“I knew you saw me.” I spun around. Dad stood in the doorway, his face flat. He was staring at the wicked bracelet I held. “It was only a few times,” he said, voice thick. “Jerome would stockpile leftovers. Marijuana and some harder stuff, odds and ends from arrests. When he had enough, he’d host parties. It was a way for us to let off steam. I swear to God I only went to a few. Only a few.” The bracelet slithered out of my hand and fell to the carpet with a thump.
