“You need a haircut, stat,” said Scarlett, subjecting him to an uber-critical look. “You need a change of clothes—a change of style, in fact. And you need to stop looking like the end of the world is near and it’s happening on your block.”
“I haven’t been feeling so well,” he said. “And I guess it shows.”
“It shows. Badly. So let me take you to my favorite hairstylist. And my favorite boutique. And let me give you a couple of books to read that will buck up your self-confidence and put a pep in your step.”
“I don’t want a pep in my step,” he said morosely. “I just want Natalie to talk to me without mentioning the name ‘Michael Madison’ every second sentence.”
“That’s going to take time,” said Scarlett. “The love of her life just died, so you can’t expect her to just get up one morning and fall madly in love with you. But in due course, I think she might be induced to move you out of the friend zone.”
“I’m not even in the friend zone right now,” said the kid. “I’m in the ‘you don’t exist’ zone. The zone where a meteor just struck and wiped out all sign of life.”
See what I mean? Depressed is the best word for it. And a depressed individual has never been able to interest another individual to see him as a love interest. Especially when that other individual is also depressed because the love of her life, as Scarlett so rightly indicated, has just been shoved out of a window.
“If Tom murdered Michael,” said Dooley, “because he was hoping that with him out of the picture Natalie would turn to him looking for a shoulder to cry on, he’s going to be very disappointed.”
“Yeah, whatever shoulder she wants to cry on, it’s not Tom’s,” I agreed.
We glanced in the direction of Natalie, and saw that she was getting up from her desk, and as she passed Gran’s desk, the latter also got up, gave us two thumbs up, and followed the personal assistant to the office canteen.
And since Dooley and I were now heavily invested in this budding office romance, we jumped down from Tom’s desk, where we’d eagerly followed Scarlett’s attempts to make Tom more suitable as a suitor, and hurried in Gran’s wake.
“It’s just like a soap, Max,” said Dooley. “You just can’t wait to see what’s going to happen next!”
CHAPTER 31
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If Tom looked terrible, Natalie looked even worse. Clearly she hadn’t digested the death of her former lover well.
“How are you holding up?” asked Gran solicitously.
“It’s Luke,” said Natalie as she nursed a cup of coffee. “He invited his friends over for a party again last night, so I didn’t sleep a wink.”
“Again! But you have to kick him out!” said Gran, aghast.
“I can’t. He’s got nowhere else to stay,” she said miserably.
“Oh, you poor thing,” said Gran. Natalie leaned against the sink, and Gran joined her, the two women standing companionably side by side. “It’s not been your week, has it, sweetie?”
“You can say that again. Not only do I have to cook, but he won’t even wash the dishes, or clean up his mess. And you don’t want to know what my apartment looks like. Like a hurricane passed through it. I told him to get it sorted by the time I get home from work, but I can tell you now already that won’t happen.”
“You have to be stricter with your brother. You can’t just let him walk all over you like this.”
“Frankly, Vesta, I don’t have the strength right now. After what happened with Michael, and then him dying, and the baby, I just feel…” Her voice broke, and as she stared into her cup of coffee, big tears rolled down her cheeks.
“This is just too much,” suddenly a voice growled from the door.
When we looked up, we saw that Tom was standing there. He had probably heard the entire conversation, and I could see that he was seeing red.
“Tom,” said Natalie, surprised to find her co-worker balling his hands into fists, his face working, and his eyes shooting sheets of flame to no one in particular. The kind, slightly nerdy young man had suddenly turned livid.
“This ends now,” Tom announced, and suddenly stomped out.
“What’s going on?” asked Gran. “Where is he going?”
“I don’t know,” said Natalie, a look of concern on her face.
Tom was a fast worker, for not even ten minutes had passed before Natalie got a call from her brother. By then we were all back at our desks—except Tom, who had disappeared.
Natalie came hurrying up to us, her phone pressed to her chest.“It’s Luke,” she said. “He says some maniac just walked in, and he’s threatening to kill him!”
“Uh-oh,” said Gran. “That’s not good.”
It was quite the understatement, and since Natalie seemed in a right state, we decided to accompany the young PA to her home, where her brother was apparently in danger of some grievous bodily harm!
Natalie wasn’t in a condition to drive, and so Gran did the honors, setting a world record for traversing from one side of town to the other. When we finally screeched to a halt in front of Natalie’s apartment complex, I think we were all a little white around the nostrils.
We staggered from the vehicle, and Natalie hurried up to the front door. But even before we got there, loud voices greeted us from the fifth-floor window.
And as Natalie gasped in shock, suddenly Tom appeared. He had grabbed her brother by the neck and was trying to shove him out the window!
“Tom, don’t!” Natalie screamed as Luke held on for dear life.
“Nat, help!” Luke cried. “This maniac wants to kill me!”
“I will kill you,” said Tom, “if you don’t clear out of your sister’s apartment right now. But not before you clean up your mess, and promise never to return!”
“I promise, I promise!” Luke yelled. “But don’t kill me, please!”
But Tom wasn’t so easily convinced. “If you don’t do as I say, I’m coming back, and I will shove you out of this window, and watch your no-good brain splatter on that pavement below. Is that understood, you pathetic waste of skin!”
“Yes, yes! I promise!”
“Good,” said Tom, and yanked the kid back inside.
“He’s not so meek now,” said Dooley.
“No, more like an avenging angel,” I said.
“Oh, God,” said Natalie, as she hurried to the door.
And as we arrived on the fifth floor, where the drama was unfolding, we were greeted by an apocalyptic scene: the apartment, which hadn’t looked all that clean and welcoming before, had been completely trashed! And I had the impression it wasn’t Tom who was responsible for the mess.
“He didn’t clean up,” was the first thing Natalie said when she witnessed the devastation. “I told him to clean up. He promised to clean up. He didn’t clean up.”
“All the more reason to kick him out,” said Gran.
Tom seemed to agree wholeheartedly, for he now greeted us in the hallway, dragging a terrified-looking Luke by the scruff of the neck.“Your brother has something to tell you, Natalie,” he announced.
“I’m leaving, Nat,” said Luke. “I’m leaving and I’m not coming back.”
“But…” Tom prompted.
“But first I’m going to clean up my mess.”
“And…”
“And I want to thank you for shopping for me, cooking for me, doing my laundry, and cleaning up after me. But I promise that you won’t have to do that anymore.”
“Because…”
“Because I’m going to be staying with a friend from now on.”
“And…”
“And I want to apologize to you for the trouble I caused.”
“And…”
“And I’m going to pay you for all the damages, the food—everything!”
“Good,” Tom grunted. “And now get started,” he said, and released the young wastrel. Luke produced a sort of yelp of fear, and scuttled into the living room, where he immediately started picking up his trash.