Record.
Then he walked outside.
Pamela saw him emerge.
Her face brightened with the satisfaction of someone finally receiving an audience.
“Good.”
Marcus raised the phone.
“Pamela.”
She pointed the bat at the SUV.
“You ignored a direct HOA order.”
Marcus looked at the shattered glass.
Then at her.
“You're hitting a car with a baseball bat.”
“I am correcting an ongoing violation.”
Marcus almost lowered the phone from disbelief.
“You think destroying a vehicle is an HOA remedy?”
“You were given notice.”
“Notice does not authorize vandalism.”
Pamela stepped toward him.
Marcus stayed where he was.
“The vehicle is not permitted here.”
“Show me the rule.”
“I already explained this.”
“You invented a rule.”
“Do not speak to me that way.”
Marcus angled the phone so both Pamela and the damaged Rolls remained visible.
She noticed.
“You recording me?”
“Yes.”
“Turn that off.”
“No.”
Pamela’s face reddened.
“This is exactly the arrogance I have been dealing with since you moved here.”
Marcus said nothing.
That made her angrier.
“You think because you have money, rules don't apply.”
Marcus looked at the Rolls.
Then back at Pamela.
“Interesting theory.”
She gripped the bat tighter.
“Parking something like this in full view is disruptive.”
“Something like what?”
“A half-million-dollar showpiece.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
“You object to expensive cars?”
“I object to people deliberately flaunting them in communities built around tasteful restraint.”
A neighbor across the street opened his front door.
Marcus noticed.
Pamela did not.
She continued.
“You leave this monstrosity outside as some kind of statement.”
Marcus almost laughed.
“What statement?”
“That you can do whatever you want.”
“No.”
He held up his phone.
“Right now, you're the only person in my driveway doing whatever she wants.”
Pamela raised the bat again.
Marcus’s expression changed.
“Don't.”
She smiled.
“Move it.”
“It's not mine to move.”
Pamela paused.
Then scoffed.
“Please.”
Marcus did not respond.
Pamela pointed toward his house.
“You expect me to believe somebody leaves a Rolls-Royce overnight at your house?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Not relevant.”
“To neighborhood compliance it absolutely is.”
“No.”
Pamela stepped closer to the SUV.
“You purchased this car to provoke the board.”
Marcus stared at her.
That sentence explained more than she realized.
She truly believed the world revolved around her authority.
A vehicle could not simply exist.
It had to be a message directed at Pamela Whitmore.
Marcus said:
“You think I bought a Rolls-Royce to annoy you?”
“You’ve been antagonizing me for months.”
“I asked you to follow the bylaws.”
“Exactly.”
Marcus laughed once.
Pamela’s face hardened.
Then she swung again.
The baseball bat struck the front passenger window.
Glass fractured but did not fully collapse.
The security laminate held part of it together.
Pamela struck again.
This time it gave way.
Marcus flinched despite himself.
“That’s three windows.”
“Then maybe three reminders will finally teach you.”
“Teach me what?”
“That this neighborhood has standards.”
A woman from two houses down had come outside.
Another neighbor stood near his mailbox.