Chapter Three Chilly Exchange

Chapter three

Chilly Exchange

Rick woke up bleary-eyed and hungover.

Not unusual, but it was infrequent for his alarm to have woken him. He hadn’t needed a time, or a reason, to get up in over a year. His body clock was all over the shop for it, often spending the nights drowning in alcohol and the days comatose to avoid the regret.

He knew he was a mess, yet couldn’t muster the strength to change.

He’d become the embodiment of the character Withnail.

But he supposed this was where it all started. The change. His need to change. Desired or not. This was the slow incline to getting his life back on track after having had it so cruelly ripped from beneath his feet. This could give him an opportunity, and he wished he hadn’t drunk so much last night trying to dull the pain of his past mistakes.

If he had wishes, though, he wouldn’t waste them on sobriety.

Somehow, he got himself up and stumbled to the bathroom to run himself under cold water and dress. He didn’t even bother to check his reflection. The stubble he hadn’t shaved in weeks wouldn’t be a problem for this gig. He threw on his trench coat, tucking up the collar to stave off the December wind chill, and opened his front door.

“You’re up early, Rick.” Simeon, his neighbour in the flat opposite, peered around the date he’d brought home and was subsequently kicking out before he needed to don his suit for the rat race. “Don’t tell me you’ve got yourself a role, at last?”

Simeon had a penchant for picking up young men. And the one he said goodbye to whilst he only wore a pair of boxers and a silk housecoat left open couldn’t be any older than eighteen. Rick would guess younger if he could bring himself to check, but the beanie was a dead giveaway. Simeon was even older than he, and chasing the gold-digging twinks in the bars of Soho screamed of him trying to cling onto better days.

Well, he couldn’t talk.

So he didn’t.

He squeezed past the two of them canoodling and Simeon promising to stay in touch when Rick knew he wouldn’t see the bloke again for dust, despite the polished surfaces of his humble abode. Relationships for Simeon were like Greggs at school kick out—best avoided. Relationships hurt too much. One could never know what the other was thinking. Or feeling . And so Rick trundled down the stairs and slammed through the communal doors out onto the cobblestones of Soho with relief that at least he wasn’t tallying up twinks at his age.

More’s the pity.

The corner pub he lived atop wasn’t even open. Testament to how early it was. Life in theatre had given Rick the luxury of not having to be up for the rat race. Being eight a.m, it was a time of day he hadn’t seen since RADA, and the frigid air bit his cheeks as he trudged through the desolate streets of London, his only company those rushing to their monotonous jobs with a cup of lukewarm coffee in hand.

He should have made coffee.

He really needed coffee.

Preferably spiked. But he’d take one without right then.

Five Mall was a fair walk away, but he preferred the biting cold over the crowded and stuffy tube ride, which would leave him with a pounding headache even without a hangover. But as he approached the dilapidated sign, its faded letters spelling out Five Mall, dread and anticipation stirred his gut in equal measures. It was a crumbling symbol of his new life. Inside was a jumbled mix of stores catering to local needs. A Cash Converters . Primark. A slew of mobile phone repair shops. All tied together by the overpowering aroma of fast food emanating from the third floor food court, attached like an anchor to a buoyant soft play centre. Such a dismal contrast to his former luxurious lifestyle, where he’d shopped in boutiques and eaten in artisan cafes, sipping on overpriced coffee.

The faux-stone cardboard walls of the Grotto were right in the centre, the last of the tinsel being strung up around the wonderland of red and green by a bloke on a ladder. The mall’s attempt at Christmas cheer did little to lift the weight of his disillusionment, though, and he stamped closer to get this over with so Marianne could find him the next job that would resurrect his career.

“Ah, Rick, welcome!” A woman trundled out from inside the makeshift Lapland, trouser suit and short, sleek bob cut suggesting she was the mall manager who had called Marianne and asked for an actor to play Santa when really any bloke with a beard would do. Any bloke without one too. “Forgive me for not shaking your hand.” She held up a tablet in one hand, the other clutching a red suit that would bind him to his downfall.

Rick peered up at what was to be his stage for the next few weeks. The tacky fir trees and elf ornaments with their paint stripping off the fake Lapland were like a set from one of his earlier, cheaper productions. His mouth curled at the edges, almost forming a grimace until a head poked out from behind a red velvet curtain with a grin so sincere, Rick’s heart jolted.

“This is lit !”

The young man emerging from inside Santa’s workshop couldn’t have been much older than the one Simeon had thrown out of his flat that morning. As cute, too. With a mesmerising blend of warm, sun-kissed hues adorning his light-brown skin and a wide, infectious smile highlighting a bronze glow on his prominent cheekbones. His obvious mixed heritage gave him a unique quality, captivating and distinctive. Striking. As though he were the physical embodiment of everything Rick loved about the diversity of London. Vastly different to him, with his upbringing in Dore, Sheffield, south Yorkshire, where everyone was white, everyone was middle-class, and everyone could trace their ancestry to right where they were.

“Jayden, I’d like you to meet Santa.” Emily gestured to Rick. “This is—”

“Rick Thornton !” Jayden’s mouth fell open and Rick instinctively bristled.

It wasn’t because the kid had recognised him. He’d used to have that happen a fair amount. But recently, those spots of recognition occurred among those in the industry. And those in the industry tended to be in the know. And if this young man was in the know, then Rick might not even get as far as to take his coat off, let alone don a whole padded red suit and beard.

Then Jayden’s electrifying green eyes sparkled when he said, “Are you kidding?” And he held out his hand as if awestruck. Star struck, perhaps. “ You’re Santa?”

Rick slipped his hand into Jayden’s and it was warm and inviting and caused a stir deep in his belly. The same stir he knew to avoid, as it got him nowhere. But he couldn’t deny the attraction, nor the way Jayden regarded him with a reverence he wouldn’t have expected from someone so young, so modern, trendy and urban. It had Rick temporarily forgetting himself and adding a hint of pride to his reply. “I am.”

Jayden grinned. “Wow. Sorry, I’m just a big fan. Saw you play Hamlet at the Globe in my first year—”

“Hate to interrupt the fan boying, but we’ll be opening soon.” Emily smiled with a fondness that could have come from a mother. But the maths didn’t add up.

Jayden blushed, stepping back, and something akin to the warmth that had spread from Jayden’s hand to Rick’s entire body turned him cold again.

“Jayden will be your elf,” Emily said. “He’ll be out front, taking the tickets and ushering the families into Santa’s workshop where you’ll be. We’ve got a full schedule—over three hundred bookings and counting. I expect every child to leave here believing they’ve just met the real Santa and his jolliest elf.”

Jayden nodded with an eagerness Rick remembered from those he’d worked with who were treading the boards for the first time out of drama school. He absorbed every word from Emily like it was a direction, with a keen interest in honouring her demands. Rick lingered his gaze over him, wondering if he had ever been this enthusiastic about anything in his life. Jayden was a ball of buzzing energy. Rick was exhausted just watching him.

“We’ve hired you both because we know you won’t see this as just a job.” Emily locked eyes with each of them and Rick desperately tried not to roll his. She was right. He didn’t see this as a job. It was penance for a crime he hadn’t committed. “You’re both actors. You can create the magic we’re after to rival Winter Wonderland and make these kids’ experience unforgettable, so their parents tell all their friends. Remember, you’re not just wearing costumes. You’re embodying dreams!”

Seriously? Embodying dreams? Rick peeped to Jayden out the corner of his eye, expecting his mortification over all this bullshit, too. Surely a kid in his early twenties wasn’t into ‘embodying dreams’ for toddlers? But Jayden was transfixed. Eager to please.

Emily carried on. “Times are tough for our customers, so we’re here to spread joy affordably . Can I count on you both to uphold that?”

“Absolutely.” Jayden bubbled with genuine enthusiasm, but there was an undertone of something else there, too. Like understanding. Empathy .

Rick nodded, his gesture empty but sufficient for this to end and get on with it.

“Great! Let’s keep the spirit of Christmas alive despite the cost-of-living crisis, eh? Here’s your suit, Rick.” Emily handed him his costume, the jingling of tiny bells like tormenting shackles. “Seeing as you’re both men, I’ll assume you don’t mind changing together inside the workshop?”

Rick was about to protest, but Jayden once again nodded with compliance.

“Great. Means we don’t have to find you a separate toilet each. We haven’t cleaned out the accessibility loo after an incident the other day.”

Rick grimaced.

“Oh, not that kind of incident. Customer got locked in there. Terrible state. Anyhoo, you’ll see bags of gifts in the workshops. Give those out to each child. Blue for boys, pink for girls.”

“Rather old-fashioned,” Rick muttered without thinking, and caught Jayden’s mouth open as if ready to say the same. The smile of pride he gave Rick after had his stomach fluttering.

Looks like we could have more in common than silly costumes.

Rick wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

Previous experience should tell him it wasn’t.

“We also have green wrapped presents for neutral gifts. Most of them are books, anyway.”

“Just what every child is asking Santa for.”

Emily ignored his blatant sarcasm, or more likely didn’t pick up on it as she handed Jayden the tablet. “Here’s the list of bookings. If anyone is a walk in, you can take the money using the card reader on the front desk.”

A loud crash from the other end of the mall had Emily growling. “The tree,” she explained as her phone rang. She answered, “Yes, Leon, I heard. We have more baubles in storage. Be there in a minute.” She hung up, tucking her phone in her pocket. “Have to rush away to another festive crisis. Jayden, the balloons are in the box by the entrance. You said you can do those animal things, right?”

“Yep.”

Rick peeked sideways at Jayden. He was already practicing his most charming elfish grin, and Rick felt a pang of something unfamiliar. Envy? No, he was far beyond that. It was more like the distant echo of respect.

“This place is yours! I want smiling faces and good PR.” Emily rushed off, court shoe heels clomping on the freshly varnished flooring. “Jayden has my number if you need anything at all!” Then she was out of view, swallowed up by the sweeping mall.

Rick turned to Jayden. He smiled.

“You’ve worked here before?” Rick said, more of a statement than a question. It seemed Emily was entrusting Jayden to most of the workings of the grotto.

“I’ve been on the cleaning staff. Emily’s my boss. This is an upgrade.”

“You think?” Rick held up his suit with a frown.

“For me, obviously,” Jayden rushed out, then winced. “Not that you—”

Rick scoffed under his breath then trudged into the grotto, slamming back the velvet curtain separating the outside from the inside workshop where he was to meet the children. The distinct scent of mothballs and dried paint from the cardboard irritated his nostrils and he ripped the cellophane from the red velvet suit hanging limply on a wire hanger, emulating some sad relic of cheerfulness, and let out a sigh that sounded more like a growl. An upgrade ? How could anyone believe this to be an upgrade? He dumped the suit on the gold throne adorned with tinsel and bags of gifts to take a sharp look at his character.

His internal character.

The one who thought he was above all this, yet clearly was not.

“Is this a Christmas tradition for you?” Jayden’s voice chirped from behind, brimming with ingratiating enthusiasm. “Playing Santa in a grotto somewhere?”

“This is not my usual gig,” Rick muttered as he shucked off his coat and unbuttoned his shirt.

He caught sight of Jayden by the curtain stripping out of his clothes to his underwear and his imprudent heart gave a traitorous leap at the sight of Jayden’s lithe form, beautifully smooth and warm skin slipping into the all-in-one elf costume, green and red fabric hugging his body in all the right places. He was like a sliver of youthful exuberance wrapped in emerald cloth and it hit every one of Rick’s buttons. But he shut down the fluttering sensations vying for attention by burying them under years of hardened resentment and experience .

It would do him no good to go there.

Not for his selfish heart, nor his self-esteem.

Plus, he’d lose this job, too.

“Hey, you need help with the beard?” Jayden fixed his jingling hat over his curls, eyes bright with a camaraderie Rick couldn’t share. Didn’t know how to share. He’d lost his ability to trust some time back.

“I can manage on my own, thanks.” He didn’t mean to snap, but he was acting with self-preservation at best, and focusing on the buttons of his red suit and not on Jayden’s gaze lingering with a silent acknowledgment of something neither should voice, allowed him to not go there.

Ever .

“Right, sure.” Jayden withdrew, but not before Rick noticed the fall of his shoulders, the dimming of those vibrant emerald eyes. As if rejection for him was physically painful.

Rick felt a smidgen of remorse for being standoffish. But it was a defence mechanism. Since scandal and heartache had ripped his name from glittering lights, then trodden into mud, Rick had learned to be wary of those who attempted to build a rapport. He didn’t trust it. Couldn’t trust it.

No matter how genuine one might be.

“How come you’re here, then?” Jayden asked, undeterred. There was genuine curiosity in his tone, a reaching out for a connection that stirred something within Rick’s chest. Perhaps it was the lack of human touch over the last year. Or that Jayden clearly didn’t know .

Or did he?

“Does it matter?” Rick pulled the padded suit over his torso, feeling the weight of it, both physical and metaphorical.

“Guess not. Just making conversation.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Are you gonna be this chipper with the kids?”

“I’ll be what I’m paid to be.”

“Pretty sure Emily won’t pay a grumpy Santa.”

“Then perhaps she should have considered a coffee for him on arrival.” Rick rubbed his forehead, his temple thudding. “Even the kids are considerate enough to put out a drink and a snack for him.”

“All right, what’s your poison?”

Rick faced him. “Excuse me?”

“What’s Santa’s poison? Milk and cookies?”

“Right now, black coffee and two sugars.”

“Noted.” Jayden smiled, and it went straight to Rick’s heart, chipping away as if it, too, was a relic frozen in time.

“Why are you here, then?”

“Me? This is better than clearing up shit and leftover Maccy D’s. And,” he shrugged, “I like kids. Like being able to give them a bit of magic.”

“Only for them to find out that you, their parents, and the whole world lied to them?” Rick secured the belt around his waist, cinching it tight enough to remind himself to stay contained. Controlled. But he hated lies. Abhorred them.

“Wow. Who fucked up your crimbo?”

“I’m merely stating how Father Christmas is the biggest prank played on the most susceptible. They believe him. Believe he cares . And love him right back. Only to discover it wasn’t real .”

God, Rick might cry .

“It’s just a bit of fun,” Jayden said, cocking head as if wondering if he needed to call in reinforcements. “Spreading a little joy and magic. And, if you think about it, it’s just like acting, innit? Making people believe you are someone else is your forte. And, well, might be mine too. Hopefully.”

Rick got himself together, the insinuation hurtling a little too close to comfort for his liking. “You act?”

“Final year drama student at ULC.” Jayden looked pleased as punch about that.

“Some advice. Go do something else. Spare yourself the disappointment.”

“Had a lifetime of disappointment, mate,” Jayden said, a stubborn tilt to his chin that Rick could sense even without seeing.

“Then you’ll be well equipped to go into a career that will beat you down when you’re at your lowest.”

“But you’ve been the principal at the Globe. Fuck all beats that.”

“Yet here I am.” Rick stretched out his arms as if ready to take his bow, then sighed.

“So this ain’t your choice to be here, then?”

“This is what happens when you fall down the career ladder.”

“You know the beauty of a ladder?”

“Enlighten me.”

“It goes both ways. You can always climb it again.”

“Not if you’ve developed vertigo from your most recent fall.”

“You only fail when you give up.”

“Then you’re delusional as well as gratingly optimistic.”

“Yep, been told that many times, too.” Jayden grinned, his green eyes like flashing lights on a Christmas tree.

“Give it a few years.” Rick avoided Jayden’s gaze as he adjusted the fake beard, feeling its scratchiness against his skin—a reminder of the facade he was about to put on. He then turned to show the full ensemble to Jayden.

Jayden’s smile was both beautiful and downright annoying. “Suits you.”

“Fuck you,” Rick’s retort had less malice than he’d expected, and Jayden chuckled.

Strangely, so did Rick.

“Ouch.” Jayden clutched his chest. “You’re a rebel without a claus .”

Rick shoved his feet into black boots, an amused smile betraying him. “No. This is a simple case of claus and effect.”

Jayden snorted and shuffled toward the curtain, elf costume complete with pointy shoes, jingling bell hat over pointed ears, red and white stripy candy-cane socks, and a tiny spark flickered somewhere deep within Rick when Jayden flashed a wink over his shoulder.

“I can tell we’re gonna have snow much fun together!”

A spark Rick would vehemently deny.