Malia has taken the Porsche. She took the Porsche to pick up Devon, after I clearly told her I needed it for work today, the moment my online meeting ended. The meeting ran late, yes, but she took the car anyway.
Unbelievable.
I scratch my head in frustration, shoving my shoes on in a rush. I nearly topple over, fumbling with my phone to text her at the same time.
Vince: I'm going to kill you later.
Vince: Don't tell your mom I said that.
Malia: I'm so scared rn.
Vince: You're in serious goddamn trouble.
Malia: You took too damn long.
Vince: If you so much as scratch that car, you're double dead.
Malia: OK
"Dad, can I go to the movies with David tonight? He can come pick me up!" Tina's voice carries from the living room, sharp with teenage urgency.
"No, I won't be home till late," I shout back, my thumb stabbing at the Uber app on my phone as I frantically search for my wallet.
It isn't where I left it. Didn't I leave it on the kitchen counter?
"I'm still going to go! I'll be home by the time you get back. Don't worry, we just wanna see that new horror movie that came out Friday," Tina calls out. The television volume swells. "Lizzie says David is scared shitless of horror movies, and that he's gonna break up with me over this, but that's not even true because last summer Megan said she took him to see IT and he laughed the whole time. So I bet Lizzie twenty bucks he stays through the whole movie date without freaking out—"
Oh my God, I don't care. I love my daughters to death, but raising teenage girls tests my patience in ways I've never experienced before.
"Sounds great, sweetheart," I mutter, still tearing through the house for my wallet.
"How does that sound great, Dad? Are you even listening?!"
"I got the gist of it, Tina! I'm sorry, I don't have time to sit and listen right now. I'm late. Where the hell is my wallet?"
My phone buzzes again. Gary, texting for the millionth time to remind me I'm really goddamn late for taping on Relay. As if I didn't already know.
Back the fuck off, I text him.
He replies with a crying emoji and some weird GIF I don't have time to watch. I know I'm late, and he isn't helping. Everyone is waiting on me, and my wallet is still missing.
"Dad, can I borrow a hundred bucks for tonight?" Tina asks, holding my wallet.
She's holding my wallet.
Tina, my youngest, just turned sixteen and completely spoiled—what the hell does she need a hundred bucks for? I storm over, snatching the wallet from her hands and tossing a twenty-dollar bill back at her.
"Ugh, Dad, what the fuck am I supposed to get with this?" she whines.
"Watch your language. And if you're gonna complain about a handout, give me the twenty back. That's for when you lose your bet to Lizzie."
She stares at me, her face a mix of annoyance and begrudging respect. "You were listening?"
Malia would've come back with something like, "You're being an asshole and working on a weekend. I deserve a hundred bucks." Or she'd just steal my car. Hypothetically.
"Yeah, I caught most of it, sweetheart, but I need to leave right now. Tell me about it later."
Tina sighs. "Whatever." She stuffs the cash in her jeans pocket and pulls out her phone.
