Page 27 of Out of the Shadow

I flex my pecs, making my tribal armband tattoo dance. “Thanks.”

Juliana and Kaitlyn laugh, while Angie scowls. Giving in to the desire to needle my co-star, I bend down to her ear. “You’ll do.”

Her eyes turn to slits and her chin lifts. “Oh yeah, ’roid head? Bring it.”

“I’m au naturel, baby.” She sticks her tongue out at me and I point. “I’ll stake out the sidewalk across the street. You can stay on this side.”

Kaitlyn calls for action and, still chuckling, I head across the street to drum up clients. While I’m used to walking around shirtless, it’s usually because I’m on the beach or working out. Standing outside the office as man-meat is somewhat demeaning. But I guess that’s the point. And Angie’s doing it, too.

For a moment, I let my thoughts drift to the woman walking on the other sidewalk.She’s married.But I’ve known that all along, and I still can’t stop thinking about her.

I spy a group of ladies up ahead and I beeline over to them. “Hey.”

The women eye me up and down, some licking their lips as Milo circles us with his camera. Yep, man-meat. One woman says, “Not that I mind, but aren’t you a little bit cold?”

I drop my hands to cover my junk and wink. “Don’t judge.”

“Oh, we’re not, that’s for sure,” another lady responds.

I chuckle. “I’m actually out here to see if I can interest you in some hot properties. Do you live around here?”

A third woman pipes up, “We’re from Connecticut. What do you have in mind?”

“How would you like to have a place in the great town of Aroostook?” I point to the office. “I’m with Russo Real Estate, and I’d like to show you what we have on the market.”

The lady who first spoke wraps her hand around my bicep. “I don’t think we’d mind at all.”

I escort the group to the office window, making shit up about the properties Angie’s advertising because I have absolutely no clue about them. While I’m selling, a group of three men surround Angie, and a burning sensation spreads through my chest. Better try to get this group inside so they can be counted on my ledger.And you can get back out here to keep an eye on Angie.“Think you want to know any more about these properties?”

“My husband would kill me if I bought another place,” one responds.

Her friend, the one who was all over my bicep, has other ideas. “I think I could be persuaded.” She beams at me as I open the door.

Their faces fall when they realize I’m not going with them, but they follow my directions and go inside.

Turning on my heel, I pass Angie and her small tribe as I cross the street. It’s not long before another group of people approach me. Soon a throng of passersby clamor for my attention and ask questions, mainly about me.

My responses vary from “I’ve just relocated out here from LA” to “this is such a charming town” to “real estate is my life.” That last is a lie, but it sounds good for the cameras.

The one question that trips me up is asked by the daughter of one of the couples. She’s about six. After her parents comment about my father’s band, she asks, “What’s it like to have your daddy perform all the time?”

My father’s a dick. He skipped out on my childhood, and now he’s cut me off. But I can’t tell her that, especially not in front of the cameras. I go with a sanitized version of the truth. Bending down so we’re eye-level, I say, “He’s been on the road all my life, so I don’t miss him.”

Her baby blues travel up to her father. “I can’t imagine not being with my daddy.” Then she leans up on her tiptoes and gives my cheek a kiss.

A lump forms in my throat and I run my index finger down her little nose, ending with a tap. Because I have nothing else to say, I stand and make a half-hearted attempt to sell the couple on one of the properties, but they shake their heads and the three of them walk away.

Across the street, Angie talks with an older couple. I open the door of a nearby boutique to let a few people out and engage with them. After sending them through the agency’s doors, I rustle up another mixed-gender group. We talk and I glance over to see Angie is now speaking with a group of people thirty-somethings. I make eye contact with a couple of them, all ladies, and they leave her to join me. If looks could kill, I’d be dead right now from the death stare Angie is sending my way. I smile and wave.

Filming continues this way for some time until Kaitlyn yells, “AND, CUT!”

After heaping praise on us both, Kaitlyn asks us to walk down the sidewalk together for some B-roll footage for the show. I saunter past some shops, flexing as I go. Gotta make this worth their while, especially given my co-star’s sourpuss expression.

“You won this round,” she grumbles under her breath.

“Don’t worry, short stuff. There will be other opportunities for you to lose.”

She crosses her arms over her tits.Shame. “We’ll see about that when the true real estate challenges start.”

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