Page 22 of Man Cuffed
His forehead wrinkles. “How’d your plan work out for you?”
I think about it. “Not well. The low point is getting caught. And when I threw the hot tamale boxers over and your princess grabbed them and hid them. Oh. Yeah. And when the crow stole the cufflink…”
“Who wears cufflinks anymore?” he asks.
“Plenty of people! Plenty!”
He grins, but goes silent. I realize he’s studying me. No. Wait. He’s doing more than studying me. He’s performing some kind of cop Jedi magic. I know this because I recently auditioned for a pilot calledPierson of Interest,starring Katie Pierson, a cop who gets framed for a murder and… Never mind. It’s not important. But I learned that cops like to wait you out, making you so uncomfortable that you confess everything.
Except I already did. “Can I go now?” I ask feebly.
He holds up a finger. It’s a nice finger. Sorta strong and sexy. I could do a lot with that finger. “Just a second,” he says. “I’m processing.”
This time I wait him out. I feel like I should start humming theJeopardytheme song.
“First of all, what’s your name?” he asks. His voice is all serious-like. Verycoppy. The hairs on my arms stand up. If I had a penis, it would be standing up too.
“Meg,” I say. I try to say it challenging-like, like a 1930s Film Noir Dame, but it’s hard to pack all of that into one syllable. I give it my best shot.
“You realize you are not very good at jumping to conclusions. Or into people’s apartments.”
My questioning look says it all.
Then he continues. “Think about it. The first time we met, you thought I was a stripper.”
“Hey! That doesnotmean I jump to poor conclusions. Youshouldbe a stripper. You’ve got the bod for it.”
His eyes flare, and there’s another awkward pause. He’s processing that too. “No,” he finally decides. “Not in a million years. I have no sense of rhythm.”
I’d like to dispute that, because I’ve been listening to him have sex over the past month and he’s got plenty of rhythm. He’s got Fred Astaire rhythm. I hear Fred Astaire had really big hands.
I check Maguire’s. He’s got really big hands too.Nice.
“But the worst conclusion you drew is about Nicole,” he says. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
Oh.
What?
“What?” I ask.
“She’s a friend.”
“A friend you frequently fuck?” I’m incredulous.
“That is a thing, yes. Although I wonder why even a live-in fuck buddy doesn’t bother staying faithful. I’m fucking cursed,” he says this last bit more to himself than to me. Then he seems to focus on me again. “I could put you in jail, you know.”
“For thinking she was your girlfriend? That’s kind of ridiculous. I mean she sleeps here and you have a lot of sex and…”
“How do you know I have a lot of sex?”
I decide to just show the man. I didn’t get a BA in theater from Northwestern for nothing. “Oh!” I cry, in a perfect imitation of Nicole. “Baby! Baby baby!! YES YES YES!” Then I put my hands on my hips and grin.
“Wow!” he looks alarmed. “That’s eerie.”
“Thin walls in this place, Maguire.”
“Jesus.” That throws him, but not for long. “Still, I could arrest you for breaking into my apartment.”
