Free Mr. Monk is Cleaned Out by Lee Goldberg Page B

aggravating one I’ve ever had.”
    “And the most dangerous,” Julie said.
    “And the lowest paying,” I said.
    “What are you going to do?”
    “Look for something else.”
    “What about Mr. Monk?”
    “I’m going to try to find a job for him that we can do together,” I said. “And if I can’t, then he’s on his own and so am I.”
    “Can he even function without you?”
    “I’ll never abandon him entirely. He will always be a part of our lives, no matter what happens.”
    “Whether we like it or not,” she said.
    “I like it,” I said, surprising myself as much as Julie with the admission. “I don’t think I would have stayed with him this long if I didn’t. I like who I am when I am with him. In fact, it wasn’t until I started working for him that I even knew who that was.”
    “You’re not making any sense at all,” Julie said. Sullen, disapproving, hormonal Julie was back. It was like my daughter had a split personality disorder.
    “What all of this means for you,” I said, “is that you are going to get a job.”
    “Excuse me?” she said.
    “You’re going to work this summer. Things are tight around here and you’re expensive to maintain. So you’re going to start paying some of the costs. I’ll pay for food, utilities, medical care, all of the essentials. But if you want to go to the movies, or buy new clothes that you don’t really need, or send twenty-five hundred texts on your cell phone, or download some songs from iTunes, you’re going to pay for it.”
    “With what?”
    “The money you earn,” I said. “Working.”
    She stood up, her face reddening with anger. “You can’t do that.”
    “Why not?”
    “It’s summer,” she said.
    “That’s when kids work,” I said. “That’s why they are called summer jobs.”
    “Maybe that was true in the Dark Ages, but not now.”
    “These are the Dark Ages for us,” I said. “That’s what I am trying to tell you.”
    “You can’t put children to work.”
    “Why not?”
    “It’s wrong—that’s why,” she said. “There are laws against it. They’re called child labor laws.”
    “You aren’t a child and, up until now, you haven’t done any labor,” I said. “Tomorrow morning you’re going to start looking for work. This isn’t open to debate. It’s an edict.”
    “What if someone sees me working?” she said. “They’ll think we’re poor.”
    “We are,” I said. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
    She pointed her finger at me like it was a weapon.
    “This is all your fault. You’ve failed and now I have to suffer for it.”
    “You don’t know anything about suffering,” I said. “But you’re about to learn some things about sacrifice and hard work and what it really means to be an independent adult, which you keep telling me is how you want to be treated. Well, congratulations, sweetheart, your wish just came true.”
    “You are the worst mother ever,” Julie declared.
    She was lashing out, desperately trying to hurt me. She’d have to raise her game to do that.
    “I’ve been wearing that crown for a while now,” I said.
    “You’re out of work, we’re broke, and you can’t support us, so now I’ve got to get a job so we can eat,” she said. “What would Dad think of you right now?”
    Julie stormed out of the kitchen, and it’s a good thing that she did. Because if she’d been near me, I would have slapped her right across the face and earned my crown.

CHAPTER NINE
    Mr. Monk Is Cleaned Out
    J ulie didn’t show up for breakfast the next morning. I knew she was up, though, because I could hear her moving around in her room behind her closed door.
    I didn’t know whether she was sulking over having to find work or avoiding me because she regretted the hurtful things that she’d said.
    Either way, I was content just to eat my Grape- Nuts cereal, drink my Trader Joe’s instant coffee, and read the Chronicle without any confrontations or icy silences.
    I