Page 83 of Man Hands
“Mmh. Stop distracting me. We have a show to make.” Just remembering our previous activities makes my parts tingle. Nobody breaks in a kitchen like Tom. I will never be able to look at a certain barstool again without getting a little hot, bothered, anddizzy.
My hunk rolls his eyes and beckons me toward the computer screen. We look over the three camera angles he’s set up. Everything looks great to me, but he spends a couple of extra minutes reminding me which points along the vast countertop are the mostphotogenic.
“Hello! Is everybody decent?” It’s Sadie’s voice in thefronthall.
“Of course we are!” I call out. Tom raises his eyebrows at me comically, because if she’d shown up earlier, she would’ve gotten aneyeful.
“What are you cooking?” she asks, coming into the kitchen with Kate and Amy toddlingafterher.
“Corn dogs from scratch! It’s the perfect beach food.” In fact, corndogs have been sold at Lake Michigan for decades—well before food trucks were cool. “It’s a wrapped thing that you also dip. Two food groupsatonce.”
“Cool,” Sadie says, although we all know that fried foods are a bridge too far for Sadie. She’s more of a kale girl. Ah, well. You can lead your friends to junk food, but you can’t make them scarf it down. “And don’t worry,” she adds. “The girls and I are going for a walk on the beach when you start shooting. We’ll come back just in time to tasteeverything.”
“Well, hello there!” Tom says to one of the twins, scooping her up. He cuddles her to his big, strapping chest, and it makes me want to start kissing him all overagain.
Focus, Brynn. The countdown timer on the computer says we’re going live in nineteen minutes. I need to change into my dressy apron and practice my non-dorkysmile.
Tom sets the toddler back on her feet and points at me. “Set up your fry oil. I’ll light up thespace.”
“You already do!” I call back to him. Because it’s true. Admittedly, we’re a little bit gross right now, but when you’re in love like this, it’s pretty much expected. Ash and Sadie keep their eye rolls to a minimum, and I ignore Ash when she gags.Speakingof…
The front door bangs open again. I told Tom not to fix it because the screen door at a beach cottage is supposed to bang. That’s its job. And I don’t have to ask who’s come inside, because I’d know Ash’s hissesanywhere.
“Listen, dickbag,” she says in a threatening voice. “It’s not fifty-fifty if I bring in thebuyer.”
“But you won’t, so I don’t know why we’re even discussing it,” Brahtcounters.
“Hi, friends!” Tom calls out. “We’re in thekitchen!”
Ash and Braht enter the kitchen together. Actually, it sort of looks like they’re competing to see who can enter the kitchen first, but they end up hip-checking each other to get through the door at the same time. “You are a fucking asshole,” she hisses under herbreath.
“Language!” Sadie snaps over her shoulder. Her girls will start speaking any day now and she’s worried that they’ll get their vocabulary fromAuntieAsh.
“He started it,” my friend says, sounding like a toddlerherself.
Braht justbeams.
“What’s the problem?” I ask, hoping the answer is a brief one. I have a cooking show tomakehere.
Ash glowers. Really—she does. It’s the only word that could possibly describe the scary eyes and the frown that my old friend is throwing off. “Someoneis trying to renegotiate the standard co-brokeragreement.”
“It’s not standard,” Braht argues. “A house of this magnitude requires special attention. The deal is that the sellers’ fee is fifty percent, no matter what. Whomever brings in the buyer gets theotherhalf.”
“Sounds fair to me,” Tom says mildly. Then he winks at me, because he’senjoyingthis.
And—fine—so am I. It was Tom’s idea to give his real estate listing to Ash and Braht together. We really couldn’t choose between them, and we thought it might be, I don’t know, some fun fireworks to watch. Ash is hysterical when she’s pissed off and Braht seems to bring that out of her. You’d think the two of them would be grateful for the easy commission—Tom’s house is a stunner, as well as semi-famous.
But Ash and Braht began trying to kill each other about ten seconds after Tom’s ink was dry on the listing agreement. Ash sent Tom and me a bottle of champagne as a thank-you gift. But then Braht sent us a magnum of the same vintage, just to showherup.
They’ve been duking it out eversince.
“Keep it to a dull roar, kids,” Tom says, checking his T1 connection for our broadcast. “Find someplace to stand where you can’t be seen and also can’t reach eachother.”
“Here I thought twins were tricky,” Sadiemurmurs.
* * *
The restof our prep time is a blur. My fryer oil is reheating and my ingredients arestyled.
