I don’t know what I’m going to do. Maybe working for my dad is what I’m supposed to do.
My girl needs to trust me. Keep her attitude in check. Monitor her stress. That’s something that I’m supposed to be here for her.
The steel shop maw, pulling me closer.
This is getting bad. My dad’s going to start recommending me to people. This is horrible. The only thing worse than working for my dad is working for one of his friends.
You’ve got to cut that beard, he says. Appearance means so much in my industry. You look fine to work in a vape shop maybe, but not for one of my guys.
He wouldn’t mind having that control over me, to prove himself right, that I’ve been living a fantasy this whole while. That the dream was dead on arrival. That he was right to give it up as quickly as he did.
Whatever. I’ll give in. But I’m not going to pass the drug test. And I will always hold that against her.