Chapter 5 - The Dispersal
Panic is a fascinating thing to watch, especially among people who believe their wealth makes them untouchable.
Within seconds, the living room turned into a chaotic scramble. Women in expensive resort wear grabbed their designer bags. Men shoved past each other to get to the front door, desperate to move their luxury cars before Jim’s flatbed trucks arrived.
Megan stood in the center of the room, her chest heaving, watching her carefully curated social event crumble into absolute dust.
Through the open windows, the flashing red and blue lights of two local police cruisers reflected off the glass. They pulled up right as Jim’s massive yellow tow truck blocked the end of the street.
Officers Miller and Davis—two boys I used to bake cookies for when they were in middle school—stepped out of their cars and walked up my crushed lawn.
"Mrs. Vance?" Officer Miller asked, stepping onto the porch. He looked past me at the scrambling guests. "Is everything alright here?"
"I am perfectly fine, David," I said warmly. "But these people are trespassing. And I would like them escorted off my property."
It took less than twenty minutes for the house to empty. The guests fled in sheer embarrassment, avoiding my gaze as they squeezed past the police. Jim managed to hitch one of Megan's sister's SUVs before she could find her keys, resulting in a screaming match in the street that ended with Megan's sister paying a $300 drop fee in cash just to drive her own car away.
When the dust settled, the flashing lights disappeared, and the heavy thrum of the tow trucks faded down the coastal highway.
Only three people remained inside the house. Me, Robert, and Megan.
The living room was a disaster zone of spilled drinks, sandy footprints, and discarded food. The silence that had returned to the house felt heavy, thick with the impending storm.
May you like
Megan turned to me, her face twisted in absolute fury. "You selfish, spiteful old woman. Do you know what you just cost Robert? Do you know who those people were? You just ruined his career!"
"If your husband's career depends on throwing illegal parties in a house he doesn't own," I replied coldly, "then his career was built on sand to begin with."
