Page 43 of I'm Your Guy
Not to be a pest but can you pick one fairly quickly?
I look at the picture and see a nice white bed frame that Mom will certainly like.
I like the guestroom pick. Go for it. Watching the video now.
I click Play. I was not expecting to see Carter’s face in the video, but he winks into view, freckles and all.
“Hi, Jersey! This is your fun and fabulous designer reporting for duty.” He makes jazz hands toward the camera. “This genius has found four different king-sized beds that fit our aesthetic, and all are available for quick delivery. I need your top two picks in case the salesperson lied, okay?”
The camera cuts to a view of Carter lying sideways across the bed in a furniture store. He makes a sweeping motion with his hand, like a gameshow host. “This is choice number one, the sleigh bed. It’s called that because the headboard is curved, like a naughty Santa’s sleigh.”
I shock myself by barking out a laugh. My teammate in the seat in front of me cranes his neck to see what I’m laughing at.
But I don’t share.
“It’s very big and heavy. Makes a statement.” Carter thumps a fist against his chest. “It’s made in North Carolina of cherry wood. And please notice that it’s higher off the floor than some choices, so if you have a habit of falling out of bed, this might not be the right one for you.”
I snort, and the scene cuts to another location. This time, Carter is standing beside a stocky bed in a blond wood. He leans a knee against the mattress and makes another gameshow gesture.
“Choice number two is a captain’s bed.” He uses air quotes. “That’s what you call this design with drawers underneath. See?” He steps aside and the camera moves to show big, deep drawers underneath the mattress. He opens a drawer and tosses his coat inside. “Great storage. Big enough to fit extra blankets, all your sportsing gear, or the dead bodies of your enemies.”
I shake my head, but there’s a smile practically splitting my face in half.
When the scene shifts again, Carter is holding an empty martini glass and standing in front of a grandfather clock. “Intermission! Time for a joke. Did you hear the one about the furniture store that won’t stop calling me? All I wanted was one nightstand.”
“Oh God,” I whisper. “Terrible joke.” But you couldn’t have paid me to stop watching.
The scene switches to a closeup of Carter’s face. “Okay, choice number three is a four-poster bed. The jargon is self-explanatory. See?” The camera draws back to show Carter sitting cross-legged on a different bed, this one surrounded by—wait for it—four bed posts.
He pauses to make prayer hands, like a yogi. “I don’t know where this one was made, because the salesperson is more interested in taking selfies than talking to customers. But this is a classic design. Very phallic. And if you’re into bondage, or you’ve ever had pole-dancing fantasies, this could be the bed for you.” On screen, Carter hops off the bed, grabs a bed post in one hand, rolls his head back and does an absolutely filthy grind of his hips.
I laugh so suddenly that the guy across the aisle gives me a strange look.
The scene resolves again. He’s lying across a handsome bed with a thick wood frame, his chin propped up in one hand.
And there’s a fake rose between his teeth.
He plucks it from his mouth and then twirls it in the air. “Okay, I saved my favorite for last. This platform bed is quarter-sawn oak and made in Vermont by lumberjacks in red flannel. It has very solid joinery. You don’t use a box spring with this one, so it has a firmer feel than some beds. And it’s big and hunky.” He shrugs. “Kind of reminds me of you.” He salutes the camera. “And that’s it, Jersey. Hope that was memorable enough that you’ll pick one. Don’t be a stranger!” He waves, and the screen goes dark.
I look up from the screen and realize I feel calm for the first time all day.
And I also realize that he called me a hunk.
Sort of.
I’ll take it.
SIXTEEN
Carter
Tom gets my video message at eleven p.m. my time.
I wait for a response.
And I wait.
I should put my phone down and close my eyes. Rigo is already asleep. But nope. I just hang out here on the sofa and wait to see if he’ll respond.
