“No, Just…you smell different.”
She whips her head around to look at look at me. “I changed my perfume.”
“I can tell.”
“You know what I smell like?”
“Yes, you always smell the same.”
“I was trying something new.”
“Change it back,” I suggest.
She jerks a look over her shoulder at me. “Why would I do that? I love the new perfume.”
“It’s nice. Just doesn’t smell likeyou.”
She scowls. “No one asked you.” She steps away from me, yanks her hat off, and tosses it onto the coatrack.
The sudden loss of heat from her body makes me want to yank her back against me and keep her there all night. I have to get this off my chest or I’ll burst.
“Hey, Sin, can we talk before we go—”
“Sin, come and see,” her mother shouts from the kitchen. “Hurry up.”
“Oh Lord, what now?” She rolls her eyes and rushes off.
I follow her slowly.
Halfway down the hall, the sound of glass breaking rises over their voices and the television. I pick up my pace and enter the kitchen just as Mr. Sackey pushes out of his chair, his hand outstretched, fingers pointing at the television. His eyes are wide with rage. “Look at this fucking stupid piece of goat excrement smiling like he’s a good person. Just when I thought I’d never see his face again, here he is.”
I’ve never heard Mr. Sackey curse, so it takes me a second to follow the trajectory of his hand.
The world freezes when I see the headline that’s got him so upset. On the screen, a headline screams. “Mr. Palmer is bringing Palm Sunday back. After a two-year hiatus the iconically secret and the most coveted invite in DC is back.”
I stare at the pictures of my father that flash on the screen. Himwith the famous people he kept like trophies, and try to make sense of what the reporter is saying.
“Idiot,” Mrs. Sackey’s sharp words make my head turn in her direction. She’s on her feet, too. Staring at the television. “Liar and a traitor. Utter disgrace.” She snaps her finger between each word.
As it sinks in that they are talking about my father this way, my heart starts to beat so fast I can hear it. “How do you know him?” I ask no one in particular.
“You mean Crooked Mr. Palmer? Theydon’tknow him. At least not anymore,” Adonis says with a long-suffering sigh. He reaches into his pocket to pull out a small case with earbuds inside. He slips one in and glances up at me. “They lost everything because they invested some money with him. They thought he’d cheated them. So they hired a lawyer and sued him.”
My thoughts move faster than I can process and my ears ring. “What happened next?”
“Their case was dismissed by the judge. They had to file bankruptcy. They’ve recovered financially, I think. But they lost a lot, too. They hate him.”
My head spins with this new information. “Yeah. I can imagine.” I wonder how many more people out there feel this way about my father.
“You better find something else to do ‘cause when they get going about him, that’s all they’ll talk about for the rest of the night.” He rolls his eyes and looks back at his phone.
“Who even told him that anybody misses him?” Mr. Sackey shouts in a voice dripping with loathing.
Sin stands and pats her dad’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go set the table and eat. Don’t let him ruin our Sunday.”
My stomach feels like I swallowed a lead ball. I need answers, but I’m afraid to ask. I follow Sin out of the room, but my mind stays firmly rooted in her parents’ reaction.
“Do your parents hate The Great Palmer, too?” Sin asks.
