“No, my dad!” she cries. “Something happened to my dad!”
23
MANDY
The lawn, my father’s pride and joy, is a dead field of beige stretched in front of my childhood home. It can only mean one thing—something horrible happened to him.
“Dad! Daddy!”
It was Jaxon. I had been stupid and stubborn. I should have let Salinger loose on him this morning. Now something happened to my father, and it’s all my fault.
Inside, I hear angry yelling and dishes breaking.
“Call the police,” I scream to Salinger as I race up the walkway.
Swearing, he sprints after me, shoving me behind him as the front door swings open.
My very confused, befuddled father wanders out. “Mandy girl!” His face lights up when he seesme.
“Dad!” I sob.
“What’s wrong?” He immediately bristles when he sees Salinger. “What did you do to my daughter?”
“Nothing, sir. However, did you know that there is a—”
“Dad, what happened to your lawn?” I ask loudly before Salinger can spill the beans about my stalker snafu to my dad.
Yes, friends, I have entered the pretend-it-never-happened delulu stage of a traumatic event.
In the safe bubble of Salinger’s private island estate, it began to feel increasingly obvious that I had overreacted about the stalker the night before. Shoot, I probably should have walked back to my car and not gotten so hysterical. I mean, hiding behind a dumpster? Overreaction, much? I’m not even sure why I even bothered to call Salinger. Completely unnecessary, right? Right.
And nothing was wrong with my dad. Another overreaction on my part.
“Sir,” Salinger begins.
I kick him on the ankle. He grabs my wrist.
“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Uber Driver,” I say. “You can go now.”
“Mandy, you’re not appreciating this lawn.” My boss’s hand sweeps out like he’s revealing priceless artwork.
“Looks dead, Dad. What happened? Did bugs get it?”
“No, no, no.” Salinger rests a hand on my back. “That is an intentional kill-off, probably using glyphosate. Whoever killed that lawn did a superior job. Didn’t miss an inch.” Salinger is enthralled. “I used to do this for extra cash during college. It’s the most complete kill I’ve ever seen.”
My dad is in love. His chest puffs out. “Yep, I used fast-acting fertilizer, watered it heavily, did two to three passes of glyphosate, then hit it again a few days later.”
“This guy lawns.” Salinger pumps my dad’s hand enthusiastically. “I wish I could have seen it before you did the kill-off. Bet you had the best damn lawn in the city.”
“It’s just a hobby.” My father is so pleased his mustache is twitching in happiness.
“Dad,” I begin slowly, “why did you kill off the lawn? Salinger, you can leave now—thank you for the ride.”
“He’s starting a new lawn from scratch.” Salinger’s hand slides casually down to rest on my hip. “Probably that new high-end cultivar that everyone’s talking about.”
“You read that article inTurfmagazine?” my dad asks him.
“Randal McKean is an idiot, but damn if that article wasn’t on point.”
