Headlights, Dipsticks, & My Ex's Brother

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Headlights, Dipsticks, & My Ex's Brother Page 12

by Heather Novak


  He put his hand on top of mine. “I literally forget my name when he kisses me.”

  I let out a low whistle. “Hello, sailor.”

  He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We were having so much fun and then he pulled me around the back of this building and kissed me and it was…” He let out a whoosh of air. “It was the best kiss I’ve ever had. It’s like I’ve been waiting for him my entire life.”

  I bit my lip, blinking away the images of the man who had just walked out the door. No. Stop thinking about Luke. Focus. “What happened?”

  He shrugged. “Some asshole kids shouted ‘fag’ out the window of a car and I froze. I just shut down. How could I do this again? What if work finds out and it all happens again? How could I risk everything for a man I just met?”

  I wrapped my arms around him and put my head on his back. “Honey, it’s okay.” We rocked back and forth for a few moments. “I don’t know what you went through. I don’t know what it’s like to walk down the street and be worried I’m going to get the shit beat out of me for holding the hand of someone I love.”

  I pulled back and brushed his hair from his face. “But I do know what it’s like to get that phone call in the middle of the night that my big brother is in the hospital after being beaten, and I know what it’s like to be fucking terrified.” I gripped the front of his shirt. “But you get this through your head right now—you can’t let hate win. You have so much love to give and any man would be lucky to have you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”

  I flicked his nose. “Did you tell him?”

  He frowned and shook his head. “No, I told him I wasn’t ready to be ‘out,’ and he told me he was too old to be dating someone in the closet. And that was it.”

  “Well, shit.” I got up and walked over to the fridge, pulling out an open bottle of wine. Grabbing two more mugs from the dish rack, I pulled the cork out with my teeth and sloshed a healthy portion in each. “Screw tea. We need alcohol.”

  Jami accepted the mug and took a long drink before putting his head down on his arm. “Tell me something good. Make tonight better.”

  I shrugged. “I mean, I saw Luke mostly naked, so that was a bonus.”

  My brother lifted his head and stared at me for a long moment before bursting out laughing. He ran a hand down his face and shook his head. “Oh God, that was not what I expected to find when I walked in.”

  I cringed. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

  Jami took another gulp of wine. “I wouldn’t be if the man I’d been in love with since I was eight was mostly naked and on top of me.”

  I choked on my wine, my nasal passages burning in protest. I slapped Jami’s arm as I mopped up my face with a napkin and blew my nose. “I hate you,” I wheezed. “I was not in love with him at eight. I’m not even sure I liked him until a few weeks ago.”

  Jami rolled his eyes. “Lies. You’ve loved him since he got all of your Hot Wheels cars out of the trash when Mom threw them away. He smelled so, so bad after, but you didn’t care. You just kept hugging him. I knew right then.”

  I stared at him, looked down at his mug, then back up at him. “No more wine for you.”

  He shrugged. “Not my fault it took you seventeen years to figure it out. Too bad you had to go through Will first. I mean, Will’s hot, but he’s like the worst mansplainer I know.”

  “Well, we now know crazy is an inherited gene. Because you’re off your rocker.”

  His laugh filled the room and I breathed a sigh of relief. That laugh usually meant the worst was over. It had taken years for him to laugh like that after he moved home. “I love you because you’re so oblivious with guys, and it’s one of my favorite things about you.”

  I flipped him off, then finished my wine and stood up to rinse our mugs. “It was probably a good thing you came when you did. Two minutes later…”

  Jami banged his head on the counter. “I would’ve been scarred for life.”

  I hit his arm with the kitchen towel I was drying my hands with. “Way to be my wingman.”

  He gave me his big brother look. “I know you’re an adult and don’t need me telling you what to do, but be careful. Luke isn’t the sticking around type. And sleeping with him isn’t going to save the shop.”

  My stomach clenched and I leaned against the kitchen counter, my eyes trained on the back door. “I know.” I looked at Jami. “He has a tattoo of Sorry Charlie’s ‘Fuse’ on his rib cage.”

  Jami stared at me for a long moment. “Well…fuck. What are you gonna do?”

  I shrugged. “Buy a new vibrator and not shave my legs. Maybe wear a bodysuit that takes scissors to get off.”

  Jami stared at me with a look of pure horror and covered his ears. “LALALA I can’t hear you!”

  This time I threw the towel at him and it hit him in the face. He pulled it off and sighed. “Okay, but in all seriousness, you—”

  “Nope.” I grabbed the towel and draped it over the oven handle. “We’re not talking about it. It will never be casual with him and casual is the only option. It was a mistake, never going to happen.” I pointed my finger at him. “You, on the other hand, need to talk to your man.”

  He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Yeah. Probably. Maybe give my therapist a call.”

  I nodded. “Good plan.” I tilted my head to the side. “Come on, guest room.”

  When he stood, he pulled me into a really tight hug, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Thanks, sissy.”

  “Anytime, big bro.”

  On my way upstairs, I grabbed my clutch and fished out my phone. I refused to look at the screen until I was safely locked in my bedroom and had the top sheet pulled over my head.

  Luke: Is Jami okay?

  My heart thudded. He cared about my brother. Dammit!

  Me: He’s okay. We talked and made a game plan.

  Luke: Good. I know I shouldn’t say this, but I can’t stop thinking about you.

  I held the phone to my chest and closed my eyes, warmth radiating to the tips of my fingers and toes. I started typing. I can’t stop thinking about you in my mouth. Deleted. I can’t wait to see you again. Deleted. Why do you have to be such a great guy? Deleted.

  I sat up, dislodging the sheet, and growled. I needed to stop this nonsense. I typed Goodnight Luke and hit send, then shut off my phone. Tonight was a fluke. It had to be.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Edie’s Tip #13: Sometimes unexpected traffic jams lead to the best stories. Other times they lead to a mosquito bite on your ass from peeing in the woods.

  By the time I rolled out of bed the next morning, Jami was already awake and making eggs and avocado toast. After some muttering about how disgusting gluten-free bread was—and really, for eight dollars a loaf it should taste better—I called Tina for our bi-monthly Skype date. She was so excited to see Jami and my pink hair, she couldn’t sit still.

  “Mom is going to destroy this child,” Jami lamented after we hung up. “She’s so awesome and Mom will passive aggressive it out of her.”

  I pursed my lips. “This is why I keep in contact with her. Maybe she’ll see as she grows up that she can be herself with us.”

  Jami drank another cup of coffee before rubbing his face with both hands and groaning. “I guess it’s time for me to stop making excuses. Time to go home, shower, and man up.”

  I bumped his shoulder with mine. “What’s the worst thing that could happen? He’s not interested? You’ll still be in the same place you are right now.”

  He winced. “Just more hits to my pride.”

  “And if he is interested?”

  He turned his head to me and leaned against the couch. “Then Mom is going to lose her shit when she finds out I’m gay. At least it might take some of the attention off you.”

  I mirrored his pose. “But that’s not a position I want you in. She may love me, but she’s never liked me. She adores you to the moon and back.”


  He shrugged. “That’s because she sees me how she wants to. I’m her first-born son, destined for great things.”

  “I’m just the daughter who made all the wrong choices.”

  He reached over and grabbed my hand. “You had a better relationship with Grandpa than she did. Didn’t you ever notice?”

  I frowned. “He loved Mom.”

  He squeezed my hand. “He did. But she chased after his approval, and if you were in the room, you took all the attention. She’s taking out her insecurities and resentment for him on you. You never needed her, but you both needed him.”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again. I didn’t know what to say.

  “You did nothing wrong, and she needs to go to therapy. Next time you’re fighting, look at her. Really look at her. She’s just a lost little girl.”

  “You sound just like Dad. How do you know all this?” I whispered.

  He shrugged. “I’m older and I’m a lawyer. I can read body language.” He kissed the top of my head, cleaned up our dishes, and left, leaving me wading through an ocean’s worth of thoughts.

  I absentmindedly started my Sunday chores as my mind raced through all of my interactions with Mom, her engagement to Will being the biggest neon sign. By the time I had Swiffered, vacuumed, cleaned my toilets, and started a load of laundry, my head was spinning.

  If what Jami said was true, it explained why she had so much resentment for the shop. Once this house and shop were gone, she would feel she’d won against Grandpa, and in a way, against me.

  But I wasn’t going to give up my dreams for her ghosts. I needed to make a plan. I was New Edie, Stronger Edie, and the shop needed to reflect that.

  My stomach grumbled, and I glanced at my watch. Okay, grocer and lunch, then plan. I threw on my sandals, then grabbed my purse and reusable grocery bags.

  The moment I opened the door, I heard Sergeant Cornflakes’s intruder alarm echo through the late morning. With a sigh, I closed and locked my front door and tossed the bags over my shoulder, hurrying down the path.

  Most likely someone had busted their tire and needed help changing it. Working hours only mattered for my employees. If I was around, I would check out anyone’s vehicle. It was my responsibility as a businesswoman in a small town.

  My steps faltered when I saw the shiny black Audi in my parking lot. This wasn’t a resident with a popped tire. This was the dragon.

  I took a deep breath, trying to calm my instant flare of resentment and anger. I would reserve judgment until I figured out what game she was playing. I could be the bigger person. I could be the daughter I wanted to be even if she wasn’t the mother I needed her to be.

  Sergeant Cornflakes ran out of the propped-open front door, dropping feathers and crowing so loud they could probably hear it in the next town over. I crouched down. “Whoa, whoa, buddy. What’s wrong?”

  He ran in a circle around me and I scooped him up, petting his soft feathers. He was still making low clucks but was calmer. I let him go and he wandered off toward the opposite side of the street.

  I guess now we knew why the chicken crossed the road—to get away from my mother.

  Two steps into the shop and all my good intentions were gone.

  My mother and Will were inside, speaking to a man in a golf shirt and khakis. All of my toolboxes and carts were mysteriously missing, along with Sergeant Cornflakes’s bedding. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” I shouted. “Get out of my shop!”

  With a screech, the dragon ran at me, her heels slipping a little on the concrete. “Edith, I’m showing around our potential investor, David Spurs.” She gestured to a man who was probably a few years older than her and so tan, his skin looked like leather.

  I did not reach out and shake his hand but instead kept my focus firmly on my mother’s pouty lips. “Where are my tools? Where are the chairs for the waiting room?” I looked at the blank walls. “Where’s the artwork? Grandpa’s calendar?”

  Mom pressed her hands down in front of me. “I knew you’d react badly, which is why we weren’t going to tell you. But Mr. Spurs is very interested in the condo idea and the market is hot, hot, hot!” She clapped with each “hot.” “Now, don’t be rude. Why don’t you grab us a cup of...” She narrowed her eyes and took another step toward me, then froze. Her mouth fell open. “What the heck happened to your hair? Is this some kind of Kool-Aid rinse?”

  She reached out to touch my ponytail, and I slapped her hand away. “Get out before I call the cops.”

  Mom turned to her guest with a smile. “Mr. Spurs, I apologize, but I need to have a word in private with my youngest child.”

  “Middle child,” I muttered.

  My mother ignored me. “Can you please give us a moment?”

  He nodded and raised his cell phone. “Gotta make a few calls.”

  The moment he was gone, Will hurried over and put his arm around Mom’s shoulders. “I own this property too. It’s not trespassing.” He pulled her into his side. “And since she’s my business partner and my fiancée, I don’t think the cops will even bother showing up.” He eyed my hair and wrinkled his nose. “You’re a little old for teenage rebellion, Edith.”

  I shoved my hand in my pocket and dug out my cell phone, hitting Luke’s number. “Get to the shop immediately, or I’m going to be charged with homicide.” I hung up without waiting for an answer. Either he’d show up and take care of the mess he’d help make, or I’d get twenty-five to life.

  Mom pointed at me. “You go back home. Let the adults handle this. When you’re ready to grow up, you can be part of the shop discussion too.”

  When you’re ready to grow up? I was the one who ran this business. I was the one who’d taken care of Grandma and Grandpa when they got sick. And I was done with her bullshit.

  I sprinted to the fire extinguisher on the wall next to the office and snatched it from its cradle. I removed the pin and blasted her with a cloud of white.

  My mother screamed, jumping back and shouting vague threats about suing me and calling the cops. Will tried to jump forward to tackle me, so I sprayed him too. Then I just kept blasting them both, spray after spray. This was so much fun! Why hadn’t I thought of this before?

  They made a beeline to the front door and stumbled into the parking lot. I locked the door and stayed inside until Luke took the turn into the parking lot so hard two of his tires almost left the ground. He jumped out of his truck, marched over, and stopped dead. I ran out to meet him, still shaking with rage.

  He looked between the three of us—me with my fire extinguisher and the two ghosts by my side—and covered his mouth with his hand, but not before I saw his smile. “What—” He cleared his throat against a bubble of laughter. “What is going on here?”

  Will and Mom were talking over each other. “We were trying to show our investor around!” “She ruined my designer clothes!” “I’m calling the police for assault!”

  I leaned over to Luke. “Is it creepy I can’t actually tell which one is saying what?”

  Luke shook his head. “They’re made for each other. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.”

  Will, looking a little less like a drowned rat, pulled Mr. Spurs off to the side, no doubt to demean my character even more. Oh well. It was totally worth it.

  Then my mother took aim and fired. “You are an embarrassment to this town, your family, and especially me! From the time you could talk, you have made my life miserable. I had to constantly fight with you to do your homework, to be a proper lady, to have manners. Now, you are parading around like a hussy with pink hair. I hope you’ll have a modicum of respect for me and change it back before the wedding. You are the most selfish person I know.”

  I didn’t think her words could still hurt me. But these sliced me open. No matter how lost a parent felt, or how much a child drifted away, no child wanted to hear they’d made their parent’s life miserable.

  Even though the hurt little girl inside of her wa
s poking her hand out and waving frantically, it didn’t make the words unsaid. It didn’t make them hurt any less. I stumbled backward and dropped the fire extinguisher, completely deflated. But I was not going to let her see me cry.

  Without a word, I walked back into my shop and locked the door behind me. I heard arguing, but didn’t care. Flipping on my stereo, I loaded up my Sorry Charlie album and turned up the volume until it drowned out the loud voices outside. Grabbing the shop vac, I got to work cleaning up the fire extinguisher mess.

  When I heard a key in the door, I didn’t bother to turn around. I assumed my mother and Will were not dumb enough to try to enter the shop again, so it had to be Luke. He didn’t say anything as he took a look around.

  We were silent as we opened the door to the employee lounge to find the waiting room chairs and shop tools. He helped me move them back to their proper places, then helped me rehang the wall art and Grandpa’s calendar. The art wasn’t glamorous—a few watercolors my grandma had done, two drawings of the auto shop from local kids, and a portrait of Sergeant Cornflakes that Kristy had given me as a birthday present last year—but they were the special touches that made the shop feel like so much more than just a workspace.

  When we were done, Luke walked over to me, wrapped me in his arms, and hauled me against him. My nose stung as the words my mother said rattled around in my head. I tried to pull away so I could find a bathroom to hide in, but Luke wouldn’t let me.

  He just put his hand to the back of my head and held me against his chest, swaying back and forth. I proceeded to hiccup-sob everywhere. Snot, tears, and all the anxiety and anger that had been building for weeks.

  His whispered words of comfort, promises that my mother was wrong in every way, and gentle “shhh, shhh” washed over me as the sobbing slowed to just a steady stream of tears. I cried my heart out, only calming down when my favorite song came over the speakers

  The one Luke had tattooed on his chest.

  We swayed back and forth, my tears drying up while his low voice whispered the words against my hair.

 

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