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

by Ryan, Shari J.

  To achieve my goal, I typically narrow my selection of women down to those who have a particular look of determination in their eyes. I’ve found that partiular first impression to be the most important if I’m to even stand a chance of recruiting them. I spot the look immediately on the face of a somewhat agitated-looking woman walking past by my booth. I haven’t stopped anyone in the past hour, so I might as well give her a shot and cross my fingers for luck. “Excuse me, ma’am,” I call out to her just before she walks by.

  She continues walking. “Ma’am?” I call out again.

  She passes by the booth but then stops and turns toward me. “Did you just call me ‘ma’am?’ How old do you think I am? Geez.”

  “I was just trying to be courteous,” I tell her. Damn, no one has ever snapped at me for being polite. I guess she is agitated for whatever reason.

  “Well, I’m twenty-five, and I don’t consider myself a ‘ma’am’ just yet,” she says with a raised brow and slight snarl. She’s not even impressed by the uniform. If the women I speak to aren’t interested in joining the Marines, they’ll usually still appreciate a good-looking guy in his blues. This one apparently isn’t charmed by me, though.

  “I apologize, miss. Do you have a moment to spare?” I ask her.

  She reaches into her pocket and retrieves something then reaches over to hand it to me. Although I consider it an odd gesture, I open my gloved fist to take whatever she’s oddly giving me. “It’s all I have on me,” she says.

  Fifty cents. “I’m not begging for money, but tell me, what made you think I was?”

  “Oh, my bad,” she says with a snide smile. “You reached your hand out, and I just reacted.” She laughs, and I hope it’s the start of her attitude switching around a bit.

  I can’t help noticing that she’s gorgeous, even with the cold scowl on her face. The scowl is what made me call her over, though. “You know, you seem like you’d be the perfect type of candidate to join the Marine Corps. Have you ever considered joining us?” Not that I know what her current career is, but I can take a quick guess it’s not bringing fulfillment to her life.

  “No. As a matter of fact, I have never in my life considered a new job. Isn’t that just wild? I like to live a simple, boring life, so change isn’t really my thing.” She’s still smiling. Her dry sense of humor could mimic mine while I’m not on the clock, so it’s hard not to play back.

  “Cool, well, I’d be happy to take down your information, so we have your name on record in case you ever change your mind and decide you’d like to pursue a career with us. I’m sure you already know that we not only help our country and fellow Americans, but we help ourselves become better people, as well.”

  She smirks, possibly stalling in thought. “Now, I think you’re onto something, soldier.”

  “Marine, ma’am—miss, sorry. I’m a Marine.”

  “I thought soldiers and Marines were the same,” she says.

  I can’t tell if she’s serious or not, so I hold my tongue. “We’re quite different actually. We work closely with the Navy and have a different set of skills.”

  “So, you’re like a sailor, then?” I’m still questioning whether she knows precisely what she’s saying right now.

  “No, I’m not like a sailor either. I’m a Marine, and you could be too.”

  “I don’t think the Marines sounds like it would be a good fit for me. I mean, if I wanted to go dig holes in the sand, I could just go to the beach,” she says, trying her hardest not to smile at me. “Thanks anyway.”

  I can’t just give up on this one. I feel like she’s not a hundred percent set on her answer. Or, maybe I'm just ridiculous. “Hold up, miss. Are you willing to at least leave your name and number for us to follow up with you, in case you change your mind after you think it over?”

  She crosses her arms and leans to the side, then presses her fingertip against her lips. “So, wouldn’t it make more sense for you to give me your information in case I become interested in joining you?”

  “Sure, but we like to keep records, as you can probably imagine.”

  “Sure, I can imagine,” she says. Another coy smile stretches across her lips, and I know this isn’t going to end well, but I’m knee deep here, and I feel like there’s a slight chance she might be interested.

  “Do you need to meet a certain number today?” she asks.

  “A number, miss?”

  “A number of signups?”

  “My personal goal is just one more before I head home for the evening,” I tell her honestly.

  “Well then, let me help you get home a little faster tonight,” she says.

  “Thank you, I do appreciate it. Of course, I hope you’ll consider a future career with us too. We have some great opportunities to travel and see the world. It’s not a bad life at all.” I move around behind my booth and open the binder to retrieve a simple form for her to jot down her name and phone number.

  “Sounds interesting,” she says. I’m shocked that she’s filling the form out. I didn’t think I’d keep her attention for more than a second. She takes the pen from the countertop and scribbles her information down.

  “I appreciate you taking the time to fill this out. If it’s okay, I may follow up with you to see if you’d like to hear more about some of the other benefits we offer.”

  “Sure, definitely,” she says with an abundance of excitement. I think she’s pulling my chain, but I’ve been wrong before. “Yeah. Give me a call, and we’ll set something up.” She winks at me and points her finger in my direction. I can immediately see that the agitation has returned, but at least I have her name and number. “Later, soldier.”

  Funny.

  I look down at the information she jotted down. Maybe it’s her real name, but I’m pretty sure no one has the last four digits of 8008 in their number. BOOB. That’s what she left me with. Her boob’s number and a little note that says, “Maybe another time. Thanks for the chat.” She thinks I’m a boob.

  This is the fucking fabulous life of Denver Rossdale, folks!

  1

  Denver

  A piece of paper with words I don’t need to re-read at the moment is placed into my hand, ending a long chapter of my life. For every day throughout the last eight years of hard-core physical labor throughout the last eight years, it’s hard to comprehend how simple this ending is—this last day.

  I debated whether I should re-enlist with the consideration of retiring someday, but Aya needs more than this life can offer her, so this is it: my last day serving on active duty with the Marine Corps.

  “Good luck to you, Staff Sergeant Rossdale. Semper Fi.”

  “Thank you,” I say with a quick salute.

  It’s not like I haven’t been thinking about this day for the last eight months, but I feel like I’m kind of free-falling without any gear attached. I don’t remember much about life as a civilian because too much has happened since then, but this will be good. Everything is going to be great. I just have to figure out who the fuck I am. Denver. Not just Rossdale. I have a first name, and I'll use it now.

  I grab the handle of the glass door, staring through the eagle, globe, and anchor emblem as I pull open the door and walk out into the blinding sun. That’s it. It’s over. O-V-E-R.

  Walking away now. “Bye, everyone.” Oh, wait ... no one is here. No one cares that it’s my last day.

  At some point, I thought there’d be people shouting me on like I was finishing some marathon, but now I realize that isn’t how this all works, especially when you’re a recruiter. It’s a lonely work life. Everyone has their first day, all the days in between, and their last day.

  With a quick glance down at my watch, I see it’s a little later than I wanted it to be. There were still a few papers left for me to go through, and it took a bit longer than I expected. All I know is, it’s time to get the hell off this island.

  I slide into my pickup, throw the hunk of metal into reverse, and pull out onto the main roa
d. I’d do about anything to press my foot down to the ground and meet that feeling of freedom—or just the wind in my face, but it’s best if I follow the speed limit during my first ten minutes as a civilian again.

  Thankfully, Molli only lives a few minutes away so I should still be able to make it to the airport on-time. Molli’s house is in the center of a development full of fifties-styled houses. She likes “the old feel” she’s told me, but for a woman in her twenties, I’m not sure I’d agree with her choice of style. Plus, she pays out of the ass to live there, and it’s not even near the damn shore. Whatever floats her boat, though. It’s not my money.

  I pull into the driveway, finding Molli and Aya waiting with smiles, waving me toward them. I drop the gear into park and hop out to meet them.

  Balloons fly up behind the two of them as they both shout, “Congratulations!”

  “You remembered,” I joke with them. “You guyssss.”

  “Denver, don’t be so coy,” Molli says. “This is a big deal and a big day for you. I wish you’d stick around long enough so we could celebrate tonight.” I can’t stick around. I have to get away from this island.

  “I know, I know. I move fast, but I’m restarting my life, and I don’t want to be sitting in purgatory while I do that.”

  “Purgatory?” she questions with an arched brow. “This is hardly purgatory, Denver. Please.”

  “It’s hot as hell, ain’t it?” I quip.

  “Watch your mouth, and it’s a beautiful sunny day. Plus, Maui isn’t any cooler, so you shouldn’t be using that as an excuse.”

  “I wasn’t. I was stating the obvious,” I tell her.

  “You’re a pain in the ass,” she replies.

  “Maybe, but I’m doing what I have to.”

  “I know you are, and as sad as I am that you’re leaving, I’m proud of you.”

  “Thank you, Molli. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me these past years. I can’t ever think of a way to repay you.”

  “You did pay me, Denver. Plus, I would have been happy to help you for free,” she says. “You know that.”

  I’m not great at goodbyes. I usually avoid them, but I couldn’t do that this time. I owe Molli a proper goodbye.

  “All right, well, it’s time, girl. It’s time to spread my wings and fly,” I tell her.

  “I guess so,” she says, tucking her hair behind her shoulders. Her hands flatten against her chest, she bites down on her lip, and tears forms in her eyes. “I’m going to miss this little girl. I really am.” I know this sucks for her. She’s Aya’s aunt, and the only relationship Aya has with that side of her family, but Molli knew this was the plan and we both have lives to carry on. We promised holidays and other visits, so we’ll make sure we don’t lose touch. “We’ll have to visit soon.”

  “It’s just a quick hop over to the next island. You guys are welcome anytime. Open invitation, always.”

  “I’ll have to see about persuading Lan to take some time off,” Molli says, rolling her eyes.

  “Oh, screw that. Lan has saved up paid time off. Tell him to get to it.”

  “I will,” she says. “I know your situation sucks, but I’m still glad we’re family, even if it’s in a screwed-up way.”

  “We’re not the screw-ups, so it’s okay,” I tell her with a chuckle. “Thank you again, Molli.” I reach over and give her a quick hug, feeling a tug in my chest, but everything today is making my chest ache. It’s the fresh start we need, and I know it’s best for us.

  “Have a safe flight, and take care of my favorite niece, okay?”

  I grab Aya by the waist and flip her over my shoulder, hearing her ferocious giggles echo off the side of my truck. “What were you doing over there in the dirt, you crazy girl?” My girl. She likes to play in the dirt, catch bugs, rodents, and every other thing that makes most little girls scream. She also loves purple, dresses, and glitter. I don't know how she pulls it off, but she's kind of perfect.

  “I was trying to catch a gecko, Dad, but you made it run away. As always.”

  “What did I tell you about chasing geckos?” I ask her as I place her into her booster seat on the back bench of my truck.

  “That it won’t save me any money, it’ll probably have a fake accent, and won’t ever know when to shut up,” she repeats my words, groaning with annoyance.

  “That’s right. So, let’s not go picking up any more geckos, you got me?”

  “Whatever,” she sighs.

  As I slide into the driver’s seat, I peer back into my rear-view mirror, catching the look on Aya’s face. “You okay, baby girl?” I know she’s not okay. I can see it in her big, blue, dime-sized eyes—the eyes that will someday force me to have a shotgun waiting behind my front door. Those eyes, together with her natural Hawaiian tan and light brown hair mixed with natural blonde highlights, make for a gorgeous little girl who I intend to keep in a bubble for the rest of her life.

  “I’m going to miss it here,” she says. “I hate moving around.”

  “I know, baby. Me too. You know what, though? We have better things to see and do over in Maui, okay?”

  “I know,” she says. I watch her waving goodbye to Molli, and the tears they’re both shedding make me I feel like a giant asshole. I didn’t want anything in my life to affect Aya more than it already has, and this is supposed to be my way of finally ensuring that. Staying here isn’t an option. I need a fresh start, and this island isn’t big enough for that. “Dad?”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “I wish aunt Molli could come with us.”

  I look back at Aya again. “I know, but aunt Molli has her own life now. Plus, she wouldn’t have a lot of time for us once the baby is born and she marries Lan, right?”

  “I suppose,” she says.

  “Look, I know you miss your mom, but things are going to be okay with just the two of us. I promise you.” It’s been a couple of years since Isla left, but I know it still crosses Aya’s mind constantly.

  “I don’t miss, Mom,” she corrects me. “She left us. We didn’t leave her.”

  Words from a seven-year-old have never sounded harsher. Isla had it coming. I should have seen it all coming, but it is what it is, and I have Aya—my life's lesson I wouldn’t give up for the world. “Okay. Well, I’m not going anywhere. It’s you and me, kid.”

  “Except when you work,” she grumbles.

  “I do have to make a living for us, baby girl. Otherwise, I can’t take care of you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. What are you going to be doing for work?” Aya asks.

  “Noa, my friend who found us a place to live, said he has a job opportunity waiting for me, but he didn’t say much else. I guess we’ll see when we get there.”

  “Okay, but I get to pick out my new babysitter. Right?”

  “Deal,” I tell her. Hopefully, it’s that easy. I’ve never had to struggle to find help watching Aya. Between Molli and some of the Marines’ wives, I always had my bases covered.

  “So,” Aya continues. “The babysitter has to be pretty, smart, and funny. Oh, and she has to be a good cook, and like to clean.”

  I shake my head. “Are you my daughter or a matchmaker?” I joke.

  “A what maker?” She questions.

  “Never mind, you goof. If you can find a babysitter like that, then you’re in charge of all things babysitter related. Sound good?”

  “Sure does,” Aya agrees.

  2

  Kai

  “It’s the first day of summer vacation for most of the states. I think I might like to call out today. What do you think, Kai?”

  Lea spoke my thoughts out loud before I had my eyes completely open. Work has been slow these last few weeks, but it was the calm before the storm of tourists arrives. “Why are you in my room? Can’t you tell I’m still asleep?” I whine.

  “That’s why I’m in here. You’re still asleep, and we to go soon. Get up. Get up. Get up!” Lea tears my white down comforter off my body, dragging the she
ets along with it. I’m left in my shorts and t-shirt, freezing against the overly air-conditioned air. “Yeah, that’s right. You screwed with the thermostat last night. Now you can pay for it, bitch.”

  “I do pay for it, dumbass,” I tell her, rolling out of bed.

  “Whatever. I’ll be able to start pitching in soon. I just need one more paycheck,” she says.

  “Lea, you said that two weeks ago, and two weeks before that, and a month before that. You’ve been working with me for almost two months now. Where is all your money going?”

  She shrugs. “I dunno. Somewhere.”

  I scratch at my eyebrow, ignoring the dummy routine Lea enjoys playing. “You know, considering you’re about to spend the rest of your life with Noa, you should consider trying the whole responsibility thing.” The only part of that she just heard was the word “Noa.” I can see it on her face as she examines her engagement ring, waving her hand around to make the diamond shimmer against the sunlight.

  “Eh, Noa is responsible enough for the both of us,” she argues.

  “Of course, he is,” I reply with a look that reminds her how I feel about Noa’s responsible career choice.

  “He’s a restaurant owner. There’s nothing irresponsible about that,” she continues.

  I clear my throat and tear my covers out of her hands. “It’s not the restaurant part that is subpar in the responsibility realm. It’s the type of restaurant that bothers me. It’s disgusting and piggish.”

  “He makes six figures a year, Kai. Let it go.”

  I huff. “Whatever.”

  “Plus, he’s the man behind the scenes—not the one in the scene.”

  “That’s the only reason I’m just gently reminding you about my disapproval. He’s a great guy, okay? I just—he should do something else with his time.”

  “What, like strut around a pool, dealing with sweaty tourists all day like we do?”

  “I don’t strut,” I tell her. “Do you?”