Page 23 of Good For Me

“I told Ash and Cade I’d help them some more. They’re working on a new trick.”

He’s silent, just like he was when I told him why I was here, and my defenses immediately go up. I don’t need him to speak to know he disapproves of the way I spend my time.

“I was thinking you could come up to the label Monday,” he says in a fake-casual voice that doesn’t help me to relax in the slightest. “Katelyn in the publicity division is looking for an intern.”

“Dad.”

If he hears the warning note in my voice, he ignores it. “It would be a good place for you to start,” he continues. “PR works with every division in the company. It would give you a lot of exposure to different careers. Maybe help you figure out what you’re interested in.”

“I already know that I’m not interested in working at your label,” I say sharp enough for Violet to stop what she’s doing to watch us. I should probably try harder to stay cool when the other kids are around, but come on. We’ve discussed this. More than once.

“I’m not saying you have to work at the label forever. I’m just saying it would be a good opportunity for you to try a few different things and—”

“I have an early shift Monday,” I mutter, and his jaw tightens.

Just say it, Dad,I think. It’s so obvious that he doesn’t approve of my bartending but he’ll never come out and just tell me that. Instead he dances around it with words likeopportunitiesandchallenge yourselfandexposure.

It’s not like I want to be a bartender forever. I just have no freaking clue what I actually want to do. Working for the label is definitely not it, though. I have zero intention of riding my dad or uncles’ coattails.

I catch sight of Violet out of the corner of my eye. She’s still watching us, a worried expression on her face. I stick out my tongue at her and cross my eyes and she smiles before going back to the cupcakes.

“Your mother and I just want you to be happy,” Dad says in a low voice. “You know that, right?”

“Why do you think I’m not happy?”

He sets down the knife he’s been using to cut the sandwiches. “Riv. Come on. You think I can’t tell when something is bothering you?”

“The only thing bothering me right now is you, old man,” I say in the lightest tone I can manage, but I’m sure he knows I’m not really kidding.

“Something’s been different lately,” he murmurs. “You’ve been…quieter. You used to tell us stories about work all the time, all the crazy shit drunk customers would get up to. But now you never even mention your job.”

A familiar pang of frustration rises in me, sharpened by the sting of Jas leaving me alone in my bed this morning. “Maybe I don’t talk about work because I’m tired of your judgmental bullshit.”

“River.” His voice is sharp. “No one is judging you.”

I laugh, the sound bitter. “Yeah, sure.”

His hand clamps down on my shoulder. “I mean it, Son. If tending bar is what you truly want to do, I’d be perfectly satisfied with you doing it for the rest of your life.” His fingers tighten on me. “The only thing I’ve ever cared about is my kids being happy.”

I take in a deep breath, trying to fight off the rising tide of unease in my belly. I’mnothappy, not really, and we both know it. But talking about it is another matter.

“Can we discuss this some other time?” I ask tightly. “Maybe when half the family isn’t camped out in your kitchen?”

Dad sighs, but he goes back to the sandwiches. “Sure, kid. We can talk about it whenever you want.”

* * *

I can’t rememberthe last time I had such a shitty time at work.

In the first place, my conversation with my dad keeps echoing in my head. I’d taken my frustration out on him when I know he was only trying to help, and I feel guilty about it.

Then, of course, there’s the Jasmine situation.

I spend the first half of my shift thinking about what I’ll say when I see her. Then I spend the second half wondering if she’s even going to come in at all. Her car isn’t in the parking lot—Jesus, I sound like a creepy stalker—so I don’t think she’s upstairs.

The idea that she might have gone back to that asshole makes me want to puke.

I’m so preoccupied with these thoughts that I don’t notice how jumpy Kim is until I lock the door and we start our clean-up. “What’s up?” I ask. Kim is usually incredibly cool and collected, which makes her an excellent co-worker at a fast-paced job like this.