CHAPTER 7: ZAPPAASHLEY DILLON WAS NOT PRIMPING. The Dress still hung in the closet. Her hair was a tangled mess, her makeup smeared, her skin sweaty.
“Yes!” she shrieked. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“Oh, baby!” shrieked Haggis Mack.
Danny Dillon’s knuckles stopped in mid-air, two inches from his daughter’s bedroom door.
Thoughts flipped through his stunned brain like digits on a clock.
I’ll kill him.
No, I’ll beat him to a pulp.
Get Ashley out of there, fast.
If Pam finds out, she’ll kill him.
If Phyllis finds out, she’ll kill both of them.
If Harry finds out, he’ll laugh his ass off.
Danny pounded on the door. “Ashley!”
Groans. Giggles. Silence.
“Ashley! Your mom’s demonstration is in ten minutes. If you’re not down there, I swear to God—”
With a supreme effort of will, Danny spun aro
