Fenn tucked the last of the letters underneath his arm, dragging the back of his hand over his face to wipe the sweat away. With the elevator down for maintenance, he’d been running up and down the stairs for his entire shift. It was a great way to stay in shape, but fuck, he needed a glass of water and a break.

Pausing just outside the recording studio, he leaned his back against the closest wall, letting his head thud against the surface. His heart was still racing, sweat dripping down his back and soaking into the waistband of his pants. Jeans were the worst, especially eight hours into his day with the heater blasting from above.

Just on the edge of his hearing was the only thing that made it all worth it. The sweetest voice that had ever graced the studio was muffled by layers of walls, but he would recognize it anywhere. He closed his eyes, straining to catch the words.

Aggie was his best friend in the world, with the voice of an angel and an attitude to match. Some would have killed to be in Fenn’s position and so close to greatness that his surroundings lost a bit of their mildew scent.

The rest of the envelopes tucked beneath his arm were for Aggie, some stamped with ‘confidential’ in red bold. It could be anything from contracts to fan letters, even though paper had started to become a bit of a scarcity in the industry. Perhaps it was because Aggie let his inbox pile up until the system started to crash that his manager and producer had switched back to hard copies.

The sound cut off, the muffled voices and instruments disappearing into nothing. Without it, the musty smell of the place crept in, along with cigarette smoke that would probably never be cleared away. It didn’t help that the boss was the main culprit, swinging by with a cigar between his lips every time they finally got the place aired out.

Fenn cracked his eyes open, checking to make sure the coast was clear. Technically, his shift was over, but he was still sure they’d fire him if they ever found him slacking in the hallway. His eyelids dragged their way closed again, exhaustion setting in.

“Fenn!”

Fenn started, nearly dropping the mail at Aggie’s voice. For such a tiny guy, he knew how to project himself so that no one would ever miss what he said—not that they’d want to.

“Hey, Aggie.” Fenn cracked a smile, grasping the letters under his arm and passing them over. Aggie’s manager was just behind him, giving Fenn the usual glare. “Looks like some fan mail today, and this one seems interesting.” He pointed to the manilla envelope that was smaller than the rest.

“Snooping on someone else’s mail is a federal offense.”

Aggie turned a glare on his manager. “Oh, take a chill pill, Nick. Besides, Fenn is right. This one looks very interesting.” He flipped the letter over, dragging his finger along the glued seam as he sidled next to Fenn.

The smell of strawberries wafted from him, along with hair spray that made Fenn’s eyes water. His hair was perfectly in place, his lip gloss shining as he slowly broke through the last of the seam.

“Oh, a Christmas card.” Aggie tugged it out, flipping it over to reveal the snowy cover decorated with a horse-driven sleigh and sparkling snowflakes. “And a reminder.”

From within the sparkled hell of the card, Aggie tugged a gold piece of paper only slightly larger than a business card. The metallic sheen glistened, a few stray sparkles from the card clinging to it. Black lettering was stamped into it, small enough that Fenn couldn’t read the words.

Fuck Christmas. Fenn closed his eyes again as his exhaustion burned straight through him, settling until his limbs felt like boulders sunken into clinging muck. “Sorry… I didn’t send you a card this year, Aggie. The season crept up on me. I haven’t even gone shopping yet.”

He didn’t have much to buy, other than a gift for Aggie and maybe one for himself as well. Every year there was less to purchase, and this year, it hadn’t seemed to matter until late at night in the clutch of his nightmares. Maybe I am Scrooge.

“You okay, Fenn?” asked Aggie, tucking the gold ticket into his wallet before slipping the Christmas card back into the envelope. He handed the rest over to his manager. “You can take off, Nick. Fenn and I are going out for dinner.”

“We are?” asked Fenn, trying to shake the sleep from his thoughts. His clothes were nearly soaked through with a cloying funk that was begging to be washed away. Dinner does sound good, though.

“Now I know something’s wrong,” said Aggie, wrapping his arms around Fenn’s middle and hugging him tight. “Are you sick? You should have called in and told your grouchy boss you needed the day off.”

Fenn bit his tongue. He couldn’t afford a day off. His apartment wasn’t fancy, but it was still expensive as hell. “Just a few nightmares. I’ve been having them every night all week.”

Every time he thought about them his skin prickled, the coldness slithering over his flesh and mind. His dreams had always been more vivid than what others had described to him, and he couldn’t express the absolute dread that haunted him every night as soon as he settled into his cold bed, the blankets clutching at him like deadened fingers.

“What are they about? Not your ex, right?” Aggie squeezed him tighter, slipping his hands between Fenn’s back and the wall.

“No.” Thank goodness for small favors. “It’s about ghosts—Christmas ghosts.”

Aggie pulled back, covering his mouth as he snorted. When he squinted his eyes like that, he looked more like a kid than someone his age. “Excuse me?”

Narrowing his eyes, Fenn pushed his friend away, tucking his arms over his chest. “Don’t make fun of me. They’re really scary. I can even smell the ghosts in the dream, like burned mistletoe and rotten turkey.” He frowned as the urge to gag overwhelmed him.

It was always the worst when the first ghost pierced into his dreams, holding out one gnarled hand and pointing to his heart. When it touched him, cold sank into his chest, spreading until all his limbs had frozen into bricks of ice. His heart would slow as the stench curled beneath his nose until he was choking and struggling to breathe, his limbs useless as he tried to get away.

“Wait! You’re actually serious.” Aggie blinked at him, obviously struggling not to laugh. “You can’t sleep because of nightmares about Christmas.” Aggie snickered, bending double before he really started to laugh. “Let me guess… They are here to haunt you over a horrendous wrap job.”

Hardy-har.

“No, wait! I’ve got a better one. They’re here to predict your Christmas death.” He put his hand to his head in a mock-faint. “I can see it now. You take a bite of the turkey, and it sends its wishbone to haunt you from beyond the grave.”

“You’re an ass.” Fenn grinned, some of the weight lifting from his chest. It sounded ridiculous when Aggie put it that way. “It’s just—I haven’t done anything for Christmas this year, and I don’t think that’s going to change between now and December twenty-fifth. I’ve always made such a big deal about it in the past, but this year I just forgot. I think I’m cursed now because of it.”

His chest went tight, and he looked down the hall. Despite the smell of mildew, the building had been renovated, but it was an older one. There was no telling how many ghosts were in the halls. Rumor had it that one of the construction workers had gone missing during the renovation. He was probably buried behind the drywall somewhere, waiting to snatch an unsuspecting person to take over their soul.

He swallowed hard.

“Come with me,” said Aggie, threading their fingers together and tugging him along. “Once I buy you dinner, you’ll feel a lot better. And by dessert, you’ll forget all about your dreams.”

“Nightmares. That shit doesn’t deserve to be called a dream.” He shuddered.

Fenn quickly grabbed his coat from the locker room as Aggie went back for his own that he’d forgotten in the recording studio. When he opened the door to the outside world, he still shivered beneath the thick layer. A winter storm had blown in that morning, and it hadn’t quit. The fluffy powder immediately buried his shoes, melting against the skin of his ankles.

“This is just lovely,” he said, tugging his hood up and tucking his hands into his sleeves. “Where are we going?”

“Follow me,” said Aggie, his own fur-lined coat looking much warmer. “And don’t think you’re getting off so easy. Tell me about your dream along the way, and we’ll get this figured out.”

Squinting against the sudden wind that drove the snowflakes into his eyes like tiny pickaxes, Fenn reached for Aggie’s hand, tucking his fingers into the glove next to Aggie’s. “I don’t want you to think I’m crazy or anything.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Aggie. “It’s a dream. It’s not like you have any control over them.”

Yeah. It was one thing to say that. The last person he’d told one of his nightmares to had threatened to call a psychiatrist on his behalf. Vivid was an understatement some days.

“Okay, you asked for it.” He ducked his head against the wind, raising his voice as loud as he dared so Aggie would hear him. “When it starts, I’ll be sleeping in my bed, my covers pulled tight around me as I dream about something soft. Then I feel something on my skin, but I can’t pull away. It sinks into me—so cold that it makes my bones ache. It takes me a minute before I realize it’s a hand.”

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the phantom touch that burned like an icy blade. “It moves up my arm before wrapping its fingers around my neck. I try to push it away, but I’m pinned as it cuts off my air. It pries my eyes open so I can see it—a giant thing above me. It’s big and dark, as if it’s made of night and death. Then the smell hits me.”

“Jesus.” Aggie looked at him with wide eyes, his cheeks pale, despite the cold.

There was no one on the street, but the lights still glowed to shine their way to the few restaurants close by. Their signs were blurred by the whipping snow, some white and others red, but all offering a promise of warmth.

“Here… Let’s go in here. It’s the closest one.” Aggie dragged him toward the beckoning white light, tugging the door wide. Warm air buffeted his face, but it didn’t sink in when they walked inside. Fenn shuddered, pulling his coat closer with one hand as a familiar man led them to their usual table.

You know you eat out too much when…

They don’t have to say a word about where they want to sit. It’s often that three or four times a week they find themselves here, laughing in a booth or pouring over the menu they’ve seen hundreds of times. The walls are covered in pictures, and there is a small garden area near the back that they like to sit close to.

It helps that Aggie is what some might consider famous. His sweet looks make people work faster around him, and it was a strange day when no one recognized him.

“What happens next?” Aggie slid into the bench across from him, tossing his coat from his shoulders before reaching across the table to clasp their hands together again. “Jesus, your hands are freezing.”

“It talks to me,” said Fenn, gripping Aggie’s hand as tight as he dared. “It always asks me the same thing. ‘Why?’ it says. Its lips are right against my ear, its hand around my throat so I can’t breathe. I know what it means, too. Why did I try to forget? Why did I leave all those people who rely on charities out in the cold this year? Why have I been so selfish?”

Fenn ran his free hand through his hair. “I haven’t done a single thing, Aggie—no volunteer work, no donations…nothing. I usually buy a couple of toys for kids and help out at the homeless shelter, but I didn’t even do that. I keep trying to forget Christmas, and every night it asks me why.”

That was just the first ghost. The others were so much worse, but Aggie already looked terrified. There was no way he was going to tell him more.

“Okay, I get why you’re freaked out.” Aggie nodded, squeezing his hand tighter. “Do you think it will go away? I mean, what would you have to do? I’m sure you can still volunteer somewhere if you really wanted to. And there are other times of year to donate—not just Christmas.”

“But it’s Christmas, Aggie. It’s the one time of year when people are decent to each other, and I haven’t even managed that. Face it, I’m basically Scrooge. If Tiny Tim wandered in here, he would probably keel over—and it would be my fault. And how many people are going to be short a toy or a meal because I can’t find the time to help? It’s already late in the season, and I am out of time. Not to mention, I haven’t gotten you anything yet, and you’re my best friend in the world.”

Aggie leaned back, scratching at his chin as he appeared to get lost in thought. The waiter had already brought them water and drinks and was probably working on their regular order. They always managed to get Aggie’s just the way he said he liked it, and Fenn had gotten used to sliding his pickles off his burger.

“I’m basically doomed. By Christmas Eve, there are going to be a dozen ghosts haunting me and telling me all the ways I’m going to die because I’m a terrible human being.”

“Well…maybe not,” said Aggie, reaching for his wallet and pulling it from his pocket. Buried between a few hundred-dollar bills was the gold card from his Christmas letter. He tugged it free, setting it on the table between them. “You could just come to the auction with me.”

Fenn stared at the card, the black lettering blurring against the gold. It took a moment to realize that he was barely holding back his tears, and his eyes were brimming with them. “What are you talking about?”

He grasped the card, bringing it closer and blinking rapidly so he could read it. “A charity auction? What is this for?” He tilted it into the light. He’d never heard of Queen of the Night Auctions before, and it sounded a little lurid. The tiny pair of black handcuffs on the card didn’t offer any assurances at all.

“You know I’ve got a few friends in high places,” said Aggie, glancing away as he ran his fingers over the table. A person across the aisle in another booth was looking their way every few moments, their face getting progressively redder.

“That’s an understatement.” Aggie had friends in the highest places. He’d gone viral when he’d been sixteen and had been topping the charts ever since. Now, at twenty-five, Aggie was rich and pretty famous. It was insane that he still hung out with someone like Fenn.

“Every year a bunch of rich guys and gals get together and bid on dates. All the money goes to the local hospitals, and the dates get to spend a night with a multimillionaire—or even a billionaire. I went as a guest last year, and it was really fun, so I thought I would enter as a date this year. It’s all for a good cause.” Aggie shrugged.

“But…” Fenn trailed off. Aggie was the type of person who oozed sweet innocence, but once he had his mind set on someone, he was the filthiest fucker around. The stories he told made Fenn blush, and he had a dirty train of thoughts on the best of days.

“So, it’s like a high-class prostitute sort of thing? Or I guess you’d call it an escort if there’s that much money involved.” Fenn tilted his head. It wasn’t like it was exactly uncommon in the area to hire an escort, but he couldn’t see Aggie doing it.

Aggie shook his head. “Nope—no sex. It’s just a date and maybe a little playtime. What you do after the date, though, is up to you.” He waggled his eyebrows before taking a sip of his drink.

“That sounds a lot like sex.” Fenn rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m not sure I’d be okay with something like that. If it was dinner and drinks, sure, but what if it’s a creepy old man who tries to get me drunk so he can get into my pants after the date? Nuh-uh, no thank you.”

Aggie thanked their waiter as the food arrived, smiling at his carbonara. It was his absolute favorite, and he got it every time. Fenn’s own burger wasn’t usually quite as stellar, but it was a solid pass.

“It’s really not like that,” said Aggie, taking his first bite. “This is going to be super public, with a televised red carpet and clips all over the internet. Most of the dates will probably be public, too, so no one’s reputation is compromised. I signed up because it looks so fun, and maybe, I’ll meet someone famous.”

“You are famous,” said Fenn, picking at his burger. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to stomach it.

“But I’m not a billionaire.” Aggie let out a sigh. “Come on. This should clear your karma or whatever, the hospitals will be better off and you’ll have fun, too. What’s the risk?”

There had to be some kind of catch. Fenn rubbed his eyes, trying to rid himself of the last glimpse of his nightmares. It was right there waiting for him…hoping for the moment when he fell asleep.

“Fine.”

Aggie grinned. “Yay! I’m so excited now. What are you going to wear? You know what? We should get our food to go so we can grab outfits. There isn’t a lot of time. It’s tomorrow, so only a few hours to get ready. I’m gonna dress slutty, but not too slutty…”

Fenn groaned as he let his head fall against the table.

This is a mistake.