Page 42 of Man Cuffed
I don’t even recognize myself right now. But I’m not sure I care.
Then I finally spot Meg. She’s actually climbing a ladder that’s leaning against one of the beams holding up the metal roof. She’s being subtle about it, like she doesn’t want to draw attention to herself. She’s wearing tight pants and Chuck T’s, and her face is one hundred percent concentration.
When she reaches the top, she pauses up there, just watching the action. The expression on her face is pure joy. Just for a second I actually forget I’m me. I let the song pulse through my blood, and as I’m watching Meg, I hear myself sing along with the chorus.
The girl was right, anyway. I do like to sing. It’s just that I haven’t done so in a long time.
I’m not the only one watching Meg, though. I spot a security guard whose gaze is stuck on her like a tattoo. On her ass, specifically. But as she climbs even higher, he starts to frown. Like he’s just remembered why he’s here, and he can’t figure out why she’d climb that ladder.
The little velvet box in her hand ought to be a clue, though. And there’s some kind of prop affixed to the ceiling above her.
The security guy, though, is confused. And I’m sucked out of the music for a bit and straight into cop mode.
He’s a young man, which is a red flag. An older security guard is usually a retired cop—a good guy with good instincts, who knows how to spot trouble brewing. But young guards are often hotheads who couldn’t get a real law enforcement job. They crave the power of the uniform, but they don’t have sufficient smarts or restraint. And sometimes they have a chip on their shoulder from not getting the job they think they deserve.
It’s that chip I’m concerned about right now.
Sure enough, just as Meg gets to the top step of the ladder, he touches her ankle. “Hey!” he calls. I can’t hear him over the music, but I can see his face. He’s pinched and red-faced. And about two seconds from being a complete asshole.
She doesn’t look at him. She’s watching the action, and waiting for some kind of cue.
“Hey!” He grabs the ladder.
I’m already on the move, dodging bodies, trying to make it over there before he destabilizes that ladder and tips the whole thing over.
By the time I reach them, Meg is looking down at him, eyes wide with fear.
“Gotta ask you to step down,” the guy shouts, oblivious.
“Sir,” I growl, causing the guard to whirl around. “Step away from the ladder.” I use my cop voice. Low. Quiet. And dead-as-fuck serious.
“But—”
I pull out my shield. He squints at it. “My badge is real. Now back off.”
He sneers at me. “You gonna stop me from doing my job? I’m protecting the market from dangerous elements.”
“You meanher?” I point up at Meg. “You gotta be kidding me.”
“Well what’s she doing up there?”
“No idea,” I admit. “But it’s part of this…” I wave my arms around. “And she has the proper permits,” I lie. Meg doesn’t strike me as a by-the-book kind of girl.
“Gotta see that,” rent-a-cop says. He reaches for the ladder.
I knock his hand away.
“Hey!” He looks like he actually wants to punch a police officer.
Knew he was dumb. And the glare I give him is the same one that terrifies all the recruits. “You don’t keep the peace by endangering someone on a ladder.” I take a step forward, forcing him to take a step back. “And why, when there are so many people here, did you followher?”
Meg looks about as threatening as a puppy wagging its tail. I look up and find her reaching over her head for a blue ribbon. And when she gives it a tug, a giant blue silk parachute unfurls, opening itself against the roofline. It’s like there’s a blue sky rippling above us. Now Meg is affixing the little velvet box to a silk bird, which she’s lowering with a pulley to the man in the apron.
Mr. Loon Lake catches it, then drops to one knee just as the singers hit their last chord.
As silence falls, he opens the box to reveal a ring. “Will you marry me, Gretchen?”
Gretchen is already nodding and squealing. “Yes!” The crowd lets out a collective gasp. They were here to buy lettuce, and they accidentally witnessed a small miracle.
