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“What time does your mom get home?” I say.
“Not until after her PTA meeting.”
“Then we better hurry.”
“You talked me into it,” she says, and takes off her T-shirt.
We’re discreet. We don’t shatter any windows or crack plaster off the wall and only break the legs off one of Allegra’s kitchen chairs. I’ll blame that on Matthew.
The man of the hour comes rolling back around eleven-thirty. I hear him rattle the doorknob. A little at first and then harder. He bangs on the door. Yells Allegra’s name.
“I know you’re in there. You think this shit is going to keep me out?”
I’m pretty sure I know the next thing that’s going to happen, and it does. A bootheel to the door where the lock meets the frame. Wood splinters. There’s the sound of metal on carpet as the lock slips out of the door. I stand up and get into position. Candy stays put by the kitchen door.
Matthew comes in and tries the hall light. Curses under his breath when it doesn’t come on.
“Bitch, are you playing games with me? You’re not funny.”
Big Boy storms into the living room and straight onto the tarp. Promptly goes down on his face, into a mix of soap and razor-sharp glass.
“Fuck,” he yells, and “Fuck” again, scrambling in the muck like a mule on an ice rink.
I say, “You might want to hold still.”
He stops moving.
“Who the fuck is that? Where’s Allegra?”
I turn on the small lamp I set aside earlier. I took off the shade so the bulb is annoyingly bright and the light harsh, better to bring out all the pretty scars on my face.
“I’m here to tell you to leave Allegra alone.”
He looks at me and then around at the acre of tarp and glass. It dawns on him that he’s at least moderately fucked, but he keeps up a good front.
“You’re Stark, aren’t you?”
“What’s that to you?”
“You’re the one I really wanted to see. Not that cunt.”
Candy comes out of the kitchen, steps carefully onto one of the dry spots on the tarp’s edge, and kicks Matthew in the ribs. He curls into a little ball of pain and surprise.
“Who’s that?”
“The kick fairy. Say something stupid again and she’ll leave another quarter under your pillow.”
It’s hard for him to catch his breath.
“Okay.”
“Good. We’ll deal with how you know me later. Right now I’m here to talk about you and Allegra.”
“She owes me,” he says, trying to sit up. He slips and goes back down again into the glass. Thin streams of red spread out into the soap. “She stole my money and left me to take the rap for everything.”
“Maybe she wanted to get away from you and that life.”
“Fuck the bitch.”
