“Yeah. Is that okay?” I stood outside my door, fishing my key out of my pocket. On my message board, written in the green dry erase marker, was: “SOMEONE (BLONDE) IS LEAVING HAIR TRIMMINGS IN SINK AND IT IS DISGUSTING. DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.” I opened my door and turned on my light.
“Did your mom come to your big party? The party you had at my house?”
I was silent. I could not think of anything to say.
“You know, Veronica, I tried to be cool when you told me you’d wrecked my car. My concern, as you remember, was for your safety.” His voice was shaking with anger. I shut my door behind me softly. I sat down on my bed. This was it. This was consequence. There was no getting out of it now.
“And then I come home, and my neighbors are pissed, because it turns out there was some huge party here on Friday. Lots of drunk people. People pissing in the street, on the ice in these nice front yards. Not cool, Veronica. Not cool at all.”
“Jimmy,” I said. “I’m sorry. I tried my best to clean u—”
“A lot of my music is missing.”
I closed my eyes. I had put his CDs back in the entertainment center myself, each one back in its right case. But he could say anything was missing. I wouldn’t be able to prove, or even know, that he was lying.
“I’d say about three hundred dollars’ worth.”
The number seemed excessive, and arbitrary. “Jimmy, I don’t have three hundred dollars.”
“Well you better figure out a way to get it. I’ve got a good mind to call the police. My neighbors are witnesses. I trusted you. I was paying you for a service, and you caused damage to my property.”
Someone knocked on my door. I ignored it.
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” I finally said. “I don’t have that kind of money. If you think of some way for me to make it up to—”
“Well for starters, you can get your lying, two-faced ass over here right now. Our car is in the shop, thanks to you, and we don’t have any fucking food here. We need to go to the grocery store.”
I held the phone against my ear. He sounded nothing like the person who had shown me his orchids and ferns the other day. This was something new to me—being spoken to like this. He wasn’t yelling. My father, when he was angry or even just excited, usually got much louder. But there was something hard in Jimmy’s voice that left me even more stunned and stupid.
“I don’t have a car,” I said.
“That’s not my problem.” His voice was still quiet, and very calm. “If you’re smart, you’ll be here in half an hour.”
Jimmy picked up the aloe vera plant by the sink and threw it into the garbage, which was on the other side of the kitchen, a good seven feet away. The terra-cotta pot cracked on impact. Haylie and I both jumped.
She recovered first, her hand on her chest. “Are you sure?” She laughed nervously. “It didn’t look de—”
“It had cigarette ash in the soil.” He stood in the middle of the kitchen, his arms crossed, his stance wide. “You know, from the cigarettes we never wanted in the house in the first place? Add that to the bill.”
I looked up slowly, scanning the counter for my mother’s phone. The kitchen still smelled like lemons.
“How many people were here, anyway? Huh? I’m asking you a question.”
His eyes were a little pink, puffy around the edges. He was wearing a Chicago Bulls knit skully, the striped edge pulled low over his brows.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Not that many.”
“That’s not what the neighbors said.” He stepped back, as if trying to get a better look at me.
Haylie checked her watch. “Can we just go? The Merc closes in half an hour.”
Jimmy shook his head. “No no, honey. We’re not going to the coop. I’m going to need more than granola this week. I want Mountain Dew. I want processed meat.” He reached up and gently touched his nose bolt.
Haylie clicked her tongue. She was already wearing her shiny red coat, and black boots that made her almost as tall as Jimmy. She leaned over and picked what I worried was dog hair off one of the knees of her tights. “But only the Merc has organic soy waffles.”