Page 50 of Man Cuffed
“Hell yes,” Meg says immediately. “Ooh! This will also give me a chance to ask you a little bit more about this wedding we’re going to. That’s coming up, right?”
Hell. I try not to think about that. “Yeah. Soon.”
“Awesome. I’ll quiz you about what you’re wearing, and who we’re trying to make jealous.”
All that energy I’ve spent not thinking about kissing Meg, or touching Meg, or fucking Meg, is out the window. And I’m thinking about all the shitty things in my life.
Then she asks a question that makes me freeze up a little inside. “Who do you want to make jealous anyway?”
I can’t fucking breathe for a second. And not in a good way. “I gotta go,” I wheeze. “We’ll figure it out later.”
“Okay—?”
“Talk soon.” And I hang up. It’s kind of a dick move and I feel bad about that, but I’ve got to maintain some boundaries. Meg gets me talking and somehow I turn into Silly Putty. It’s not good.
I end the call, check the mirrors, and pull out into traffic again, hoping Lance will keep his mouth shut for a while.
No such luck.
“Hey! I’ve got another idea. If you don’t have pulleys, there’s always bungee cords.”
It’s going to be another long shift.
14People in Pairs
Meg
When I come back from Chicago, I have to work three shifts at the bar in two days. Pretty soon I’m going to have to tell The Hip Burger about the seven-week leave I’ll need to play Elsa inPierson of Interest. So that will be a fun conversation.
Speaking of fun, I don’t manage to run into Mac at all, which is a bummer. He doesn’t come out onto the deck when I’m out there. And he doesn’t turn up in the laundry room on lingerie day.
I should call him Officer Hot and Cold. Sometimes he’s lots of fun, and sometimes he clams up. I like a challenge. But he’s an extreme case.
These are my thoughts as I head over to meet Aubrey and Cassidy at a bar for a rare night out. They’re already at the table when I walk in, with a classic Hemingway Daiquiri in front of each of them. I know that they’re drinking Hemingway Daiquiris because I introduced the drink to them last month. “Drink this,” I’d demanded. “It’s evil and good.” It’s basically grapefruit juice and rum, with a splash of attitude.
We can all use some attitude today, I think as I sit down.
Cassidy is still upset over Greg the Gorgon. “I saw his penis, and it looked like a snake,” she’s saying as I sit down at the table. “A really skinny snake.”
“Oh, girl,” I commiserate before even saying hello. “Then you didn’t really miss out on anything.”
“That’s what I said!” Aubrey says and then immediately starts flapping her hands, sort of like a jazz dancer on cocaine. I’m really confused, until a Hemingway Daiquiri appears in front of me, its arrival timed perfectly and organized by our Wedding Planner Extraordinaire. I made good friend choices when I moved back to Michigan.
“I have a bit of a dilemma. Not a big dilemma. A mini dilemma,” she says as I take my first sip. “I don’t know what to do. Should I tell my newest bride-to-be-client that her groom made a pass at me? I mean—” she stops to take a breath—“I think it was a pass. Why else would he rub against me like that? Unless maybe he was trying to scratch a mosquito bite?”
“Not a mosquito bite,” Cassidy says. “I have three brothers and they have no trouble scratching themselves.”
“Ew. I guess that answers the question. I’ll mention it to the bride-to-be.”
There’s a little bit of silence as we all take another calming sip of rum. Then I decide to ask Aubrey the question that’s been weighing on me. “Okay, tell me the truth. In your line of work, how often do you just look at the couple and wonder why they’re getting married?”
“Hmm.” She taps her lip with an index finger. “Only about a quarter of the time.”
“Yikes.” Relationships are not for the faint of heart. “Well, I was going to ask you two how to convince a man who doesn’t want to date to fall madly in love with me. And fuck me into tomorrow. Not necessarily in that order. I’m not even sure why I’m wondering this. I should be focused on I GOT THE FUCKING PART FOR THE TV SERIES!”
“Yes, you did!” Aubrey says. “Woo-hoo!”
“Okay, I’m confused,” Cassidy admits. “Are we celebrating or are we depressed? Because I feel like I should be depressed, but I’m so happy for Meg that I want to celebrate.”
