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"And for gas money," I add. Isla spends more on gas in one week than I've spent all year. And Dad's been paying for it.
Dad winks at me. "Ingrid's right. It's time you get your own car and pay for your own gas."
"You've got to be kidding me!" Isla fumes.
"No," Dad shakes his head. "I'm not."
"Now, Jason," Mom clears her throat. "We shouldn't be too harsh on Isla. She did fail two classes this semester at college and—"
"She WHAT?" Dad's mouth drops open in surprise.
"Mommy," Isla's eyes widen, "I thought I told you that I was handling that on my own."
"You're saying that I shelled out thousands of dollars last semester on your education and you failed two classes?" Dad stands from his chair. "And then I have to listen to this asshole"—Dad points to Frank—"tell me I need to get a real job? Are you serious, Isla?"
"It's not my fault," Isla crosses her arms over her chest. "Frank kept me busy in the... the library. I was helping him."
"Helping?" I chuckle. "You mean humping?"
Mom laughs and holds a hand up for me to slap. "Good one, Ingrid."
"Let me make something very clear," Dad glances back and forth between Frank and Isla. "The unemployment I receive is money that I've paid into for twenty-plus years in case of an emergency just like this one. You don't get to come in here and berate me like I'm some opportunistic, greasy-haired TA who was sleeping with one of his students." Isla gasps as Dad continues, "So, the next time the two of you decide to attack your mother and I's choices, I might find myself making a phone call to the dean to let him know that the man he employs to teach and educate students is using the library like a whorehouse."
"Jason," Mom blushes. "I think it's called a bordello."
I drop my head into my hands. I can't believe I have to listen to this ridiculous conversation. I would rather spend my night listening to Wilder pick up girls.
"We're just trying to help, Daddy," Isla sniffles. "We don't want you to lose the house."
"No," I hitch a shoulder, "you just don't want Dad to stop paying your tuition."
"That's not true!" Isla yells at me as she nudges Frank with her elbow. I roll my eyes as she begs for backup.
"You shouldn't even be here for this discussion," Frank glares at me. "It doesn't concern you."
Dad clenches his fist as I push my chair back.
"You're right, Frank the Fornicator," I give him a wink. "I shouldn't be here. I think I'm going to take my car and find somewhere else to spend my Thursday evening."
"Can I go with you?" Mom asks.
"No, Jill," Dad shakes his head.
"Maybe next time, Mom," I say to her as I push my chair in. "And dog walking is a noble and honest profession. Don't give it up."
"Thanks, Ingrid," Mom smiles.
I grab my car keys off the kitchen counter and hurry out the front door. As much as I would love to hang around for the Frank and Isla show, I'd much rather be alone. Dad's been burying himself with job interviews and Mom's been fake-smiling through the grocery store, trying to hide from everyone that we're struggling. And I've been forcing myself not to think about Cash. Seems like we're all having a tough time except for Isla. But that's typical in the Winthrop house. Isla always comes out on top. Even when she's in dead last.
There aren't many places to hang out on a Thursday night in our small town. There's the bowling alley or the pool hall. And since Cash and I had our first date at the bowling alley, the pool hall is the only logical choice.
Most of the pool tables are taken as I weave between people and sticks in search of the vending machines. It's been a while since I've been in here. Not since sophomore year. Cash got banned after taking the blame for inciting a brawl. Wilder elbowed Donovan Turner in the face and started a fight. Three pool tables were destroyed in the process. The Allreds made a hefty donation to help restore the pool hall to its former glory, but Cash was never allowed back in. I'm pretty sure that's the only time Cash ever stood up for Wilder. The only time I can remember, anyway.
And now, since we're broken up, I guess that means I can start frequenting the pool hall again.
I slip a dollar into the vending machine and watch as a Cherry Coke topples off the shelf, falling to the bin below. As I shove my hand inside to grab it, a shadow falls across the floor beside me.
"On your knees again, Blondie?"
