Milo batted his eyelashes and fanned his face dramatically. “I do declare, Milo. I wish you could find yourself a strapping stud for a carpenter. Oh, I know! Beefcake Andy!”
Okay, once was a fluke, but twice was fate.
“Strapping stud, huh? It’s nice to know that you still notice, Milo.” Andy chuckled as my brother squirmed in his chair. “Beefcake Andy is a new one though. It’s kinda catchy. I was trying to come up with a slogan the other day. The best I could come up with was Handy Andy, but I like yours much better. Perhaps I should change the name of my business and slap that on my T-shirt,” he pondered out loud.
“Really, Maegan?” Milo demanded, giving me the same death glare that Dad received from Mom on many occasions. “Not even a little hint that he’s standing behind meagain?” All coolness from earlier was gone as Milo looked back at Andy. “Forget something, Just Andy?”
“Actually, yes,” Andy said. All traces of humor slid from his face. “I forgot that I have a prior commitment tonight and won’t be able to meet you after all.”
“I’m sure you do,” Milo replied dryly.
“It’s not what you think, Milo. Anyway,” Andy said in frustration, “I would cancel if I could, but…”
“I’d never dream of asking you to cancel your plans on a Friday night. We’ll do this some other time.”
“Milo…”
My brother pinned Andy with a look that expressed how firmly he’d shut that door. “I’ll call you next week.”
“Are you two happy?” Milo asked once Andy walked away dejectedly. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this humiliated.”
“Seventh grade,” I suggested. “You forgot the words to the song you picked to sing in the variety show.”
“Oh my goodness!” My mom threw her head back and laughed. “You practiced that song every day in the bathroom mirror for a solid month. How could you forget the words?”
Milo grinned wryly then shrugged. “Nerves. Performance Anxiety. It happens in more places than the bedroom, you know.”
“Divine intervention,” I added. “You told them you were going to sing Bette Midler’s ‘The Rose’ then planned to sing ‘Like a Virgin’ instead. It’s a good thing you got stage fright or you would’ve risked a suspension from school.”
“Were you planning to imitate masturbation on a makeshift bed?” Mom asked.
“Who said anything about pretending?”
Mom and I laughed riotously at Milo’s response. I could easily imagine the horror on the staff’s face if Milo had pulled off his plan—pun intended.
“I’m so happy that I entertain the women in my life,” Milo said huffily.
“I’m sorry, Milo. Let me make it up to you.”
“How?” he asked cautiously.
“I know just how you really want to spend your Friday night.”
“I’m not crawling around in people’s dirt and dust to find ‘treasures’ with you and Memphis.” I thought his little air quotes were adorable.
“Oh, come on,” I cajoled. “You always have a fun time when you come with us.”
“True, but I’ll still pass.”
“Okay, you can stay home and pine after—”
“Fine, as long as you promise not to bringhimup.”
“Deal.” I extended my hand across the table so we could shake on it. I didn’t point out that his part of the deal was ambiguous. He didn’t specify a timeframe, so I decided to bide my time. Our mom didn’t agree to anything of the sort and chose every opportunity to work Andy aka Handy Andy, Beefcake Andy, and Just Andy into the conversation during the remainder of our lunch.
