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and my wife, two children, and dog back on Neptune thank you.”
    The alien finished with the long line of people and came out of the crammed crowd to suddenly see Patrick standing there. It was then the alien’s smile collapsed. He walked up to Patrick and stuck a dark scowl in his face. “You working my train?”
    Patrick shook his head, but the alien wasn’t buying it. “You plan on working my train?”
    Patrick finally found his voice. “I’m going to find my own place. Don’t worry.”
    â€œHow can I trust you?”
    Patrick thought for a second and then leaned into the man’s ear. “Because I’m still the man in green.”
    The alien cocked his head in confusion and looked at Patrick’s green robe. “What you talking about?”
    â€œI won’t mess with your Christmas. I know Neptune needs it most of all . . . being the planet farthest from the sun.”
    The alien’s eyes widened with recognition. “You? From the other day?”
    Patrick nodded.
    â€œWhy’s someone like you doing this?”
    â€œFor the same reason you are, my family . . . though they’re here on earth.”
    The alien nodded and then looked at the empty coffee cup Patrick held in his hand. “That gonna be your bank?”
    Patrick nodded.
    The alien reached into his can, took out a dollar bill, and dropped it into Patrick’s cup. “Merry Christmas,” said the alien, and he moved into the next car.
    The train stopped at a station where the signs read 34th STREET . The doors opened and Patrick waited for the commuters to disembark before he got off.
    He walked to the stairs as the morning light from the street shone and the street sounds of Broadway bounced down into the station in echoing waves. He caught sight of himself in the plastic window of the token booth, where the transit workers shook their heads at his appearance.
    Perhaps he had gone too far with the costume. Perhaps he had gone too far thinking he should even attempt this madness. Perhaps what was worst of all was even thinking he could save the semblance of a life that he had carved out for himself with Braden.
    Maybe Braden would be better off without him in his daily life. Maybe . . .
    Patrick shook off the thought as the noise of Broadway waited for him above. He drew in a breath and exhaled. “Into the breach, dear friends.”
    He began to climb the stairs.

Chapter 8

    SPARE SOME COIN
    T he young woman’s laugh rose above the heads of the lunch-hour crowd. Passersby couldn’t help but glance back to where she stood in front of the jolly green giant. It was an odd sight, a costumed creature of the streets addressing a hip young woman in her early twenties accompanied by a stylish man in his sixties.
    â€œSing it again,” the young woman said.
    â€œHere comes Mistletoe that is so gent, to please all men in their intent,” sang the bearded and rosy-cheeked man as the girl tapped her toe in time. “But lord and lady of this hall whosoever against Mistletoe call, whosoever do against Mistletoe cry, in a leap shall he hang full high, whosoever against Mistletoe do sing, may he weep and his hands wring.”
    â€œSo it’s an old ditty designed to get girls to give up kisses.”
    â€œPretty racy stuff in medieval times.”
    â€œPretty racy stuff now. You be careful you don’t sing that to the wrong woman. You’ll end up in jail.”
    â€œOr in love,” he said.
    Mila laughed as Patrick glanced at the silver-haired man looking at his iPhone.
    â€œI believe your father has business to attend to.”
    â€œHe’s my uncle, and he wields way more power over me than either a father or an uncle. He’s also my boss, at least for another week.”
    â€œBut I am right, am I not, sir? You are a busy man?”
    â€œYou are, and I am,” Ted Cake replied as he looked up from his iPhone