Chapter Five Holly Branch

Chapter five

Holly Branch

“Is there nothing else?” Rick held the phone to his ear as he walked the streets from Soho to the mall the next morning. “Nothing at all?” His tone was desperate, pinching his headache.

“No, Rick. Nothing.” Marianne’s tone fell from exasperation, tinkering into the realms of apathy.

“You’re checking in with all the theatres? This is prime season for actors to drop out after a tipple too many.”

“You of all people would know that, hmm?”

“I can’t do this, Marianne!” He rubbed his forehead, slaloming around the onslaught of commuters heading to his district to work, whereas he headed to theirs to play Santa for the kids they left each morning for a proper job.

“It’s just a little ho ho ho, Merry Christmas. It’s not bleeding Measure for Measure .”

“I would prefer Measure for Measure . Fuck, Marianne, I would play Troilus and Cressida.”

“I know you would. But that’s not on offer. This is.”

“It’s degrading, Marianne.”

“They are paying you.”

“Why are you so keen for me to do this? What’s in it for you? Besides the ten percent? Surely it is in your interest to find me something to move my career upwards rather than leave it buried under sixteen feet of ice.”

There was a pause at the other end of the phone, then, “Emily is a good friend.”

“By good friend, you mean?”

“We’re seeing each other.”

“Of course you are.” He rolled his eyes. It’s not what you know, it’s who you know. And who you’re in bed with.

“She’s working exceptionally hard to make that mall something. Do you know how many regular shoppers they lost after Westfield opened?”

“No, nor do I ca—”

“ Five hundred . Weekly. That’s simple maths.”

“What is?”

“The numbers.”

“Right.”

“You can help bring them back. And when you do, I’ll find you something else. Emily also tells me there’s a budding actor as the elf. Is he any good? Worth giving my card to?”

“He’s…” Wickedly impish and has a smile that could melt the North Pole. “Okay, so far.”

“Good-o. Well, pass my card on. And oh, Rick?”

“Yes?” Rick approached the doors of Five Mall.

“If you lose this job, you might have to find yourself another agent and believe me, among my circles, your name isn’t all tinsel and glitter. Bear that in mind.” Mariann e cut the call.

Rick sighed and trudged through into the mall, footsteps heavy, echoing the pounding in his skull. The bright festive lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of pain and he squinted against their cheer. He was aware he was a stark contrast to the holiday spirit around him, with his crumpled Santa suit hanging off one shoulder and his salt-and-pepper hair matted over his forehead, but he couldn’t muster the strength to find an ounce of joviality within him.

In the words of Wham , Last Christmas—

“Rough night?” a voice cut through the cacophony of carol singers being blasted out of the tinny speakers and Rick’s attempts to drown in sorrow.

Perched by the grotto’s entrance, carefree and gorgeous with dark curly hair dripping out from beneath his beanie hat and framing a face that seemed incapable of frowning, Jayden held out salvation in the form of a large coffee cup. Steam danced from the lid like spirits, tempting Rick back to the land of the living.

“For me?” he asked.

“Coffee. Black. Two sugars.” Jayden handed him the drink, sparkling eyes luring Rick in as if he’d been waiting for him.

Of course, he’d been waiting for him. Because Rick was Santa. And this was Santa’s Grotto, not Elf’s Grotto, but it felt as though his smile was only for him. But that was the dying embers of last night’s whisky. He knew that. Drink often told him things that weren’t true.

“You remembered.” Rick sipped through the lid, allowing the rich aroma of the coffee to force him a step closer to coherence. The warmth from the cup seeped into his chilled fingers, a subtle reminder that not everything was as cold as his prospects.

“I listen occasionally.” Jayden grinned, then motioned toward the grotto. “Ready to sleigh , queen?”

Rick’s lips defied him by lifting into a smile, and he followed Jayden past the cardboard entrance, through the velvet curtain into the makeshift workshop. The caffeine did its job, nudging the fog of his hangover to recede, but as he squeezed past Jayden to the throne, a sudden pang of self-consciousness jolted through him. Jayden had tugged off his beanie, revealing his dark curls which draped into his eyes, but then, in a complete act of casual spontaneity, he peeled his hoodie up and over his head, revealing his bare torso.

In that briefest of moments, as the fabric covered Jayden’s face, time froze, granting Rick the chance to drink in Jayden’s lean, lithe body, low hung jeans teasingly exposing more than a hint of boxers. It was involuntary. Instinctive. Rick couldn’t look away. Raking his gaze from slender hips to revealed armpits, he couldn’t put his heart palpitations down to last night’s whisky bath. Jayden was electrifying. And Rick feasted on his dark nipples, hard and tempting. Trailed his gaze down to his taut abdominals and around the rim of his belly button. He licked his lips, imagining his tongue circling and plunging into that innie, then gliding down the snail trail of dark hair and slithering inside Jayden’s underwear.

Rick’s face flushed despite the negative temperatures outside, and he dropped his coffee on the floor. “ Fuck .”

Jayden’s head popped out of his jumper and he blew back his hair. “You all right, mate?”

“Yes, shit, bollocks.” Rick crouched to pick up the cup, the liquid antidote to his pain seeping into the sticky carpet.

Jayden was next to him in a flash, cloth from God knew where in his hand, and wiping up the stains. Rick could smell him. His over potent deodorant spray, meshed with whatever he put in his hair to keep the curls just right, taunted Rick’s nostrils as if he hadn’t breathed in anything so appetising in all his life. And he was still topless, light-brown skin glistening under the fairy lights, tight muscles flexing within his lean arm as he swiped up the spill and bare shoulder bumping Rick’s as if this was normal.

It was anything but.

Rick stood, fast and suddenly, putting Jayden’s face at his crotch, and he looked up with such sultry eyes, Rick had an urge to rake his fingers through his hair and grip the ends. He might even have said something because his lips moved, but all Rick heard was the sound of his own thudding heartbeat.

“Rick?”

“Mmm?”

“You want me to?”

Rick blinked. “Excuse me?” Want him to what? Oh, fuck. Had he actually done it?

Jayden waggled the cup. “Want me to get you another one?”

“Oh. No. No, that’s fine.” Rick scrubbed a hand down his face.

Jayden stood. Bare chest to Rick’s clothed one, he cocked his head. “How much did you drink last night?” There was no judgement in his tone. A more genuine expression of concern as he scanned his face like his mother had used to when he’d been out all night.

“Enough to warrant my headache.”

“You should give yourself a limit, then try not to reach it.”

Rick met his gaze. “You’re an expert on drinking as well now?”

“On drunks?” Jayden shrugged and threw the damp cloth into one of the bin liners set up to take left over rubbish. “Yeah.”

“I’m not a drunk.” Rick barked the lie with such vehement denial it was worthy of his Olivier.

“No, I know.” Jayden smiled. “But we’re all one drink away from it, right?” Why was he so damn infuriatingly sweet and sexy and… right ? And why did Rick feel bad about it? Why did he suddenly feel exposed ? And why did he want to wrap Jayden up and take away the torment he’d endured from alcoholics? He knew nothing about this man. Other than a backstory of care homes. But something told Rick it wasn’t only those who should have protected him as a child who were the ones battling with addiction.

A past lover, perhaps?

He felt the need to explain himself. “It’s been a tough time of late.”

“I hear ya.” Jayden moved away, back to where his elf costume hung, and Rick averted his gaze as the excruciating creak of a jeans zip fly lowered and Jayden scraped denim off each leg, causing Rick’s pulse to spike.

Maybe cutting down on the drink wasn’t a bad shout.

He got on with getting into costume himself.

“I watched you last night,” Jayden said as Rick shed his coat, peering over his shoulder. Jayden grinned, then slipped into the elf suit. “On YouTube. Don’t panic, ain’t no stalker peering in your bedroom window.”

“I live on the third floor, so unless you moonlight as a window cleaner with retractable step ladder that would be impossible.” Rick stripped, grabbing the Santa suit to put on before Jayden would notice he was more than a little excited at the prospect of Jayden having watched him do what he’d done last night. Which was to drink himself to the point he thought it would be okay to pleasure himself while imagining a wickedly impish elf on his lap.

Cause that wouldn’t happen sober !

“Sounds like a challenge.” Jayden secured his hat, pushing it down so only a few curls peeked out from the brim and made him go from mouth-wateringly wicked to utterly adorable. “I watched a recording of Othello .”

Rick froze in the middle of buttoning the red jacket.

“When you played Iago.”

“I know who I played.”

“You were good.”

Rick’s chest rose with his fluttering inhalation, but he closed his eyes, continuing to cover himself in a garish red suit.

“You aced that part.” Jayden was either unaware of, or unperturbed by Rick’s turmoil. “Iago is the sexiest Shakespeare character.”

Rick secured the beard and wig, only his eyes revealed as he twisted to face Jayden. Had he just said he was sexy ? He scoffed at the thought. As if anyone would find a man in an over inflated red suit that made him gain three stone, white flowing beard and white hair like Gandalf and a jingle bell hat attractive. No, it was the character. Iago. His greatest role.

“You find Iago sexy?” Rick questioned, lips fighting through the fibres of the beard.

“Fuck, yeah. Iago can manipulate me any fucking day as long as he does it while slapping my arse like a naughty little elf.”

Rick drew in a breath. “You realise he is a villain?” he said, so as not to ask if Jayden would like him to do that. Rick Thornton. The has-been.

Jayden grinned. “The villain everyone loves to hate. And, come on, he’s totally a repressed homo.”

“Is he?”

“He fancies the fuck out of Othello.”

“Does he?” Rick believed that too, but it wasn’t a universal concept about the character despite him having played him that way, and he tilted his head with curiosity that Jayden had theories on Shakespeare at all. “Any proof of that speculation?”

“Let’s put aside the racism for a second. We’re in different times.” Jayden then counted off his fingers. “But he totes hates women. The misogyny is unreal. And he’s a total cock blocker. Takes great pleasure in preventing Othello from enjoying his marital happiness. Plus, he pretty much expresses his love for him over and over. Like when he kneels, and says,” Jayden knelt, arms wide and gazing up at Rick as he delivered the lines Rick could recite in his sleep, “ ‘Witness, you ever-burning lights above, You elements that clip us round about, Witness that here Iago doth give up the execution of his wit, hands, heart, To wronged Othello’s service . Let him command and to obey shall be in me remorse what bloody business ever. ’ Dude is practically reciting marriage vows to Othello’s dick.”

Rick widened his eyes. “I wouldn’t have had you down for a Shakespeare fan.”

“No?” Jayden clambered to stand up. “Don’t think us orphans sit around in the care home dissecting Shakespeare’s sonnets?”

“No. I wouldn’t…”

“You’d be right. We don’t.” Jayden held out his arms in a display of himself. “I’m elf taught.”

Rick snorted a laugh, and Jayden winked, then peeped out through the velvet curtain.

“Ready for your courtesy call, Mr Thornton?”

Rick turned away, focusing on his reflection in one of the hanging baubles on the Christmas tree behind his throne. The red suit sat awkwardly on his frame, the white beard incongruous against his weathered face. He was not, as Jayden had subtly suggested, sexy. He’d played Iago years ago, and he now looked every bit the part of a man clinging to the fringes of a life that had moved on without him.

With a sigh, he hoisted the sack of gifts over his shoulder and prepared to face another day of forced cheer, all the while ignoring the ache for something genuine that Jayden had stirred within him.

“Let’s get this show on the road.”

* * * *

Despite Jayden’s best efforts to the contrary, the day was gruelling.

For Rick, anyhow.

The cacophony of children’s excited chatter reverberated through the grotto, piercing Rick’s hangover like an unwelcome alarm. His grimace behind his Santa mask as another gleeful scream rang out, too sharp and too close, had become a permanent fixture. The faux snow beneath his boots crunched as he shifted uneasily, trying to summon a smile that felt as fake as the cotton-wool beard itching his jaw. He was fully aware this was not his best performance and more than one parent had left the grotto unsatisfied.

Lunch hour could not come quick enough.

He stayed put, rather than sneak outside the mall as he had yesterday to pour whisky from his hipflask into a coffee and steal a cigarette from a passing customer that he hadn’t enjoyed and subsequently stubbed out after three inhales. It was time to sober up. The pep talk from Jayden had made him rethink things. So he ate his M&S meal deal sandwich on his throne, having discarded the beard and wig, while Jayden sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping on an energy drink, wondering how to spark a conversation where he called him sexy again.

“You not eating?” Rick asked through a mouthful of chicken and avocado on rye. Perhaps not the best start, but he was rusty at forming bonds.

Last Christmas…

He blinked away the song on a loop in his head pertaining to his life.

“Nah.” Jayden twisted the cap on his bottle. “Had a big breakfast.”

Rick could detect the lie. Despite appearances, Jayden wasn’t that good an actor. But he chose not to press. He’d been a student once and making his loan last until the new year took budgeting and self-restraint. Skills a young man in his late teens and early twenties didn’t possess. But Rick had had the luxury of calling his parents and asking for a top up. A pang of something foreign swirled in his stomach. Not pity, as such. More sympathy.

He held out the crisps he wouldn’t eat anyway and Jayden looked at them as if he were passing across an illicit baggie. “They came with the meal deal,” Rick said. “I’m not a fan of cheese and onion, so they’ll only go in the bin.”

Jayden hesitated, but eventually took the packet and offered a grateful smile that fluttered in Rick’s chest. “No? What’s your poison then?”

“Whisky usually.”

“Told you to lay off that.” Jayden ripped open the packet and shovelled the crisps into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten all week.

Rick could have put that down to the luxury hand-cooked variety of the M&S snack, but he assumed his first assessment wasn’t wrong. Jayden was hungry. He was probably limiting himself to go out on the town with his mates later. But Rick smiled, feeling like he’d done something right for once.

This wasn’t just sharing food, it was sharing M&S food.

“I’m more of a nut man,” Rick said.

“Bit of an over-share, there, but noted.”

Rick chuckled. Well, at least that was out in the open. “I was referring to snack fetishes.”

Jayden crunched through the crisps. “Yeah? Salted? Honey roast? Or does Santa only go for roasted chestnuts this time of year?”

“Partial to a cashew.”

“Ah.” Jayden nodded, pursing his lips. “The bent nut.”

“Love a bent nut.”

Jayden grinned. “Samesies.”

Rick smiled. Genuinely. What he should have been doing all day and hadn’t found the strength for. Jayden scrunched up the empty crisp packet in his hand, then lifted it as if shooting a ball and aimed for their rubbish bag. He missed.

“Oops, I elfed up.”

Rick shook his head through a laugh. “Do you have a list of all these puns somewhere?”

“Yeah.” He waggled his mobile phone. “Written them all in my notes.”

Rick leaned forward in his seat, a sudden wave of confidence gushing over him to do something silly. “So, tell me, are you on the naughty or nice list this year?”

Jayden cocked his head, biting on his bottom lip. “That all depends.”

“On?”

Rick didn’t get a response to his idle attempts at flirtation as clicking heels announced Emily’s approach before her slight frame cut through the velvet curtain with determined strides and laid her hazel eyes on him .

This didn’t look good.

“Good, you’re both here.”

Rick fell back on his throne, the weight of her disappointment heavy on his shoulders even before she spoke. He’d seen that same look on Marianne’s face when Rick had had to tell her he’d been told not to return for the final run of An Inspector Calls.

“There a problem?” Jayden bounced up as if she’d lit a firework up his arse.

“There have been complaints.” Emily folded her arms, looking directly at Rick.

“Complaints?” Jayden glanced from her to Rick.

If Rick had any care left, he would feel bad right then. But he was drowning in his own antipathy.

“From parents,” Emily said. “Our customers. Our paying customers. They say Santa isn’t very jolly.”

“He’s having a bad day,” Rick countered. A bad year.

Last Christmas…

“Even so.” She raised her eyebrows poignantly. “He might want to reconsider his attitude if he wants this grotto to remain open. Because one more complaint and the executives might close us down. Permanently . They’ve been toying with the idea of bulldozing this place to create a car park. They feel it would earn them more money.” She turned back to Jayden. “Cleaners aren’t required at car parks.” She peered back at Rick. “Nor are Santas. If you catch my drift.”

“It wasn’t a drift, Emily. It was an avalanche.” Rick scrubbed a hand down his face.

“Good. Then you can build Lapland out of it.” She squeezed Jayden’s arm, then ducked back through the velvet opening.

Rick peered up from his slump, catching Jayden’s gaze. “What’s a couple of bad reviews, eh? Part and parcel of being an actor.” His attempt at brushing it off fell on elf ears.

“Might be nothing to you. But I need this job. And the cleaning job to get me to next Christmas.”

“I hear you.”

“Please do. Or I can lend you these.” He flicked his pointy elf ears, then disappeared through the velvet curtain to take his station at the front of the grotto.

It wasn’t often Rick felt the need to do something for someone else. He’d spent years honing himself with arrogance and ego. But if what had happened a year ago to land him here had taught him anything, it was that he wasn’t indispensable. And that gossip travelled.

So right then, as Jayden interacted with the children beyond the curtain, causing them to giggle and cheer and throwing his entire soul into spreading joy despite his less than ideal circumstances, Rick found he didn’t want to join the scrap heap. More importantly, he didn’t want Jayden to look at him with pity and disappointment. He wanted to see his reaction to Rick’s Iago again.

He wanted, strangely, for Jayden to like him.

Not an audience. Not a string of reviewers. Not a queue of customers.

But one man among the many.

Jayden .

But then the echoed song on repeat throughout November and December blasted through his self-conscience …Last Christmas…

“Oh, fuck off!”