I look over at Sandie as the game goes to commercial. “Okay, don’t judge me, but we had a moment this morning in the car. He wasn’t fumbling around all nervous, and he was the same man I met at the hotel. He was charming and smooth and intriguing. He asked me questions, and it just felt like . . . like that night.”
“But you remember what you’re supposed to be doing, right?”
“Yes.” I sigh heavily. “It was just nice for a second, you know?”
“Yes, but we have a goal. That goal is to prove to your dad that you can be self-sufficient, that you don’t need his help, his career directives, or anything to make it on your own. You can’t get caught up in ‘moments’ with Levi.”
“You’re right.” I nod. “You’re very right. Ugh, I’m sorry. I’ll be better.”
“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your future self who’s reaching for the stars.”
I chuckle. “Okay, Sandie, don’t be lame.”
“Lame? I’m inspiring.”
“Okay, Miss Inspiring, tell me what you thought of the logos.”
“I’m surprised it took you this long to ask.”
“I was trying to be patient. But guess what, my patience is up. Do you think they’re good?”
“I do,” she says, but I can hear a but coming along. “They are great, but . . .”
“And there it is.” I chuckle. “Let me have it. How can I improve?”
“I liked the silhouettes that you made. I thought they looked like her, and they were sexy, but I think you could do better with the font. It felt either thriller or old-school romance, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but I think she needs something more modern.”
I nod. “For me, font is the hardest. I hate that part of the job. I just don’t feel I have a solid grasp on what works.”
“That’s okay, it will take time. I was showing Dale your designs, and do you know what he said he does when he’s deciding on fonts? He’ll go to Creative Market and look through all the fonts and how the artist pairs them with designs. He was telling me that you can get a strong feel for how they imagined their font being used.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea. I’ll do that tonight.”
“And maybe offer her up some new colors for her brand. I know she’s into black and pink, but maybe show her something else. So keep to her branding but offer her something unorthodox.” Unorthodox. That’s exactly what I should do. I’m strong at creating things outside of the box.
“Good idea. Thank you, Sandie.”
“You know I’m here for you. Have you been working on anything else?”
“I’ve been waffling between opening up an Etsy shop or not. I know exposure would be good, but a lot of time and energy and ad spending goes into it. I’m sort of leaning more on UpWork at the moment and interviewing for side jobs.”
“Yeah, I’d focus on UpWork and continuing to update your profile, making sure you have the most up-to-date designs. Once you score a few jobs from there, then hopefully word of mouth will pick up the rest. And I’ll keep an eye out for any job contests I see floating around. Just want to be clear, but you want to stay freelance?”
“Yeah. I know that’s riskier, but I like the idea of being able to do a variety of jobs rather than one particular thing. Like there’s a girl in one of my classes and she got a job working for a triathlon company. It is great money and has benefits, but she said all she does is photoshop triathletes and put them against a banner. She hates that there is no creativity involved. I don’t want to be stuck like that. I’d rather continue this assistant farce and build up my portfolio than take a job remotely related to design just because it pays well. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.”
“I think that’s really smart. And you’ll get there, but it definitely won’t happen overnight.”
“I know that.” I sigh. “I don’t think my dad thinks I know that, though.” I glance at the TV, where I catch Levi slamming someone into the boards right before he shoots the puck behind the net and right to Eli, who flicks it down the ice to OC. “He probably assumes that I’m living in some fairy-tale land where I’ll find success overnight with one job. But I know what it means to work hard. I’ve worked hard at maintaining a relationship with him my entire life. And sure, that isn’t job experience, but it’s tenacity and goal setting. It’s made me realize that nothing comes for free, even my father’s love.” I’m not sure I’ll ever forget those words he wrote to Levi, though. How can a father be so blasé about how his daughter is treated? I’ve dealt with his gruff exterior for over two decades. But to insist that Levi make my life a living hell . . .
Do not let her off the hook. Don’t let her skate by. I want you to make her life a living hell, got it?
I can’t deny that stings. That’s not unconditional love. In fact, I doubt I’ve ever had that.
Sandie’s expression softens. “He loves you, Wylie. You know this.”
My eyes well up with tears as I stare at the TV, the camera zooming in on my father yelling at the players to change lines. “I just wish it wasn’t a conditional love.”
Sandie left,and with another Agitators win under their belt, I retreated back to my bedroom after making sure to leave no trace of us hanging out in Levi’s apartment. While in bed, I started looking through different fonts on Creative Market. Dale was right. There’s a vision each artist has when they create their font, and it’s interesting to see what kind of vision they had in mind. Some fonts I would have assumed could be more on the thriller side, but they pair them in a soft background with natural tones, which totally works. Strangely.
It has my brain thinking differently.
Today felt mindless as I ran through task after task. Trying to find Levi a new suit, buying him more underwear, picking out some macaroons from a certain shop that he apparently loves. Makes me wonder, are the macaroons for him or is he going to give them to my father later?
And with every task that I checked off the list, I grew more and more frustrated, especially after Sandie left. I spent a solid hour sorting out pretzels for his snacks because he only wanted whole pretzels, no broken pieces. It was annoying and stupid and just made me realize how infuriating the entire situation is.
It’s not like I told my dad that it’s my life’s calling to be a stripper, and I’m giving up everything for it. I want to work in graphic design, a booming profession in today’s online marketing. Yet he wants me to be some boring executive who doesn’t enjoy life because it’s safe.
Well, nothing is safe.
Not even those jobs. At least with this, I can hopefully determine my own destiny. As long as my designs don’t suck and people love my perspective and aesthetic.
Since I left my bedroom door open, I hear the moment Levi gets home. It’s later than before, and I’m not sure if it’s because he is avoiding me or if he put in a quick leg workout after the game—some of the guys do that. Either way, I’m surprised how long it took him to get home.
But instead of going to see him right at the moment, I have another plan.
Is it diabolical?
Maybe.
But like Sandie said, I can’t let up. I have to keep pushing forward.
It felt like talking to Levi from a year ago during the drive into the arena today, and I got lost in it. In him. And a part of me longed for that moment to carry on, for him to be that guy, not my dad’s puppet.
I need to remember that I’m trying to prove a point to two men, and one of them just got home.
I set my iPad down and move to the floor-length mirror. I’m wearing one of my lingerie sets, but it’s more . . . casual. It’s a silky black camisole top with thin straps and lace around the low neckline. The matching shorts—if you want to call them that—have slits that rise to my hips and of course, naturally, I’m not wearing a bra or underwear. I know he told me to, but it’s clear as day that I’m ready for bed. Makeup is off, hair is up in a messy bun, and I’m wearing my fuzzy slippers as well.
The plan is to walk into his bedroom right before he goes to bed, in this outfit, and ask him a few packing questions. Hopefully the outfit will get him worked up.
We shall see.
I brush my teeth, wanting to give the full effect of bed readiness and, for the hell of it, I put on my blue light glasses that I’ll wear when I have to stare at my screen for a long period.
Yup, this looks perfect.
Satisfied, I move down my dark hallway toward the kitchen, pausing to listen. I don’t hear him moving around in the bathroom, so he must be in bed.
Time to strike.
Carefully, I tiptoe down the hallway to his bedroom, not wanting to make a sound but wanting to be a full surprise. And as I inch closer, I start to hear something coming from the other side of his door.
A woman’s voice.
Oh God.
I still.
A sweat breaks out over my skin.
And my heart hammers because . . . he brought someone home with him.
My stomach churns at the thought of him being with any other woman than me. And I know that’s ridiculous, I know. I have no claim over him, but still, I don’t like the thought of someone else being with him when I’m carrying this crush heavy on my chest. And sure, I know I pack him condoms and tease him about hooking up when he’s out of town, but I do that so when he does pull out a condom, he thinks of me.
Slightly manipulative, perhaps, but let’s remember who the master manipulator is . . . him. Need I remind you of the bagel runs?
Needing to find out if he’s with someone else, I move in closer to his bedroom, my breath held as I lean toward his door to listen intently.
I don’t hear him.
I just hear a woman.
A woman telling him what to do . . .
And then it clicks.
Holy shit, he’s watching a Patty Ford video.