Page 70 of Man Hands
Even better—I bring in a stone mason to save the cool old chimneys which are deteriorating. Shiny Shoes and his man-child director probably don’t care about restoration, but I’m not asking theiropinion.
“Killer view,” I say, setting my nail gun on the deck and gazing out at the mountaintops. I experience a moment of peace. This deck could be a happy place for someone. AfterBetrothedis finished ruining sixteen lives, someone else will take over this space, right? Someone who will appreciate what we’ddonehere.
“Hey, Tom?” Burt calls me from the doorway. “I hate to be the bearer ofbadnews.”
“Uh-oh,” I say, smiling into camera four. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it.” I’m picturing a few rotted ceiling joists or some corroded pipes in the kitchen. “What kind of emergency is this? Plumbing?Electrical?”
Burt looks a little green, so I have a fleeting thought that the septic tank may be involved. “It’s, uh, a personnelissue.”
“Really?” I push past him into the lodge. “What kindof—Oh.”
Oh.
There stands Chandra in the kitchen, her trusty book of paint swatches in her hand. She’s holding a strip with four different shades of lavender up to the wall, and flipping her hair towardcamerasix.
I blink slowly and then refocus my eyes just to be sure I’m nothallucinating.
Fuck. She’s still there. Furthermore, there arethreecameras focusing on me right now. Several things become apparent to me in rapid succession. In the first place, I’m sweaty and covered in sawdust, while the woman who stomped on my heart with her pointy stiletto looks like she just stepped off a fashion runway. This isn’t how I wanted to come face to face with my ex. I don’t want to face heratall.
Secondly, there’s no chance this little reunion is a coincidence, or that the network’s failure to tell me they’d brought in Chandra is an oversight. No. Fucking. Way. It’s a hundred percent intentional, and I’m seeing redder than ever before. As red as Pratt & Lambert’sVelvetRed.
“Cut!” I holler. This shall notstand.
But it’s like I didn’t yell at all. The cameras don’t wink off. Instead, Chandra turns in my direction, her smile plastic. “Well, hello there, Tom. Long time no see.” She takes a couple of long strides toward me, her heels clicking importantly on thefloorboards.
Who wears high heels on a construction site? Chandra, that’s who. Reaching me, she leans in for one of her let’s-pretend-I’m-French, double-cheekedkisses.
I sidestep her. Even as I’m doing it, I know I shouldn’t. I’m creating more drama instead of less. But I can’t help myself. Backing away, I wave my arms in the direction of the boyish director. “Cut,” I say again. “This isbullshit.”
Shiny Shoes and the director rush over. “You can’t cut,” they both say at once. “This is acontinuousroll.”
“It’s in your contract,” the smarmy producer insists, and that’s when I know I’vebeenhad.
“Embarrassing me was not in mycontract.”
He grins, and I’mthisclose to punching him. “You work in reality TV, Tom. Youalwayshave.”
Then I quit!The words are rising in mychest.
But before I can say them, the producer holds up a hand. “Your penalty for walking off the set is also in your contract. And it’s asteepone.”
“I fucking hate you,” I say, my voice low. It’s childish, and I’m not even sure who I’m talking to. The producer, partly. Chandra, for embarrassing me and then agreeing to show up here anddo it all overagain.
And myself, a little bit. For walking my stupid ass into this nightmare just because I wanted the network to tell me I was important enoughtosave.
When will I everlearn?
Shiny Shoes doesn’t even look offended. He must be really good at his job, because drama rolls off this chump like rain from a standing-seam roof. “Doesn’t matter how you feel about me,” he says with a shrug. “But I’ll make a deal with you. Get back to work. I’ll edit out your little tantrum if you man up and finish this project with Chandra. Just turn around and walk out that door—” He points toward the deck. “—and walk back in here and greet her. Doitnow.”
The way he adds that last bit is just meant to demean me. Like I’m his teenage son who needs to ask daddy for thecarkeys.
There is a deep silence on the set. Every camera operator, every crew member is watching. Even the day laborers we’ve hired to haul away the extra scraps of wallboard. They’re all waiting to see if I’ll unman myself by tucking my tail between my legs and doing what the producer wants. Or whether I’ll go all diva and make a big stink or throw construction materials around like an angrymonkey.
That second thing sounds prettyappealing.
I glance up at Chandra. She’s standing there with her skinny arms folded across her chest, pushing her inflated boobs up to her chin and looking smug. This woman never loved me. How could she? She’s made of glass. I can see that now. She just wanted to hitch her wagon to a successful TV show and get everything she could from me. Now she’s backformore.
Everyone wants something from me. And right now they want me to make a scene. If I kick over the grouting tray in frustration or start yelling, they’ll use that in their promo spots.Watch Tom Spanner lose it after this message from oursponsor!
