Page 6 of Man Hands
4Lush Willows and FloweringShrubberies
Brynn
We’rein East Grand Rapids. This is the posh part of Western Michigan, where people are well-groomed and play lacrosse and have kids named Denver and Saurin and Blade. Seriously. Sadie has a teacher friend whose first-grade class last year had a Blade G. and a Blade P. It’sunsettling.
The dicknozzle’s house is tucked off Lake Drive. There’s a giant iron gate that lets you know you don’t belong here, and I’m already convinced it’s true. Maybe they won’t even letusin.
There are shiny, beautiful cars on the cobblestone driveway. The hedges are trimmed. It’s a sultry July night and the breeze blows off the lake, making everything rustle. And there are lights everywhere. I hear music too. It’s like walking into some Hollywood backlot, only thisisreal.
“Ash,” I whisper as we climb out of the cab. I sayAshthe way I’d say it if we were in a horror movie and she wanted to check out the dark basement and see what that strange growling noise is. She is, actually, named after the dude inThe Evil Dead, so this seemsappropriate.
“It’s totally fine,” she says. “We’ll have drinks and then we won’t even notice how doucheyeveryoneis.”
It suddenly occurs to me that I’m taking advice from the wrong friend. Ash’s love life isn’t going so well. Her ex is in prison, for starters. And, instead of putting herself out there in the way she’s urging me to, she’s invented a boyfriend named Hunter so her parents will stop asking questions. I haven’t really understood this approach, but that’s okay. With Ash, you have to just gowithit.
But now my objections rise up inside me like a bad case of gas. I glance around, looking for the best shrubbery to hide behind. But before I get the chance to dart away, the apparent owner of this monstrous house has appeared. He’s caressing Ash. Maybe it’s some kind of hug, but this guy hugs her the way amoebas blend into one another. It’s kind of gross, but alsomesmerizing.
“And who do we have here?” he asks, looking at me and Sadie. MostlySadie.
But Sadie’s oblivious. It’s strange. She’s incredibly insightful and empathetic, and then there are times when I wonder if anyone is home in her brain. Or maybe she’s relieved to have an hour and a half free of being suckled by her babies. Or maybe she’s just thinking of how much she’s in love with her husband who is out of town right now visiting his mother who just had surgery. Her husband has a high libido, and she once told us that they do iteveryday.
If I had that, I’d be a littledreamytoo.
Ash introduces us this way: “Braht, these are my friends. You can’t touch them. Can we have some drinks now.” She doesn’t phrase it as aquestion.
I shake my head, wondering if I heard his name correctly. No. His name can’t really be Braht. Like bratwurst? Who has a namelikethat?
Braht snaps his fingers. He actually fucking snaps and a waiter appears with three drinks onatray.
And, omigod, it’s a sign! The drinks are served in pineapples, with a banana garnish that’s carved to look like a dolphin. The dolphin has a little cherry in its adorable little mouth. “Omigod!” I squeal. “I love tikidrinks!”
Braht visibly swells with pride. Not in his pants like our poor waiter—he gets big in a rooster-chested way. “I hired Beachbum Berry to prepare our drink menu! He’s totally famous. A real icon. And his drinks—they’ll get you absolutelyhammered.” Braht reminds me of James Spader inPretty In Pink. The slimy rich boy. And damn if it doesn’t make Braht sort oflikable.
“Nice,” I say, helping myself to a pineapple. The night is looking up. Except that I can’t breathe all of a sudden. Panic attack, maybe? Or maybe my wrap dress is really tight. Itisreally tight. “I can’t breathe,” I complain. Sadie nods, undoes my dress and re-ties it. Right there in front ofBraht.
“Lovely,” he says. I can’t tell if he’s being ironicornot.
Ironic! Red flag! At least my well-intentioned friends won’t try to steer me toward a tryst with Braht. That’s a relief because I’d be thinking about bratwurst the whole time. Howawkward.
“We’ll see you later,” Ash says to Braht, dismissing him. It makes me love her just a little bit more, that she can come to some rich dude’s party and treat him like he owes hersomething.
On second thought, maybe he does? I turn around and he’s watching us walk away with an expression of…longing? Then he shakes himself and straightens his spine. He calls “Hello, Edelweiss!” to a woman with perfect, shiny hair. She’s wearing a silver tube top that cost more than my collegeeducation.
She turns to him with a grin, and her sparkly chest catches the light. I want to poke my eyes out withafork.
Ash tugs on my hand and leads the way. The house is all marble floors and shiny things. I want to stop and admire the kitchen. It’s just the sort of chef’s paradise I’ve always wanted. Over the sink there’s a gleaming faucet as large as St. Louis’sGatewayArch.
But Ash is on a mission, and she tows me toward the oversized back patio. 1950s Hawaiian music is playing, and, against every molecule of my being, I actually like thisplace.
We walk down some brick steps and into a garden area with lush willows and flowering shrubs. Everything is balanced and beautiful and I don’t really understand how it’s even possible to achieve such perfection. When Braht snaps his manicured fingers, the plants must leap to do hisbidding.
“Wow,” Ash says as the three of us look around. I see a look of awe cross her face. But less than a second later she catches herself, shaking it off. With a shrug she says, “Bottomsup!”
And we sip, sip, sip that pineapple until the drinks are gone. They’re really terrific too. Fruity, rummy, and cinnamony. Or something. I should really write a blog post about them. They’re perfectlyphotogenic.
But ambition slips away as Ash hands me another drink that magically appears, and we sip, sip, sip onemoretime.
Then everything goesblack.
