What the fuck even was this place? Once more his gaze slid to Mac, who was just blinking owlishly at the couple,mouth agape. What was wrong with him? He wanted to snap him out of it, but he was too afraid to look weak in front of these…Santa people.
He stared at the man’s white beard. “Does everyone in this town?—”
“Love Christmas?” the man asked, cutting him off. Definitely wasn’t his question, but that didn’t stop Santa. “Sure do. There’s not a resident of Holly Harbour—” Holy Horror, Archer’s brain supplied unhelpfully. “—that isn’t filled with the Christmas spirit. You should come back when the weather’s nicer and see our nativity scene in the town square.”
Archer nodded along, for the first time in his life uncertain of what to say. Given the rest of the décor, he imagined the nativity scene would be the stuff of nightmares. Probably featuring a donkey with glowing red eyes and a Baby Jesus that glitched in and out of reality.
Archer cleared his throat, then not-so-subtly elbowed Mac in the ribs until he grunted.
“Uh, can we check in please?” Mac asked, voice wavering like he wasn’t the tallest person in the room by about a foot.
“Absolutely. Harold, should we put them in the Yuletide Suite? You boys are…” she made a limp wrist gesture that had Mac’s jaw unhinging and hitting the floor like a cartoon character once more. His husband’s reaction would have been hilarious had Archer not been afraid for his life.
“Married?” Archer supplied.
The woman seemed relieved. “Yes, that. Don’t worry. We’re not like those other small towns. Our baker is gay.”
“Oh. How… nice.”
He had no idea what the appropriate response was for that. A thumbs-up? A Yelp review? A hostage video?
Mac was frozen stiff beside him, staring wide-eyed at something just out of Archer’s line of sight. Archer leaned in, trying to get a better look, but Mac wouldn’t move a single muscle, blocking Archer’s view of whatever horror had his ex—special forces husband frozen in terror.
“Yes, Peg, I think the Yuletide Suite would beperfect,” said pre-Ozempic Santa—er, Harold.
“Why does that sound so ominous,” Archer asked, forcing another uncomfortable laugh.
His voice cracked on the last note, because of course it did.
The two cackled like witches. Mac jumped like someone had put jumper cables to his nipples. What the fuck was his deal anyway? Was there a man with an ax dressed like a reindeer back there?
For an awkward moment, they all stood staring at each other. Then Peggy said, “That’ll be fifty-seven dollars.”
She stood there blinking at him expectantly.
“Do you take credit cards?” he asked, staring at the vintage cash register on the desk.
“That’s just for show,” Peggy said. She grabbed something from behind the counter, then slapped it down in front of him. It was a plastic sign with two QR codes. “Venmo or Cashapp?”
“V-Venmo,” Archer said, pulling his phone free and pointing it at the square.
Nobody was ever going to believe him. When he finished paying, he pretended to double-check the purchase whilecovertly snapping photos of everything in his path, which included half of Harold and Peggy—which made for a horror movie—worthy poster. The fluorescent overhead light flickered at just the right moment, giving Peggy the expression of someone who lured lost children into houses made of gingerbread and candy.
She handed Archer a strangely shaped key. “Up the stairs to your left, follow the L to the very last room.” He nodded. “Oh, and don’t worry. There’s not another soul here tonight. You two feel free to be as loud as you want. Nobody can hear you scream.”
When she gave him a garish wink, he fought the scream building within him, giving her another stilted nod before backing out of the door, dragging his near-catatonic husband with him.
Once they were safely away from the pod people and back into the icy winds, Archer slapped Mac on the arm until he hissed.
“What? Ow. What?” Mac said, having the audacity to look affronted as he rubbed his arm.
“What? Welcome back, Major Tom. How was your flight? Where the fuck did you go in there?”
“I-It was nothing. They were just weird is all,” Mac muttered, face flushing red in a way Archer rarely saw unless they’d just had sex.
The color looked painfully out of place against the washed-out glow of motel floodlights.
“No shit. That’s why it would have beenniceto have you as backup. Did you see that place? Did you see the—” hemade the same limp-wrist gesture she had.
