Hazard and Somerset, Gregory Ashe [ebook reader with internet browser TXT] 📗

“I might have . . . prepared. A little. But only because I know that you’ll be really glad you did this after the fact.”

“Great, well, before the fact, I’m really fucking annoyed.”

“It’s my birthday.”

“I already gave you your birthday presents. And I threw you a birthday party. And I proposed to you. In front of the entire town, for the record. So I think that covers your birthday.”

“My Christmas present—”

“Wrapped and under the tree.”

“In some cultures, it’s customary for the groom to pay a bride price, and I was thinking that you playing Santa could function symbolically as—”

“You are not a bride. I am not bartering for you with your father. For that matter, I am not going to pay anything, symbolically or literally, for a man who uses Roget’s Thesaurus when he’s preparing emotional blackmail.”

Somers frowned. “How did you know I used Roget’s?”

Hazard just rolled his eyes.

“Ok, well, your sick obsession with reference books aside, can we talk about this?”

“You made a promise you can’t keep, John. You shouldn’t have done that. You should have asked me first.”

“Yeah, I get that. And I’m sorry. I just didn’t realize you’d object so strongly.”

Grunting, Hazard pawed through the closet, not really looking for something but desperate not to stare at the damn suit anymore. Or not to have Somers looking at him with so much betrayed hope.

“Let’s list some pros and cons,” Somers said. “Pro, kids love Santa. Pro, you’re the right size for the suit. Pro, you’re great with kids.”

“I’m not great with kids, John.”

“Ok, well, Evie is basically glued to you twenty-four-seven, and Noah and Rebeca’s kids literally can’t get enough of you. Remember when you told Robbie you’d like one of his drawings for your office?”

“I didn’t say that. I said the drawing was surprisingly skilled, and his use of color and shadow was well above average for his age, and I thought it would be a good reference piece if I ever worked a case involving kids.”

“Right, whatever, but then he did, like, twenty drawings, and we had to spend two hours hanging them on your door because, quote, ‘I want the angles to be right,’ in the words of Emery Hazard. Kids love you. Pro.”

“You already said that; you can’t count it twice.”

“No, I said you were good with kids, and now I’m saying kids love you. Two separate pros. What are we up to? Five pros?”

“Four,” Hazard said. “No, three. Damn it, John, we’re not doing pro and con.”

“Pro. Yes we are.”

The growl broke from Hazard’s throat. “That’s not even how pro and con works. Con, the Santa myth teaches children that socially-conformist behavior is economically rewarded. Con, the Santa myth creates a rift in child-parent relationships by fostering a lie that is always ultimately revealed, exposing the parents as liars. Con, the Santa myth incentivizes children with material goods. Con, the Santa myth normalizes a panopticon culture and perpetual surveillance, undermining the Fourth Amendment. This is a fucking Constitutional issue, John, and I don’t know why you can’t see that. Con, the Santa myth is a product of American hegemony, but it’s also a fantasy that reinforces it. And con, John, big fucking con, I don’t like the idea of my little girl sitting on some weirdo’s lap and telling him secrets.”

For what felt like a long time to Hazard, Somers was silent. Then he muttered, “Scute.”

“What?”

“Scary cute. It’s my new word for you.”

II

DECEMBER 24

MONDAY

5:21 PM

HAZARD WAS IN Evie’s room, helping her into a sweater that was a confection of glittering beads and bells and stitching. If she turned around too fast, she was probably going to give someone a seizure. But when her mop of dark curls popped through the neck of the sweater, she screamed with delight, grabbed his face, and kissed him.

“Princess shoes,” she squealed as she shot toward the door.

“No,” Hazard called after her. “Get your boots.”

“Princess shoes,” was the reply—a long, excited scream that dragged out the words.

Picking through the mess of princess dresses—she had absolutely no interest in the child-sized lab coat that Hazard had bought for her—Hazard tried to find her winter coat. He folded up a play apron, found a tin of plastic muffins that went with her kitchen set, and scooped up a handful of crayons. He was turning to put the crayons back with the rest of the art supplies when he put his foot down and heard a crack.

“Uh oh,” said Somers from the doorway.

“It’s fine,” Hazard said, but he dropped to his knees pretty fast. Maybe a little too fast. He tossed aside a mermaid tail, a backpack, and a bucket of building blocks. And then he groaned.

“The Fashionista Fillies celebrity road trip trailer, special edition,” Somers said. “With the hot tub attachment.”

“Shut up, John.”

“Ouch.”

“I said, shut up.”

“Her absolute favorite toy of the moment.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“I think you decapitated one of the Fashionista Fillies when your giant clodhopper crushed the driver’s window.”

“I’ll just—” Hazard picked up the trailer with hot tub attachment. He poked at the crumpled frame at the front. “A little glue. I can—”

A horse head tumbled onto the floor.

“Ouch,” Somers said again. “Was that Brilliantina? That’s her favorite.”

“I know it was her fucking favorite, John.” Cradling the trailer against his chest, Hazard scooped up the severed head and shoved it through the passenger’s window. “I know very fucking perfectly fucking—”

“You already said fucking.”

“—well that Brilliantina is her favorite. And so help me God, if you—”

“Princess shoes,” Evie screamed on re-entry, and then she came to a halt, staring up at Hazard and the trailer and the decapitated Brilliantina. “Fillies?” Only it sounded more like fiwwies.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Hazard said, turning so that his arm and shoulder hid the trailer. “Did you find your boots?”

Evie’s dark eyes fixed him with uncanny knowledge. “Dee Dee break?”

Terror closed like a fist around Hazard’s gut. His eyes found Somers’s.

Somers mimed hanging himself.

Please, Hazard mouthed.

“Dee Dee didn’t break it,” Somers said, flipping Evie over his shoulder and tickling her