Chapter 8
Randall left early the next morning and took an Uber back to his place.
He had to wash his costume to get rid of any potential love stains, then hightail it to the mall.
They had spooned in bed, but that wasn’t so atypical.
Tom had done that with guys in the past, though usually he lay awake unable to sleep.
This time, he was out cold, cocooned in Randall’s arms.
Since Tom was working an afternoon shift, he could sleep in. He dreamt of his night with Randall. He wasn’t sure if what happened was all a dream.
It was no dream.
I fucked Hot Mall Santa.
Tom woke up feeling like a million bucks.
Well, a million bucks and a sore asshole.
He could still smell the tangy scent of sex and Randall’s musk on his sheets.
He sang in the shower and in the car to work.
The radio played Paul McCartney’s Wonderful Christmastime, a holiday song Tom absolutely loathed.
It was the root canal of Christmas songs. But Tom couldn’t get enough.
“Siiiiiimply haaaaaaving a wonderful Christmastime!” He belted the lyrics out in the car at full volume.
Tom walked into the mall in a full-on post-sex swagger. Jacket slung over his shoulder, sunglasses on, a tricked-out remix of Wonderful Christmastime playing in his head. Look at all these hopeless moms, only shopping at Oakville to get a moment with Hot Mall Santa. If only they knew…
He didn’t enter by the Santa wing. It was too soon to see him. Tom didn’t want him to think he was a stalker.
Nothing could shake Tom’s swagger. Not even Antonio telling him he had to unload a merchandise truck because one of the stockroom guys called in sick.
“I would have Jessa do it, but she has a bad back,” Antonio said.
“It’s totally cool.” Tom leaned against a column that held a candle endcap display. Unloading the truck would allow him to zone out and think about the amazing night he had.
“I wish I could have you out on the floor,” Antonio said. Hot Mall Santa had me on the bed. “But trucks don’t unload themselves.” Hot Mall Santa unloaded inside me.
“It’s fine. We gotta do what we gotta do,” Tom said.
Antonio flashed him a warm smile. “I really appreciate your great attitude.”
Tom waved off the compliment. “I’ll get to it.”
He didn’t wait for Antonio to respond. He whooshed through the back door into the stockroom, as if he were floating on a cloud.
* * *
Tom’s heart began to speed up as his lunch break neared.
Since he worked a later shift, he and Randall wouldn’t run into each other in their secret lunch place.
But Tom planned to casually stroll by Santa’s workshop to catch a glimpse of the man, maybe enjoy a little bit of banter before he left.
Also, Tom wouldn’t admit it, but he kept thinking about Randall’s comment last night about a next time.
He held out a sliver of hope that could happen.
“Great job guys!” Antonio said when he came into the stockroom.
With Alex, the stockroom employee who showed up for work, they had unloaded and unpacked a truck of new merchandise, everything from furniture to knickknacks.
Nobody knew what would be on trucks. Corporate stocked them.
It was their job to unpack and sell. Tom pictured his night with Randall, but after a while, the actual images of fucking gave way to memories of their conversation in the bar, of the goofy way he danced to Footloose, of the way he kissed Tom’s shoulder after sex.
Tom touched his shoulder, like he was trying to feel some of the heat left over from Randall’s lips.
“I’m going to take my break,” Tom said.
“Thanks again. Good teamwork.” Antonio looked at him for an extra second, something Tom couldn’t stand around for. He had a guy to casually stroll past.
“See you in thirty,” Tom said. He took off his Décor Store apron, put it in his locker, and entered the wild world of the Oakville Mall. The halls were more crowded, filled with determined shoppers rather than strolling, bored, comfortable housewives looking to fritter away an afternoon.
Tom entered the South Wing, which wasn’t as clogged as it probably had been during the day.
He found himself on the verge of powerwalking, ready to elbow anyone who got in his way.
Was he still high on the Hot Mall Santa sex he had last night?
Tom thought about his monster cock and if Randall had ruined him, literally and figuratively, for future men.
Santa’s Workshop was still abuzz even though it was after six. Tom checked himself out in the reflection of an empty store window. He looked fine, no different from last night, but he combed his hair with his fingers. He also popped in an Altoid.
Tom hid behind a calendar kiosk. Randall held court on his throne with about half a dozen women and gay men circling him.
These weren’t the typical suburban moms that had come to see Santa.
These people were young and hot. The women had blown out hair and a fresh face of makeup.
The gay men wore clinging jeans that showed off more curves than a closed driving course.
And Randall was loving it.
He had one leg swung over the chair arm and was telling them a story. Tom couldn’t hear what he was saying, but they were loving it. Every damn word. Guys like Randall were automatically popular. They would always be flocked to and surrounded.
“What am I doing?” Tom mumbled to himself.
His hair smelled of cardboard boxes and his baggy jeans were built for comfort not sex appeal.
What happened between him and Randall was a fluke.
Their relationship was built on Tom being at the right place at the right time.
He was someone to talk to in an empty, abandoned office and the only person he knew in a random gay bar.
Against real competition, like the sextet flanking the throne, Tom didn’t stand a chance.
He walked away, unseen by Randall. He treated himself to a Cinnabon for lunch and made his way to his secret spot.
He glanced out at the mall from high on his clandestine perch, and for a second, he felt like a mighty king.
Tom tossed his Cinnabon bag on the desk.
He spotted something sticking out underneath.
The air coming from the heating vent made it flap around.
Tom squatted down and pulled a folded piece of paper taped under the middle drawer.
Thought you might need this before your big trip. Look in the right bottom drawer.
He opened the drawer where a tube of SPF 50 sunscreen and a book 50 Beaches To See Before You Die waited for him.
Maybe there would be a next time.