“None of your business.”
He grumbles something unintelligible under his breath and cranks the volume on “Every Morning” by Sugar Ray. It’s always a thrill when I can silence him.
“Every morning there’s a halo hovering around the top of my beddddd,” he belts at the top of his lungs.
“Those aren’t the lyrics,” I point out.
He shrugs. “What are you? The lyrics police? It’s the gist of the song.”
“It’s his girlfriend’s four-post bed,” I inform him, enunciating slowly.
“I won’t believe it if you don’t sing it.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Fine. Suit yourself,” he says, continuing to bellow his incorrect lyrics.
Lucky for my eardrums, we pull into the parking lot a few minutes later, thanks to my Maps app. Brenda, the owner of the party store, greets us with a harsh frown. I think she’s bothered we’re late. But after a few moments of small talk with Renner, she’s charmed. He casts dark magic, I’m sure of it.
“Your collection is fantastic, Brenda,” Renner says, taking a gander around the warehouse. “How long have you been in business?”
“It’s been in the family for ages. My grandfather opened it in the early fifties,” she responds, eyes resting on Renner.
He lets out an impressed whistle.
“That’s amazing. So much history,” I say eagerly. Still, Brenda’s gaze stays fixed on Renner, like I’m a dust particle.
Renner tosses her another smile. “We really appreciate you letting us take a look around so early in the morning.”
Her ample chest vibrates with giddiness. She waves a hand, like it’s no bother. “Anytime you need to come back, just give me a call. I live close, so I can always swing by,” she offers enthusiastically.
While I pick out all the necessary prom items—drapery, tablecloths, and chair covers—Renner acts like a five-year-old in a toy store, distracted by all kinds of items we don’t need. He even tries to convince me to switch to a Mardi Gras theme because of a wall mount in the shape of a giant playing card that catches his eye.
I would have happily chosen Mardi Gras over Under the Sea a month ago, but it’s too late to go back now. If he took his role as president seriously, he would know that.
We end up with ten jellyfish lanterns, an array of cardboard aquatic animals, a fisher’s net, shells, and streamers. Nori requested balloons both for a photo booth arch, and ones to drop from the ceiling when the prom court is announced, so we get an obscene number of those too.
Our selection process involves various disagreements, like which shade of blue napkins is less tacky—aqua or cyan. He’s also far too keen to rent a cardboard cutout of Jaws.
I wait beside the van, shifting my weight to relieve my feet while Renner loads the back with decor. I catch the flex of his muscly arms straining against his cotton T-shirt, and a single bead of sweat rolls down my temple. It must be the heat.
I tear my eyes away as my phone vibrates in my hand.
It’s Dad.
EIGHT
Odd. Dad never calls me directly. He prefers to go through Mom like I’m a small child.
Against my better judgment, I pick up. “Hello?”
“Charlotte. It’s Dad.” It seems ridiculous that he needs to clarify, but I guess we hardly speak.
“Hi?” I say, hoping he’ll just skip right to the point.
Pregnant pause. Something is up. “Did your mother tell you I called?”
“She did. Sorry I didn’t call you back. I’ve just been really busy with school and stuff.”
“No worries. Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me in the city.” His tone is stilted. Almost robotic, as if he’s reading from a script.
I’m momentarily distracted by Renner attempting to Tetris a clownfish cutout into the van bed. He’s going to scrape the paint if I don’t intervene soon. “Uh, I’m a little busy right now with prom and grad. I don’t think I can make it. Maybe in the summer?” I offer, purely out of guilt. Should I be more excited at the prospect of seeing my father? Probably.
“That’s actually exactly what I was hoping to discuss with you.”
Renner manages to wedge the clownfish in, wiping his dirty hands on his jeans.
“Charlotte?” Dad repeats.
I shake my head, willing myself to focus. “Sorry. I really don’t think I can make it to the city till after school ends.”
“Oh, okay.” He actually sounds disappointed.