ME: …
DAD: I’m not trying to be mean or anything, sweet pea, but I don’t think you’re cut out for the real world. And if you’re looking for a job, I can probably get you an assistant position or something somewhere. You get good insurance working for the government.
I try and fail to write something beyond, Dad I know it doesn’t look like I can take care of myself
But after typing those words out, I can’t think of a follow-up.
I’ve gotten exactly zero responses to any of the animation jobs I’ve submitted for over the last week. No one seems to be looking for an MFA program dropout with absolutely no work experience, not even an internship. And even if I had found a job that wanted me, I’m a little perturbed that most of the good ones are located on the West Coast, thousands of miles away from Byron, the Ferraros, and my parents.
Still, the thought of pushing paper in a government office somewhere gives me hives after so many years of following my passions. Plus, I’m thirty-two years old with a baby on the way. Moving in with my parents feels like a step back. Dad’s not exactly an anti-Victor when it comes to ordering me around. Plus, he’s already doubting my ability to take care of myself, even though the one thing Byron hasn’t told him yet is that I’m going to be a mother soon.
He wouldn’t just flip if he found out that I was pregnant without any real job prospects. He’d tracked me down, and then he’d probably find out the rest of it. That Byron had hidden me not in a safe house but with a crime family, who’s technically paying him extra under the table. That I was seeing Victor again, despite what happened at his lifetime achievement award ceremony. That I was already failing at this adulting business before I even tried to take control of my life.
A hand taps me on the knee, interrupting my blizzard of conflicting thoughts. I look up at Victor, who is sitting across from me in the back seat of his Bentley.
“Is everything OK?” he asks.
What would Dad say if he knew that I was currently in the back seat of a luxury car with one of his worst enemies, after driving for several hours toward our “second date.”
“Yes,” I answer, not even hesitating to lie. “Everything’s fine.”
“You look upset,” Victor signs with a skeptical look. “Who are you texting with?”
Yeah, I should answer that question honestly because what this truly messed up situation needs is another Victor-Darrell battle.
“Nunya,” I answer.
His eyes narrow, “Who is N-U-N-Y-A? A schoolmate I do not know about?”
I fight the urge to both laugh and sigh. Cultural differences make pithy comebacks a whole lot harder.
“It's short for none of your business,” I explain with more patience than I’m feeling.
His face stones over. And I watch him closely, waiting for the old Victor to resurface. To demand answers. To make whatever threat it takes to get me to tell him the truth.
But instead, he looks out the window and says, “We’re here.”
I pocket my phone, leaving my dad's texts unanswered.
I don't have any good replies to give Dad anyway. And I'm super curious about what’s on the other end of this long drive.
My mouth drops open when I see where we are. Our final destination is a hell of a lot closer than Hello Kitty Land, but it’s way more shocking.
I stare at the former firehouse now transformed into an animation company. I know the building on sight because they use it as their main logo.
“Yinz Entertainment?” I ask. “What are we doing here?”
Victor answers with a slight shrug. “I thought you might still want this job.”
I shake my head at him. “Of course, I want this job. But I never graduated from RhIDS, and that was contingent on me getting it.”
Another shrug. “I took care of that too. As it turns out, the head of your program could be convinced to change his stance on the thesis requirement. You will receive your diploma by mail in the next couple of days.”
My heart slams into my throat. Hard. “You talked to Jacoby Pirelli? For me?” I stare at him, completely dumbfounded.
Victor’s expression turns unexpectedly heated. “He’d already seen the quality of your work. He knew that after how much money you paid and how many hours you put in for that degree, you shouldn’t have to lose out on your MFA because of one missed presentation. You deserve that degree, and you deserve this job. He had no right to take either opportunity away from you.”
He looks really angry. I mean, furious. On my behalf. Emotion flutters my stomach. I’m weirdly touched.
Plus, all my worries about insurance and job security and what comes next…this would solve them. Whoa. Victor might’ve actually solved all my real-world problems with our second date.