Page 19 of Man Hands
Titanic. Me on board.Sinking.
FuckingBraht.
We eye each other nervously for a moment, and then she extends a fist. I look at her inconfusion.
“Let’s just pound this out,” she says with this awkward grin. Fuck, do I ever want to pound. Then I realize what she’s talking about. I tap my fist to hers. Then we both laugh. We laugh because it’s so uncomfortable that the only options are to laugh or take off running, and I’m not going to bailonher.
Unfortunately, I can’t really speak in sentences. I was inside this woman last week. Just standing beside her is making me crazy. I want to be inside her again, this second. But people wouldstare.
“Now,” I say, and my face immediately turns red. If my producer could see me right now, he’d rip up my contract. I’m paid seven figures to be smooth on TV, and yet I just said “now” for no apparent reason. “Um,” I try again. “Let’s sit and order some drinks. I could use one.Couldyou?”
I think I covered that up real nice. Real, realsmooth.
We sit. She looks around at the bamboo flooring, the bamboo walls, the fake palms on the ceiling. The twinkle lights. There’s a mural of the ocean, and it’s so dark in here it feels like the middle of the night. I swear they have fans that blow around tropical flower smells. Or maybe that’s just the scent ofherhair.
“Did Braht pick the place?” she asks. “He has a thing for tikistuff.”
“He hates it,”Isay.
“But his party? Didn’t he have that Beachbum guythere?”
“Ah. Beachbum Berry. Yeah. I flew him in. I’m sort of… I’m sort of obsessed with tiki culture. I’ve been all over the world and—” I stop because she looks kind of green. “Areyouokay?”
“Wait,” she says. “Wait! You hired Beachbum Berry? That was your party? That wasyourhouse?”
I laugh. “Well, I wouldn’t fuck you in just anybody’s boathouse. I bought the house last fall and did some renovations. I’ve got a lot of work to do on thebasement—”
I stop again because her green hue is turning red. Merry Christmas! Is she breathing? I push a glass of water her way. Shedrinks.
“I…uh…you?” She can’t seem to speak. Maybe it’s a stroke. What the fuck is the thing you’re supposed to do when someone’s having a stroke? No, I’m just overreacting. I do that lately. It’s why I’ve taken a break from women, andmyshow.
Luckily, the waitress comes over to save us from this conversation. She’s wearing a Hawaiian dress and there’s a flower in her hair that looks exactly like a labia with its clitoris all glistening. “Two mai tais.” I stammer, eyes down. What did I tell you? Me. Titanic. Going down. That fucker, Braht. It’s all hisfault.
Brynn’s hand is on her chest. Touching the tops of her rounded breasts—her authentic, not-enhanced, rounded breasts that I just want to lay my head on and watch the clouds go by. “I am so sorry!” she says. “I thought you were a gardener. But if you’re a gardener, you’re doing very well for yourself. That house isenormous!”
That puffs me up a little, I admit. I mean, tell any man he’s enormous atanythingand there will be puffing. Followed by swelling in his briefs. “But Iama gardener,” I say. She still looks confused. “I’m a master gardener. An electrician. A contractor. I like to do stuff with my hands. I also have a show on H&G Network.Mr. Fixit Quick? Ever heardofthat?”
She blinks. “Um, no? I’m sorry. I only watch cookingshows.”
“Oh.” I can’t believe I dropped the don’t-you-know-who-I-am card, and she reallydidn’tknow.
Ocean floor, hereIcome!
“You have a show…on television?” she asks. There is an adorable furrow between her eyebrows, and I sort of want tolickit.
“Yup. On TV. The boob tube.” I’m rambling.Badly.
She smiles. “But you look so normal. Wait—is thatoffensive?”
I smile back because her smile is gorgeous and she just complimented me. Sort of. “I don’t feel very normal most days.” Okay, not smooth. “I mean, TV is not the most relaxing industry, but I like the fast pace.Usually.”
“What’s your last name, Tom?” she asks, pulling out herphone.
“Spanner.”
“Huh. And here I thought you’d be something like…Hammmmerrr…smith.”
“Uhm. No. Although that does have a ringtoit.”
