Page 117 of The Broker

My oldest brother Paul and his family lived in Knoxville, and my niece Gabby was on a highly competitive travel soccer team, so my parents didn’t see them much during the season. When they found out her team was participating in a tournament downtown today, they’d jumped at the chance to watch and volun—told me I was coming along.

I’d asked for ten minutes to get ready but was able to get it done in nine and found my parents in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a mismatched pair of travel mugs from my time at HBHC.

“I guess your maid has the weekends off.” My mom’s tone was light and joking, because she had no idea I paid to have it cleaned, or who I’d been paying. I ground my teeth and said nothing—even when my parents’ place had looked worse the night Charlotte and I had been there.

The skillet I’d used to make eggs was still on the stove, and dirty bowls and silverware were stacked in the sink. With everything that had happened, I’d reverted to my sloppy ways, which exacerbated my foul mood.

First thing you do when you get back from the tournament is clean this place up.

I needed to stay on top of it, before it got overwhelming.

“I’ve been busy,” I mumbled. “You two ready?”

After my father and I did our typical back and forth about who was driving, I grabbed my keys and my phone, and we made our way to my garage. He was annoyed he’d lost, and I was aggravated with myself over the situation, so the car ride was awkwardly silent for the first few minutes.

My mother was the first to break. She leaned forward from her seat in the back so I’d hear her better. “How are things with Charlotte?

Immediately, I longed to have the awkward silence back. “Uh...”

“When are you going to bring her by for dinner so we can get to know her?”

My hands tightened on the steering wheel. “We broke up.”

My gaze was fixed on the traffic on the road, but I felt my parents’ attention snap to me. My mother’s tone was full of concern. “Why? What did you do?”

I shot her an annoyed look through the rearview mirror. “Why do you automatically assume I did something wrong?”

“Because I have three sons,” she muttered under her breath. “Well, did you?”

“It’s complicated,” I said. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

My father, who sat in the passenger seat, let out a traitorous chuckle.

“Okay, fine,” she said. “Then, how’s work?”

Well, fuck.

I glanced at the navigation screen on my dashboard and the estimated arrival time. I could lie to them for the next thirty-four minutes, but what good did that really do me? I’d have to tellthem eventually, and they’d be upset if they found out I withheld it.

My voice was flat and quiet. “I got let go.”

“What?” My dad turned in his seat so he could face me. “Why?”

“I wasn’t a good fit.” This wasn’t technically a lie, was it?

“That’s it?” He was dubious.

“Oh, no,” my mother said softly. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” That was the truth, and it caused my mom to make a face. “Don’t worry about it,” I added. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Oh, Noah.” She said it the same way she’d say ‘you poor thing.’ “You lost your job and your girlfriend in the same week?”

I muttered it without thought. “More like at the same time.”

Oh, shit.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” my father asked.

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