I push my plate away and slump back in the booth. Twenty years in this world together and I don’t know why I thought I could get anything past him.
“Okay— A, bite me. And B, I’m just not sure this class was a good choice.”
“You need it for your major though, right?”
“I guess… I just still don’t feel confident in that decision either.”
After wandering aimlessly my freshman year and the first half of my sophomore year, my aunt brought up sports journalism—again. Actually, she brought it up semester after semester because that was always my plan, but I put it offknowing that the sports journalism course required you to either work or volunteer with one of the on-campus sports departments, and I didn’t want to feel expected to work with my dad’s team.
Call me stubborn, or too proud—fuck it, call me bull-headed, I don’t care. I am all of those things, but the main reason I don’t want to work for my dad is because I want to know that I did it myself. I want to know that I got the job not because of who my dad is or what he can get done for me. Mark Alvarez would build a rocket ship with his bare hands, fly it to the moon, and pick me up a latte on his way back if I asked him to. There isn’t anything on the face of this planet or the next that he wouldn't do for either Leo or me. And so, after months of back and forth with my aunt, I finally decided to sign up for the course with the hopes that I could search for and apply to internships with some kind of secrecy.
Leo takes the dismissive hint and moves on. “What did you end up doing this weekend?”
Abort. Abort.This is not where I wanted to move the conversation to.
“I went to a party.”
“A frat party?” he asks, stealing another fry.
“A Lions hockey party.”
A slow smile spreads across his face before he tosses his head back, barking out a laugh. I might have been born two minutes after him, and he loves to remind me of that by calling me his mini-me, but I swear, maturity-wise, I’m a good handful of years ahead of him.
“Shut up.” I throw a broken piece of fried potato at him but the bastard catches it with ease.
“Oh, that’s good. How does Dad feel about you hanging out with his team?”
“He doesn’t feel anything because he doesn’t know. And I’m not hanging out with them, I wound up atoneparty.”
The waitress brings Leo his food, and it’s amazing how quickly his smile turns from teasing to flirtatious.
“Mind your business, Leo,” I say, pointing a french fry at him.
He holds his hands up. “I’m not saying anything.”
My first shift atThe Denis as exciting as kale.
I was told my first week I would be scheduled during the slowest shifts to give me time to ‘learn the ropes’.
The ropes have been learned, and I’m officially bored.
My coworker, Kelly, has been unintentionally playing a round of ‘Get to Know You’ games. Asking me things like, ‘What do you like to do on your off days?’ and ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ to which I responded, ‘Nothing’ and ‘no’.
It’s only day one, so she either thinks I’m shy or that I’m a bitch.
Either way, it’s probably best she doesn’t set her expectations too high for some epic friendship to blossom here. By no means do I go out of my way to be rude to people—most people, but I don’t work very hard to build relationships either.
I drum my hands on my knees to the beat ofLove Yourselfplaying through the speakers and spin on my metal stool, looking over at my exception. The Bonnie to my Clyde, the popcorn to my movie, and the star to my moon. Chloe Addison Cooper.
Savannah Alvarez pro tip: if your best friend doesn’t make your dad question if you’re in a lesbian relationship, she’s not really your best friend.
Leo and I are close by nature, and nurture—aka our dad—made sure we stayed that way. Chloe and I are close by choice. We’re complete opposites in most ways. Where I might be described as dark and a little punchy, she would bedescribed as bright and pure. But, in the ways that count? Like unwavering loyalty and support for one another? We’re two peas in a pod, baby.
“Okay, half an hour till closing,” Kelly says, pulling off her apron and looking up at the clock. “You think you’ll be good to close up on your own?”
“I think I can manage.”
She smiles at my dry tone. “I know it’s kind of boring now, but honestly, the best part of working here is that both the hockey and football teams come in pretty much every day.”
