Page 33 of Ten Hammers

I linger on the stairs and allow myself to be distracted by all of the family photos that dot the wall. The love and joy is palpable from the still images of long-gone moments. I normally hate seeing pictures of myself, but my inclusion on this wall brings on happy tears. With them, I was always smiling, always taken care of, always watched out for. Always treated as if I mattered. As if I was wanted. Those feelings, those memories–the only good parts of my past in Smithville–are captured within these frames.

I will never do anything to jeopardize what I have with my boys.

I continue on, pausing here and there. I love every single part of this house, every nook and cranny. Everything except for the rare view of the house across the street. Anna often shut the curtains so that I wouldn’t have to see it. Will it be possible to exorcize my ghosts, even with all ten of the Hammer brothers by my side? I can’t imagine it, but I can’t imagine them ever letting me down, either.

Once in my room, I grab my phone from the bedside table, and sink onto the bed. Goldie answers on the first ring.

“I MISS YOU SO MUCH!” she wails. “I have no idea what I’m doing with my life. I feel adrift! Totally adrift! Do you think I’ve peaked already? I think I may’ve peaked already.”

Okay, so perhaps Goldie wasn’t the right person to turn to for perspective. But she’s clearly spiraling and it’s my duty as her friend to save her from herself, rescue from her funk, and distract her by completely and utterly blowing her mind.

“I made out with all the Hammer brothers!” I say in a rush. “Well, not all,” I frown. “Six. Well, seven, if we’re getting technical, but that’s a different story.”

There’s silence and of course, my first thought is that she doesn’t believe me.

But then she screeches, “OH MY GOD. Why did you never tell me this! I would have kept it off the record! Like when? Over the course of the show? Over the course of your life?”

“Over the course of… since like almost an hour ago?”

Technically that’s not true since I haven’t made out with Max since last night. There’s a vase of fresh, colorful flowers that Anna left in a milk pitcher on the bedside table, and I run my finger over the delicate petals as it sinks in that I will never make out with Max Hammer again. For a moment, I, too, feel totally adrift.

“WHAT! Tell me everything. Tell me everything right now. Wait. I have to know. Who’s the best kisser? I bet it’s Gav with the hardware, holy smokes.”

“Goldie,” I say to her. “Producer mode off, best girl friend mode on, please.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry. I am so happy for you! Tell me everything!” she squeals.

“Everything? You asked for it.”

Flopping backward onto the bed, and scooting myself around so that I’m nestled into the generous helping of pillows, I start with the story of my friends-with-benefitship with Max.

She’s stunned into silence – I know this because she tells me.

Next, I tell her how the guys found out about it. I only pause when I get to the part about the spin-off.

“Tell me you didn’t know about Winnie’s Favorite Hammer,” I say. “Golds.”

“Winnie’s Favorite Hammer?”

I can tell without seeing her that her brows are knitted together and she’s pursing her lips. Her I-have-no-clue-what-you’re-talking-about face.

Trying hard to keep my voice from shaking, I explain.

“Holy shit!” she cries. “Girl. If I would’ve known about that, you would’ve known about that. I can’t believe the guys didn’t tell you. Why?”

I resume my story, keeping some details to myself, of course, and get all the way up to the part with Max in the basement before I pause again.

My pause makes Goldie impatient because she says, “Girl, why the silence? You better not be slapping the clam over there! Although, I would totally be slapping the clam if I were you. In fact, if you give me a quick little minute to take off my pants, we can slap our clams in unison while you tell me – with painstakingly lurid descriptions, obviously– which Hammer bro is the best kisser and why!”

I burst out laughing. Only Goldie.

“I miss you too,” I tell her. “But there will be no mutual clam slappage here, okay? And I couldn’t tell you who the best kisser is. They’re all…”

My voice trails off as playful shouts from the yard below my window remind me that the Hammer brothers are always somewhere near. From the sounds of splashing water and joyful laughter, I can guess at least most of them are poolside.

“Okay, okay,” Goldie says as I climb off of the bed. “You refuse to reveal some secrets. Changing the subject. Now, tell me, who has the biggest schlong?”

Sunlight seeps through the sheer, billowy curtains, which I move aside so that I can catch a better sight of the guys at the pool, knowing the light will obscure me from their view. Tan biceps flex, tattoos waver under water, hair drips with water onto washboard abs… as always, I try not to drool.

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