Page 85 of Man Cuffed
They are towed to the prow, where another ladder awaits. Mac hands Julie up into Morris’s outstretched arms.
The crowd goes wild.
I don’t really breathe properly until Mac climbs the ladder, too, emerging dripping wet, his shirt sticking to his muscular chest and totally see-through. It’s like that classicPride and Prejudicemoment from the PBS series. And I am suddenly throbbing the way that Elizabeth Bennet was throbbing and Jane Austen just couldn’t or wouldn’t describe it.
Because, holy throb.
Mac looks at me for a minute and it’s intense. I’m hoping he’s about to grab me and kiss me, press his wet body against mine. And there’s this second when I think that’s just about to happen, and we stand trembling, waiting. But then Morris runs over to him, and I’m worried there’s going to be a fist fight.
Instead, Morris hands him a stack of tiny napkins. “Thanks for rescuing my wife,” he says. Mac takes the stack of napkins.
“What are these for?” Mac asks.
“To dry off. I wanted to help in some way and I, I don’t know, there just aren’t any towels.”
There is pure Michigan silence for a moment. Even the music stops playing.
Then, all of a sudden, there’s a different kind of music. Mac and Morris? They both start laughing.
26Danny Boy
Maguire
I’m feeling extra jolly on Monday. I have a lot to be happy about. My sister is happily married. Meg and I got a free pass to leave the reception early, owing to my soggy suit and tie. The boat docked early to let me and my brother off.
Meg and I barely made it into the shower at my place before we were all over each other.
The next day, Rosie called to check on me. I was a little worried that she’d feel like Julie’s shenanigans ruined her reception. But not Rosie. She enjoyed every minute of it. She even took an action shot of me diving off the boat.
So I feel pretty good about that. And I feel okay about meeting my brother for a drink. Maybe someday I’ll even decide that crazy Julie did us a favor. You never know.
But let’s face it. The real reason I’m so chipper today is that the wedding is fuckingover. I don’t need to dread it any longer.
I’m actually whistling to myself as I step into the elevator at headquarters. And when the chief steps in after me, it doesn’t even dent my mood. Much.
“Mac Maguire!” the older man booms. “How was the weekend?”
Here we go again, my subconscious complains. And for a second I just freeze. But then I remember something Meg asked me just before all the crazy shit went down at the wedding.What would Danny fromDowntown Bluessay to the chief?
“Great weekend, Chief,” I say immediately. It just pops out, because I can picture Danny saying it.
The chief’s eyes light up. “Really? Get into any trouble?”
I chuckle, because he has no idea. “Went to a wedding on aboat, for chrissakes. Had some beers. Tried to avoid the crazier members of my family.”
The chief chuckles and shakes his head.
“Get this, Chief. One lady got a little tipsy and fell overboard. Guess who got his suit a little wet fishing her out?”
The chief lets out a great booming laugh, and I feel myself smiling. The chief doesn’t need to know all the private stuff—my fucked-up family. My creaky heart. Ten years of silence between my brother and me.
That shit is private. But jumping into the lake? That’s just a good story. Meg was onto something. Shooting the breeze isn’t so bad. Like rolling off a log, really.
“There were no towels,” I add, and the chief is beside himself now. “My brother handed me a cocktail napkin.”
A tear runs down the man’s face. He swats me on the arm. “Good story, kid.”
The elevator door opens. He turns to leave. “Say, Chief?”
