“I did not flirt with him!” Tiffani objects with a sharp gasp.
It’s then that I rummage around in my bag for my earphones, untangling them and then finding a decent playlist. I lay down and stare up at the sky. Earphones in, music loud, shades on, drink to the side, pretty girl chitchat out.
*
We spend around five hours at the beach and decide against a small trip onto the pier, so by the time Rachael and I get back to Deidre Avenue, I’m starting to get hungry. Thankfully, Ella has dinner under control.
“Your dad’s going to be a little longer tonight, so we’re having it later,” she tells me when I get home. “Did you have a nice day at the beach?”
“Yeah,” I say, and that’s as far as our conversation goes. I also leave a trail of sand behind me as I dart upstairs to shower again and get ready for Venice, LA, or Hollywood. Tonight’s itinerary has yet to be decided.
So now I’m fully showered and dressed and ready to go. When I’m double-checking my winged eyeliner in my mirror, I hear my dad’s voice from somewhere downstairs. He’s home, which means dinner should be ready right about now. I make my way downstairs, and as I get closer to the kitchen, I realize that Dad’s voice is raised.
“Do you want to know what I just witnessed?” Dad asks, and his voice is so gruff that it’s obvious he’s super mad.
I edge toward the kitchen arch, hanging back behind the wall and peering into the room. Ella’s standing by the oven, Dad opposite her, with Tyler right bang in the middle of them.
“So here I am,” Dad yells, “heading down to Appian Way to drop off some paperwork on my way home, and guess who I happen to spot at the beach?”
Ella throws Tyler a glance. “I told you not to leave.”
“So I think, ‘Hey, he’s grounded,’ and I head over there to ask him what he’s playing at,” Dad continues, “and he’s sitting around some table with these guys who looked ten years older than him, and I stood there and watched him toss ten-, twenty-, fifty-dollar bills onto this table.”
Ella’s eyes narrow. “Tyler.”
Tyler only shakes his head, smirking in disbelief. “This is bullshit.”
“Shut the hell up,” Dad snaps, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and loosening his tie. “So I’m standing right there watching him gamble and throw away cash, and guess what happened when he lost the bet?” Dad pauses for a moment. “He started swinging.”
“That asshole was cheating,” Tyler mutters, gripping the countertop and leaning back against it. His eyes are dark. “I wasn’t gonna let him get away with it.”
“Do you want to get arrested for assault?” Dad steps forward to fix him with a glare. “Spend your life in juvenile hall? Is that what you want?”
“Tyler, you have to stop all of this,” Ella says quietly, pressing a hand to her forehead and heaving a sigh. She looks more upset than angry. “I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
“This isn’t Las Vegas,” Dad cuts in. He steps even closer into Tyler’s personal space, his cheeks flushed red. He’s furious enough for the both of them. “What the hell were you doing?”
Tyler presses his lips into a firm line. “Live a little.”
“I’m done with you,” Dad states, shaking his head. He throws his hands up in defeat as he turns around and heads outside through the patio doors, perhaps to get a breath of fresh air.
Ella opens her mouth to speak, but Tyler chuckles before she can say anything and then makes for the hall. I step back into the corner as he storms past, hoping that he doesn’t notice me. But, of course, he does.
He spins around, halting as he studies me. “I’ve gotta give you a ride, right?”
I’m not sure getting a ride from someone with behavioral issues like him is a good idea. He’s most likely a reckless driver, ignoring speed limits and running over the occasional child. “I think so.”
“I’m leaving right now,” he says, his tone still harsh from the argument, “so either come or stay here.” With his eyes still narrowed, he exhales and makes his way to the front door. Ella calls after him, warning him not to leave, but he ignores her and heads outside.
I glance back into the kitchen. Ella appears on the verge of tears and Dad is pacing the backyard. The two of them don’t seem like very good company for the evening, so there’s no chance of me choosing to stay here. Sighing, I briskly jog over to the front door and catch Tyler’s attention just before he reaches his car. “Wait up!”
The dinner’s ruined by now, anyway.
Chapter 8
Tyler’s car is parked diagonally across the sidewalk and parking strip, and I can’t help but wonder what sort of rage he was in when he pulled up like that. Perhaps it was similar to the mood he’s in right now. He throws open the door and then pauses to look at me. He just stares.