Addicted

"Well, I'm your investor. Rule number one is that you should never tell me that. You put on your game face and sell your designs like I would die without them."

I smiled and shook my head. "No one's going to die here."

"Right, but the feeling should be the same, Chloe. No one wants to invest in an artist who sort of thinks her stuff would be good. We want to jump in the boat with someone that reminds us that we're about to miss out on the next great thing." His voice was full of life and his expression reminded me of the man he used to be.

"Let me ask you this..." I closed the book and pulled my mug closer to me, using it to warm my hands. "Why did you choose winter attire? It seems so stuffy and uncreative."

"For that exact reason. I love it up here in the cold and yet, just like you, I can only stand to be outside for a few minutes. My 'why' for creating my line of men and women's ski and snowboard attire was for necessity. Is it the most beautiful design in the world? No. Is it attractive? Yes. Plus, it's fully functional and will keep you warm in an arctic freeze."

I realized with a start that I had been going about my plan all wrong. It wasn't about designing something that I would wear because it was cute, but coming up with something functional and making it cute.

"Brilliant." I glanced down at my coffee and smiled. "Dad. That's brilliant."

"Right? It's why you had your school paid in full. There's money in that way of thinking." He moved toward me and laid a plate of pancakes in front of me. "I know I'm hard on you, but there's a reason for it."

I wanted to push a little, but I decided to let it alone.

He sat down beside me and started to eat. "Show me what you have."

Opening my binder, I pushed it across the table.

"It's a line of t-shirts that I think would be great sellers on college campuses." I flipped through them slowly, watching his expression remain unchanged.

He glanced up. "Who are you selling these to?"

"College kids. I just said that."

He shook his head and cut into his pancakes. "Did you not take any business classes at UCLA, Chloe? College kids don't have money."

There was a sick sense of relief that flooded me to see that my father was slipping back into his normal self. If I didn't feel stupid already coming to sit before him, I did now.

"Some do. Most of us have allowances, Dad."

"I'm aware of that, but you're limiting yourself. A small percentage of the population are college kids." He pushed

the notebook back at me. "I want you to think about designing something for people in colder climates."

"What? Why? I hate the cold. I'd much rather design something for the beach. If I had my other notebook, I could..."

He cut me off. "Well, you don't. Eat your breakfast before it gets cold and have some new windbreakers designed for me by later this week. That's your first test to get this very large sum of money you're after. I love you, but I'm not willing to set you up to fail and lose money in this venture at the very same time. That would be stupid as a businessman and as a dad."

"I hate the cold."

"Exactly." He tapped my plate with his fork to remind me to eat. "Let that drive you to create the warmest, comfiest, light-weight jacket known to man."

I turned my eyes down and started to eat, hoping that the large syrupy pancakes would shove the thick ball of hate building in my chest back down.

"I know you don't like my request, but I'm holding the checkbook. Be smart about this. I know you have it in you."

Him patronizing me only caused my appetite to plummet.

I stood and picked up my plate, having barely touched my pancakes. I dumped it in the sink, picked up my sketch pad and my coffee, and walked to my room without another word.

Was it asinine? Absolutely.

Did I care? Hell no.

He was a jerk and had been tearing me down for years. I didn't need his money and I wasn't willing to play his game – at least I didn't think I was.