Chapter 4

Friday May 13

I talked to Oliver about the trip. He’s going to see whether there’s any specific info I should look for there. I said that I might not be able to go, depending on what my manager says. He said if she won’t give me the time off to let him know: he’ll get one of the lawyers to talk to her on my behalf. I don’t understand why that would matter, but Oliver says people are afraid of lawyers.

It wasn’t a problem anyway. Sandy says that she needs to cut back hours anyway, now that the university is out for the summer. She says that me being gone will help make the transition easier. I will still have a job waiting for me when I get back, I’ve been assured.

Tuesday May 17

I had moved into Juliet’s livingroom straight from the dorm after they kicked me out: only current students can live there. Up until now I’ve had enough stuff for day to day life, but some of what I need for my upcoming Caribbean trip was still at my parents’ house. Today I borrowed Juliet’s car and drove for two hours back to my old home.

I was in a pretty good mood, all things considered, until I tried my key. It didn’t work: the locks had been changed. What the fuck, Dad? Is that how it is between us now? Well, it takes more than a forty dollar lock from Home Depot to keep me out. I picked the lock and went on in.

I immediately set about gathering my things from my bedroom: my passport, my sun hat, some luggage, my travel headphones, an extra swimsuit - that sort of thing. I could have been in and out in a flash, except that it soon became obvious that there was a different sort of in-and-out already going on in the house.

“Eh eh eh eh,” I faintly heard. It sounded like a monkey on a treadmill, but it was obviously some girl moaning while she was getting banged.

I checked the garage: my dad’s car was there. I looked around the rest of the house and found a purse and woman’s jacket in the kitchen, so I sat down and started to learn about our new guest. Cory Polinski, 27, a human resources assistant at my dad’s company. 5’5”, 122 lbs, black hair hazel eyes, no corrective lenses required. I snapped pictures of her driver’s license, credit cards, and insurance card, just in case.

Ten pills were missing from the package of birth control pills in Cory’s purse. I thought about throwing away another eight or so, just to fuck with her. Most girls would notice if their pills were out of sync with their period, but some might not. As much as I want to punish Cory, though, that wouldn’t be fair to any baby that resulted from my sabotage. Anyway, I don’t want a new half-brother or sister.

I spent the rest of my wait looking through her mobile phone. Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Reddit. There was plenty to give me an idea of who she was. I changed a couple of her passwords just in case I want access later, but I left her phone logged in so she wouldn’t notice.

The girl’s moaning pattern never changed until it just stopped, so I don’t think she came. Is my dad a dud in the sack? A minute later I heard a shower turned on. At the same time, I heard my parents’ bedroom door open, and then curiously, my bedroom door.

Shortly after that, Cory came into the kitchen where I was waiting. She was fairly cute: tan with wavy black hair all mussed up. She was wearing some pink panties - hers - and a black T-shirt with the writing, “No, I won’t fix your computer”. The T-shirt was mine.

“Hi! I’m Lexi!” I said in the friendliest way possible. I stood and offered my hand.

“Oh, hi...” Cory began, completely surprised. Pretty quickly she recovered and became sorority-rush friendly herself: “I’m Cory. Nice to meet you!”

“I’m sorry about the surprise - I didn’t expect anyone to be home,” I explained. “Has Dad ever mentioned me?”

“Oh yes,” Cory said, seemingly relieved that the conversation was going so well. “He talks about you all the time. He says you’re super smart and independent.”

“I try to make him proud,” I said with a modest shrug. “Did he ever tell you about the girl I hounded to the mental hospital? Or the five professors I sent to prison?”

“I, um...” Cory stammered, suddenly less sure about my disposition.

“Did he tell you to be afraid of me?” I asked.

I let the awkward silence linger. Cory was clearly unsettled. Eventually she got up the courage to say something: “Um, that’s my phone,” she said, pointing at the mobile phone in my hand.

I nodded. “And that’s my shirt,” I said. I had never actually worn it - it had been a gift from Marcie years ago. I’m hard to buy gifts for.

“I just need to...” she said, pointing at the phone again as if I had simply misunderstood.

“You give me my shirt and I’ll give you your phone,” I condescended to her.

She froze for a moment. I tried to hide my smile when, for a brief moment, her hands moved as if to take off the shirt. But then she stopped. “BILL!” she yelled and scampered back toward my parents’ bedroom.

My dad came out with a towel around his waist. “Lexi, what’s going on here?” He was angry.

“I was just picking up some of my things,” I said defiantly. “But then I met Cory. She’s wearing my shirt, you know.”

“I told her it was okay,” Dad said through gritted teeth.

“It’s not okay with me!” I told him.

“Lexi, none of this is any of your business. If you’d like to have a calm discussion...” Dad began.

“NO! That’s not how this works!” I told him. “You are MARRIED! If you want to go Hugh Hefner once the divorce is finalized then go ahead, but I will not stand by until then and watch you cheat on Mom! That’s not how we do things in this family!”

“Lexi, you don’t understand,” Dad tried to explain.

“Dad, if I catch that vapid little cunt near you again, I will ruin her life,” I told him. “YOU HEAR ME VAPID LITTLE CUNT? GO WORK OUT YOUR DADDY ISSUES ON SOMEONE ELSE’S FATHER!” I added, loud enough that Cory would hear me from the other room.

Dad was trying variations on “Let me explain” as I left.

I called Juliet from the road to vent, but she kept laughing so much that it didn’t feel like she was really hearing me. I didn’t want to talk to Paris about this. I ended up going to the shooting range once I got back into town. I can’t really afford that at this point in my life, but I needed it. Shooting always calms me down.

Friday May 20

I’m sitting in the first class cabin on a plane at 30,000 feet right now. Paris is next to me playing some iPad war game against the twelve year old on the other side of the aisle. They’re both talking a ridiculous amount of smack, but it’s friendly. It’s certainly a welcome change from Paris’ bickering with Chloe all through the airport.

Last night I stayed at the Bishops’ house. It was kind of cool - after dinner we all just sat around drinking scotch and talking.

At one point they were asking about my job waiting tables. “Well, it’s not rocket science, but there are skills involved,” I explained. “It takes good time management to give every table the attention they expect - not just food and drinks, but socializing. And it helps to be able to read people. Some customers expect you to read their minds.”

“And then there are various strategies to encourage tipping,” I said leadingly.

“Like what?” Marshall asked.

“Well, there are all different ways it can go,” I explained. “But for instance, if it’s a table full of just guys, it helps to grab one of the others girls and display a certain friendliness toward her. You know, put some ideas in their heads.”

“And that gets you better tips?” Marshall asked, amused.

“What can I say? Guys go a little bit crazy at a hint of girl-on-girl,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Not me,” Marshall proclaimed. “I’ve always thought of it as silly. Pointless.”

“I’m not into it either,” Paris said.

I shook my head. “I don’t buy it. Every straight guy I’ve ever met is hot for lesbians. Some just don’t admit it. Help me out here, girls.”

Kimmie chimed in: “That has been my experience, yes.”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Marshall said, playfully smug.

“Oh please!” I said, setting my drink down and standing. “If Kimmie and I started making out right now, you’d both be achingly hard within seconds.”

Kimmie was smiling as I performed a runway walk up to her. She didn’t move as I ran my finger down from her chin to her chest, but when I leaned in for a kiss she turned her head away. “What are you doing?” She said.

“Come on,” I said enticingly as I sat down next to her. “Don’t you want to prove our point? Let’s put on a show for the guys.”

“Hey, I was just joking around,” Kimmie said. “I’m not interested in taking it that far.”

“I’ll make out with you,” Chloe offered, standing up.

I shrugged. “Thanks Chloe, but I don’t think it would have quite the same impact, watching their sister and daughter getting it on with another girl.”