The Man Cave Collection: Manservant, Man Flu, Man Handler, and Man Buns

by Ryan, Shari J.

  “Scarlett, I warned you that was going to happen. The hospitality industry isn’t very hospitable to those who can’t be respectful of time.”

  “Well, I try to be on time. I know that doesn’t make a difference though.”

  “Maybe you need a different shift,” he suggests.

  “It won’t happen. The three o’clock shift is always taken by seniority. I never got there, evidently. Plus, that eliminates any chance of a nightlife too.”

  “Have you considered that your nightlife might be the underlying cause of your problem?” Brendan is never condescending, but typically very parental. I’m not sure how his righteous words of advice never piss me off, but he’d have to do a lot to make me mad. I love him too much.

  “Possibly,” I confirm.

  “Well, there you go. Problem solved. Stop going out every night, and you’ll have less trouble waking up in the morning.”

  “That’s great, but I still lost my job.”

  “I know, but at least you’ll receive unemployment, so that will buy you a bit of time to find a new job that you’ll be happier at, and you won’t have a dick to look in the eye. Look at this as an opportunity to better your life.” Brendan looks up at the ceiling with a smile and opens his arms. I wish I could see things in the same fluorescent light he does because I can’t understand how he is always so damn positive. How is anyone? It’s not like I’m a miserable person. Actually, I’m fairly upbeat compared to many of the black-cloaked, dispirited city dwellers in this area.

  “I’m afraid my glass is definitely half empty this time,” I tell him.

  He stands up from the stool and comes closer. “Why is that?”

  “Because they offered to transfer me to someplace in South Carolina. Obviously, I said no, so now I’m not qualified for unemployment.”

  Brendan’s hands cup around my shoulders. “Oy, Scarlett! Why would you say no to an opportunity like that?”

  “I’m not leaving Boston. Are you crazy?”

  His big, caramel eyes widen with shock. “Um, are you crazy?”

  “I’ve been living here my entire life. I can’t just pick up and leave.” My chest tightens at the thought, and I already feel myself getting worked up.

  “That’s exactly why you should go.” I feel every stupid little line in my forehead deepen in response to his unexpected suggestion. “Scarlett, listen, starting fresh might be good for you. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want you to leave me, but this place has swallowed you up whole in the past few years, and it’s holding you prisoner, which is exactly what you don’t want, right?”

  “You make it sound like we’re in the depths of hell,” I say with a forced laugh. “It’s Boston. I love it here.”

  Brendan releases his hands from my shoulders and shrugs. “Okay, I was just offering my opinion. I’ll keep you here as mine for as long as you want to be here.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, waiting for the “but.” I know him better than to just end a conversation with his simply stated opinion because he rarely gives up when he has a firm opinion on a subject. “So that’s it? We’re going to drop it?”

  Brendan combs his fingers through his bronze, bed head, sexed hair (minus the sex part … I think) and closes his eyes. “I’m done,” he says, his short statement trailing off in a high-pitched tone that tells me he’s not done.

  “Mmhm,” I grumble with a raised brow. “I’ll be in my room looking for job openings.”

  The second I close myself into my room, I hear thuds and shuffling sounds coming from the open area of our apartment. Motherfucker. “Brendan! Do not get those boxes out!”

  Chapter Two

  Austin

  Thursday

  Why in the hell would someone think it’s a good idea to tease a damn crocodile? That’s the third animal wound this week.

  “Austin, did you finish up that file?” Clara shouts over from the main desk.

  “Yeah, just a minute.” I click submit on the report and sign out for the night.

  “Want me to walk you home?” I ask Clara. “Evidently, there are wild crocs all over the place right now.”

  She laughs and rolls her eyes. “Thanks for the offer, but Derek’s coming to pick me up. We’re heading down to movie night in the square.”

  “Ah, what are they puttin’ up on the screen tonight?” I ask her.

  “Top Gun … again,” she replies, sounding unenthused.

  “Don’t hate on the Top Gun, missy. That’s a golden movie.”

  “It’s not a favorite of mine, and yet, I know every darn word.”

  “Well, you should consider yourself lucky,” I tell her.

  “I’ll try to remember that as I force myself to stay awake.” She drops a folder into one of the filing cabinets and leans over to the computer to close out whatever she was doing. “So, what are you up to tonight?”

  My choices are slim. I could go solo to the movie. I could head to the bar and drink too much, or I could go home, drink too much, and pass out safely on my couch. Tough choice. I’ll go with option C.

  “I’m just heading home for the night. I’ve got the morning shift tomorrow.”

  “Austin,” Clara says with a grimace. “Let me set you up with my girlfriend. She lives in the next town over, so it isn’t too far away.”

  “Stop worrying about setting me up with someone. I don’t need some chick in my life who’s going to nag at me for everything I do. I’m happy being nag-free.”

  “Suit yourself, but I think you’re missing out.”

  “Darlin’, I can assure you, I ain’t missing out on nothin’.”

  “Well, have a nice night. Don’t do anything dumb.”

  Dumb. Pftt. She acts like she knows me so damn well. Actually, she does know me well, but still. I don’t just do dumb shit every night, not as far as she knows, anyway.

  I head into the locker room to pull a Mr. Rogers. I wonder how many people thought about what reason he had for changing his shoes every time he walked into his house. It always boggled my mind until I started working here at the hospital. There’s something about having work clothes and non-work clothes that separate my life into two equal halves.

  After changing out of my scrubs and slipping on a pair of jeans, boots, and a tee, I’m out the door before anyone can stop me with another patient’s chart. If I don’t leave when I’m supposed to, I’ll never get out of here.

  The streets are lit up bright tonight with the farmer’s moon stretching across the sky. It’s nights like this that make me want to drink. The damn moon makes me feel so small down here when I think about the rest of my world being up there somewhere. Fuck you, moon. Stop staring at me. I don’t need your judgmental glare.

  I walk on past Dickle’s, hearing the guys at the bar holler at the TV. I stop for a minute to glance inside, checking out who’s sitting down the line across from the taps, but it’s no one I feel like chatting up tonight. My couch is still sounding like a better companion.

  “Austin, is that you?” Yup. Wrong choice. I should have gone into the bar. I know that voice. “Austin Trace, don’t you go pretending like you can’t hear me.”

  I roll my eyes and turn around. “Kelli, fancy seeing you here in front of Dickle’s. Meeting someone?”

  “Don’t be snarky with me, Austin. You know who I’m meeting.” Oh, sweet Kelli and her ten pounds of caked on makeup. It blends nicely under the moonlight, but not so much during the day. It’s funny, though, those things never bugged me when we were together. I didn’t notice how hard she tried to make herself look like someone else.

  “Right, right. How is the old man?” Yeah, my twenty-four-year-old ex-girlfriend left me for a fifty-year-old rich man, but she doesn’t think anyone calls her a gold digger behind her back, so it’s fine. We weren’t together long, just long enough to make me question all women because of the way she ended things.

  “He’s not old, Austin. Knock it off.”

  “He’s old enough to be your pops, ain’t he
?”

  She sweeps her shoulder-length blonde hair behind her shoulder. “I think I just realized why I stopped trying to stay in touch with you.”

  “Was it because you were banging old saggy balls?”

  She grunts and stomps her boot into the pavement. “Good night, Austin.”

  “Good night, Kelli,” I say with a dinky wave. Thank God I dodged a bullet with that one. The women in this town need money, not a man. It’s like the only damn thing they have eyes for, which I can’t understand. While our country has spent decades fighting for women’s rights, this town has remained ambivalent at best about women getting jobs. They’re bred to cook, clean, and raise kids. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with being a stay-at-home mom, but I know some women around here who actually want options. I guess it’s an expectation more than a desire, which is just sad. Clara is one of the few women I know who walk past the other “normal” women as they point their noses toward the sky and whisper about her like she’s committed a crime. Clara wanted to become a nurse, so she did. I’m still betting that someday the other women will get tired of relying on their men, and either do something else or wish they could summon the courage to do so.

  The coyotes are hollering tonight as I head down my quiet street, probably because the one neighbor I have is gone for the next few weeks, so it’s dark as hell. I just don’t like to leave my lights on when I’m gone. It invites idiots down here to party in the field behind my house.

  I light up my cell phone to watch for wild animals as I let myself inside. I hit the lights, kick my shoes off, and head for the fridge.

  “Don’t move, Waldo, it’s okay. It’s just me. I’m not breaking and entering. I don’t want you to get nervous or nothin’.” This big, fat dog is hard-pressed to even raise an eyelid at night when I come home. He must have gotten bored with the same old greeting each day. Plus, I think he’s more of a morning man.

  The icy cold beer feels good as it nestles into my palm, but the millisecond before my ass hits the couch, my damn phone starts to ring. I see the hospital’s number light up and cuss out every obscenity I know.

  “Austin,” I answer.

  “Austin, it’s Daisy. Someone set off a firework down at the square and we’ve got a room full of people with burns. No one is coding, but I need your help. You think you could come back down?”

  “Yeah.” I look down at my beer and snarl. I was so close. “I’ll be right down.”

  It’s not even June. Why the hell are people playing with fireworks already?

  Chapter Three

  Scarlett

  I haven’t left my room since I closed myself inside this morning, and now the sun is beginning to go down, along with my hope of any job openings in the city. There are no job postings on any local sites, and I’ve called dozens of hotels in the Boston area to see if they were hiring. This city is completely staffed with front desk and management personnel. Other than room service, there are very few hotel job openings. I felt in control this morning. I had hopes of finding something better. Now, I only feel a gigantic pit in my stomach. No salary, no unemployment, and I pretty much blew through my savings on rent this past year. I’m damned.

  I grab my phone that’s still warm from the last pleading call and dial Mom’s number. My heart flutters in my chest with apprehension that Dad might answer, but Mom usually tries to get to the phone first, waiting for my infrequent calls.

  “Hi, Scarlett,” Dad answers, of course, and the flutter in my chest builds into a pounding sensation. “Everything okay?” That’s how little I call. When I do, something must obviously be wrong.

  “Yeah, everything is great. Is Mom around?” There’s silence for a brief moment, and I wonder if the phone went dead. “Dad?”

  “Yes. Sorry, no, your mother is in the middle of making me dinner. Is there something I can help you with?”

  Help me? That’s a laughable question. If I told him what happened, he’d tell me it’s my own fault for going into hospitality management. Then he’d tell me to go back down there and demand my job back. He thinks that because people crap their pants when they see him coming, I should have the same effect on people. I might have a firm hand, but I know when to back down. He doesn’t. “No, that’s okay. You can just tell her I called.”

  “Scarlett, you can lie to me all you want, but I can hear in your voice that something is wrong. What is it?” I hate how he thinks he knows me. He was never around, not as a Dad should be. He cared more about business and money than his family. We were just there for him on the side.

  “It’s nothing,” I reply quickly, possibly too quickly to sound truthful.

  “You got fired, didn’t you?” He’s probably just familiar with the way a person sounds after he fires them. That’s his favorite thing to do.

  “No. I have to go.”

  “Then, what is it?”

  I know Mom can’t do anything to help me, but we’re close, and sometimes I just want to talk to her, but Dad keeps tabs on her and everything else in our lives, and the last thing I need is him getting involved with my career in some way. He’s a horrible husband, just as he is a father to me, and there are times I want to just rescue Mom from him, but she pretends like life is fine, even when I know it’s not. Sometimes, I feel like I abandoned her when I went off to school, but she was hellbent on me leaving and not coming home. I know it was because of Dad’s ways, but she’d never admit that to me either. “It’s nothing. I have to get going. I was calling to say hi.” I hang up before he can say anything else.

  I drop my phone into my lap and shove the heels of my palms into my eyes. I can’t just leave here—Boston. The thought itself is making my stomach hurt. I have Boston in my blood. I can’t just transplant myself into Southern soil and start life all over again. Though, I could ask myself what “life” I’m talking about. It couldn’t be the stupid one-night stands I’ve gotten good at, nor the one-week relationships I attract. Other than Brendan, I have my job, and that’s about it.

  The apartment has been eerily silent since Brendan left for work a few hours ago, but I’m hungry and need to release myself from my self-imposed imprisonment so I step out, forgetting about the racket I heard Brendan making this morning. I’m quickly reminded, though, as I find boxes stacked and labeled with drawings of the contents. He seriously wants me out of here. What the hell? I thought he was fooling around this morning.

  I walk towards the stacked boxes, spotting a note on the top of a shorter pile.

  Scar,

  I know you thought I wasn’t being completely serious this morning, but some parts of your life have been sucking the sparkle out of you these past couple of years. I need that dimpled smile to come back—the one that lights up a room when you walk in. I’ve been worried about you, and this all feels like life is falling into place the way it should. Therefore, I feel strongly that you need this job and change. Please, go talk to Dick, look him in the eye this time, and reclaim what is yours.

  Love you,

  Brenny

  No. This is ridiculous.

  Just, no. I’m not doing this. I’m not just moving halfway down the coast because I can’t find a job here. With no other ideas to spin on, I spend the next several hours pacing, thinking, and clicking refresh on my inbox, with the hope of receiving a response from one of the hotels that weren’t hiring. Maybe something opened up today? It’s still a big nope. Maybe I’ve been blacklisted in the hospitality industry. I would think I’d have to do a lot worse than show up late a few times, but there’s literally nothing. This is a nightmare.

  After completely exhausting myself and coming to terms with employment opportunities taking longer than ten hours to pop up, I plop down on the couch and flick the TV on. Maybe I should just go back into the hotel tomorrow and be firm, tell them I want my job back, and I won’t be late again. Not that I didn’t say that this morning, but I didn’t get a warning of any sorts, and I thought that was common practice. I know I’m in the wrong. I sho
uldn’t have been late all those times. This is on me.

  I hear the front door open and close just as the fourth binge-worthy episode of ‘Housewives of Beverly Hills’ ends. Expensive Italian shoes clack across the old floors. Brendan is likely following the glow from the TV through the dark apartment.

  He appears in the stream of light and leans against the wall molding where the hallway meets the TV room. “Hey, babe.” He crosses his arms across his perfectly fitted dress shirt with starched creases still prominent from his morning ironing ritual. “You look like shit.”

  “You look great too,” I offer with a snide groan. Brendan is always dressed to impress. Even when his hair is a mess, it still looks like a perfect mess. Plus, he’s prettier than any girl I know, and it’s not fair.

  “I quit,” he says.

  I have no clue what he’s talking about, and I’m sure the look on my face reflects my inner thought. “What are you talking about?”

  “I quit my job,” he says.

  “You quit your job at Louis Vuitton? The job you wished and prayed for, for three years?” He’s lying.

  “I did.”

  “You’re out of your goddamn mind. Why would you do something so stupid?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why, Brendan? We only have your income now. Why would you do that?” The nervous patter in my chest that has been torturing me relentlessly for the last eight hours becomes more prominent once again. We’re so screwed. Why today of all days? He better have a good reason.

  “Because we’re moving to South Carolina together.” I pause for a moment, replaying his words over and over until they thoroughly sink in.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You need this, and maybe I need this too. So, we’re going.” His mouth is in a straight line. He’s serious. Brendan does not belong in the South. It gets hot and he doesn’t like to sweat.

  “Brenny, what about Kalvin? You said things were finally moving in the right direction with him. I don’t understand.”