Now, I’m going to ask you nicely one time.
Please leave my property.
You can’t tell me what to do.”
Brandon’s voice cracked slightly, that teenage fury breaking through.
Do you know who my family is?
We run this place.
I paddled to the edge of the pool, sat down my beer, and looked him straight in the eye.
I know exactly who your family is, and I’m still telling you to leave right now.
For a moment, I thought he might actually listen.
His bravado wavered, and something like uncertainty flickered across his face.
But then his phone was out and he was jabbing at the screen with urgent fingers.
“You’re done,” he hissed.
“My mom is going to destroy you.”
“I’ll wait,” I said, settling back into the water.
Karen arrived in less than five minutes, which told me she’d been close by, probably doing her weekend patrol of the neighborhood, looking for violations to sight.
She came through my side gate like a hurricane in Lululemon, her face already set in that expression of righteous fury I’d seen her deploy on so many neighbors.
“What is going on here?” she demanded, not to Brandon, but to me, as if I was the problem.
“Your son trespassed on my property and ordered me to leave my own pool,” I explained.
Still floating, still calm.
I’ve asked him to leave.
Now I’m asking you both to leave.
Karen’s eyes narrowed.
She pulled out her phone, these people, and their phones, and started scrolling through something.
According to the HOA property maps, this area is designated as community recreational space.
You’re actually the one trespassing.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
She was doubling down on the lie.
Karen, you and I both know that’s not true.
I have the property deed, the survey, the permits.
This is private property.
It’s been private property since the house was built.
I don’t care what fake documents you have.
She snapped her voice, taking on that sharp edge that had cowed so many of our neighbors.
The HOA owns this land.
I have the documentation right here.
She thrust her phone at me, showing what appeared to be some kind of property map.
I didn’t even need to look closely to know it was fabricated.
The boundaries were wrong.
The lot numbers didn’t match.
And most tellingly, it looked like it had been made in Microsoft Paint.
