Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“This place is exactly like I remember,” I said, stealing a taste of my ice cream while we headed to the back patio. A brief moment of strangeness cut through me. I was practically on a cute little date with my terrifying boss. At least, that’s how I’d seen him before tonight. Maybe it was him losing the suit or the way he’d stood up to my dad, but the butterflies in my stomach made me wonder if this had anything to do with the interview for me.
“It’s nice,” he said. He’d seemed distracted ever since we got in the car and a little distant, but I figured that was just him preparing to stonewall me for the interview.
“Mom and dad used to bring me here after music lessons. This was the table we always got.” We’d headed outside and claimed a picnic style bench in the narrow back area of Swirlie’s. There was a grassy area above the patio with cornhole boards, a small playset for kids, a giant Connect Four set, and some outdoor party games. The whole area was enclosed in a fence that was painted in bright pastel murals featuring trees and happy face masks hanging from rusted nails. Being back here made me think of childhood.
I noticed they were putting a fresh mural on part of the fence and someone had even taken the trouble to replace the old nails holding up the masks. It made me think about how people always say nothing lasts forever. Maybe that was true in some senses, but not all of them. If people cared enough about something, they could make it last. They could take care of it, just like this place was being looked after.
I didn’t know why, but that thought struck me as important.
“Music lessons, huh?” Dominic asked after a little while. He’d been mostly focused on his ice cream and looking all around, taking in the scene. “What instrument?”
I took a bite of my ice cream, smirking. “I’m supposed to be interviewing you. Not the other way around.”
“A good interviewer builds rapport with their subject.”
“Touche. It was piano. My dad was a college professor back then and was always trying to get his big break writing for journals.”
“Ah,” Dominic said, nodding as if he’d already pieced it all together from the sparse details. “Let me guess. You got into writing because it was what your dad wanted?” Without waiting for an answer, he nodded again, smiling to himself. “Yeah, it makes sense now. You hate my guts, but you still like pleasing people. That’s one reason you’re so obnoxiously good at your job, isn’t it?”
“I’m not sure if that was a compliment,” I said carefully.
“I don’t give compliments.”
I rolled my eyes and folded my arms. “Why do you try so hard to be such a grump? It’s pretty obvious you’re forcing it.”
“I wasn’t done building rapport.” His gaze locked with mine and a spark of fire ran through me. God, with one look, it was like he could cut straight to my core and make me feel so… seen.
“Well, as a matter of fact, you’re not entirely correct. Dad didn’t necessarily care if I became a writer like him. He just wanted Eloise and me to do something meaningful with our lives. He’d say things like chasing a paycheck was for pawns in the system, or you can’t take money with you after you’re gone, but you can leave your reputation behind. Back then, I wanted to play soccer and basketball, but he’d only get us lessons for things like piano or a private art tutor for Eloise.”
“Do you still play? The piano, I mean.”
“No,” I said. I looked down as a sudden wave of sadness washed over me. “It brings back bad memories, I guess. I spent a few years really trying to get good. Eloise was thriving with art and dad was always so proud. Then there was me, never really managing to do anything but reach ‘expected competence.’ That was his phrase for it. Like when you’re as good at something as you probably should be, given the work you’ve put in. He’d talk about it like it was a knock against me, and it drove me crazy. It never felt like I could try hard enough to make him happy. So when I started getting some emails home from teachers saying I was excelling with writing, everything changed. He let me give up the piano lessons and started giving me mock assignments every night and making me hit deadlines.” I flashed a sour smile. “I’ve been training for this since I was in pigtails, basically.”
Dominic scowled. “Fuck your dad.”
My eyebrows bunched together. “Aren’t you supposed to at least pretend to like my dad? It’s not exactly the best way to start a r–” I hesitated. I’d been about to say it wasn’t the best way to start a relationship, like this was a date and not an interview. My cheeks burned red.