“And I’ve gotten pictures from about five hundred of them!”
“And I’m sure some of them are dorks like most guys are, but you never know, right?”
“There were some good ones in the crop it seemed.”
He pretends to blow on his fingernails, the sign for being too hot to handle. “Damn, maybe I am good at this matchmaking thing.” Then he becomes serious and asks, “So I have to ask, is this for real?”
“For real?”
“Yeah, for real. I mean, it’s funny. Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s a hilarious storyline. But it’s a storyline, right? It’s a game and all, but are you actually going to go through with this?”
“What do you mean, go through with it?” I ask, dodging the very thorny question of will I say “I do.” Because for me, frankly, this isn’t about the “I do” portion. It’s about the trophy aspect. It’s about the catch. And, I suppose, what landing such a prize might say about me. That I can move on. That I am over Todd. That he’s not the only one who wins.
Chris takes a bite of his chicken sandwich, chews, then says again, “Yeah. Are you really looking for a Trophy Husband?”
I furrow my brow and pretend to be all thoughtful. “Hmmm…I’ve always thought a pool boy would be nice. Even a cabana boy.”
He laughs. “So it’s kind of a joke.”
“No. My ex-fiancé left me at the altar last year for a college student he met and married in Vegas the night before our wedding. He’s thirty-four and she’s twenty-one now, and I think it’s royally unfair that men can do that and women can’t.”
He puts the sandwich down and looks at me intensely. Seriously. “Your ex-fiancé is a complete ass**le for a million reasons, but most of all because he’d have to be crazy to leave you.”
“Thank you. Thank you for saying that.”
“It’s his loss, McKenna,” Chris says in this kind of fierce tone that makes my stomach execute a few loop-de-loops. Is he flirting with me? How do I even flirt back?
I do what I do best and turn the questions back on him. “What about you? Maybe you should be a Trophy Husband.”
He laughs.
I look at him pointedly, my eyes open wide. “Well, why not?”
“Well, um…” he stammers. He seems slightly uncomfortable. My cue to keep going.
I egg him on. “After all, you encouraged your viewers to throw their names in the hat. Maybe you should too. Maybe you could be a Trophy Husband, Chris.”
He starts blushing, his cheeks turning a faint shade of red.
“You’re blushing!”
“Yeah, well…”
“It’s kind of cute actually.”
“Thanks, that’s what I was hoping for. Cute blushing.”
“You don’t like the sound of cute blushing?”
“It’s not very manly, now is it?”
I soften a bit. “Why are you blushing?”
“I just don’t think I’m Trophy Husband material,” he says, kind of sweetly, a little innocently.
“Well, why not? Are you already a husband?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“So what then? You could be a prize catch, Chris,” I say, and he smiles.
Actually, it’s more like a grin.
“I appreciate that. I really do.”
“Well?”
He sighs, then puts his hands on the table. “I don’t think I meet the other qualifications.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t ever say my age on my show, but I’m twenty-nine,” he whispers.
“Holy f**k! You’re practically middle-aged.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I’m an old man, McKenna. But keep that between us. I want the kids to think I’m cool. Besides, somehow, a viewer updated my Wikipedia page and it says I’m twenty-three, and I never got around to correcting it.”
“Well, I am so glad we resolved this issue. You are clearly not in contention.”
He reaches out and briefly touches my arm. Then he looks me straight in the eyes and says, “It’s a shame.”
He’s serious. At least, I think he’s serious. My breath catches, and my heart skips, and I want to go back in time and rewrite the age rules for my Trophy Husband game. Let them be thirty or younger, even though that makes no logical sense. But hearts aren’t logical and my heart wants Chris to play. I don’t know what to say next though, so I return to the one topic I can handle — business. Besides, I made a pact with my girlfriends. They’ve had my back, and I can’t let them down. This isn’t about me. This is about the point, the pursuit, the game.
“So, what can I do for you? You’re helping me and I don’t want this to be a one-way street. I’ve got to be able to do something to help you out, though truth be told, most of my viewers are young women and I’m not sure how many are gamers.”
“You play,” he points out. I like that he’s willing to change directions so quickly, that he doesn’t keep harping on some philosophical question, or practical question, neither of which I have answers to.
“Well, yes, but I’m just a casual fan.”
“Exactly. And a lot of young women are. In fact, the female gamer is one of the fastest growing categories in the whole video game business,” Chris says excitedly. “I’m actually starting a new show in a couple months targeted for women who are sort of the casual online gamers, but new to the console games. And I need to get the word out, promote my new show.”
I nod. “So we do a cross-promo, maybe? You’re thinking some of those girls who watch my show might want to try a little Guitar Hero?”
“Guitar Hero? Did you just say Guitar Hero? That game isn’t even made anymore.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize that,” I say, feeling stupid. “Someone gave it to me a few years ago. It looked kind of fun. I think I played it once, but I haven’t been able to find my copy since.”
“Hey. I didn’t mean to sound like a gamer snob.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t.”
“I mean, it’s a totally awesome game. You should definitely play it more. I was just saying I think chicks are getting into other games too. The shooter games, the sports games, even just trivia games. They’re all taking off into the mainstream, especially with hot young chicks, like yourself.”