Then he heard his father's voice from decades earlier.
Never let somebody younger and dumber choose the version of you that shows up.
Marcus took one breath.
Then another.
He stepped backward.
Tyler smirked.
Mistook restraint for retreat.
Marcus looked at the girl.
“What's your name?”
She startled.
“Emily.”
“Emily, are you okay?”
Tyler snapped:
“She’s fine.”
Marcus ignored him.
Emily nodded quickly.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He looked toward Tyler.
“You leave now.”
Tyler said:
“Or?”
A voice came from the sidewalk.
“Tyler.”
Brenda.
Marcus closed his eyes briefly.
Of course.
She was walking quickly toward the driveway from three houses down.
Pink.
Saturday pink.
A fitted coral blouse, white pants, oversized sunglasses, and an expensive cream handbag hooked over one forearm.
She did not look at the scratch first.
She looked at her son.
“Are you hurt?”
Marcus almost laughed.
Tyler shook his head.
“No.”
Brenda reached him.
Her hands moved over his shoulders as if checking for injuries.
Then she turned toward Marcus.
“What did you do?”
Marcus stared.
“What did I do?”
“I got a message saying you were threatening Tyler.”
Emily looked toward the ground.
Marcus saw it.
There.
The message.
He looked toward her phone.
Emily's cheeks reddened.
Brenda continued:
“He's a minor.”
“Yes.”
Marcus nodded.
“He's also the person who just damaged that Lamborghini.”
Brenda looked toward the car.
Finally.
Her eyes reached the scratch.
She stopped.
For one second, the reality was clear enough to penetrate instinct.
“That was already there.”
Tyler looked at her.
Emily looked at her.
Marcus stared.
Brenda crossed her arms.
“I've seen this car before.”
Marcus almost admired the speed.
“You saw it for the first time yesterday evening.”
“That doesn't mean the damage is new.”
Marcus looked toward Tyler.
The teenager's face had changed.
He had not expected his mother to lie that quickly.
Marcus asked:
“Tyler, was the scratch already there?”
Brenda cut in.
“He doesn't need to answer you.”
Marcus kept his eyes on the boy.
“Was it?”
Tyler looked at his mother.
She gave him a tiny glance.
Marcus knew that glance.
He had seen parents use it in dealership disputes.
Not instruction exactly.
Permission to follow the family version.
Tyler swallowed.
“I don't know.”
Marcus nodded.
“Interesting.”
Brenda stepped between them.
“Stop interrogating him.”
“I'm not.”
“You're intimidating a sixteen-year-old.”
Marcus looked around.
At himself.
Charcoal suit.
Hands visible.
Twenty feet from the teenager now.
Neighbors watching.
Brenda continued:
“You've been escalating with this family for months.”
Marcus almost lost his composure.
“This family?”
“Yes.”
“Your son is standing beside a car he just carved with a utility knife.”
“That is an allegation.”
Marcus stared.
Brenda's voice became more confident.
“Do you have proof?”