotten the wrapping paper." It was scary, really, how the lie took on a life of its own, adding layers and embellishments. "And you know how good they are at squirreling out presents if they aren’t hidden and wrapped. So he said I could leave them at his place till I can pick up paper tomorrow."
Bree pursed her lips doubtfully, the gesture tugging at the fine crows-feet around the corner of her mouth. He hadn’t seen that look on her face directed at him in years, but then again he hadn’t lied to her about anything on this scale in years either. He’d been a selfish, angry teenager when he first learned how badly it hurt to disappoint Bree and the kids, and he’d done his best never to do it again.
He’d have to replace the gifts somehow. There was no other choice. The security
guys had told him in no uncertain terms that the store would not claim any responsibility for the loss of goods that he’d paid for. They were his goods now, not theirs, and as such, his problem, not theirs. They’d also told him in less certain terms that he was a fricking dumbass for leaving the cart unattended in a store lobby in the week before Christmas. They’d said they would get back to him once they head of security had taken a look at the surveillance tapes. At least there might be enough caught on tape that he could take the matter to the cops. But he doubted the cops would be any more sympathetic to a dumb kid losing his cart full of Christmas toys than the security guys, and as often as they’d repeated it’d take days before they’d get around to his case, he doubted anything would get done any time soon.
The gifts were a lost cause. The only option he had left was to find the money to replace them. Considering how hard it had been to gather together the money in the first place, the only option wasn’t necessarily going to be the easiest option.
"Is he a reliable sort, this buddy?" Bree asked.
"Oh, totally. He goes to school with me." And wasn’t it school – wasn’t it him – that meant money was tight in the first place? Even if Bree wouldn’t have it any other way, and was adamant he was going to be the first one in this sorry family to make his way through college, it still left Riley feeling furiously guilty.
"Oh," Bree said. "Well, as long as you get them back by tomorrow."
"Course. Not a problem."
"Okay." Bree stood, closing the magazine, and finishing off the coffee. "I gotta go get ready. You gonna be home for a while? You can watch the cookies for me. There are two trays in there right now and another six need baking."
Riley laughed despite himself.
"Cookies? You’re baking?"
"Yeah, figured why not screw up the habit of a lifetime." Bree made a face. "Got roped into doing it for some PTA bake sale at Carly’s school tomorrow."
Riley tried not to smile. It was more than his ass was worth if he laughed at her any more than he already had. Domestic Goddess, Bree was most certainly not.
"Yeah, but…cookies?"
"Snowman shaped." Bree’s glare was warning enough not to utter another word. "Don’t ask."
"Wasn’t gonna." Riley mock-saluted, chuckling as she flipped him off before stalking off towards her room.
Then the brief moment of respite was gone and, alone with cookies and guilt, he still had to figure out a way to pay for a new set of gifts.
He’d been cataloguing all the things he could try selling—a sad, meagre list—when the noise startled him. Usually, the sound of something crashing heavily into the front yard wasn’t a cause for celebration, but distracting him from his thoughts as it did, he almost believed it was Santa.
And it was, sort of. Well, it was a reindeer. Their reindeer. The dollar store plastic thing with rope lights glued on, that creaked every time the neck moved, and whose light bulbs were already obsolete. Only it wasn’t grazing in the yard as it should have been. When Riley opened the front door, it was a tangle of lights and cables, wrapped around the ankles of a strange man sprawled on their porch.
Riley blinked. If it was Santa, then he was younger and cuter than any Christmas card ever portrayed.
THREE
"Goddamnit…!"
Jase had been so busy staring at that fricking reindeer and the plethora of lights that made the little house look like Vegas—or some kind of radiation accident—he’d missed the winding power cable that lit the stupid deer. By the time he’d realized, he was already inches from truly wishing he had his two front teeth for Christmas, barely missing smacking his face into the porch step.
Jase got run over by a reindeer…
"Fuck, fuck…"
"Are you okay?"
The voice from the front door froze him harder than the cold. There went being Anonymous Claus.
"Ah, yeah. I just, uh…tripped." He offered up a smile, standing and straightening, dusting himself off as if to show no harm done.
Freezing took a whole new meaning when he got a look at the cart’s owner close up. It wasn’t only the hair that looked as though it belonged on a girl. Long lashes framed eyes the color of the ocean—not the kind Jase used to drive to when he’d actually had his own car, but the kind he’d only seen in travel brochures, a deep blue-green. That hair made those eyes look huge and startled, though he supposed the whole falling onto the porch thing was enough to startle anyone, especially since this guy wasn’t having a good day to begin with.
Wonderful. I gotta go rob the hot guy…
"Yeah, we need to fix that cable there." The guy ran a hand through that exotic hair, laughing nervously. "I’m really sorry." A pause. "Uh…can I help you with something?"
Oh, baby, fuck yeah. With plenty of things.
He shook off the thought, wryly wishing he’d landed front-first in snow. It’d do instead of a cold shower. Evidently the knowledge that he was only here to surreptitiously ditch the things he’d stolen from this guy like some superstore Grinch wasn’t enough.
"Ah, I uh…" Think, Jase. With the head on your shoulders. "I was, uh…at the store a half hour ago, and"—he offered out the bags, watching those eyes light up brighter than any Christmas decoration—"I saw some kids messing around with a cart…"
"Oh, thank you!" The guy’s palpable relief was warm and sweet enough, that for a moment it blotted out the cold, the dark.
"When I took them to the guys at the door," Jase went on, in case weeping was imminent. "They pointed you out, but you’d already gotten on the bus, or I’d have gotten them to you sooner."
"Oh, you didn’t have to bring them all the way out here!"
"Ah, it was just a couple of blocks."
"Even so." The guy looked at him like he was some kind of saviour. If only he knew. "You don’t know how happy I am right—"
"Riley?" A scary looking woman poked her head around the door, and Jase almost fell off the porch a second time. She eyed him suspiciously. Smart lady. "Who’s this?"
"Well…"
She caught sight of the bags, and brightened suddenly. "Oh, so this is your buddy?"
Buddy? Huh. Jase didn’t think he’d hit his head when he fell…
The guy—Riley, then—looked at him with a desperate glint in his eyes. If there was anything Jase recognised, it was a lie in progress. Shit, he was a lie in progress. Still, he was more comfortable with his own harmless little deception than other people’s unknown agendas.
"Yeah. He, uh…couldn’t keep the stuff at his place after all."
"Hmmph." The woman folded her arms across an ample chest. "I thought you said he was reliable?"
"It’s not his fault."
"Well, they’re safer here anyway," she spoke to the kid, but her gaze remained locked on Jase. "So. You go to school with Riley, huh?"
Wow. Such a big web of lies for such an innocent looking kid. It was a good thing he was here now; he could keep Riley from digging an even bigger hole.
"Yes ma’am," he said, smiling, his most charming grin, all but feeling the relieved sigh emanating from the kid. "I’m Jase. Sorry about the whole present thing"—more than you know—"but y’know how it is. Stuff came up, it being Christmas and all."
"Well, can’t be helped I suppose." She shrugged, her entire pose softening slightly, and that was when he knew she’d bought it despite her misgivings. Sometimes he was so good he scared himself. Instead, she turned the vague annoyance at the kid. "Riley, don’t leave your friend standing out there in the cold after he brought the stuff over!"
"Well, I…I…"
Not waiting for Riley to finish off his stammered response, she herded them indoors. "Coffee, Jase?"
"Uh, sure. Thanks."
"No problem, it’s the least we—" She stared past him as, bewildered as fuck and grateful as all get out, Jase followed the equally baffled Riley into the little Christmas grotto house. "Lordy! What happened to the reindeer?"
* * *
<
br /> Last time Riley checked it was December, not April, but as foolish as he felt, it might as well have been. The lie was snowballing, huge and out of control. He couldn’t believe this stranger had not only been kind enough to return the gifts, but had gone along with the lie and hadn’t blown his story.
He should have been relieved the stuff was back—and he was—but right now all Riley could think about was the explanations he’d have to make as soon as Bree left.
She didn’t seem in too much of a hurry, having served up another cup of coffee for herself as well as for the two of them, and was busily interrogating a stranger as to his close friendship with her nephew.
"So, how come we haven’t heard about you before, Jase?" she asked, shooting Riley a pointed look.
To his credit, Jase—if that was really his name—hadn’t flinched at the onslaught of questions. Riley figured he owed this guy in a big way.
"We only met recently," Jase said. He glanced at Riley, winked, and smiled back at Bree. "He told me a lot about you, though, all of it good."
Bree laughed out loud, a twinkle in her eyes that said she was utterly charmed, even if she wasn’t utterly convinced.
"Oh he did, huh?"
"Absolutely." Jase nodded, sipping his coffee. Riley marvelled at the confidence, the ease with which he was speaking to a total stranger as if he knew every last thing about her.
And, well, it wasn’t all that he marvelled at. Truth be told, Bree wasn’t the only one charmed. He half wished this guy really did go to the same school, if only for the chance to see such an attractive view more often.
"Well boys, I gotta get going." Bree stood eventually, and it took all Riley’s willpower not to sigh in relief. "Don’t be a stranger, okay Jase? It was good meeting you. I’m glad Riley’s hanging out with a polite young man like you."
Riley fought a blush, while Jase just looked self-assured and self-effacing all at once.
"Yeah, well, I hope I’ll get to know you all better."
Bree was still smiling like a schoolgirl as she left for work. Riley waited till the choking, wheezing sounds of her old Chevy faded into the distance before turning to Jase, trying to figure out how best to form an apology.