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“No, you’re treating me as an object of pity. That’s an entirely different thing.”
“You’re not an object of pity!” I was shouting now, which I was vaguely aware of, though I didn’t really care. “You’re my new neighbor, and I’m saying hello! It’s what normal people do!”
“How many of your other neighbors did you bring a cake to?”
I was silent, my mouth still open in outrage.
“I thought so,” Andrew said. “You can go now. I’m not letting you in.”
“Jesus, are you this hard on everyone you meet?” I said, my voice strangled because I was so pissed off.
“Absolutely,” he replied. “My therapist tells me it’s a defense mechanism. It’s a good theory, though when I think it over I find I don’t give a fuck.”
The cake wobbled in my hand, and I struggled to balance it. The outrage was at war with the shivers again. “I’m glad you have a therapist, because it sounds like you really need it.”
“You should know. I’m not the one standing on a stranger’s porch in hundred-degree-heat. Besides, I think my therapist is wrong. My problem isn’t defensive mechanisms, it’s that I hate everyone.”
“Including me?”
“The jury’s out, but the statistical probability is yes. I’d say sorry, but I don’t have any feelings.”
“Oh, my God,” I said. “This iscake. No one hates cake.”
“Try me,” Andrew Mason said, and hung up.
I stood frozen, the phone still against my ear. Then I put it back in my pocket.
“Fuck you,” I muttered darkly. I didn’t know if he could hear me, and I didn’t care. “You think I don’t know assholes? I’m from L.A., jerk. It’s an entire city of assholes.” I marched to the front door and laid the cake in front of it. “Here’s your cake, Andrew Mason. You want to get rid of it, come get it yourself.”
The icing was definitely turning liquid in the heat, a few drops running down the sides. In an hour, theHiwould be nothing but smears of color, unintelligible. It would be a mess, and the flies and wasps would have a heyday. Too bad.
I turned and walked back across the street to my grandmother’s house, my sandals slapping against the hot concrete. When I put the key in the lock, I heard a softclickbehind me. I turned around to see the front door of Andrew Mason’s house clicking shut.
The cake on the porch was gone.
SEVEN
The next morning
Tessa:Well? How was the Hi cake? Admit you ate it.
Andrew: Who is this?
Tessa: Ha ha. You talk tough, but it took you thirty seconds to swoop in and pick it up, big guy.
Andrew: I didn’t want flies on my porch, that’s all.
Tessa: Sure. It wasn’t my sweet cake or my nice icing.
Andrew: I’m not commenting on your icing.
Tessa: Are you flirting with me?
Andrew: Since I said I’m not commenting, no I’m not.
Tessa: It’s okay if you flirt. That’s what normal single people sometimes do.
Andrew: So you brought me a cake because I’m single?
