Page 3 of Man Cuffed
And now I’m frozen, in what I’m pretty sure is a spotlight, that declaration reverberating through my body.
That’s when Officer Maguire and his buddies move into cop action. “All right! Everybody out! There’s a main gasline break down the block, and we need to clear the premises!”
Bridezilla, who’s sitting in a chair, one turkey leg in each fist, surrounded by four gyrating sets of, um, junk, suddenly looks crazed. “I’m not leaving until this lap dance is done! I’m getting married and I earned a lap dance! And I demand that I get these turkey legs for FREE!”
That’s when my patience for her finally dies. Did she not hear thatour lives are in danger?I’m about to pounce on the bitch with: “I’ll give you a free turkey leg and put it right up your…”
When Maguire squats down next to her andlifts her chair right into the air.Then he heads for the exit.
Once again I’m not the only one who notices how incredibly impressive this guy is. There’s a frenzy of iPhone camera activity punctuated by the heavy breathing of drunk women swooning over a very sexy cop. Maguire’s muscles pop and strain as he strides outside carrying Bridezilla as if she weighed nothing more than a turkey leg.
I hate Bridezilla.
I want to be his turkey leg.
These are my thoughts as I find myself standing alone in a room that was crowded only moments earlier. I’m still frozen in place, a little breathless from that show of pure manliness, and possibly experiencing an adrenaline crash from my close call with being thrown into the hoosegow for molesting a police officer.
A deep, burly voice shakes me awake. “Hey, serving wench.”
My head swings toward the doorway, where Maguire is standing. “I don’t like being addressed that way,” I hear myself say. But it comes out breathy and weird.
“Then maybe you should put something different on your name tag.”
“Well, sure. If you want to be technical about it.” My hand covers the name tag in question. Moving home to Michigan was supposed to help me become a grown-up. Only I don’t feel like one right this second.
“Come on,” he says in that gravelly voice. “It’s not safe here.Yougotta vacate the premises too.”
This probably means the Tavern will clock me out early, those bastards. But hearing the news from Maguire’s sexy lips, in that deep voice of his, makes me feel like it’s almost worth it.
I follow him outside. No wonder I thought he was an entertainer. Ordinary people don’t have muscular asses and long legs like those. I’d be willing to follow him anywhere at this point.
But this is real life, and not a movie set.
So it’s another six months before I see him again.
There’s an important thing I’ve learned through my years of acting. Comedy or drama, it doesn’t really matter...but the impact of a line depends on the perfect timing of delivery.
My timing with men is already terrible.
My timing with Maguire will prove to be even worse.
2Never, Basically
Meg
“Well, it doesn’t feel like home yet. But the kitchen is unpacked.” I close a white cabinet door and turn to face my friend Cassidy.
“It’s…” She struggles to choose an adjective for my new, spartan apartment. “It’s soclean,” is what she goes with eventually.
The giggle starts like a tickle in my belly and then erupts.
“What? Clean is good, right?” Her pale, freckled brow wrinkles with uncertainty.
“Yes!” I gasp. “But can you imagine us using that same standard for men? He’s boring, but he’s soclean.”
“Oh.” Cassidy closes a drawer and then covers her mouth to laugh. “Fine, so it’s faint praise. But good hygiene in a man is important.”
“Then we’re setting the bar pretty low.” I snicker.
