Page 35 of Midlife Crisis

“What the fuck?” I snap.

“Brut,” Midge warns, her fingers pausing on the keyboard.

“Midge. I’m sorry. I offered you this job. We have a deal with Pendelton’s car, and I keep my promises.” He looks up at me. “And he’s not running off another office manager.”

“I didn’t run off the last one.”

“Oh, right. You just slept with her, which fucked her over, and she quit.”

God dammit.

Midge closes her eyes.

“Middy, please.”

“Don’t call me that.” Her voice is hardly a whisper, and she stiffens. Her fingers return to typing, and she ignores me. I deserve the cold shoulder, but I won’t let Brut interfere.

“Outside. Now,” I bark at my brother. He pushes off the desk and rounds the corner, leading the way out the front door. The second we are in the yard, he turns on me.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

“I know.” The response stuns my big brother into silence. I cross my arms and rub my chin. “I fucked up. How much does she hate me?”

“She didn’t mention you, other than to say she wants to fulfill her commitment without it being awkward. She promised me a temporary office manager in exchange for Pendelton’s car being complete in two weeks’ time and I intend to keep her.”

I’m not liking the innuendo in his voice. “Let her out of the deal. Cut her some slack.”

“Actually, she’s holding it over me. She says it’s insurance. She needs the pitch. She wants to work for his company, and that car is her ticket in. I’m not screwing her out of it because you can’t keep your dick in your pants. Or better yet, when your dick finds a good thing, your head gets in the fucking way.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The fuck I don’t. I see the way she looks at you. You could shit yourself, and she’d think you hung the moon, but you’re still hanging onto a ghost. A phantom who was invisible to you even when she was alive.”

“You think I don’t know that?” My arms drop to my side, fists clenching at the reference. My stomach rolls with the reminder I drove to the cemetery after leaving Midge. The ritual has become a habit with no meaning. I have nothing left to say to Kit’s grave.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking. Though you’d drool over her, wag your tail, and wait for her attention, Kit never looked at you like Midge. Man, wouldn’t it feel good to have someone look at you like you looked at Kit? I think it’d make me feel fucking alive as shit, but what do I know?” Brut huffs. “We’re both in love with women dead to us.

“Oh, are we talking about Lily now?” I mock. My brother has his own demons with women.

“No, we are not discussing Lily. We’re talking about Midge. A beautiful, intelligent, successful woman in there.” He swings an arm in the direction of our garage. “You know what, maybe I should ask her out? She needs a man who will treat her right.”

“Like you treated Lily?” I step closer to him. His eyes burn with fire at the verbal slap I’ve given him about Lily.

“You wouldn’t dare ask my girl out.”

“Your girl? That’s not a fucking girl. She’s a woman, Hank. A woman who needs attention, and you’re wasting it on someone who could never give it to you.” Brut swipes a hand over his white hair. “I’m tired of having this conversation with you. Just stay in the garage and let her do her thing in the office. I need some help getting organized, and she threw in some marketing tips as a bonus. I need to get a grip on this place.” He brushes past me, purposely bumping into me like we are kids again. I stagger at the force and let him have his moment. My shoulders slump as he yanks open the front door. Watching it close behind him, I realize my brother might finally be done with me, and he was the last man in my court.

+ + +

For three days, Midge and I circle one another, but her presence consumes me. The cleaned waiting room. The organized office. The fresh coffee. Everything has been scrubbed, covered, or removed. Brut drew the line at the old leather couch. He claims it has sentimental value, and the only thing I can imagine is him losing his virginity on it. Otherwise, the wasted DNA on those cushions could be a science experiment in why people should not reproduce.

In the meantime, Midge works on sketches and graphics between fielding calls, placing orders, and filling our calendar. She’s talented, though I don’t understand all her drawings. I see dishes and home accessories as she described them to me, but I have no idea what it means. I don’t own a home to decorate.

I can’t take the silence between us anymore. I know I need to be the one to say something, and as the third day draws to an end, I cross the waiting room to speak with her.

Fuck me, she’s wearing glasses. The hot secretary look works on her. She’s been wearing jeans each day. Once with a flannel shirt exposing a low-cut tank top underneath. Another with a loose-flowing tee. Today, it’s a sweater over another tank, but who’s keeping track? She looks at home here, and I both love it and hate it. Midge is too good for this place, but damn, if I don’t like seeing her working at the front desk, especially with those sexy glasses.

“Can we speak?”