Page 102 of The Mayor and the Mystery Man

Christmason the East Coast is vastly superior to a West Coast Christmas. I forgot how magical this time of year could be when it actually looked like a winter wonderland outside. Sure, I didn’t have an ocean view, and it was getting a lot harder to wake up for a freezing cold morning run, but a snow-covered Sourwood was a sight that consistently took my breath away. I was turning into one of those holiday obsessives. Give me all the cheesy Christmas movies, all the candy, and all the songs.

Oh, and give me Leo dressed up as Santa Claus.

It was an annual Sourwood tradition. On Christmas Eve, the mayor would dress up as Santa for the kids who visited city hall to sit on his lap. Leo really got into it, decked out in a thick white beard and using a Kris Kringle chortle. I hung off to the side and watched from a distance. And developed a Santa fetish in real time.

Alas, I was too old to participate. That was okay. I didn’t need anything from the North Pole. I had everything I needed. Life was good. And besides, it would be difficult to sit on his lap while wearing a butt plug anyway.

I clenched my butt cheeks. Had to get the chimney ready for Santa.

“Dusty!” A sturdy hand clamped on my shoulder, jolting me out of my Leo fantasies.

Bud Hawkins, a rough-looking blue-collar guy with a heart of gold, maintained the facilities at the Bea Arthur Center and always had a smile on his face.

“Hiya, Bud.”

“I love that bookcase you built for the Center’s gift shop. We get compliments on it at least once a week. When will two and three be done?”

“Let’s say mid-January. Business has been unexpectedly booming.”

“It’s well-deserved. You do good work.”

Apparently, I did. Since I was staying put in Sourwood, I needed to find a job. While I began my job hunt, I started with doing odd fix-up jobs and building the sets for the children’s theater group’s Holiday Pageant. Word got out that I was good at making things, and requests rolled in for custom built-in shelves, tables, you-name-it. Come spring, I was going to be very busy with building wedding trellises and outdoor decks. For the first time, I didn’t feel stuck in a job. I had ownership over my career. I was building a business. And on top of that, I was enmeshing myself into the fabric of Sourwood. I felt like a part of the community and happy to contribute something back.

My sexy Santa Claus sidled up to us. He shook Bud’s hand and asked about the Center and how things were going. He might’ve been wearing a big red suit and fake beard, but he knew how to turn on the mayoral charm.

After Bud left to file forms with the county clerk, Leo and I walked back to his office. Holding hands, of course. It still sent a bolt of energy up to my heart.

Leo ripped off his Santa suit. There was a regular suit underneath. My Superman.

“What’s this article for?” I sank onto the loveseat against the wall. It was too small for two grown men, but in certain positions, we made it work for us.

“Just a few questions about how we’re spending the holidays, our hopes for the new year.” Leo checked his hair in a magnet mirror stuck to his file cabinet, getting rid of stray fibers from his Santa suit.

“Is she going to ask about the investigation?”

“Probably not. This is a light, fun piece. But you never know.” Leo put the mirror in his desk drawer. “It’s still fresh.

“I can’t believe it.” My stomach turned with the memory of first finding out.

“Neither can I. It’s definitely going down in the annals of Sourwood history.”

Maria stopped by a little bit later, where we were back to all smiles. As Leo predicted, she asked about our holiday plans. Leo talked about his famous roast chicken he makes for Christmas. He ran down a high-level agenda of goals for the coming year and stayed mum on plans for running for governor. It was a decision he was in the process of mulling.

I chimed in with how excited I was to have a white Christmas for the first time in decades.

Maria positioned her phone to make sure she was capturing the audio before moving the next item in her notepad. “Mr. Mayor, does Christmas feel any different after the arrest of Rita and Gus Buchanan two weeks ago?”

“I’m not going to let that ruin our holiday.” Leo had a rehearsed answer. I knew he would. But he was still processing the reality of what happened. “It’s horrible, but I’m relieved justice is being served.”

“We’re all shaken up by it. How did you realize that they were behind hacking your phone?”

“Dusty.” Leo put a hand on my knee and squeezed, telling me everything he couldn’t say.

“Gus gave me this really strange, kinda threatening look at the Zombie 5K. It stuck in my head. I brought it up to Leo after the election when Rita refused to acknowledge his victory, demanded a recount, and wouldn’t even look at him during city council meetings.”

“So we investigated,” Leo said.

“And that’s how you found out one of your aides was working for her,” Maria said, shaking her head in disbelief. “The police said that the aide hacked your computer and grabbed your text messages.”

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