“Er...”
“You said something about the man’s bath towel?”
“Oh. Och. Aye.” He lifted his arm to run a hand through his hair as whispers erupted to his right. Ladies were pointing at his arm. He lowered it.
“Uh...I hae a hook oan mah door. Tis whaur ah hing mah towel. Ah thought mibbie the lady’s husband didnae ken ‘twas thare...”
The audience broke into applause, mixed with a heavy dose of laughing and murmuring as they worked together to translate his brogue.
The blonde on stage lifted a magazine from the coffee table in front of her and began to fan herself.
“Kimmee, what are you doing?” asked TeeTee.
The woman closed her eyes. “I’m imagining him in a towel...”
More laughing. Broch felt his cheeks grow warm. He began to raise his hand to his head again and then stopped, remembering the reaction it had inspired the first time. Instead, he rubbed his knuckles. He didn’t know what to do with his hands.
Niko motioned for quiet. “So you’re saying she should make it easy for her husband to hang the towel.”
Broch leaned to the mic, his lips brushing the rough metal. “Aye. Git him a hook.”
Niko nodded. “That’s good advice. What’s your name?”
“Brochan.”
“There’s nothing broken about that,” mumbled Kimmee into her mic, much to the delight of the audience.
“Where are you from, Brochan?” continued Niko.
“Scootlund.”
The audience began murmuring again.
“Do you have a love question of your own for us?”
“A loue quaistion?”
The audience urged him to share.
“Are you in a relationship, Brochan?” asked TeeTee.
“Please say no!” screamed someone from the audience.
A ripple of laughter ran through the room.
Broch chewed on his lip. “Aye. Ah think ah am.”
“Awww...”
TeeTee pursed her lips and crossed her arms against her chest. “I was going to ask him if there is anything confusing about his relationship, but I think we can all agree he sounds pretty confused.”
The audience clapped, giving Broch a moment to collect his thoughts.
Mibbee ah dae hae a quaistion.
There had been something bothering him in his personal life.
He leaned into the mic again. “Mah wummin doesn’t wantae git merrit.”
His own voice boomed back at him, quieting the audience.
“Your girlfriend doesn’t want to get married?” asked Niko.
“You snooze you lose,” said Kimmie, pretending to stand as if she was going to claim him as her own.
TeeTee put a hand on Kimmie’s knee to settle her. “Why doesn’t she want to marry you?”
Broch sighed. “She says she wants tae huv a go me foremaist.”
The three other women scowled, but TeeTee sat up straight, slapping the seat beside her with her palm. “Honey, you aren’t the easiest thing to understand so forgive me if I heard this wrong, but are you saying she wants to have sex with you first? Try out the merchandise, so to speak?”
Broch felt his cheeks grow warm. “Aye.”
The audience gasped and hooted.
“And you don’t want to?”
Kimmie held out a hand. “Wait. Is she not your type? You’re not leading that girl on are you?”
Broch didn’t understand her question. “Eh?”
“Well, you are wearing a skirt...”
The audience laughed as Broch scowled. “Tis nae ah skirt. Tis ah kilt.”
Kimmie cocked an eyebrow. “I think you know what I’m saying.”
“He is in awfully good shape,” mumbled Niko.
Broch grimaced, unsure where to go. “Ahm waantin’ her tae be mah wife.”
TeeTee pointed at him with a violet nail. “Oh, you’re saving yourself for marriage?”
Broch put his hand on his chest. “Nae me.”
“You’re saving her for marriage?”
The audience gasped.
A crash echoed from the back of the studio. Heads turned, including Broch’s.
Catriona appeared at the top of the stairs, out of breath, the doors behind her bouncing off the walls before shutting. The two bouncers split to allow her access to the stairs. Spotting all attention pointed in her direction, she grimaced before hustling down the stairs.
Broch grinned. “Guid day, Catriona.”
Catriona slipped on a stair, caught herself on the back of a chair, apologized to the woman sitting there for clipping her ear, and then jogged the remaining steps to wrap her hands around Broch’s arm. “What are you doing on set?” she hissed tugging him back up toward the door.
“The man coudnae fin’ his towel hook and ah—”
“Excuse me.” TeeTee’s voice echoed through the studio. Catriona stopped tugging and turned to the stage, her expression pinched.
“Where do you think you’re taking that man?”
“I’m sorry TeeTee, he works for me, er, Parasol Pictures. He’s new.”
“Are you his girlfriend?” asked Niko.
The crowd hushed, awaiting an answer.
Catriona looked at Broch and then back at Niko. “Um, what?”
“Are you his girlfriend? The one who wants to try him on for size before you get married?”
Kimmee shook a finger at her, grinning. “You’re naughty, girl.”
The crowd exploded with laughter, clapping.
Broch had never seen Catriona turn that particular shade of red.
“Uh...”
She glanced around, her interest settling on the large cameras pointed at them.
Looking down, she spoke in a low tone. Broch could barely make out what she said over the exuberant crowd.
“If you never do another thing for me, you will follow me out of here right now.”
Catriona smiled and held up a hand before heading up the stairs. “Sorry for the interruption.”
Broch watched her go and then hurried after her.
“Where are you going? Don’t go,” said one of the ladies behind him. It sounded like Kimmee, but he didn’t turn.
The crowd called to them both, begging them not to leave as they made their way up the stairs and out the door into the Los Angeles sun.
As soon as they cleared the studio, Catriona threw her back against the wall of the building, her head in
