“So this is just some random boy?” Dad asks with a laugh. “You were with Lawrence for what, two and a half years?”
“Yes.” I swallow. Closer to three, but I’d rather not go there. “And yes, we still hate him.”
“We absolutely do.” Dad smiles. “If he’d been in that classroom, would you have dropped it?”
“No.” I scowl. “Eff that guy.”
Dad chuckles. “You see where I’m going with this, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Is this boy bullying you?”
“No.” I scoff. “Come on, Dad.”
“So what are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid.” My scowl deepens. “I would just rather avoid him is all.”
“Listen,” Dad starts with an exhale. “I am not going to tell you I understand this situation because you’re giving me very little to go on, but this boy isn’t worth you having to stay in college an extra semester. You have to see that.”
“I do.”
“Get back in that class.” He taps his mouse and the school website appears on the screen. I close my eyes momentarily and log into my account, picking up Finite Math once more.
“For the record, I hate math,” I grumble.
“Trust me, the last three years have proven math hates you more than you hate it.” He glances over at me, amusement in his expression.
“Funny, Dad.” I exit out of my account and take a step back as Dad laughs. “Does this mean I can stop cleaning the practice after hours?”
“Do you think you’ve earned enough hours to pay for the Maserati you crashed?”
“No.” My shoulders slump.
“Are you still dead set on moving into that house instead of just moving back in with me and Mom?”
“No offense, Dad, but I hope I never have to live with you and Mom ever again.” I smile at the look on his face. “Besides, I don’t want to drive forty minutes to and from school.”
“Right.”
“Do you need any help filing those papers?” I nod toward his desk.
“Nah. Let Donna do the filing. I have to be in the OR at seven in the morning, so I’m going over the procedure one last time.” He stands up and walks over to me. “See you Sunday?”
“Fine.” I give him a quick hug and walk to the door.
“Adrian says you picked up shifts at the bar.”
“Yeah.” I idle by the door. “I used the money you gave me for the deposit, but that’ll only cover a month, so I told Uncle Adrian I’d help out at the bar a few days a week.”
“As long as it doesn’t compromise your GPA.” Dad raises an eyebrow.
“It won’t.”
“Good.” He gives one final nod before I leave his office.
It takes me a good hour before I actually leave the practice behind and head to my uncle’s bar on the other side of town. When I get there, I park in the employee parking in the back, walk in through the back door, which is always unlocked, and head to the kitchen.
“Josephine Canó,” Donovan, the head chef says. “I heard you were going to start working here but I could not believe it.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not coming for your job.”
“You bet your ass you’re not, unless you’re going to attend the best culinary school in the country and go train in France.” He raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah, no. I can barely cook chicken.” I smile. “I’ll be manning the bar.”
“The bar.” Donovan gives me an appreciative nod. “Where the tips are.”
“Exactly.” I laugh.
“I heard about that little accident you got into. What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t. That’s the problem.”
“You totaled it then? A freaking Maserati?”
“That’s what they’re accusing me of.”
“What you driving now? Your daddy give you your old car back?”
“Hardly.” I scoff. “But a car is a car, right?”
“What kind of car is it?” The gleam in his eyes tells me he probably already knows, but I play along anyway because Donovan is like an uncle to me and all my uncles are full of jokes and leg pulling.
“Celica. It’s like a ninety-two or something with a non-existing heater and a messed-up radio.”
“Daaaaaamn.” He laughs loudly. “The fall from grace was bad, huh?” He laughs again. “What color is it?”
“Gold.” I scowl, but I’m trying really hard not to laugh along with him even though he’s being a total asshole.
“Gold.” He laughs louder. “Shit. My brother had that car in high school.” He stops laughing. “Did your dad buy it from him?”
I shrug. “Probably. Who else has junk cars lying around?”
“Damn, Jo. Have you ever even driven a used car?”
“I have now.”
“I want to feel sorry for you, but I always did say you and your sister were too spoiled for your own good.” He shakes his head.
“I know.” I sigh. “We are.”
“I bet Misty is being extra careful with her Benz these days.”
I nod, hoping my expression tells him I want this conversation to be over already. Of course, Donovan knows I didn’t want to have this conversation to begin with, but here we are.