“Mmm, yeah, so.” This is harder to explain than I thought. “It’d be an acting job. Nothing scripted… a lot of improv required. Sort of, you know, like a reality show, but with no cameras. And you might think I’m crazy for asking, but you must understand that the holidays can be a difficult period for many people. Single people, I mean. And people with a family that just won’t back off, especially if they have a baby sister who’s the poster child of perfection in their mother’s eyes. You get what I’m saying?”

Back still turned, Diego says, “Not really.” He rips off the rest of the Santa suit, rewarding me with an unobstructed view of his buttocks clad in close-fitting white boxer shorts. Mmm, those buns are so inviting I have to force myself not to reach out and squeeze one. Luckily, in a few quick moves, he pulls on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and, closing the locker for good, turns all his attention to me.

For the first time I see his face without the beard, and one thing is immediately clear: he’s no Photoshop user.

He fluffs his hair, which has been plastered to his head by the hat, and grins. “What’s the job again?”

Guess there’s really no other way to explain it. “I want to hire you to pose as my boyfriend for the holidays.”

Diego opens his mouth to protest, but before he can, I stop him. “And before you say ‘no,’ please note that the pay is very competitive.”

“How competitive?

“Five thousand dollars—twenty-five hundred in advance, and the rest at job completion. And our relationship would be strictly professional.”

“While I pretend to be your boyfriend?”

“Exactly.”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“Wait. Before refusing, please consider that if you say ‘yes,’ you’d be doing me a real solid, and I’d be happy to return the favor, professionally, of course, in any way you might need.”

I saved the best bone for last. A struggling actor would do anything to have someone who matters in the industry owe him one. As expected, this offer gives him pause.

He scratches his head and studies me. “You’re serious? This isn’t a joke.”

I shake my head. “Dead serious.”

“And you work for KCU?”

I whip out my business card and present him with incontrovertible proof. “Mmm-hmm.”

He eyes the card, thinking. “You guys are big on Super Bowl commercials. You even won an award last year, yeah?”

“Breath mints, that’s us.”

“Have you already cast this year’s ads?”

“No, we start in early January.”

“Can you get me a call in?”

“Into the castings, yes, but the rest is up to you. I can’t guarantee a part.”

A brief nod lets me know he understands. Then, out of the blue, he asks, “Why me?”