How Many Studs Does It Take to Change a Lightbulb?

 

“Em, would you put a new bulb in that fixture over the counter by the kitchen for me, please?”

I walked over to the sofa with my piece of cake – I loved days I’d had a good work-out. I mean, I ate cake anyway, but it was better when it was guilt-free. 

Before Emmett could answer me, another country made its opinion known, and for once it wasn’t one of my brothers.  Letting loose with a scoffing laugh, Drew Boyd pretended to be highly amused as he asked, “So he doesn’t even change his own lightbulbs, baby?”

Of course, then, my brother Jamie had to laugh and say, “Of course he doesn’t! Not when Emmett is here to wait on him.”

Ouch. I considered jumping up from the comfortable position I’d taken on the sofa, but the smirk on Boyd’s face pissed me off. He’d had Em waiting on him hand and foot all evening while he sat and ate through the contents of my refrigerator. It was the routine of our weekends lately, ever since Em and he got back together a few months ago. I smiled cheerfully at him and ignored the laughter that followed Jamie’s wisecrack. This wasn’t about Jamie and me, or even about how I treated Em – this was between Boyd and me. He was pissing on my territory and I had to put a stop to it.

“Well, Drew, baby,” I drawled, “I’d be happy to screw the lightbulb in, but it takes a big boy, like Em, as you might have noticed that little old me, I just don’t have his inches... where they count. So I need Em to do a little screwing for me every now and then.”

That comment turned the laughter around, but I knew it wouldn’t be directed at Em – God, no, I never wanted to direct laughter at Em – I loved Em. He was as dear to me as anyone could be, my best friend. Which is why I hated that he was involved with such a self-absorbed dickwad as Drew Boyd. Em had so much love to give and he was always giving it to the wrong kind of guy. Brian claimed that was because Em had an unrequited love for me, which wasn’t true. Em loved me but he enjoyed that it was unrequited. If I were to love him back in that way it would totally mess up his mind. Hunter agreed with me. Says it would be like a dog that was forever chasing a sports car down the street – no one would be more shocked and dismayed than the dog if it ever caught the car but it had a grand time chasing it each day.

One trouble with getting the better of Drew Boyd though – he was the type of guy to take it out on Em later on. Not that I had any proof of that. Not yet. But I knew his type and he worried me. I was going away on a movie shoot soon and was worried about leaving Em in Boyd’s tender care.

It took him awhile to think of a comeback, during which Em fluttered around, trying to get Boyd’s attention, which, of course, he couldn’t. The only one Boyd cared about was himself and right now, he wanted all the attention on himself.

“Seems to me that Kinney isn’t taking good care of you, O’Keefe, but if a screw is what you want, I’m sure Em won’t mind if I oblige you.”

“We’re talking about lightbulbs, Drew,” John said dryly. “Danny thinks it isn’t bright enough in here and I have to agree with him. Josh, get a stepladder and take care of the lightbulb for your uncle.”

Josh, my sixteen year old nephew looked up from the floor. “Sure, no problem. As soon as there’s a commercial break.”

You have to understand. The gang was over at my townhouse. Watching the hockey game, which I had no interest in at all, because I had the best bigscreen TV they claimed, with a great sound system. The real reason was that there were no women at my place – just my state of the art technology and Em’s state of the art snacks – a combo that couldn’t be beat. Brian usually took off for the office. He didn’t mind old movie night but unless it was the World Cup, most televised sporting events bored him to death. I wasn’t that crazy about it either but I tolerated it for Em’s sake. It was his home too.

But the point was, there they were, over a half dozen family and friends and all of them were a good several inches taller than me.  Even Josh, the teenager was in the middle of the infamous O’Keefe growth spurt, which somehow passed me by, and was already 6'3". And they were all laughing because I made a simple request for help changing a lightbulb. I rolled my eyes. Did I mock them for being unable to sing in three octaves?

Well, yeah, sometimes.

I waved Josh off. “I wouldn’t dream of bothering you boys. I’ll just run down to the hardware store and get a ladder....”

“Well, when Em moves in with me, you’re going to need that ladder sooner or later,” Boyd grinned. He pulled on Em’s arm, yanked on it really, and Em bent down to kiss him.

That news ended all joking. I got up from the sofa. I wasn’t even in the mood for my cake anymore. 

“Well, in that case, I think I’ll head off now for it. I’m not all that interested in this game anyway. Can’t get excited about ice hockey in late April – seems unnatural to me. The Stanley Cup finals will be in June this year if they don’t get a move on.”

Emmett was practically going crazy in his efforts to get a word in edgewise. He pulled away from Boyd’s octopus-grasp.

“You don’t need a ladder, Danny! I almost forgot! I picked up the greatest little gadget for you on HSN! It’s perfect for tricky fixtures like that old globe over the counter, and the one at the top of the stairs, and that other one, you know....let me just get it.....”

Em went dashing toward his room while we all just stared after him.

“Well, you can’t beat the Home Shopping Network for clever gadgets,” Joey said brightly, reaching for some carrots. I grabbed the plate away from him, glaring. “Carrots are mine,” I grumbled. “Eat the seven layer dip.”

“But my diet,” he balked, looking pitiful.

I didn’t care. If I couldn’t enjoy my cake, he could do without carrots. John shook his head at me.

“You’re getting mean, Danny. Share your carrots, I’m sure Em will make you more.”

I frowned. Did they all think I was helpless? And why, if Joey was eating the carrots too, not to mention all the other snacks, along with the rest of them, was it a question of Em making me more snacks? Especially when I was probably eating the least. I really was losing my temper at this point.

I dumped the plate of carrots on Joey and walked to the closet where Em... I meant, we...kept the spare lightbulbs and grabbed one of the large ones that went into the fixture near the kitchen. Just in time for Em, who came back with this long handled thing that looked like an extendable pair of tongs. I gave it a doubtful look. At this point, the gang was more entertained by what I was doing of course than they were by the hockey game.

“Oh, I don’t know, baby, do you think you should give Danny a tool like that to use? He might hurt himself?” Boyd was having a great time.

“No, it’s perfectly safe,” Em insisted, his sweet earnest face looking at me with a worried expression. He spoke to me in a low voice. “You know I don’t mind changing the bulb for you, don’t you, Danny? I just got this in case there are times when you need it changed and I’m not around.”

I smiled my sweetest smile and leaned up to kiss him – on the lips. Take that, Dickwad Boyd. Em blushed. “Of course I know that, Em. I just have to figure this out.”

I was getting a ton of good-humored advice called over, of course.

“Danny, you need to use the gripper part....”

“Geez, he’s still too short, that gadget still won’t reach....”

My trouble, as Brian has often told me, is that I don’t know when to quit. And I don’t know when to back away from something I see as a dare.  Once I couldn’t reach from the ground, I should have given up, but all it took was Boyd saying, “Oh, he’s took short? Let me do it for you, Danny boy. I guess you do need help with a screw...you’re lacking the size even when you borrow a tool.”

He laughed at his own joke.  I pretended to be amused as I told my nephew, “Hand me the barstool, Josh. Em, hold this fucking gripper thing until I ask for it.”

I stood up on the barstool and then undid the globe with the help of Em’s gadget, handing it down to Emmett, then taking off the old bulb.

“Hand him the new bulb, Josh, he can’t hold the globe and the bulb and that gripper thing....”

“Careful, you’re off balance a bit....”

“He’s a fucking dancer, he can balance on a chair, John.”

“What the fuck is going on in here?”

That last bit was Brian. I should have known that he’d come in while I was standing on the barstool, a dead lightbulb in one hand, this half-assed gadget of Em’s in the other, a half-dozen of my closest friends and family lounging around watching me and spouting advice on how I could better change a fucking lightbulb, and of course, Drew Asshole Boyd, laughing his dickwad head off, not that his amusement stopped him from staring up at my ass.

“Danny’s changing the lightbulb,” Emmett turned to tell Brian, at the same time that I turned to ask him if he thought I’d gotten the globe back in place properly.

“Do tell,” Brian couldn’t pass up the chance to mock such an obvious comment and while Emmett tried explaining the gadget and why I was up on a barstool when so many overgrown specimens of manliness sat on their asses and watched, the damn globe slipped away from the gripper tool.

And bounced off the back of the barstool. I pushed Josh behind me, as the globe shattered, the glass flying. I sat down on the counter, after quickly brushing the glass away.

“Geez, that didn’t go well,” I said faintly.

“Oh my God, Uncle Danny is hurt, Dad! Uncle Jamie, help!” I heard Josh yell but it was as though his voice was coming from far away. Emmett was screaming but then Brian’s arms were around me and I felt him putting my head down against his chest.

“Breathe, Danny, take some deep breaths, you’re in shock.”

“Why?”

“You got a big chunk of glass in your leg and it’s bleeding like a mother-fucker,” he told me calmly.

“That’s not good,” I said. “Em had the hardwood floors done last month, he’s going to be pissed. Is that why he’s screaming?”

“Yeah, you know what a queen he can be. Now take deep breaths and stop bleeding. Joey’s taking care of it but we’re going to have to take you to the hospital.”

I balked at that but they gave me a needle of something to make me woozy, I think because other than Brian holding me, I didn’t remember anything until I woke up in the hospital with an IV attached and my leg stitched up. But then they let Brian take me home, on crutches, though I ditched them as soon as we got home. Brian carried me into the bedroom, helped me shower without getting the stitches wet, and then carried me back to the bed. Blessed silence, with only the two of us in the house. I didn’t ask where the rest had gone – I was pretty annoyed with all of them, though I was glad to see that the place had been cleaned up before they cleared out..

Brian had been fairly quiet the whole time but after he brought me juice so I could take my antibiotics and pain meds, he sat down on the side of the bed and just looked at me.

“Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“Sorry,” I told him. And I was. Being greeted by your partner covered in blood was not a fun way to come home from a day at the office. Brian had been great, though, and I told him so, wrapping my arms around him.

“You think you can win me over with that sexy, rumpled, hot as hell look of yours,” Brian grumbled, and then kissed me. “But I have a few things to get straight with you first. Primary of which is, you are hereby forbidden to change lightbulbs – got that?”

“Deal. But mind telling me, what exactly happened? Will my leg be okay in time for the film shoot? I was kind of out of it when the doctor was working on it.” I looked down at my leg worriedly.

“The shard of glass sliced into your calf – cut the muscle pretty deeply. Couple layers. Severed a couple large blood vessels but nothing serious. You went into shock though – and so did half the big tough guys in the room from seeing all the blood. Thank God your nephew Josh has a cool head on him. Even the Jock Doc kind of froze. But the kid stopped the bleeding almost at once, which, considering you saved him from being hit by the glass, it’s only fair. So, now that I told you what happened, you wanna tell me why you were changing a fucking lightbulb in the first place? I’d just gotten here and Emmett was busy chattering at me, so before I knew what was what, you were bleeding all over the place and the kid was holding a towel to your leg. So, why were you up on a barstool in the first place?”

“Because...because....” I didn’t want to admit that I did it because I let myself get caught up in a pissing match with Drew Boyd. So, I smiled. “Well, it was like this. Emmett bought this really neat gadget, you see, and....”  I stopped, Brian’s skeptical look too much for me. That raised eyebrow had cowed better men than me.

He pounced. “And you felt you had to try it, with at least a half-dozen able bodied men in the room who could screw in that lightbulb without the aid of that stupid gadget? Which dropped the globe and caused it to shatter, so it wasn’t so neat after all, but that was to be expected.”

“How was it to be expected?” I was indignant...at least, as indignant as I could be, since he was exactly right, which normally wouldn’t faze me but I was still pretty doped up. Whatever they gave me, it was pretty good stuff. I wished they’d given me some to take home.

“Em ordered it on late night TV – it goes without saying that it was stupid,” Brian told me. Then he kissed me again. “Danny, you are one of the most accident prone people who ever lived. And I would like to see you keep living. I would take it as a personal favor if you would allow other people to do the bulb changing. You’re an artist, you don’t need to change bulbs.”

“I don’t, huh?” Brian’s hands were doing very pleasurable things to my body. He leaned down and kissed me.

“You don’t. Anytime you need a ...screw...you see me.”

I could do that.

But, I had to get in the last word.

“Got any cool gadgets for screwing?”

Brian’s eyes can light up with a really wicked light.

He really did have the best gadgets. And none of them, he assured me, were bought from HSN.

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