Page 69 of Man Hands
In the early episodes it was just me, talking to the camera and then shooting whatever we worked on. But now the setup is fancier. I don’t even have any input on what we’re going to renovate. Mr. Fixit Quick has become Mr. Quick Stand On This Mark And Hold That Layout Square Like It’sUseful.
Itisuseful, but they never show meusingit.
Today my job is pretty much to look at the camera, flex my pecs, and smile. It’s a plastic smile, and I have a perpetual two days’ worth of beard, because that’s what the audience voted worked best for me. We’re shooting the introduction footage while everyone else prepsthesite.
I’m not allowed to get in there and get dirty anymore. And I liked gettingdirty.
Now it’s Shiny Shoes and his punk of a director who orchestrates everything. The director is new at this. He looks like he’s about twenty years old, and the only tool he’s ever held ishisown.
Director Kid isn’t even pretending to ask for my input in the various rooms of the lodge. I used to be the expert, but now he tells me to “just stand over there and look masculine.” So that’s what I’ve become. Mr. Fixit Quick is amannequin.
I can’t even text Brynn because I left my phone at the hotel in my rush to get here. When I arrived this morning, I went in to makeup, and since then I’ve done this talking-head routine for eight hours. While everyone else worksaroundme.
It’sthepits.
The only thing keeping me in check is the knowledge that we’re almost done with the promo spots, and then the real work will begin. Finally. The special will be shot in a continuous roll for forty-eight hours straight. No breaks in the action. Then they’ll edit it down to a two-hourspecial.
My stomach growls. What I really want right now is one of Brynn’s Breakfast At Any Time specials. Her baked bacon dusted with brown sugar. Fresh crepes. Her sitting on my counter, her legs wrapped around me while shefeedsme.
That hasn’t actually happened, but what else have I got to think about while I stand here? It could happen. When I get home, I’ll ask her. If she’s still around. Things seem to be looking up for both her and me, so she’ll probably want to drop this whole fake-engagement thing. Right when it was getting good too. She’ll hand me back my heirloom ringandI’ll…
My throat feels all tight. Must be time for abreak.
I really need to shake off my shitty mood. I wanted to do this job. It’s my show, my baby. I made this. And here it is. I glance around the set, trying to remember how Igothere.
Refurbishing homes was something I took up because I wanted to make a difference. Maybe that sounds ridiculous. I’m not good with words or feelings, but I am good with myhands.
And a home is important. I should know. I never really had one. It’s supposed to be the place you can come to and feel safe and loved. It’s a place where things work because you tend to them, and when you walk in the door, you can just slough off your worries from your shoulders the same way you take off a heavywintercoat.
This place, this chateau or whatever, isn’t going to be anyone’s home. This is nothing more than a four-page spread in a magazine, an eight-week show on network TV and, somehow, the symbol that I’ve completelysoldout.
But now I’m stuck. I signed the contract. I’m already here. So I’ll deal. And right now that means, apparently, moving my shoulder a little more to the left so that the light hits my biceps at a betterangle.
“Okay, man,” Director Kid says. “We’ve got theintro.”
Thankfuck.
“Let’s move on to the real deal!” The production staff gathers around, along with my crew. “We’ve got cameras in place?” Shiny Shoes asks. He gives Director Kid apointedlook.
“Oh! Let’s have a status check.Cameraone?”
“Camera one is ready,” a techieconfirms.
“Camera two is a go!” someone else calls. And so we know that Director Kid is capable of counting to twelve, as a dozen cameras in various locations areaccountedfor.
Then the director picks up his clapper. Seriously, he looks gleeful. Like the clapper is a symbol of power, and he wields it fervently. “Once the cameras start rolling, they don’t go off until the wrap. We work with whatever you guys get, okay?” Heads nodeverywhere.
Forty-eight hours. Just forty-eight hours to go. I’vegotthis.
* * *
Ialmost had this.Almost.
At first, things are humming along. My crew and I unload three trucks full of building supplies. The show’s editor will undoubtedly use that footage as a montage in fast forward. We’ll look like busy ants on a hill. Busy ants who are verywellpaid.
After that the demolition starts. I get out my crowbar, which is always a good moment. “Let’s go, boys!” I call, and both Burt and Larry grin. We do love to rip shit apart. Pulling down a few poorly placed walls is the most fun I’d had since leaving Michigan. It’stherapeutic.
Demo takes us a couple of hours. At midnight I sneak away for a few hours of shut-eye, while a fresh crew comes in to sand the floors and put up some new wall board. When I wake up, it’s time to put in the kitchen cabinetry and supervise the boat-sized hot tub installation. I stop worrying about the tacky nature of the reality show and just go with it. We put drink holders on a pedestal in the center of the tub, and window boxes along the edges of thenewdeck.
