Man Card

by Sarina Bowen

  “You are the walking definition of my type, Ash.” I didn’t mean to say it so forcefully, but it’s just true. “And you don’t need to tell me about Zelda, because I’m sure I’ll meet her myself tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Ash blinks, as if maybe there’s an appointment she’s forgotten.

  “Tomorrow,” I confirm. Then I drop the bomb I’ve been waiting to drop on her since I got the news three days ago. I needed to do it in person, because her reaction is going to be epic. “I’ve been transferred to your branch. We’re going to be office buddies.” I waggle my brows. It’s a thing I do. It’s a thing I do around Ash because it makes her squirm. And I love to make her squirm.

  She sucks in a breath. “My…branch?” The look on her face is one I see often when she looks at me—an intriguing blend of lust mixed with horror. “You don’t mean…my branch of the company. At my…physical location.”

  “Yes indeedy! I asked Bill to put our desks near each other, too. Because we’re working on this deal together. Corporate asked me to help get the revenue up at the Eastown branch. We’re going to be the power couple of Ernst VanderMollen Realty.”

  “But…!” Her pretty face drains of color. She’s almost paler than the golden highlights in her hair. “You can’t do that! I’ve made Top Salesperson nine months out of the last twelve!”

  Well, ouch. I hadn’t thought of that. “Sorry, honey bear. You’re going to have to share that trophy occasionally. It will be good for morale. The other kids need to see that success has more than one face.”

  “You’re…this is a joke, right?” she whispers. “Good one, Braht. Well played.”

  “It’s all too real, Ash. We’re colleagues now. Once the shock wears off, I’m sure you’ll remember how much you like me.”

  “I do not. Like you,” she says, crossing her arms firmly.

  “Then why do your nipples get so pointy whenever we speak?”

  Ash lets out a shriek of indignation, and I have to duck as she takes a swing at me.

  2 Brain Freeze and Screaming Orgasms

  Ash

  “How many am I up to?” I ask, pulling the next frozen daiquiri toward me on the bar.

  “That’s your second drink, you lush,” Brynn says and then does a little giggle-burp thing.

  Though for me, two drinks is kind of a lot. I feel drunk. Actually, I felt dazed before I even sat down on this bar stool. Drunk with disbelief. Now I’m drunk with disbelief and brain freeze. “Braht and I cannot share an office,” I say for the tenth time at least.

  “You can share a pantry though,” Sadie says with a smirk.

  I do not deign to acknowledge that comment.

  “You’re the one who’s always telling us to suck it up, buttercup,” Brynn points out. “Tomorrow this will seem more manageable. You’re just in shock right now.”

  “It’s time to self-soothe,” Sadie adds. “The daiquiris are a good start. A home facial and a little online shopping later will have you feeling like new.”

  “Is that your professional opinion?”

  “For you, yes. If I were giving advice to Brynn that she needed to self-soothe, I’d tell her to take a running leap at her mister handy so they could cover each other in chocolate and then lick it off.”

  Sadie totally has my number. So does Brynn. They’re like the only two people on the planet I can totally relax with. That’s why I can admit anything to them. “There isn’t really a Zelda,” I hiccup into my drink. “I invented her on the fly.”

  “We got that, hon,” Sadie says. “Clearly you have to fire her before tomorrow morning. Poor Zelda. Such a brief stint in the world of real estate. I had such high hopes for her.”

  “Or she could take a leave of absence,” Brynn suggests. “Zelda came down with shingles and needs her rest!”

  I groan into my drink. “Nobody will believe that.”

  “Shingles really hurt,” Brynn says, trying to convince me.

  “It’s not the shingles part I have a problem with. It’s that…dammit…Braht is too smart to fall for my bullshit.”

  “Too smart, huh?” Sadie asks, trying to cover a smile. “That’s the first nice thing you’ve ever said about him.”

  “Not the first,” I correct her. “He’s good at giving screaming orgasms.” Not that I’m ever having another one with him or anyone else. I’m through with men.

  “I need a screaming orgasm,” Sadie sighs.

  “Coming right up!” the bartender says as he passes by.

  “Wait!” Sadie says, “I meant…”

  But he’s already talking to someone else farther down the bar.

  “I think you have a kink for fake people,” Brynn says.

  “What?” I take another deep drink of the frozen goodness in my glass. It’s freezing my brain in a good way.

  “Zelda isn’t your first fake person,” she points out. “There’s also Hunter. The fake boyfriend.”

  “That’s different,” I grumble. But it isn’t really. Both Hunter and Zelda came to me in my hour of need, the way real people often don’t. Present company excepted.

  “Are your parents still buying it?” Sadie asks. “How long have you and Hunter been a couple?”

  “Um…” I do the math. “Over a year now. We’re going to have to break up soon because the holidays are coming. I like the holidays too much to skip them.”

  “You mean…” Brynn’s eyes cross a little bit because she’s thinking hard. “If you were having Christmas Eve with Hunter’s folks, you’d have to be absent from your own parents’ place?”

  “Exactly. Last year Hunter and I were too new to spend the holidays together. But my parents are going to expect him to turn up. Or worse—if I pretend to go to his folks’ place, I’ll end up sitting home alone. And that’s just wrong. I can’t give up Christmas Eve, not even for Hunter.”

  “…Who is fake,” Sadie reminds me.

  “Right. Of course,” I blather. “But we’re talking eggnog here, and that is serious shit.” Once in a while I do almost forget that Hunter isn’t real. Last month Hunter sent flowers to my office because I was feeling kind of low, and it’s weird to send yourself flowers.

  Ask me how I know.

  “But if you have to break up with him,” Sadie muses, “then what was the point?”

  “The point was appeasing my parents.” Duh. “It’s been months since they’ve dropped all those terrible hints about what it might be like if I become a cat lady and die alone. Even if I break up with my imaginary boyfriend, at least I can show them I tried.”

  “You didn’t, though,” Sadie points out. “You faked trying.”

  “Are you going to charge me for this hour?” I snark at Sadie, who is a therapist. Her office has a couch to lie on and everything. It’s the real deal.

  “Maybe your parents were right to worry,” she presses. “They think your ability to trust men was irrevocably harmed by Dwi…”

  “HEY!” I yell before she can get the word out. “We do not say his name aloud. Especially not tonight.” I’m not even joking about this. There’s a pain in my chest when I think about him. It’s real, and it’s scary.

  Sadie rolls her eyes and I feel better suddenly. “Okay. Fine. You’re a perfectly healthy person with two invisible friends. Nothing weird about it.”

  “Wait,” Brynn says, a hand on her heart. “I am real, right? Ash didn’t invent me? Is this real life?” She fakes a swoon.

  But Sadie grabs her boob and makes the sound of a car horn. Twice. It’s nice to see her being a goofball. “Totally real, sweetie,” she says. “You can’t honk the boob of an imaginary friend.”

  “Whew.” Brynn wipes fake sweat off her brow. “For a moment there I was filled with doubt.”

  “Here’s your screaming orgasm,” the bartender says, plunking a glass in front of Sadie.

  We all burst out laughing. Then we unwrap three straws and each of us has a taste. “Not bad,” Brynn says. “But the real thing is better.”


  “You’re the only one having them,” Sadie points out. “The rest of us have to make do.”

  Brynn and I exchange a glance. Sadie keeps hinting that things aren’t going well in her marriage, but when we try to pry some details out of her, she always clams up.

  Maybe tonight I have a way to ease her into talking about it. “You guys, the Michigan Association of Realtors published their Best and Worst lists today. That’s always good for a chuckle.”

  “Did we win Worst Winter Weather again?” Brynn asks.

  “Nope.” Although I wouldn’t be surprised. “But get this—our county is the most happily married in the entire nation.”

  “Bullshit,” Sadie snorts.

  Brynn and I exchange another glance.

  “There’s got to be some bias in those figures,” Sadie insists. “I’ll buy that people tend to stay married around here, but that’s just pressure from the church pastor. And look at us. Brynn is very happily unmarried. And both of you are divorced. So if we live in the most happily married place in the land, we are bringing down the average. Hard.” She punctuates this with a slurp of the screaming orgasm.

  “What else is this area known for?” Brynn asks. “There has to be something. Best healthcare? Most musical? Awesome Mexican food?”

  Not quite. “Cheap parking,” I say with a sigh.

  “Cheap. Parking,” Sadie repeats slowly. “That is really not doing it for me tonight.”

  I’m just about to agree with her when my phone flashes and trills.

  “Sorry,” I say and grab it, struggling to make the thing shut up. I read the text even though I don’t want to. And of course it’s Braht.

  Braht: Hey girl! Nice desk accessories! Somebody likes pens a lot. Long, thick pens.

  Grrr! Braht is at my desk? Don’t touch my pens. They’re from Japan. I count them every night before I leave. Everyone in the office knows not to touch my shit. One time a trainee used my Korean washi tape to hang up a poster and I made him buy me a new roll. The shipping charges alone cost more than his lunch. That lesson was not soon forgotten.

  But they’re smooth and silky just like you, Ash. Nice paper, too. Hey—I have a favor to ask. It’s about tomorrow.

  Get. Away. From my desk. I feel violated picturing Braht touching all my things with those long, artistic fingers of his. From five miles away I can feel his boyish grin as he taunts me. His Ralph-Lauren-model face, smirking…

  “Are you okay, Ash?” Brynn asks. “You look a little flushed.”

  “I’m fine,” I snap. “One sec.” There is a text bubble on the screen, so Braht is typing another stupid message. Whatever favor he asks of me, it’s an automatic no. My finger hovers over the N key in preparation.

  Can you show the house tomorrow at two? he asks.

  That is a strange request, and it throws me for a half second. But then I’m filled with indignation faster than you can say bitch mode. What if I’m busy at two? I fire back. Does he really expect me to show the house to his clients? Then I have a better idea. If I show the house, it’s my sale.

  Wow, territorial much? he asks. Fine, cutie. It’s your client. The couple’s name is Mr. and Mrs. Robert VanHeimlich. Two o’clock sharp. You’re up, sweet cheeks.

  …

  …

  I can be up, too. Any time you want.

  Fucking Braht and his never-ending nicknames for me. I’m 5’9 and I work hard to be sleek and ice cold. There is no way anyone on this planet looks at me and can think I look like an “Ashley Poo” or “Sweet cheeks” or whatever. I’m Ash Power. I’m always Ash Power. I will always be…

  “Why are you giggling?” asks Brynn.

  “I’m not sure I’d call that a giggle,” says Sadie, sounding afraid. “It’s really close to an evil laugh.”

  Then I realize I am almost maniacally laughing. Again.

  And my nipples!

  GODDAMMIT!

  “I’m fine,” I say, texting one last time. I’ll do it. 2pm. Gotta run now. Then I shut off my phone. “Ack. It’s just Braht giving me a client, which is really fucking strange.”

  “Why?” Sadie asks.

  “We don’t just give each other clients! That’s not how it is with us.”

  Brynn lifts an eyebrow. “How is it, then?”

  “We hate each other! We flirt and then destroy each other. And this couple—Mr. and Mrs. VanHeimlich. Do you think they could be part of those VanHeimlichs?” The VanHeimlich family owns the world’s largest bible publishing company, and they own half of Grand Rapids. They’re a force in the community. Nobody really likes them, but their money sure is nice.

  Both Brynn and Sadie are blinking at me now. “That’s exactly the sort of people who could afford Tom’s house,” Brynn points out. “This could be great!”

  Still, I don’t trust it. “Braht’s no dummy. If this was a great client, he’d never just hand them to me. He said he’s busy at two tomorrow. Too busy to make a sale?”

  “You just said something nice about Braht,” Sadie points out.

  “No I didn’t!” What a crazy idea.

  “You said, and I quote, ‘Braht’s no dummy.’” Sadie smirks.

  “Oh, please. Faint praise at best. And I never said he was stupid. I only said he’s an asshole who cares more about his manicure and golf swing than hard work. He’s Mr. Entitled.” I shudder. “Just like a man.”

  “Then why do you get all breathless and weird when you talk about him?” Sadie asks, slurping the last of her screaming orgasm. For a moment I’m distracted by a slurping screaming orgasm. Whatever. Focus, Ash!

  “I don’t get breathless,” I yelp, sorta breathy. God. It’s obviously time to call it a night. “I’ll see you two later, okay? I’ve got research to do before tomorrow’s showing.”

  Over their protests, I give Brynn and Sadie each a peck and scoot out of the bar. I need to go home and do a deep dive into the VanHeimlich family tree, so I know what I’m dealing with. They could be cousins of the CEO. It’s a big Dutch family. This part of Michigan has a huge population of Dutch people. I make a mental note to point out Tom’s tulips.

  I’ve got this. I can feel it in my belly. I’m going to sell this house and crush Braht and his glorious pecs with my bare hands.

  I mean, crush Braht. Just Braht. Nothing about his pecs or my bare hands on those pecs, or…drifting downward.

  My brain hates me. It loves to remember Braht’s smooth skin and taut body and those few minutes in the pantry when he…

  Stop it, brain.

  I have a house to sell.

  3 Unveiling The Human Form

  Braht

  “You ready, Bramly?” I call to my younger brother.

  He does not look the least bit ready. He’s hanging out on my couch in his underwear playing Destiny 2.

  “Don’t you have your own place for that? And put a towel down!” One shouldn’t sweat on Italian leather.

  “Seriously?” he says and gestures to my living room, which is, I admit, not organized and piled high with my stuff. My important stuff.

  “It’s Italian,” I whine, because this is enough of an explanation.

  He groans, rolls his eyes and says, “Okay, Dad” in that half-kidding-but-not-really way he’s been saying since he was twelve and I, well, actually took over raising him. Long story.

  “I’m on a schedule here!” I say. “If we’re going to pull off this epic mission, then we need to get moving as quickly as possible.” To show him how very serious I am I start to unbutton my shirt.

  Bramly tosses the controller onto the table and lets out a dramatic sigh. “Hold up! I’m not ready to see my brother naked yet. I have to channel my muse.”

  His muse. And people think I’m the ridiculous one.

  Bramly slips into his artist’s mojo by donning one of our grandpa’s old shirts from the 60s, but no pants. Maybe that’s why the shirt has so many pockets. He tops this off with a beret, and I’ve never been sure whether he wears that thing ironically or not. T
hen he grabs his camera and takes a slow, focusing breath. He stops being frat boy Bramly and becomes serious Bramly. It’s actually a cool process that I am completely down with.

  I’m a live-and-let-live kind of guy. Don’t let the designer clothes fool you.

  Bramly is not like me, though. He fancies himself an artistic photographer. He’s been after me to model some shots for him that he can include in his upcoming show. He likes to Explore the Human Form. I’m pretty sure Exploring the Human Form means naked people in good lighting.

  I’m totally fine with that, too. I’ve been manscaping for years and it feels like all that hard work will finally pay off.

  Okay, to be fair, this is a little odd. I never considered modeling (mostly) naked for my kid brother until now. What can I say? Ash brings out the best in me. Actually, Ash brings out the beast in me—and I can already feel him rising. Down, boy.

  Bramly motions to me and I follow him into my home office, which has been totally transformed. He’s pretty much gutted the room and now there’s a velvet settee and all these round lighting fixtures. It actually looks like an artist’s studio. He’s adjusting his camera and his beret, so it’s obviously showtime.

  We have just twelve hours to get these photos shot and printed, which should be barely enough time. I’ll also need to install a hidden camera in Tom’s house. Or maybe two. I don’t want to miss anything. And, sure, this won’t help to sell the house, but that’s okay. I’m not trying to prevent Ash from selling it, I just want to make her work for it.

  The way she’s made me work for everything over the past few years.

  Good thing I’ve always loved a challenge, and Ash is the biggest challenge I’ve ever encountered.

  “You’re already thinking of her, aren’t you?” Bramly says.

  “How do you…?” I look down. Ah.

  Bramly snaps his fingers. “On the settee. Now! I’m emotionally and spiritually prepared to turn you into art! Quick, before you lose your…inspiration.”

  I lie back on the velvet, which is soft against my skin. It’s…stimulating.

  “Tighten your abs,” my brother barks. “Drape one hand onto your chest. Yes! Like that.” I hear the shutter clicking away. “Good! Look over my right shoulder and think of…whatever it is you like about women.”