Page 22 of The Santa Claus Con

Nathan gives Nelly another lethal look. “Dammit, Payne, how badly were you hurt?” he asks me, rubbing his forehead. “The training. You ran—” He releases a sharp breath through his nose. “This meeting’s over. Thanks for your time. We’ll be in touch.”

Nathan makes me wait on the sidewalk outside the Santa Claus Con HQ while he grabs the car.

“I’ve gotta say, not a big fan of the good agent, bad agent thing,” I say as I slide into the passenger seat.

“You should’ve led with that, Payne,” Nathan says.

“I didn’t think you were going to be that intense—”

“No. About you being hurt.”

I blink. “Why? Would it have convinced you faster?”

“Yes,” he says without a moment’s hesitation. “Of course it would have. And you were just injured last year…” He trails off, his eyes going distant. “Are you even cleared for fieldwork?”

“My shoulder’s fine,” I tell him. “The rehab helps, and I’m getting back to full strength. There’s not a lot of feeling there yet, but doctors say that’s not totally abnormal.” To mess with him, I lift my left arm with my right hand and let it quickly drop to my lap. “They say I’ll be able to hold it up in front of me in two to three years.”

Nathan is not entertained. “Still, you should’ve told me. I can’t believe someone really tried to hurt you,” he says, like the reality of our situation is just now hitting him.

“So you would’ve agreed to be my undercover Santa to, what, keep an eye on me?” I ask, half joking.

Nathan looks out the window. “That’s exactly it.” There’s not a trace of sarcasm in his words. He angles his head back toward me, his brown eyes flashing with concern. “We’re gonna get the sick asshole who did this, and when I find him, they’re going to be sorry Christmas ever existed.”

My heart squeezes at his protectiveness. “Then you need to make it through each Santa challenge, physically and… demeanor-wise.”

Nathan nods. “If I need to be jaunty and jovial and whatever other J word there is, then so help me, I’ll be the jolliest, jazziest jackass on this side of the North Pole.” He says this like it’s a threat and a promise.

I buckle my seat belt. “Then we have some work to do.”

Chapter 8

NATHAN

When I said you owed me a new suit, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” I say to Scarlett, who’s flipping through the racks of a rental clothing shop she asked the owner to close down just for us for a “matter of national security.”

“In order to play the part, you need to look the part,” she says, picking out a red velvet, faux fur–lined jacket in her hands. “This is literally, like, the only clothing Santa wears. Also, suspenders and a white thermal long-sleeve. We can get you those, too.”

I glance down at my outfit. “What’s wrong with this suit?”

“No one’s going to actually believe that you care about being there,” Scarlett says, handing me the jacket.

Unfortunately, she’s right. In all the photos I’ve seen from prior years, contestants go all out to dress up as their best portrayal of Santa Claus.

I bring the jacket to my nose and give it a whiff. “Smells like cigarette smoke and chestnuts.”

“Maybe the guy who rented this suit before loves roasting things on an open fire,” Scarlett says. “Whatever we get here, we’ll have dry cleaned. My treat.” She takes a closer look at the lining and scrunches her face. “We can find better. Something more breathable and stretchier. You’ll be in this all day. I want you to be comfortable.”

“So thoughtful, thank you,” I deadpan.

“Only the best for my man on the inside.” She analyzes the trim on the sleeves on another jacket that’s a deeper maroon with gold ribbon running down the front. “This screams mature Santa, don’t you think?” she asks. “Like, you’ll deliver all the toys and still be in bed by nine p.m.?”

“Doesn’t his job start at midnight?”

“Ooh! This Santa wants to have some fun!” she says about a jacket and pants combo that’s covered in red rhinestones. “The Con encourages you to show off your personality. Want to be Disco Santa?”

“No.”

She gasps. “What about Sexy Santa?” On the hanger is a red vest and boxer shorts with a bedazzled black belt. “You’d easily make it through all the competitions because everyone else would be too distracted by you.”