Brookfield Pines gave him that.
Mostly.
Then Brenda Whitmore became HOA president.
Marcus flipped another burger.
Samuel pointed.
“That one.”
“What?”
“Burned.”
Marcus moved it.
“You have been waiting your entire life for this moment.”
“I raised you for this moment.”
Danielle walked over holding a bowl of coleslaw.
“What are you two arguing about?”
“Your husband doesn’t respect meat.”
Marcus looked offended.
“Do not involve my wife.”
Danielle kissed Marcus’s cheek.
“I’m staying neutral.”
“Coward.”
“Correct.”
She walked back toward the table.
Samuel smiled.
“You married smarter than yourself.”
Marcus was about to answer when something struck the wooden fence behind them.
A dull thump.
Marcus looked over.
“So much for peace.”
Samuel glanced toward the fence.
“What was that?”
“Probably somebody’s basketball.”
Another sound.
Scraping.
Longer this time.
Marcus frowned.
Brookfield Pines lots were close enough that neighbors occasionally heard each other, but the eight-foot privacy fence usually kept the backyards visually separate.
The scraping came again.
Something heavy moving along the other side.
Marcus set the tongs down.
Then he saw the top of a black plastic garbage bin rise above the fence.
For half a second his brain refused to interpret what his eyes were showing him.
Then a young man’s face appeared.
Tyler Whitmore.
Eighteen.
Brenda’s son.
He was standing on something behind the fence, struggling to lift the large wheeled bin.
Marcus stared.
“Tyler?”
The boy froze.
Too late.
Momentum took over.
The garbage bin tipped.
The lid flew open.
A wave of trash came over the fence.
Plastic cups.
Paper plates.
Fast-food wrappers.
Half-filled garbage bags.
Food containers.
Coffee grounds.
Old newspapers.
Spoiled vegetables.
A wet cardboard box.
Something that looked like an entire bag of grass clippings.
It crashed into Marcus’s backyard.
Danielle screamed.
Samuel stepped backward.
Marcus lunged away from the grill.
One bag burst against the corner of the food table.
Dirty napkins flew across serving dishes.
A plastic container struck the ground and opened, spilling old pasta across the patio.
A soda cup landed in Gloria’s lap.
Aaron grabbed the children and pulled them away.
Renee knocked over her chair while moving.
For three seconds nobody understood what had happened.
Then Marcus heard laughter from behind the fence.
Not Tyler.
A woman.
Marcus knew that laugh.
Brenda.
His expression changed.
Danielle looked at him.
“Marcus.”
He was already reaching for his phone.
“Everybody stay back.”
Samuel stepped forward.
“Someone just dumped garbage on your mother.”
“I know.”
“I’m going around there.”
“No.”
“Marcus—”
“Dad.”
Something in Marcus’s voice stopped him.
“Stay here.”
Marcus opened his camera.
He began filming.
Garbage continued dropping in smaller pieces as Tyler shook the bin.
Marcus walked toward the fence.
“Keep going.”
Tyler stopped.
Marcus raised the phone higher.