And right there in the middle of Bingo, he got up and accused this perfectly lovely man of stealing his toupee! And if that wasn’t bad enough, he tried to grab it from his head. Of course, the man wasn’t wearing a toupee, and Daddy wound up yanking out a clump of this poor man’s hair. It was very painful, I’m sure.

The absolute worst thing is that the man turned out to be Tampa Vista’s new social director. So now Daddy’s been banned from the clubhouse for the next six months.

To: Jausten

From: DaddyO

Subject: Bingo

I never liked that clubhouse, anyhow. I think the bingo games are fixed.

Chapter Eight

“I’ve worked for a lot of sleazeballs in my life, SueEllen, but you hit a new low on the sleaze-o-meter. Effective immediately, I quit.”

Nice speech, isn’t it? I spent the next morning in front of the mirror rehearsing it, along with a few other choice zingers. (I’m sickened by the way you mistreat Heidi, and I intend to file a complaint about you with county social services. From now on, you can turn on your own damned hot water. And my personal fave: The last time I saw boobs like yours was at a volleyball game.)

By the time I got to work, I’d mentally tried and convicted SueEllen of child (and writer) abuse, and had her sharing a jail cell with a gal named Duke.

Of course, SueEllen wasn’t the only person on my mind that morning. There was also Daddy and that ridiculous toupee of his. I didn’t blame Mom one bit for tossing it in the trash, especially after that scene at the clubhouse. It was just like Daddy to pull a stranger’s hair in the middle of a bingo game. Just like the time he punched out “the burglar” he caught on our front steps. It turned out the man was a Jehovah’s Witness who, after he regained consciousness, sued Daddy for $1,200 in small claims court and won.

Life with Daddy sure wasn’t easy, I thought, as I drove up the Kingsleys’ driveway.

I parked my Corolla next to SueEllen’s Bentley and headed for the front door. I rang the bell, but nobody answered. I rang it again. Still no answer. That was strange. Even if nobody else was home, why wasn’t SueEllen letting me in with her bathtub intercom?

Just when I was about to give up and turn away, Heidi opened the door, a walkman headset hanging from her neck.

“I thought I heard the doorbell, but I wasn’t sure. Come on in.”

I followed her inside and up the stairs.

“What’re you doing home from school?”

I hoped SueEllen hadn’t grounded her for life.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Student elections. Couldn’t bear listening to the campaign speeches so I cut out early.”

“How’s everything going?” I asked, wondering if there’d been any ugly aftermath of the Birthday Cake Affair.

“Fine. This morning at breakfast, SueEllen said I couldn’t have any pancakes. So I went into the kitchen and got them myself. SueEllen had a cow, but for once, Daddy stuck up for me and told her to let me eat ‘the goddamn pancakes.’”