Page 28 of Midlife Crisis

“He’s busy at the moment, but I can take a message. Tell me what you need.” I hold Brut’s blue-gray eyes for a moment before looking for a pen and some paper on the mess of a desk.

“He’s holding my baby hostage.”

“Excuse me?” My head shoots back up, and I stare at Brut. He’s really good looking with his snow-white hair, soft blue eyes, and the same matching edge to his face as Hank.

“Maroon 1960 Bentley S2. Lucy.”

“You named your car?” I squeak as I swivel in the chair I took, searching through a window into the garage to see a large dusty red vehicle in the back of the shop.

“Looks like you rode her a little too hard, sir.”

The older gentleman chuckles. “That I did, girl. She back together yet?”

“Doesn’t look like it, sir. When were you expecting her?” I turn back to Brut, ignoring the negative vibe humming from Hank.

“Yesterday.”

“Now, Mr…I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Mr. Pendelton.”

“Mr. Pendelton.” My brow shoots up as I hold Brut’s gaze. I swallow, recognizing the name of the account I was scheduled to work on—one of the biggest accounts Bigle Marketing hoped to obtain. “As yesterday is no longer an option, when’s the next best time?” I’m searching the desk for an invoice or a system of bookings.

“Today.”

I stop searching. “Now, sir. I sense you want her perfect. That doesn’t happen in one day.”

He chuckles. “I like you.”

“Thank you.” My cheeks flush.

“What did that fucker say?” Hank hisses, stepping toward the counter, but I shake my head, finding two wide-eyed men staring at me. “Mr. Pendelton, can I ask you something not related to your car?” He hesitates, but I plow forward. A determination fills me as I need sudden purpose. “I recently worked for Bigle Marketing, and I’m just curious what you thought of your last campaign.”

“I don’t see how that would be any of your business.” His tone tightens, and Brut waves two hands at me. “I noticed you said worked. Did they fire you?” He coughs again.

“I left. It was no longer an opportunity for me.” The thought settles hard in my chest. I liked Bigle Marketing once upon a time, but I remember what Hank said. Time to move on.

“Sir, let me rephrase. If I can guarantee you your Bentley in”—I look at Brut to confirm—“two weeks.” I drag out the words, holding Brut’s gaze for direction. He gives me a thumbs-up. “Then you give me a shot to pitch you a better marketing campaign than Bigle.”

He chortles. “Not much of a deal, girl.”

“You’re right. It’s a win-win for you. You get your car and a new branding campaign. And if you don’t like the campaign, you still get your car in two weeks.”

Brut smacks the top of the cubicle counter as he leans back, smiling broadly at me. Hank’s lips twist, fighting the curl, but his eyes gleam steely gray.

“You drive a hard bargain, but it’s a deal.”

“Two weeks, sir?”

“Two weeks,” he barks, and the line goes dead. I hang up and reach a hand up to Brut.

“Midge Everette. Sorry I answered your phone. You have two weeks to get Pendelton his Bentley so I can get a new job.”

Brut laughs as he shakes my hand. He has a nice smile. I see why Lily might be attracted to him. His hand is warm and firm like Hank’s, but it’s not as thick—not the hand I want on me.

“Work here,” Brut offers.

“What?” Hank grunts, and I have to agree.