Page 242 of Mad Girl

“Lib,” Nic said, stepping forward. “I’ve got this.”

“No.” Libby pierced me with a look of cool disapproval. “You have no right to act like your dad doesn’t care. He does more for you than you’ll ever know. You owe him an apology—for those nasty, malicious things you said. Especially that shit you said about your mother.”

“He told you what I said?”

“Elliot,” she replied, exasperation flitting across her face, “we’ve been over this. Your dad tells us everything.”

I laughed darkly. “Does he now? Are you sure? Are you absolutely positive?”

“Of course I am,” she said.

“Aww, Libby. I can tell you believe that about him, and it’s sweet. Really, it is. But here’s the truth—you have no idea what my dad’s capable of hiding.”

Nic flashed you a look of warning over my shoulder. And John, standing right beside him, clocked it.

But we’ll get to that in a different letter.

As for Politician Barbie, she had so much faith in my dad she didn’t even flinch, never doubting him for a second. Smiling sweetly, she picked up my braid and said, “Honey, you’re so much like your mom, it’s eerie—the face, the voice, that look in your eye, everything. It’s like the last twenty years never passed, and Vicky’s telling me she knows things about Nic I never will. But no one knows your father like John and I do.”

I laughed again. “Oh my God. You are seriously delu⁠—”

“Alright,” you said, tugging me away from her. “Time for us to go now.”

Quickly, you hauled me out the door. “Jesus,” you said on the sidewalk. “Did you go there to attack your dad?”

“No. I wanted to see what the three of them were up to.” I pulled a face. “They’re definitely sleeping together.”

You stopped on the sidewalk. “Who is?”

“All three of them! Our dads and Libby.”

You pulled a face, too. “I beg your pardon?”

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

“Based upon what?”

“John and Libby were getting dressed. My dad’s jacket and tie were missing.”

“John and Libby are meant to be at an event soon, and surely by now you’ve noticed that the moment your dad gets home from work, he removes his jacket and tie.”

You had a point there, so I mentioned Nic zipping up Libby’s dress.

“It’s no different than me doing that for my sister,” you said, “which I have, loads of times.”

“Oh, yeah? What about this?” I told you what Bree saw, what John said in response, and what Michael himself thought. The horrifying midday sex story—I filled you in on that, too.

Suddenly, you were out of rationalizations. You lowered yourself onto the front stoop outside my house and stared straight ahead, pinching your lips.

“Well? What do you have to say to that?”

You leaned back, head shaking. “I have to agree with Michael. If they have an arrangement, that’s between the three of them. It’s certainly none of my business.”

“So you don’t care if our dads are—if they—if they’re part of some throuple?”

You grimaced. “No. No. Fuck no.” A pause. “I mean, I always sort of suspected—it’s just that they’ve always seemed very—but no. Absolutely not. No. None of my business.” You shivered. “I wish I knew nothing about it.”

“Well, I’m sorry I told you.” Annoyed, I stood to go inside the house, but you grabbed my hand.