Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 777(@200wpm)___ 622(@250wpm)___ 518(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 777(@200wpm)___ 622(@250wpm)___ 518(@300wpm)
“I know you would, but isn’t it good for me to start practicing responsibility?”
Mom and Hannah both slide me dry looks, and Mom says, “You’ve been responsible since you were five years old.”
Okay, that was a bad argument, but I’m desperate to make this plan work. “Fine, but I’d like to have my own spending money for other things. Maybe I want to go shopping with Hannah or catch a movie or something.”
“I can talk to Hayden about getting you a credit card. Not the one you have for emergencies, but one you can freely charge on whenever you want something.”
I should have known she would shoot down my hastily made argument with her supportiveness. “I just think it would be nice to earn my own money.”
“I understand that, but trust me, honey, you’ll have the rest of your life to earn your own money. This is your senior year, and I want you to have adequate time to devote to your studies. Baymont is a very challenging school with rigorous coursework. I also want you to have down time to spend with your friends and with us at home. You don’t need to work. This is the last time in your life that may be true, so while I understand your eagerness, it’s a no. I don’t pull this card often, but you will understand when you’re older. In this case, mother knows best.”
My shoulders slump with disappointment, but Mom simply averts her gaze and uses her straw to stir the ice in her cup. I know Mom, and she doesn’t dig in often, but when she does…
I’m not getting a job at the dance studio.
I’m disappointed because I most certainly will still get a job, but I really wanted my old job at the studio. It would mean spending more time with Mom, while getting a job elsewhere will mean spending less time with her.
I also risk making Mom mad when she finds out I went against her wishes. Which also increases the risk of her wanting to know why I’m so desperate to work, which may lead her down the path of realizing I’m just trying to avoid being at home…
All the risks went up. I wish she would have just given me what I asked for. It would have made things so much easier.
When lunch is over, Mom waits at the table to pay the bill. I tell her I’m going to wait with Hannah while the valet gets her car, and Mom says, “Oh! Just a minute,” and grabs her purse.
Then she slips Hannah a fifty, which Hannah stares at wide-eyed. “What’s this for?”
“Spending the day with Parker.”
Hannah opens her mouth, shuts it, then opens it again, saying with a faint smile, “I wasn’t babysitting. She’s my friend, we were just hanging out.”
“I know, but… well, I appreciate it. It gave me peace of mind knowing you were there. Anyway, I know Jackie cut your allowance, so just take it. Use it for gas or buy something for yourself.”
Hannah still seems uncertain about accepting money to hang out with me, but she must really need it, because in the end, she relents. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Hannah puts the money in her purse as we walk away, then she looks at me uncertainly. “I didn’t know what to do…”
I wave her off. “Please. I don’t care. If you can get paid for hanging out with me, do it.”
“It’s just, Jackie didn’t give me extra money in the household account to buy groceries for Anae’s party, so I was already short for the week.”
“Hannah, you do not have to explain. I truly do not care. If my mom’s going to marry Daddy Warbucks and can afford to give you money, then that’s a win as far as I’m concerned. Hell, when I get a job—if I can find one—I’m already planning to treat you like my sugar baby every time we do anything.”
Hannah cracks a smile and rolls her eyes. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I can pay my own way. Funding a sugar baby that doesn’t give you any sugar doesn’t seem like a fair exchange.”
“No exchange required. I enjoy providing for you. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s your domestic goddess energy. You deserve it so much, you just make people want to take care of you.”
“I’m not sure that’s true,” she murmurs. “I live with people who certainly don’t have the drive to take care of me or appreciate me in any capacity.”
“No, you live with parasites. I said people,” I say, exaggerating the pronunciation just to make her smile.
“Ah, of course. My mistake.”
“I wish I were into girls and we were into each other because I know life with you would be—” I stop talking to kiss my fingers in the universal gesture of a chef’s kiss.