Page 99 of Man Cuffed
I’m not exaggerating either. Ireallycan’t wait for it. When Aubrey called me with another flash mob job, I didn’t even think twice about jumping into my car and racing back to Michigan for the meeting.
Ilovedour farmers’ market wedding proposal. I think I have a real future in creating small theatrical events that change people’s lives. And nobody has opened a business like this in West Michigan yet. It’s waiting for me! I feel all sunshiney inside when I think about it.
My stint in Chicago, on the other hand, has been a real eye-opener. It’s a great experience, and I’m still excited to see my episodes air. But it’s not fun. The producer and the director are fighting. One of the lead writers quit in front of me yesterday. They’re not a happy bunch.
Oh, and now I know exactly what Danny-From-Downtown-Blues would do in various situations. Good Ol’ Danny Boy would drink Scotch between takes and then fall asleep behind the sets. Also, Danny would kiss like a real loser.Ugh. My scenes with him require every bit of my acting talent.
I have three more episodes to shoot before my character is killed off. And then it’s back to auditioning again. Back on the treadmill.
Or is it? I haven’t decided if I want to keep auditioning. Right now I could literally go either way. And that alone says something significant. When you lose passion for something, isn’t it time to try something new?
LikeMeg’s Mobs. My fledgling business already has a name.Meg’s Mobsis totally going to happen.Meg’s Mobsgets me all a flutter. I’ll start my own business the minute I’m back from Chicago. Hell, it’s pretty much already started. And I’ll make all the casting decisions. I can’t wait to be in charge, for once.
There are so many ways to be successful. And I’m done waiting for my flipping fairy godmother to show up and make me queen of Hollywood.
I kiss Aubrey goodbye and then head for my car. Just as I’m about to get in, she calls out her front door to me. “You’re going home now, right? To your apartment?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I want to grab some things.”
There’s an awkward pause and I think I see her tapping on her phone.
“Why?” I call.
“Oh, nothing. Just asking. In case I need to stop by later. But I probably won’t. In fact, if I need to stop by later, I’ll make sure I call first.” She gives me a final wave and then closes her door.
That’s weird.
But that’s Aubrey.
I start up my car, and immediately my thoughts go back toMeg’s Mobs.Can I start a business while also hustling for more on-screen work? What kind of life do I want? Who do I want to be, exactly?
These are my thoughts as I drive to my apartment for the first time in three weeks. When I pull into the lot, Mac’s car is there. That’s too bad, honestly. I hadn’t wanted to think about him this weekend. It’s almost tempting to turn around and go right back to Chicago.
I sit in my parking space for a moment, the engine idling.
But then I grab the key and twist it. Because fuck him. This is my home. And if he’s so frightened of my love that he needs to put some distance between us, that’s on him.
In fact, I’m going to let him know I’m here and I am totally fine without him.
A few minutes later I’m marching down our shared hallway and unlocking my door with a flourish. Since it’s stuffy in my apartment, the first order of business is opening all the windows and welcoming in the fresh air.
The song “Uptown Funk” is stuck in my head, because we played it a few times at Aubrey’s house just to get the feel of the beat. This new flash mob will kick off a surprise party. The birthday boy is supposed to think he’s been sent to the mall for just an errand or two. But his boyfriend has orchestrated a surprise party at one of the restaurants. And the flash mob is just the beginning.
“Uptown funk gonna sing it to you!” Whoops. Those aren’t the words, but I’m probably close. “Uptown funk gonna ring it for you. Bling it at you! Something-something and someTHING!”
Fine—lyrics aren’t my strong suit. But this is my home and I can butcher tunes if I want to.
I find when I’m working out a new flash mob scene, it helps to butcher with aplomb. And volume. So I am singing to my heart’s content when suddenly I hear a thud against the wall.
I immediately go silent. The only thing beating is my heart. I’d know that thud anywhere. It’s Mac. My copper.
But he’s not mine, is he?
My blood stops circulating. Because that thud might mean he’s already someone else’s.
I feel nauseous at the thought.
Welp. More singing then. Some sounds need to be drowned out. “Uptown junk gonna sling it at you!”
